Blood of the Lost: The Darkness Within Saga: Book 2

by JD Franx

  “Tough bastard,” he whispered. “My bad, Max. All those hours wrestling at the precinct’s gym did come in handy. Sorry I ever doubted you.”

  Looking around a second time to be sure he had not been spotted, he dragged the unconscious body into deep cover, doing his best to ignore the flare of anger that was always so close to pushing past the surface. Kael stood from the brush and realized that his teeth were still clenched. The fury refused to subside. He breathed deeply. Feeling the tattoo-like vines of his death-flower curl through the skin of his hips and lower back let him know why his anger was so close to the surface. His shadowed feet must have caused the vines to begin growing under his skin, and as always, his pulsating hatred and anger seemed to fuel their progress. When the day came when there was no place left for the thorn-covered vines to go, he could not help but wonder what might happen.

  It was a problem for another day.

  Kael was back beside Kyah less than fifteen minutes after he left her, and as he glanced down at Giddeon, he could see it was just in time. The ArchWizard was bleeding from several whip marks on his chest and back that had welled up with massive blisters. Bloody saliva hung from his chin in long strings. He would not last much longer.

  “You did not kill those guards. That gives us little time,” Kyah pointed out.

  “You were watching?”

  She nodded.

  Shaking his head, he added, “Why? Worried I couldn’t handle it?”

  “No,” she said. “Worried you would leave them alive.”

  “I’m not going to kill them if I don’t have to, Kyah. Hopefully none of them will have to die.”

  “I hope you are not going to walk down there and just shake their hands,” she said, pointing to the camp. “There are still twenty men there. We are going to have to fight. I know what you did to Arabella and her Sisters bothers you, Kael, but if you can’t do this, we should walk away,” she warned him.

  “Twenty-three men, to be exact, but don’t worry. I’ll give them the option to leave, and if they don’t, then we’ll fight. Except for Grodin. He’s not going anywhere,” Kael said, his eyes wide with animosity again.

  “All right, Kael,” she agreed. Pulling her shirt up, she winked at him and unwound the bladed kinrai chain from around her belly. The metal of the gods flashed silver, twinkling with purple and orange from the veins set within. “I know not of the others, but the tribesmen will likely fight as opposed to leaving. Be aware of that,” she added.

  “Then they’ll die. Giddeon has information I need, and I’m not leaving without it,” he said. Not used to hearing such cold callousness from him, the words caused a visible shiver to roll through her entire body.

  Kael crept towards the creek so they could enter at the front of the camp. He saw the look Kyah gave him as he turned, but he no longer cared. If these warriors stood between him and Giddeon, then they stood in the way of finding Ember. Now that he was finally so close to getting her back, no one was going to stand in his way.

  When they got to the bottom of the draw by the rushing brook unnoticed, both Kael and Kyah headed for the camp. They were within fifteen feet of the rack Giddeon was tied to before anyone knew they were there. The perimeter guards, unconscious in the heavy brush, were unable to notify them of the stranger’s approach. The four tribesmen who did see them yelled a warning as they jumped onto the path from the high grass at the sides. Kyah ducked behind Kael as the four fired darts from their blowguns. Two darts stuck in his neck like hyperactive mosquitoes. Kael pulled them out, thinking the worst when he noticed the poison on the end dissolved on his skin as he touched the tip with his finger. Five more of the little darts struck to his neck and upper chest in less than a second.

  “Immune?” Kyah asked, uneasily from behind him.

  “It would seem so.” He pulled the last dart from his neck. “Still stings like a...”

  “Thank the gods,” Kyah muttered, but Kael heard none of it. Anger and hatred fired in his mind a split second before black and purple sparks of lightning jumped from his left hand. He never even bothered to say the words of Gabriel’s old spell. So wrapped up in hatred and storming fury, he never felt the black vines tear farther across his lower back and into the top of his hips. He smiled as the dark electricity pounded through the tribesmen with no resistance. The bodies dropped to the ground, smoking from the wounds created by the volatile magic.

  Kyah’s second mutter did not register either. “Holy, Mother Mylla. Kael, what the Nine Hells of Perdition are you doing?” No answer followed the rhetorical question.

  Not a single person anywhere inside the camp dared to breathe, let alone move. The tribesmen seemed to be frozen in place, too stunned or scared to move a single muscle. Kael watched everyone carefully for a few seconds, prepared to unleash another onslaught. Instead, the tribesmen all dropped to their knees with their hands above their heads and began murmuring and whispering in voices trembling with pure terror.

  “Oh no, you don’t you, little bastard,” Kael yelled, as he saw Grodin duck behind a tent. “Grodin! Don’t go trying to sneak away now. You’re the one we travelled so far to see.” The little man turned and walked back out slowly, surrounded by two men. Both drew their swords.

  “If you have any control over your men, Grodin, you might tell them to drop their weapons,” Kael commented, as he drew both reaper-blades from the sheaths on his back. The sight of the strange blades sent the tribals’ chattering into overdrive.

  Grodin’s voice quaked with fear as he looked at his two bodyguards. “I’d do as he says you two, the sooner the better. If he escaped from Sythrnax, he will be too much for all of us,” he said, surprising Kael with the honest attempt to convince them.

  “He’s gonna kill us anyway, Grodin, why should we not—”

  With nothing more than a thought, Kael covered the ten feet between them, flipping his blades upside down so they curved upwards. He plunged a blade through each of the little man’s guards.

  “Too late, stupid,” Kael hissed, as he saw Grodin wince and turn away. The black vines tore into his thighs as he pulled the blades back with enough force to send the two men crashing to the ground.

  “Your perimeter guards are unconscious, Grodin, and your savages don’t look like they want to fight for you.”

  “Ah… Yes, they seem to be a little afraid of you, Kael. Not really surprised, are you?”

  Now that things had quieted down a bit, Kael could hear the tribesmen clearer. The fact that the blood was no longer hammering inside his ears helped. The tribals seemed to be repeating the same two words over and over.

  “Katak Sarak.”

  Looking down at Grodin with the blood-soaked blades of his Vai’Karth only inches from the little man’s face, he asked, “What are they saying? Those two words... What do they mean? And don’t lie to me,” he threatened, lifting Grodin’s chin with the gore-smeared blade of his right Vai’Karth.

  “I think the first word means ‘god’, but the second means ‘death’. They seem to think you are a death god. Not really that far off, are they?” He laughed, even as fear filled his eyes.

  “Tell them to leave and return to their own tribe. The two perimeter scouts are up over that ridge. They should wake soon.”

  “You left them alive?” Grodin said, clearly shocked. When Kael offered nothing more than a shrug, Sythrnax’s right hand man turned and spoke to the tribesmen in a language Kael did not understand. But when nothing happened, Grodin turned back to speak to Kael.

  “They’re not going to leave. Maybe when you leave, but not before. They probably think moving will be their death. They won’t attack you. I’m not even sure if they will breathe,” he said, trying to be funny.

  Though Kael did not feel comfortable with that many possible enemies close by, he left them be, stepping back so he could keep an eye on them all.

  “Kyah, if they try to move against us, let me know,” he ordered.

  “I will. You know that,” she answer
ed.

  Grodin withered as Kael’s attention turned back to him.

  “Come here, Grodin, now,” he commanded, sliding his left Vai’Karth back into its sheathe.

  “Just stay calm,” Grodin said, as he stepped closer, stumbling as he hurried.

  Giddeon hung on the rack to Kael’s left, but it looked like he was unconscious. Kael decided to deal with Grodin first. He leaned down on one knee so he could look the little man in the face when he asked the questions he needed answered.

  “Tell me, Grodin. How did the good ArchWizard come to be with you?”

  “You know what will happen to me if I tell you anything. You may be a DeathWizard, but you’re a child. Your power is nowhere near what it should be, and Sythrnax is a lot stronger than you. You honestly can’t expect me to betray him, do you?”

  “You can save your poor me speech, Grodin. You were with Sythrnax when he put me in that machine, you saw it take both my crua. The connection to both sides of my power were gone, right?” he asked. Grodin nodded. “Then if he is so powerful, how do you explain the Gyhhura collar that is no longer around my neck, and the fact that I can do this.” Kael pulled the cloak back so Grodin could see the scars left by the collar and then held up his left hand. Black lightning had already started to crawl across Kael’s palm.

  “I can’t. I don’t have magic, but when Sythrnax is done with what he needs to do, he’ll grant me magic, something you can’t ever do.”

  “You are a fool if you believe that,” Kyah said. “You remember the wizards imprisoned in our cage?” She stepped forward so he could see her better.

  He nodded. “Council wizards, both of them.”

  “Yes. Kael replaced their cruus. Both were casting magic when the storm hit our ship. People with power do not give it away, Grodin. When Sythrnax has what he wants, there will be no need for you. Besides, those without magic cannot be given it. Real magic comes from the goddess Inara; only she bestows it on people. Anything else is corrupt and evil. I know that better than any other living soul.”

  “Don’t fool yourself about what Sythrnax knows or doesn’t know, traitor. It’s more than you might think. He has knowledge from ancient times, maybe even the power of the Ancients, themselves.”

  “Your master doesn’t understand what I am, even I don’t know what I am,” Kael said, “but I can make you talk, I know that much. How about it, Grodin? Tell me, or suffer.”

  “Give it your best shot. I’d rather suffer at your hands than Sythrnax’s.” The man glared at him with conviction, but Kael could see the fear dancing in the back of Grodin’s eyes.

  “Don’t be so sure.” As if by design, Kael’s weapon pulsed, changing back to the strange shiny blade marked with ancient writing.

  “Where did you get those weapons?” Grodin asked. “You know what they are, don’t you? The Vai’Karth are sentient. Sythrnax has been looking for them for several millennia.”

  “They are not alive, little man,” Kyah said. “We checked; they respond to Kael’s will, like the rest of his magic.”

  “You’re a fool,” Grodin said. “You will never control those weapons. You don’t have the power, and you won’t for a thousand years. Like it or not, those blades will twist you into the gods only know what.”

  “They work fine now,” Kyah said. “Last chance—talk or Kael will make you.” Grodin shook his head, refusing to cooperate.

  “You like lightning, Grodin?” Kael asked, as his lips curled into a crooked smile. “It was the first spell I learned when I arrived here in Talohna. It’s my favourite; it’s easy to control, so easy, in fact, that I bet I could get it to crawl right up under your flesh,” Kael said, as black lightning jumped and spit, crackling around his left hand.

  When the frightened man shook his head, Kael continued. “No? How about ice then? Perhaps the cold will loosen your tongue, at least until it freezes solid.” Dark purple frost formed on Kael’s hand as the black electricity faded and disappeared. The intense cold caused wisps of frosted vapour to rise from his hands. A four-inch-long dagger of purple ice grew from the palm of Kael’s hand.

  Again, the little man could only shake his head, though more adamantly this time. “Well if you don’t like ice, you must like fire then,” Kael said. “You’ll like my fire, Grodin. It comes straight from the bile of the deepest corner of all your Nine Hells.”

  Kael sneered and his anger began to rise once more. A whoosh of magic swallowed his hand in black and purple flames, flickering with blades of dark green energy. Sparks spit and sputtered while long strings of colourful flame fell to the ground like thick oil. The gut-rot stench of death wafted from the magic as it was called forth from the underworld. Grodin raised his hands in order to protect his face from the intense heat.

  The sight of him cowering only fanned the fires of Kael’s rage. “What’s the matter, Grodin? You’ve tortured more people than I can count, and yet you shy away like a fucking coward the moment it’s done to you. Look at me!” he yelled, grabbing the little man’s face as the flames in his hand vanished. The black vines began their tortuous journey again, making Kael wince as they always did, though it was slowly becoming a part of who he was.

  Grodin’s eyes bulged with raw terror as he gasped. “Gods, Kael, what did they do to you after I left? You refused to hurt anyone when I was there, even to save yourself. By the grace of the Ancients, you’re just as much of a monster as all of us now.”

  Kael’s smile darkened and flames jumped to life on his hand once again. The downy whiskers on Grodin’s face curled from the heat and flames singed his long hair as he struggled to pull away, but Kael’s strength was fuelled by his fury. Grodin managed to squirm, but little else.

  It forced Kyah to act. She grabbed Kael by the shoulder. “Stop, Kael! Please.” It seemed to work as the flames extinguished themselves for a second time as Kael took a deep breath.

  “We have only been free for five days, Grodin. Do you know what that means?” she asked. Not understanding, Grodin shook his head, his eyes never leaving Kael’s face. “One hundred and fourteen days Kael held out against the worst pain the Dead Sisters could give him,” she explained. “He never gave in, and I healed him and brought him back from things that made me sick while trying. He watched Lycori and her grandfather die at the Sisters’ hands and still he refused to give up. And you, you had a part in that, Grodin. For that, you can tell us what we want.”

  “No. When you live like we do, you pick a side. Don’t whine because you chose wrong.” Grodin chuckled, until Kael shook him hard enough to rattle his brain, leaving his eyes swimming in their sockets.

  Leaning over, so that her face was only inches from his, she whispered, “I did choose right, Grodin. I chose Kael. I will always choose him. I am sorry. I tried to help you, I did, but this was your choice. If Kael breaks every bone in your body and leaves you here for the animals, you will deserve every second of your god’s forsaken miserable death,” she said and then gave him a sad smile. “Just kill him, Kael. He will not help us,” she said with finality.

  Grodin began to beg and plead, stammering over his words so fast he made no sense. “I have a better idea,” Kael growled, punching the little man to shut him up. “Look at me, Grodin. Look... At... Me,” he said as he concentrated on the knowledge hidden inside his head.

  Without thinking, Kael slid the other reaper-blade back into the sheathe on his back and grabbed Grodin by the chin with his right hand, his thumb on one side and his four fingers on the other, spread out across his cheek. He knew what he wanted to do, but not how to go about it. Anger made the blood hammer in his ears, but when he tried to force magic into his captive, his weapons pulsed with power and a whisper echoed through his mind.

  Easy, slowly.

  Kael took another deep breath and refocused. Concentrating harder, he closed his eyes as black fluid seeped from his hand and wormed its way through the pores of Grodin’s skin. The fluid crawled under his flesh like tendrils as it worked its way up hi
s face and into his head. Grodin’s eyes filled with it only moments before his terror-filled babbling stopped.

  Kyah gagged, muttering, “Mother Mylla,” but could manage nothing else. Kael was lost in the throes of ancient magic. A twisted mix of fury and euphoria coursed through his soul and he no longer cared about anything but answers.

  “Tell me where Sythrnax is,” he snarled, through clenched teeth, and forced the influence of his magic to strip away all Grodin’s resistance until nothing was left but a puppet whose strings belonged to him.

  With no free will, Sythrnax’s right hand man had no choice but to talk. “He’s in the ancient Dwarven mountains.”

  “Will he answer me, Kael?” Kyah asked, having regained control of herself. Kael nodded slowly, but his focus never wavered from the magic under his control. “Grodin?” Kyah asked. “What is he doing up there?”

  “Research on both Kael and an ancient Dwarven weapon,” he answered. His voice was even and carried no emotion.

  Shocked, Kael’s mind started to spin with the idea that knowledge of what he was existed somewhere. It pulled his thoughts away from Grodin and left Kyah free to question him further.

  “Why, Grodin?” she asked. “What is up there? And where exactly?”

  “I don’t know why. There are millennia-old tablets there written by Kael’s kind. They are filled with information about the DeathWizards as well as a hidden weapon even the Dwarves were too afraid to use.” His words tore Kael from his thoughts.

  “If he’s up there doing research, then what does he want Giddeon for?” Kael asked.

  “Sythrnax believes the power or the blood of the ArchWizard will allow him to open a seal to the greatest Dwarven weapon ever constructed. We bought Giddeon and the others from the savages when we saw him. We’re on our way north now to wait for Sythrnax to return.” He finished speaking in the same monotone voice.