by Xenia Melzer
“I see our guest of honor has finally woken up.”
Egand’s mocking voice startled Daran from his gloomy thoughts. He turned his head to look at his stepfather, who was giving him a cold and calculating smile.
“Your masters seem to be taking their time. Perhaps you want to come clean and tell me the truth about how a worthless piece of shit like you has managed to become so rich?”
Daran saw Egand weighing the wallet in his hands with a thoughtful expression.
“Do you even know how much money this is? If you’re indeed only a slave, then you must mean a lot to them. With this kind of money, I could live comfortably till next spring.”
“Then take the money and let me go. You’ve caused enough trouble, stepfather.”
Egand’s expression darkened. Without warning he administered two vicious kicks to Daran’s ribcage.
“Shut up! You must know the only reason why you’re still alive is because of the profit I’m hoping to get from you.” His dirty fingers grabbed Daran’s chin and turned the young man’s face to one of the torches. “Although, even if your masters don’t show up, I’ll probably let you live. There’s lots of money to be made with beauty such as yours, and should you be disobedient, I can still sell you to the highest bidder. By now you should be used to being a slave.”
Cold shudders ran down Daran’s spine. Egand was dead serious about this matter, and for the first time since he had met his stepfather again, Daran felt something like fear creeping into his heart. He didn’t know how to react and was furious at his own weakness. Abruptly Egand let go of him, condescending laughter erupting from his mouth. He was just about to mock Daran further when a boy of about thirteen years approached him with a pale, haunted expression and whispered urgently into his ear. The mockery in Egand’s face turned into triumph.
“Seems like you didn’t lie. Four noblemen are on their way here.”
He bent down to open the chains around Daran’s feet and then the one on his neck.
“Let’s go and greet them like they deserve. I warn you, Daran—one wrong word and I’ll have them killed on the spot.”
Daran felt a gut-wrenching fear overwhelming him. “Please, don’t harm them. I swear, I’ll do anything you ask of me. Just let them go.”
“They mean a lot to you, your masters, don’t they?”
Although Egand’s voice was full of derision, Daran managed to look straight at him. This was the truth, and there was no reason to be ashamed of it.
“They are my world.”
It was only a simple sentence, spoken with absolute conviction. Even Egand was taken aback for a moment before his natural sadism took over again.
“How absolutely heartwarming. If they die, it’s your fault.”
Brutally, Egand dragged Daran to the middle of a room whose ceiling arched almost one and half paces above them. The visitors were coming through the main tunnel, so his men were waiting in the three smaller ones branching off into the less-frequented parts of the labyrinth. Egand would not let chance take the rein. Although he acted all high-and-mighty, the ruler of the thieves of Kwarl was deeply shaken. The animalistic instinct that had kept him alive for many years and had brought him to the top of Kwarl’s underworld was going off like crazy. Until now it had always been worthwhile for him to trust his gut feeling, and now this instinct was telling him he was in serious trouble. The wisest thing to do would be to let Daran go right now, leaving him to the warriors without putting up a fight, and try to make his escape while he still could.
But he would be damned if he let his useless stepson get away unscathed. The sudden disappearance of the young man had made him the butt of countless jokes, and even today, five years later, people gossiped behind his back how Daran had managed to give him the slip. Daran’s escape had caused him so much trouble, Egand felt sick just thinking about it. He would have the scrawny rat pay, no matter the cost. Besides, what could four warriors who were strangers in the city do against him and his men? Determined, he reinforced his grip on Daran’s upper arms while his eyes tried to discern the dancing shadows in the main tunnel. Then he heard a noise, and just like that, the four warriors entered the heart of Egand’s empire.
They were led by a slim man of about one ell and two and a half spans. His raven-black hair was done in countless braids, his body was slim yet muscular. He resembled a cat of prey, moving with the natural grace of a born predator. His brown eyes were lively and shot dark glances through the room. Behind him came a giant of a man, towering over the first with almost an ell and four spans. His hair was white, his eyes covered by a milky substance that made Egand think the man was blind. The dark skin was covered in tattoos, strange, runic symbols of which the outlaw didn’t recognize even one. Compared to his companion, he appeared to be more composed, but the look in his eyes was just as furious.
When his gaze fell on the third man, Egand’s breathing hitched. Although his hard life had dulled him in every respect, he was still blinded by this warrior’s beauty. His wheat-blond hair framed his noble, harmonious face like a halo of light. Mesmerizing blue eyes dominated the imperious features, which were completed by a sensuous mouth. The young man’s body was lean, with long muscles that rolled gracefully beneath the smooth skin. This man moved with the elegance of a dancer; it was obvious he had absolute control over his body and felt comfortable in his skin. But it wasn’t this harmony that made the hair on Egand’s neck stand up. It was the aura of danger surrounding the handsome stranger, the impression that his beauty was only camouflage for the lethal strength inside.
Compared to this, the fourth warrior seemed almost mundane. He had short-cropped, light brown hair, smiling green-blue eyes, and a friendly, open face. His sturdy muscles showed that he did hard manual labor on a daily basis. If there hadn’t been a strange, intimidating openness about him, he could have been mistaken for a simple servant.
All four men had their hands on their weapons and looked around with suspicion in their faces. The one with the braids talked directly to Daran.
“Daran! The Mothers be praised! Are you all right?”
The thief kept his gaze down. “I’m fine, Master. I’m sorry for having made you worry.”
“We’ll talk about that when we’re back home. Who is that man?”
“My name is Egand. I’m the master of Kwarl’s underworld—and Daran’s stepfather. So, you’re the men who have kidnapped my poor son and made him a slave. I wonder how you’re going to reimburse me for this.”
The eyes of the warrior with the braids narrowed dangerously. Before he could answer, his giant companion placed a placating hand on his shoulder.
“Leave it to me, Kalad.” He turned to Egand.
“I’m so pleased to make your acquaintance. Before we get on with this rather unpleasant business, allow me to introduce my brothers-in-arms. Just so you know who you’re dealing with.”
Despite the obvious threat, Egand managed a derisive smile. “I can hardly wait.”
A strange expression flashed across the warrior’s features, a mixture of reluctant respect, anger, and determination. With a slight nod, he turned toward the stunning blond.
“This is Lord Casto, husband to Lord Renaldo, the Angel of Death.”
Ignoring the hushed silence in the darkness of the three tunnels, the giant spoke on.
“Next to him is Lord Sic, Emeris in the Valley. This”—the warrior gestured toward the leader—“is Lord Kalad, Emeris in the Valley. I am Lord Aegid, Kalad’s desert brother and an Emeris as well. Concerning your accusation that we kidnapped Daran, I have to disagree. It was his decision to become our slave. He preferred serving us over the loss of a hand and life under your domination.”
Still shocked about whose displeasure he had invoked, Egand stared at the warriors. If they were telling the truth—and he didn’t doubt it any longer—then they knew how to handle the weapons they were carrying only too well. Even his thugs, who had been hardened in countless brawls and street fi
ghts, wouldn’t be able to win against fighters like these. Desperately he tried to find a way out, but the only thing he came up with was a very stupid move that showed how much the situation had slipped from his control.
He grabbed Daran even harder with his right hand while he drew a dagger with his left. Then he pressed the blade against his stepson’s throat, right above the collar, until a thin trickle of blood appeared.
“I’ve heard enough. If you don’t want me to slit his throat, you better scram.”
“If you so much as harm a hair on his head I’m going to kill you with my own hands, scum.”
Kalad’s voice was stony and monotonous. Daran shuddered in Egand’s arms. Only once before had the warrior talked to him like that, and he would never forget the punishment he’d had to endure afterward.
As if he could sense Daran’s distress, Egand’s grip hardened even more. “This may be, but then he’s dead. I can see how much he means to you, so you’re not going to risk it.”
“Maybe. But we won’t leave without him either.” Absolute conviction tinged Aegid’s voice.
“It seems to me we have reached an impasse.” Casto stepped forward with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Obviously, none of us will give in, so let’s consider our options.”
He held up his index finger.
“Firstly, you make good on your threat and kill Daran. Let’s even assume you manage to escape. As far as I can see, this underground system is pretty widespread. This means you buy yourself one, perhaps even two days, depending on how good you are. After that, you’re at Kalad’s mercy.” Casto shook his head. “Believe me, not a desirable option. And don’t make the mistake of thinking you can escape us. Until now, nobody has managed this.”
A grim smile played around the boy’s lips, as if he was talking about a fact he had experienced firsthand.
“Secondly, we retreat. Then you’re going to kill Daran. Don’t try to deny it—I can see it in your eyes. I’ve seen too many monsters in my life to not recognize you for what you are. So we’re not going to leave without Daran.
“Thirdly, you leave him to us. In return we’ll spare you and those men lurking in the shadows.” Casto turned his head as if he was thinking about a complicated problem. “Then nobody comes to harm. We’ll even allow you to keep the money you’ve stolen from Daran. How about it?”
Egand’s inner voice urged him to accept the offer, knowing this was his only, and last, chance to get out of this mess unscathed. He nodded slowly.
“I do accept.”
The dagger was taken away from Daran’s throat and the ropes around his wrists were cut loose. Then Egand pushed him in the direction of his masters. The thief didn’t hesitate for a second. He ran toward Kalad, who embraced him hungrily while Daran hid his face on the broad chest of his owner.
“I’m so terribly sorry, Master.”
Gently Aegid pulled the sobbing young man into his arms.
“It’s fine, little thief. Now everything’s fine. We’re just glad nothing has happened to you.”
When Egand was confronted with such openly displayed affection, he felt a nameless, night-black fury rising inside his heart. Daran had no right to be so happy, no right to be loved like that. He had to pay for his sins toward Egand. There was no way he could be allowed to go unscathed after he had made such an utter fool of his stepfather. Egand’s common sense was buried under an avalanche of hatred and envy. All he could still see clearly was Daran’s back, the spot he had to hit to erase his annoying stepson forever. Anger made him fast. He grabbed the dagger by the hilt and threw it with deadly precision. A crunching sound resonated when the weapon found its target, when it buried itself in Daran’s back and penetrated his heart.
TIME SEEMED to stand still. All noise, even the smallest rustle, died, frozen in the improbability of what had just happened. The sudden silence was ripped apart by a scream so hollow it made everybody present shiver. It came from two people, and the despair resounding in it was overwhelming.
“Nooooo!”
Kalad and Aegid were holding their thief in their arms, staring into his clouded eyes as life left his body. A sad smile appeared on the open face.
“Ma—”
He couldn’t speak on. His body went limp in his owners’ arms. Kalad made a whimpering sound; tears dripped from Aegid’s eyes onto the lifeless body of their beloved. Everybody was staring in morbid fascination at these two powerful warriors so completely caught up in their sorrow. Their pain was like an invisible barrier, keeping everything out. There was only room for these three men and the love that had bound them. A love that had lost its home.
Suddenly, as if in silent agreement, Kalad and Aegid lifted their heads, their gazes locked on Egand, their eyes burning with insatiable fury.
“You’ll pay for this!”
Gently they placed Daran’s body on the ground before they approached Egand, who wasn’t able to move a single muscle in his body. Frozen in fear, he awaited the destiny he couldn’t escape anymore.
3. SAND AND LIGHT
IN THE Valley, Renaldo jolted awake, covered in sweat. He could feel the danger his heart was in. Casto’s tense excitement was like a knife leaving bloody cuts in his soul. Without thinking, he reached for his sword before he remembered that his heart was in Kwarl. But the feeling of urgency was steadily increasing, and so he put the weapon aside to get dressed in order to leave the Valley immediately.
He was just slipping into his boots when Canubis entered the chambers. He, too, had been woken by a feeling of urgency, only in his case it had come from Renaldo.
“What’s going on?”
“Casto. He’s in danger.”
He didn’t have to say more. While he was putting on his coat, Canubis turned toward the door again.
“I’ll get the horses ready. Do you want anybody to come with you?”
“Wake Noran. If Casto’s in trouble, Sic won’t be far.”
Canubis nodded in agreement. If push came to shove, the master smith would be a fierce and determined ally. Ever since his relationship with Sic had started to progress so remarkably well, he had started turning back into the man they had both once welcomed into the Pack. Canubis felt at ease knowing Noran would have his brother’s back.
“Anybody else?”
“No, I don’t really know what’s going on, so speed is of the essence.”
“What a pity he took Lys.”
“My words exactly. The sunrise is only a few hours away, so if we push the horses, we can be in Kwarl this evening. Ghost and Demon may not be as fast as the black beast, but they’re still superior.”
“They are the horses of gods. What else did you expect? I’ll go and wake Noran.”
About half an hour later, Renaldo and Noran were galloping out of the Valley. The master smith was so worried, his face was frozen in a grim mask. Renaldo knew the pain his brother-in-arms was enduring, which was why he decided to apologize.
“I’m sorry, Noran. I should have never allowed Casto to go on his own.”
A weak smile flitted across Noran’s face.
“Somehow I got the impression that a ban wouldn’t have impressed Casto at all.”
The Angel of Death sighed.
“Probably not. But I do have some means to make him obey.”
“But you don’t like using them.”
“Of course not. I love Casto’s independence. And you’re one to talk. If you had pressed your point, Sic would have stayed here. He listens to you.”
A wistful smile appeared on Noran’s face when he remembered that particular conversation.
“Not as much as he used to. He’s making remarkable progress. Who am I to hold him back?”
The sadness in Noran’s voice made Renaldo perk up.
“You know Sic is going to forgive you completely, don’t you? He probably already has.”
“I know. And it makes the burden that much heavier. For reasons I’ll never understand, I’ve been given a second c
hance. I’m not planning on screwing up again.”
Renaldo sighed. He could understand his brother very well. Noran had taken on grave culpability when he had treated Sic so horribly. That the young man was even contemplating to forgive him was a worse punishment than showing him anger or contempt. This way, Noran was painfully aware of the responsibility he had taken on. Still, the master smith had never been happier in his entire life. Renaldo shook his head. Love did strange things to humans—and gods as well.
“One day you’ll have to forgive yourself. You owe it to Sic.”
Noran grinned crookedly.
“I will. But not anytime soon. I thought I’d wait till your heart decides to forgive me.”
Renaldo couldn’t help but guffaw.
“You know that could take a long time? Casto is terribly vindictive.”
“I figured as much. And I can’t say I don’t understand him.” Noran turned serious again. “The way I behaved towards your heart was abominable. You forgiving me is more than I could have hoped for. I don’t expect Casto to grant me the same mercy.”
“Don’t fret about it. He will forgive you, if only because of Sic. It’s just going to take some time. Like one or two centuries.”
Noran did not respond to this banter, since it was unpleasantly close to the truth. Casto wasn’t a man who forgave easily, and the two of them had never been on friendly terms to begin with. Even now, the overbearing, arrogant attitude of the king made Noran’s fingers twitch. Casto was exactly the kind of person he couldn’t stand at all. The only thing that made him a little more accepting of the young man was the ferocity with which he loved and protected Sic. It was probably the only thing the two of them would ever have in common. Since it was useless to ponder such fruitless thoughts, Noran tried to concentrate on the road. If Sic was truly in danger, he had to get to Kwarl as fast as possible.
CASTO AND Sic were standing protectively over Daran’s corpse, their swords at the ready. Although nobody had made a move until now, it was only a question of time till Egand’s men would decide to attack. Aegid and Kalad had almost reached the master thief, and their fury was like a shield protecting them from any possible attack. Sic touched his cheek with his left hand. Then he stopped, irritated, his fingers fumbling over his skin.
