Her eyebrows drew together. Where was she? In her line of vision stood a tall armoire. Her gaze swept the room, pausing on the wine bottle. “The wine,” she groaned, remembering. But how had she gotten to the bed? The skin on the back of her neck crawled and she slowly turned her head to the side.
Dirkk sat in a chair beside the bed. Her notebook lay open on his lap. As she watched, he flipped to a new page, frowned at what he read, then raised his gaze to her.
"Interesting, but I don't see what the purpose of this writing is."
Regan's head pounded and she fought to keep from reaching and jerking the book from him. “Regan, what do these verses mean?” His voice was menacing.
Regan ignored his question and asked one of her own instead. “Why did you drug me?"
Dirkk's eyes narrowed. “I don't know what you mean. I came in and found you lying on the floor."
"You're saying that the wine wasn't drugged?"
"I've no need to drug you. You're under a spell of compulsion."
Regan frowned.
"Our wine is strong. Did you by chance gulp it down on an empty stomach?"
Regan felt her face heat, and his winged eyebrows rose.
"You could at least thank me for moving you to the bed."
She pressed her lips together instead.
He shrugged and turned his attention back to the notebook. “So what is this?"
His compulsion spell forced the answer from her mouth. “It's a book of ad jingles I brought with me,” she said, digging her fingers into the silk bed covering.
"What are ad jingles?"
"They arouse people's interest in a product so they will buy it."
He turned to stare at her. “But why bring it with you to Daradawn?"
She swallowed, then answered. “I take it everywhere with me. I'm a writer. I write ideas down as they come to me; otherwise I forget them. It's a habit."
He stared at her, his eyes probing. She could feel him weighing her response. Finally he stood, then tucked the notebook under his arm. “Interesting, but I've something else I'd like to show you."
Her gaze fastened on the notebook. “Can I have my book?"
He looked down at her. She saw his green eyes narrow, and cursed her pressing of him. “I want to read a few more of your ads.” He paused and searched her face for a reaction.
She bit back the words of protest begging for release. “That's fine. What do you want to show me?"
"Another chamber, one that is farther below us."
She scrambled to her feet. “I don't want to see it."
"But I want you to, so you will."
He turned and walked to the door, She followed like an obedient puppy, fighting rage all the way.
* * * *
They re-entered the throne room, but turned left and approached a shadowy wall instead of the door they had earlier entered. Dirkk reached out with his hand and etched a glowing pattern along its length. As the design faded, a large square section of the wall swung inwards. He waved her forward. Regan stalked past him, then skidded to a stop and stared at stone steps that led down into pitch-blackness. “You don't expect me to go down there?"
He pushed her aside and waved his hand again. A yellow glow bathed the two of them. As she stared, the glow spread down the length of the steps. “A simple illumination spell,” he said smugly. “Now you will not fall."
She backed against the side of the wall. “Where are you taking me?"
"I have something I wish you to see. It will show you how foolish your thoughts of besting me are."
She remembered the earlier screams and the not-so-subtle threats he had made. “I'll accept your word; you don't have to show me."
"Not good enough. I want you to see it with your own eyes, then you've no choice but to believe. Now walk."
* * * *
These stairs did not spiral, just led straight down. Twice the steps ended at wide landings with high stone doors, but Dirkk pushed her onward to where they began again. Finally she came to the last step and a long narrow landing stretched before her. She walked a few paces forward, then halted.
"Why have you stopped?"
She turned to face him. “I thought you'd prefer to lead in case there were booby-traps."
"Booby-traps?"
"You know ... magical barriers."
"Oh, booby-traps.” She watched him absorb the strange term and roll it around his tongue. He smiled. “I like your word, but no, no booby-traps. I see no need."
Regan frowned. “So where to now?"
"Walk until you can advance no further. It's there your surprise awaits."
"I never liked surprises,” she said under her breath.
"What?"
She smiled up at him. “I was just talking to myself."
"Walk."
Regan saluted, then turned smartly on her heel and marched forward.
The landing ended at a black stone wall. Embedded in its center was an eagle's claw holding a light globe. As they approached, the globe began to glow.
She stepped aside and waited for Dirkk to open the door with another one of his theatrical displays. He approached it and ran his hand along its length, then tossed his head back and raised his arms toward the dimness above.
If he says abracadabra, I'm going to lose it. He clapped his hands together three times. It was too much for her. She burst out laughing.
He spun on her. His eyes narrowed and his face flooded with color. “Stop your insane cackling,” he screamed.
She froze in mid-laugh.
He lurched toward her, his arms reaching out, fingers curved into rigid talons. Her gaze darted from his hands to his face. Beneath the mask his eyes glittered, and her stomach rolled in fear. She stumbled back until her spine pressed against the cold stone. Her legs turned to water and she slid along the wall until the floor met her backside.
Dirkk advanced until his black boots touched her shaking feet. She looked up at him, then quickly dropped her gaze at the insanity she saw in his eyes. She felt his hand fasten around her braid, then he jerked her upward until she stood on her tiptoes. “You laugh at me?” he said. Blinking back tears of pain, she opened her mouth, but nothing came out. He released her braid and dug his fingers into her shoulder.
"Well?” At her continued silence, he shook her hard. “Perhaps you can do better?” he said coldly, then dragged her to the door.
"Open it,” he ordered. Regan stared at him in numb paralysis. “Open it, or I will kill you right now."
She jerked her gaze from him to the door. Memories of Saturday matinees and scores of haunted house movies flickered through her head. Still in a dazed panic she reached up and pulled down on the eagle's claw. The door swung inward. He grunted and released his hold on her shoulders. She fell to the floor at his feet.
"Well done,” she heard a pleasant voice say. She looked up. He smiled down at her, all traces of rage gone from his face. “Shall we continue the tour?” He reached down and offered her his hand. She grasped his hand and let him pull her to her feet. “Don't anger me again, Regan,” he said, then walked ahead of her through the door.
* * * *
Regan stood beside Dirkk in front of a large, black-lacquered chest. Garish red-and-gold demons frolicked across its surface. He reached out and ran his hand along the curved top of the chest. “Beautiful, isn't it?"
"It's beyond words,” she said. “Is this what you wished to show me?"
He smiled. “This is part of what I wished for you to see. The other awaits inside.” He bent forward and with both hands heaved the top of the chest upward. Still smiling, he reached in and removed a cloth-wrapped square from the chest's depths. “Come, let's take this to where the light is better."
She followed him across the room in silence. He stopped at a long, wide table of dark wood. In the table's center was a round indention, and resting in the concave circle was a light globe. As Regan looked down into it, the light inside the globe flared brightly and she rai
sed her hand to shield her eyes.
"Enough,” Dirkk said, and she whirled to face him. What had she done now? But his gaze was not upon her, but was instead upon the light globe. She turned her attention back to the globe. The light flared briefly again, then subsided to a gold glow.
"Always she must test me,” she heard him mutter.
"What is it?” she said.
"An enslaved demon, my first captive. She was a gift from my master ... the first of many."
She swallowed. “Who is your master?"
He looked at her for a long moment. “Do you really want me to answer that?"
She felt her face grow pale. “I think I already know who owns your soul."
His lips twisted into a mirthless grin. “No one owns my soul. Let's just say I've let someone borrow it, and soon I plan to take it back ... it, plus much more."
She stared at him in open-mouthed shock. “Are you crazy? You can't overpower the devil!"
He laid his bundle on the table. “Can't I?"
With slow care he unwound the cloth from the package. At the last revolution, she frowned and leaned in closer.
"How did you get that?” A leather-bound book lay before her. In its center was a red circle and emblazoned upon the circle was a rearing unicorn.
He whirled to face her. “You know what this is?"
She cursed her stupidity. “I've seen it once before."
"Peter showed it to you?"
"Yes."
Like a striking snake, he grabbed her arm. “What did he tell you about it?"
She fought against the compulsion to answer his question. His hand tightened on her arm. “Don't anger me again,” he warned.
"He said it was his grandfather's,” she said, angry tears blurring her vision.
"What else? Did he tell you how to use it to travel the rifts?"
"No."
He pushed her away from him. “No matter. I'm close to solving the riddle myself."
She looked again at the book. One of the outlying cracks had entered the red circle and was halfway to the unicorn's back hoof. He is close to solving it and it will be the death of Daradawn. And what of my world? Ru'taha and Black Vipers wandering the streets of San Francisco? “You didn't say how you got the book."
He waved his hand at her and frowned. “Thomas got it for me. How else?"
Her eyes narrowed. Thomas. That man has much to answer for.
Dirkk elbowed her aside and wound the book back up in the cloth. He walked to the chest and tossed the book inside. She winced as she heard it bounce off the chest's side before landing with a dull thud. “Come, I've something else to show you."
She bit her lip against asking him a useless “what,” and instead fell meekly in behind him. He led her across the room to another open door. She entered behind him, then stumbled to a halt.
A naked man stood in the center of the room. He lifted dull, resigned eyes to them as they entered. “This will be the replacement for the Ru'taha disposed of earlier.” Dirkk walked toward the man.
Shaking her head, Regan backed toward the door.
"Stop!"
She froze.
"Now come here to me."
Her legs moved her forward.
"You will stay by my side until the shaping is completed."
Rigid with dread, she closed her eyes.
"Open your eyes, Regan, or I will fix them so you will never see again,” Dirkk purred into her ear. She forced her eyes open.
"Good. Now first I wish you to take a good look at the man before you. You see he has not been starved, or harmed physically in any way. Only those in the best of health make good pets."
"Oh, God,” she moaned.
He snorted derisively. “God does not know this place."
She swayed and felt his fingers dig into her arm.
"Stay with me, or I will prolong this, and his pain."
Deep in the captive man's eyes, a spark lit, then died. Sick inside, she nodded silently.
"It's not that bad,” Dirkk continued. “I take good care of all my creations."
He removed the amulet from his neck and approached the man. Smiling, he pressed the head of the eagle into the captive's forehead. The man's body arched, then twisted in Dirkk's hands. His mouth opened wide and Regan braced herself for his scream, but inside, she saw not a tongue, but a red zigzag of flesh stretching across the back of his throat. Over Dirkk's shoulder, the man's silent pleading gaze locked with hers. She shuddered and turned away in impotent fury from those haunting eyes.
"I must first take his soul,” Dirkk said. “Then..."
A pounding on the door drowned out the rest of his sentence. Dirkk jerked the amulet away from the man's forehead and yelled. “Who dares to disturb me?"
She watched the captive crumble to the floor.
"It's I, master,” a high, thin voice answered.
Dirkk stalked to the door. “Why are you here?” he cried, yanking it open.
She lifted her gaze from the fallen man and glanced toward the door. She saw a flicker of movement, but Dirkk's body blocked her view of the welcome diversion. “I'm waiting,” he said in a voice of iced rage.
"Peter is on his way here with all of Queen Tessa's troops. He knows you have the human woman,” the tinkling voice said.
"He is bringing all the troops? He's left the castle unprotected?"
"Yes. I saw them preparing to march before I left to come to you."
Dirkk turned back to face her. “What a fool your lover is,” he said scornfully.
The owner of the voice flitted into view. “I knew she would be the end of Daradawn,” Talix said.
"You,” Regan whispered.
"I told you you would pay for insulting me,” the fairy said with a smirk.
"Enough,” Dirkk said. “This is what I've been waiting for.” He looked beyond Regan to the man who still lay on the floor. “A pity. My fun will have to wait."
"May I have my notebook before you go?” Regan asked.
"What?” Dirkk asked with a frown.
"My notebook."
Dirkk's eyebrows drew together into a deep vee. Then a smile curved his lips. “No, I will keep it with me.” He held up a hand in warning as Regan started to speak.
"I know not what it does, but this is the second time you have asked for it. And for that reason alone it will remain with me. Now go. Daradawn awaits its new king."
Chapter 22
THE LOCK ON the bedroom door clicked, and Regan clenched her hands into fists. From the other side of the door, a scornful laugh mocked. “Good-bye, savior of Daradawn. When next we meet, you will call my master King."
She brought her fist to her mouth to smother her angry reply, then turned and walked to the bed. Sprawled in its center, she stared at the cracked ceiling above. Could it be true? Was Peter on his way to free her, leaving Raya defenseless?
She grabbed one of the pillows, punched it viciously, wishing it was Talix's face, and then threw it across the room. “It's a lie,” she yelled at the empty room. “Even if Peter has lost his senses, Kelsey would never do something so stupid.” Regan flipped from her back to her side and stared out the balcony doors. “Peter, what's your plan?” She closed her eyes, but the vision of the tongueless man who had received only a reprieve, not freedom, floated before her. She rolled to her back and stared at the ceiling again. “We've got to free them. But how?"
She got up from the bed and walked to the door. Staring at the impassive wooden barrier, she shouted, “Let me out of here, damn you."
"What would you do if you were free?” a woman's voice asked from the other side.
"Caitlan?"
Silence and then a low fearful whisper. “Yes."
"Get me out of here and we both can get away from this hell hole."
"Not me, but you will take my son with you."
"Your son? But ... I..."
"If you don't take him, I will not help you."
"You know what I'll be going into th
e middle of."
"I know there's danger. But here he has no hope."
Regan leaned her forehead against the door. Why was the other woman ready to help? Was it a trap? “Why didn't you ask the others to take you with them?"
"There have never been others,” Caitlan said. “You are the first to enter Crag Castle since my son and I were taken."
Regan thought wildly for another way, but there was none. “I'll take both of you with me."
She heard the key in the lock and jerked the door open.
"Come, we must hurry. I will lead you to the stable,” Caitlan said, casting a glance behind.
"Where is your son?"
"I sent him to curry his pony. He is angry with me for not letting him ride with Dirkk.” Rourk's wife turned and ran through the door.
* * * *
In the middle of the throne room, Regan stopped as she saw the embedded globe of souls “Wait."
"No,” Caitlan cried, running back to grab Regan's arm. “We must hurry!"
Regan jerked her arm free and approached the round sphere of glass. She touched it with the tips of her fingers and it began to glow.
Behind her she heard Caitlan gasp. “You are a mage."
Regan turned to face her. “I wish. No, I'm just a stupid beginner at this magic stuff."
"But you have the ability. See how it glows. It only reacts to the touch of magic."
"Entering Dirkk's fortress destroyed what little I had."
"It's dormant,” said Caitlan, “not gone."
Regan looked down at the glowing orb. “Then maybe I can free them?"
"No,” Caitlan said, her eyes wide. “Dirkk will know that someone tampers with his magic."
Regan turned and looked at Caitlan. “It makes no difference. After this battle, he or I will be victor, and the other slave.” Regan saw the blood leave the other woman's face. She turned back to the globe. “How do I free you?"
"Shatter the glass,” Caitlan whispered.
"What?"
"Shatter the glass ... it's the only way."
"If I break it, will Dirkk loose his control of the Ru'taha and the Black Vipers?"
Caitlan shook her head. “No, he still wears the amulet."
The Blue Flame [Book 1 of the Daradawn Series] Page 28
