Unleashed Fury (BloodRunes: Book 1)

by Cole, Laura R

  The snow in the water bag had all melted and she offered some to each of the horses who drank it with relish. She took off both saddles and commandeered the blankets beneath them for her bed. She rolled the sleeves of her coat over her hands and used them as mitts to pick up the now hot rocks, and put them underneath the pine boughs for added warmth. She then coaxed the horses to lie on either side of her and she cuddled between them, wrapping her coat and the blankets tightly around her.

  She lay staring at the bright stars in the sky above her and named each of the Three, sending them a tiny prayer to help her. She also sent out a silent apology to Mila for so crudely burning her body, and then whispered a prayer of peace for her as well. Again, a soothing calm overtook her, and she drifted into an uneasy sleep.

  She was shivering when she woke, but no worse than when she had been back at Jezebel's. She saw that both horses had already risen, and were looking around for food. Fly noticed her movement and came over eagerly. He lipped at her hair, asking for food.

  “I'm sorry, Gorgeous,” she told him regretfully, “but I only have a handful of grain or so from your bags. I don't know what we're going to do.” She fished out what she could, and they ate it greedily, looking for more. When they realized they weren't going to get anything else, they abandoned her to search for a patch of something edible on the ground. Layna looked around her, and sighed hopelessly. She had to pull herself together, but it was so overwhelming.

  The quiet morning air was suddenly interrupted by the crunching of snow, and Layna spun around in alarm, searching for the source. A figure separated itself from the forest. As it became visible, Layna gave a cry of happiness and rushed forward to hug Charles. “I cannot tell you how happy I am to see you!” she exclaimed to him, choking on the words.

  “What the blazes are you doin’ out here all by yerself?” he asked her, perplexed.

  She broke down, words bubbling out of her as she recounted yesterday's events.

  Charles listened silently, and lowered himself to the ground, staring straight ahead. “They killed Mila?” His voice was hardly audible.

  “Yes,” whimpered Layna, “and I'm afraid they're going to kill Gryffon too. I don't know what I can do. Can't you help me please?” she pleaded.

  Charles sat in silence for so long that Layna fidgeted uncomfortably. Out of desire to do something while Charles stared off into space, not answering her, she stood.

  “Do you,” Layna stammered, struggling to open her saddlebag and retrieve the jar of ashes, “Do you know what Mila would have liked to have happened to her remains?”

  Charles looked at her appraisingly before taking the offered jar, holding it as one would a new-born child. “Aye, I believe I rightly do,” he said softly. He carefully tucked the jar away with his own belongings and sat looking thoughtful a moment. After a time his expression hardened and he nodded shortly. “Mila would’ve wanted me to help you. No doubt we can come up with some sort of finagled plan to get ya in, but once yer there it’ll be up to you to find Gryffon and get him out while I takes care of this Devon fellow.” He paused for a moment before adding gruffly, “I hope you realize, young one, that we're gonna be right regular outlaws if we do somethin’ like this to a noble woman. Layna swallowed hard, but nodded. I am one already anyway. “Good,” said Charles, “then here's what we're gonna do...”

  CHAPTER 18

  Jezebel smiled at Gryffon, who stood shackled to the cell wall, and watched with pleasure as he spit out another mouthful of blood. She could feel the power emanating from him every time she caused him pain, and it made her shiver with pleasure at the sheer ecstasy of feeling the power flow into her.

  It was ten times what she got when working with the hellhounds, and she made a mental note to make sure that she had Devon invite her to these chats more often from now on. Now that I know how to use the power to get the full pleasure out of them. The book hadn't mentioned using the pain spells on people, but she found they worked much the same as with animals. Except that it doesn't seem to make him obedient, only cause him the same pain. But that is satisfying in and of itself. I will just have to work a little harder to get the good little puppy to obey.

  Devon had found the shackles for her, supposedly they dated all the way back to the Dark King's era, and Jezebel was happy to be able to try them out. They had a magical binding on them which prevented the wearer from touching the power, and if they tried they got a lovely little jolt of pain. Jezebel had found it quite entertaining to watch when Gryffon had discovered this special property.

  Gryffon lifted his head and glared at her through puffy eyes. “You're despicable,” he insulted her.

  She rewarded his insolence with another slap on his face. His head jerked sideways with the force, but he brought it back around and met her eyes again.

  “You really are the most disgusting woman I have ever had the displeasure of knowing.”

  She hit him again, balling her fist this time so that a large gash appeared where a ring tore out part of his cheek. He infuriatingly turned back to her and stared her down again.

  “You mean, rotten, hateful, little liar.”

  Smack!

  “You don't deserve the air you breathe.”

  Smack!

  “Nasty, manipulative, ugly whore.” He spat out another mouthful of blood and Jezebel felt the heat of her fury rising.

  She hit him again and again, using hands and feet and strengthening each blow with her talent, until she was panting with the exertion. Then she stood back, and watched as he coughed up blood and winced with pain at a large welt that was already appearing where she had kicked him in the ribs.

  “Let me show you this neat little trick I just learned,” she purred at him breathlessly and pointed a finger at him. Her whole hand started glowing with power, and Gryffon's body writhed in pain, as lightning bolts shot from her finger and were absorbed into his body through his chest.

  As she drank in the power, she threw her head back in pleasure. After a long satisfying moment, she angled her chin back down to face him once more, enjoying the agony etched plainly on his face. She watched with rapt attention as a dark spot appeared slowly, ever so slowly, burning itself onto his chest. Darker and darker it grew as she held the stream steady, dropping it only when she was starting to sweat from the exertion of maintaining the contact.

  She cocked her head to the side. “Isn't that interesting,” she commented, poking harshly at the rune that had shaped itself from the burn. That was an unanticipated side-effect. I wonder what it means.

  Gryffon's head lolled against his chest, and his lips were cracking as they swelled. Still, he raised his head with obvious effort, and coughed at her, “Stupid bitch.” His eyes rolled back in his head, and his body went limp against its chains as he lapsed into unconsciousness.

  “Revive him,” she ordered Devon who came forward with a bucket of cold water, but then hesitated.

  “I admire your endurance, mistress, but you may want to consider that if we kill him, the rest of the Council won't be nearly as pleased with you for bringing a spy to justice. Especially since that spy is also suspiciously someone you may have a grudge against.”

  She saw the reason in his argument but was in no mood for it with the power still flowing through her veins. The frenzy of her anger threatened to overpower her tenuous control, but she fought hard to control it anyway. He is right, after all. And besides, I have all night to play with Gryffon.

  With effort, she took a deep breath and then another, dissipating the power that still sparked on her fingers. She nodded. “You're right, of course.” She reached out instead to stroke the rune which had welted on Gryffon's chest. She brushed off a charred chunk of flesh before turning to Devon. “Come. Let's take some tea in the library while we rest.”

  As they sat in the library sipping their tea, a soft knock sounded at the door and the little mousy-haired servant girl peeked in, looking scared. “There's a minstrel at the door, Councilor, begging
an audience. Would you care to be entertained?”

  “Why not,” Jezebel said cheerfully. “I'm in the mood for some music. Show him in.” The girl nodded and retreated, returning with the minstrel in short order.

  The minstrel was an old man, with a withered face that told of years of hard work under the brutal sun, and he used gnarled fingers to unsnap a case that held a beautiful lute. He settled himself onto a pillow on the floor provided him, and he started to play. The knotted fingers proved to be surprisingly flexible as he wove out a tale, adding his voice to the music, and though it was coarse with age, it held a strong baritone quality.

  The music slowed, and Jezebel found herself relaxing. She sank deeper into her chair, her earlier excitement forgotten. That is, until suddenly a tremendous crash sounded from below which startled her into sitting straight up.

  She looked wildly about for the source of the commotion, and at the same time Devon jumped out of his seat and took a step towards the door. Then he stopped abruptly and made a small grunting noise.

  Jezebel watched him curiously. He turned back towards her slowly, and she saw that a knife was buried deep in his stomach.

  Her gaze flew to the minstrel who had a sadistic grin on his face and his arm outstretched in a throwing motion. Another knife left his hand and hit Devon, who staggered backwards, blood starting to drip from the corner of his mouth. He looked down uncomprehendingly at the handles, bringing up a hand as if to brush them off and then took a step towards the minstrel, a pained grimace on his face.

  Jezebel finally regained her self-possession and she reached for the power. Anger at the minstrel's offense gave her strength and she saw the old man’s smile falter for a moment as he noticed her movement. She gave a triumphant shout as she felt his fear.

  He turned on his heel and fled out the door. She followed, sure of her victory, but skidded to a halt when she saw what was happening in the hallway.

  The little harlot of a maid that she had had thrown out was sprinting down the hall, clutching something to her chest. Fury raged inside Jezebel at the sight of her, and she unleashed the power she had been gathering for the minstrel at the girl instead. It sped towards the hussy like a gigantic ball of electricity, but then bounced off some unseen force, ricocheting into the wall and shattering a vase there.

  Jezebel howled in frustrated anger, and she reached out a hand to claw at the girl as she passed.

  The girl tripped as Jezebel’s hand made contact, and she was swung around with the force of her momentum. Jezebel caught hold of her hair and yanked; causing the girl to lose her balance and she tumbled to the ground, bringing Jezebel down with her.

  They landed in a pile of sprawling limbs, the girl exclaiming in pain as Jezebel's elbow jammed into her stomach. The box she had been holding tumbled out of the girl's hand as it hit the stone floor roughly, and she scrambled out from under Jezebel to make a grab for it.

  Jezebel brought her foot around, kicking the box away from her, and resumed her attack. She balled a fist and smashed it into the girl's side.

  The girl grabbed at her ribs reflexively and then whirled around to face her, bringing up her fists as she did. Her expression held pain, but behind it was an intense anger that Jezebel had never thought possible on the innocent-looking face.

  It distracted Jezebel for a moment, allowing the girl to land a shot on her jaw. It hit off the mark as she was still off balance from her turn, and it was only a momentary setback. Jezebel whipped her head back around to laugh at the girl, but was taken by surprise when she was hit again.

  She blinked her eyes as stars danced in front of them, and she grabbed for the girl. Her fingers closed around the blond hair once more as she pulled the girl forward to interrupt her barrage of punches.

  The girl countered this by bringing her head forward sharply, connecting with Jezebel's nose in a tremendous burst of pain and blood.

  Jezebel's fingers loosened their grip, and the girl turned to crane her neck around, searching for the object she had lost.

  The last thing Jezebel saw before darkness overtook her was a strange symbol behind the girl's right ear.

  *

  Layna let Jezebel's limp body to fall to the floor with a satisfying thud, and looked frantically around for the box. She spied it in the corner and hurried forward to grab it, cradling it to her chest. She looked up and down the hall, but it was deserted, and an eerie silence had descended over the manor. Layna followed in Charles' wake out through the back entrance and found him waiting for her, already mounted on Axe and holding Fly's reins ready for her. She jumped on and they spurred the horses, urging them to gallop as soon as they were out in open land. The horses seemed to pick up on their riders' excited states and matched their pace to fit with it.

  “Did ya get him?” asked Charles once they were a good distance away and they had allowed the panting horses to slow.

  “Yes,” answered Layna breathlessly. “Are you sure he's okay in there?”

  Charles shrugged. “Better than he was with the demon lady. He might be agettin' a bit banged up, but he'll live.”

  Layna didn't answer. Gryffon had been in pretty bad shape when she had slipped down into the cellar dungeon. Charles' plan had been that she would stow away with him as he was allowed into the manor under the guise of a minstrel by riding in his magic barrel.

  He had shown her that not only was it the barrel she had seen him with in the marketplace, but it had another form as well. It could take on the appearance of a small box which could be concealed easily, and would hold just as much. Charles had tried to explain to her the mechanisms of the box, but it was beyond her realm of understanding. He attempted to liken it to a storage building somewhere else that the box was a dimensional hole to. He said that once she was there she would feel no different from simply being in a storage shed. Not particularly comfortable, but survivable. Layna had been doubtful, and hesitant to try and place her body into a magic container, but she had been assured that she would be fine. She had finally just flung out her hands in surrender, and decided to take his word for it.

  She had ridden in this manner into Jezebel’s house, and upon Charles’ knock, had emerged while Katrina went to tell Jezebel of her visitor.

  She had slipped unnoticed into the cellar, and found Gryffon in the same cell that she had occupied not all that long ago. Layna felt a twinge of guilt that she had not saved him as he had her.

  He had been slumped against the wall, bleeding and bruised from dozens of injuries, his clothing in strips around him. A blackened and blistering wound was festering on his chest.

  Layna had cried out at the sight of him, which had roused him. He had peered at her through one eye, the other too swollen to even slit open. His lips had cracked into a smile and he raised his eyebrows in a brief salute.

  “Aren't you a sight for sore eyes,” he had said, “and when I say sore, I mean sore.” Layna had rushed to his side as soon as she had the door open, after melting the lock with magic fire. She had applied the few rudimentary techniques for dulling pain and speeding healing that Mila had shown her.

  As soon as she was able to get him to move, she had urged him into the box and hurried back up the stairs to meet Charles outside. That's when Jezebel had tried to intercept her.

  She shuddered, wondering what Jezebel would have done to her this time if she had gotten her hands on them again.

  They reached the spot where they had hidden their belongings, and they dismounted to collect them up.

  “We'll hafta take him out now,” Charles told her, “It's not really meant for an extended stay, you'd hafta spend the extra money to get a tent box for that.” Layna wasn't sure if he was serious or not, but decided not to ask and simply brought out the box to retrieve Gryffon. She reached inside, searching for his hand and she caught hold of it. She gently pulled him out.

  He gasped for air and Charles winced, a guilty smile playing on his lips. “Whoops, might've left him in there a smidge too long.”
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  Layna stared at him wide-eyed. “I thought you told me it was perfectly safe!”

  Charles shrugged. “Well, he's alright now so no biggie. Sheesh, you're captious. I'll take that back.” He snatched the box and turned his back on them, so Layna turned her attention to Gryffon.

  “We have to ride out a bit farther in case she mounts a hunt for us. Do you think you're up for it?” she asked him compassionately.

  Gryffon gave her a weak smile, marred by the condition of his face. He closed his one good eye briefly before opening it again to answer. “Well, not much choice. I think there’s little doubt that she’ll send someone out after us.” He sat up and winced. “I hate to say it, but I think I'll need to ride with one of you. I might pass out on the horse by myself, and I don’t think there’s an inch left on me for another bruise.”

  Layna nodded. “We were going to have you ride with me so I can help you heal as we go. Mila wasn't able to teach me too much before she - but I can help you some.” She caught herself before mentioning Mila, she didn't want to add to Gryffon's pain just yet. She paused in thought a moment and then added, “I don't suppose you'd be alright with being tied on to the saddle? I'm not sure I could hold you if you passed out on me.”

  Gryffon groaned good-naturedly. “Well, if I'm going to be tied up, at least it will be next to a beautiful woman.” Layna flushed and rose to cover her embarrassment, and dug out the rope from their bags.

  She took a few extra minutes, despite Charles' annoyance, to clean and bandage Gryffon's wounds. Healing or no healing, she didn’t want them to get the chance to get infected. Besides, it would make him that much more comfortable and easier to handle during the ride.