by M. L. Greye
He grunted. “You really can’t wait to stab another Kendren.”
“That’s Flortt. My fight is with Pavn, remember?”
One of the hall’s double-doors creaked open. Archrin pushed Tiara back against the wall, as Flortt stumbled in with one hand on a wide-eyed girl’s wrist.
“Here we are,” Flortt slurred, sweeping his other hand in a circle. “Come.”
The two made their way to one of the thrones before Flortt sprawled himself out – the girl on top. Tiara wrinkled her nose at the sight, causing Archrin to bite back a laugh. She glanced up at him. He offered her a small smile before emerging from the shadows.
“Evening, Flortt.”
The king whirled. “Who’er you?”
* * * * * *
Pavn stormed down the hallway, swearing viciously beneath his breath. One night. That was all Pavn had petitioned for. He would be back before dawn – before anyone would miss him. But no, Ryth had denied his pleading. And for what? The Month of Liberation had been a holiday of their own creation, meant to win over those Tlaidians who had been sitting on the fence regarding their claim to the throne. Pavn swore again, this time more loudly.
Tonight, non-Tlaidian Kendrens were to aid in the Vrenyx conquering of Relivaynt. They were to receive the action Pavn craved. He was bored beyond even his own belief in Tlaid. Here, the women came too willingly, practically begging to have royal blood bless their loins with a child. Pavn was sick of their nightly appeals. They were just another reason why he hated Desnbi. Pavn gritted his teeth. He was furious with his brother.
A sudden, short-lived scream pierced through Pavn’s anger. His head snapped up. It had come from the throne room. Pavn quickened his pace. He knew Flortt had taken a scullery maid to the hall, as he usually did after a long evening of ale. As Pavn neared the entrance, he noticed Flortt had left one door open. The drunken sot, Pavn muttered to himself. No wonder he’d heard a scream. Flortt had probably gained advantage of his girl.
“Now, I can have my way with you,” Flortt’s voice called out.
Pavn pulled a face. This was why the door should have been shut. Pavn turned, readying himself to go.
“She’s dead.”
That voice. Pavn whirled back to the door, his mouth hanging in shock. It couldn’t be! But he had to see for himself. Pavn peered into the hall and gaped at the sight. His brother was waving his sword at some purple–clad soldier. Pavn couldn’t see the soldier’s face. Then, at the foot of the three thrones, a woman in brown laid limp on the floor, while another woman in white crouched over her. Pavn’s eyes locked on her. The form was far too familiar.
She stood. “You’re a coward, Flortt.”
It was Tiara! A new kind of anger suddenly burst inside of him. Pavn’s eyes narrowed as he slipped silently between the doors.
Flortt gawked. “He’s the one who killed her.”
“You shoved her into his blade!” She shot back.
There it was – that fire she seemed to spit out at any opportunity. Pavn grinned. He would extinguish her flames.
Flortt dove for the soldier, and the clash of steel echoed through the hall, reverberating off the tall walls and high ceiling. Pavn was almost to her now. Still keeping to the shadows, Pavn watched as she backed away from the fight. It was perfect. She was heading right into his path.
And she was to him. Pavn clamped a hand over her mouth, yanking her towards him. He inhaled her sweet scent, practically dizzy with his joy from capturing her. Almost instantly, she began biting at his hand, while her fingers dug into the flesh on his arms. Pavn swore and punched her in the stomach. She hunched over in pain, gasping for air.
“That’s better,” Pavn whispered into her hair. “As you can see, I’m not afraid to hurt you, Tiara.”
With one hand, he reached for the wall. There was a passageway somewhere around here. He just needed to find the right stone. Ah, there it was. Pavn pushed the only round shaped stone of the room inward, and the floor gave out beneath his feet, dropping both him and Tiara out of sight.
18
---------------
It was actually perfect timing for an attack, even for one so ill-equipped as theirs. Will followed Sazx with hands “tied” behind his back. Two Nagreth had joined them at the keep’s entrance and were now taking up the rear. Olinia, invisible to all excluding Will, stepped lightly beside him, her hair bouncing against her back as she walked. Her dark gray dress was muddy at the hem, the only clue hinting at what she had already been through that night. Ahead of him, Sazx carried Alonavess, Will’s sword, in one hand. He would toss it to Will when the time came for him to spring from his disguise as a prisoner.
Out of the corner of his eye, Will watched Olinia. He hoped she was right about trusting Sazx – the strangely gifted Nagreth. This entrance seemed like something from a movie. Will felt more like a skeptic observer than an actual participant. He was suspicious of Sazx, afraid of being led into a trap. How could a man who had devoted his life to one army suddenly switch to the opposing side? But then, that was exactly what Archrin did. Except, he did it for Tiara. Will smiled dryly. Wasn’t most of what men did for a woman? Will glanced at the back of Sazx’s head. He knew exactly which woman had inspired the change in Sazx, and Will couldn’t blame him. Olinia was a bit intoxicating.
The small procession reached another flight of stairs. Will clambered up them silently, mimicking Sazx and his Nagreth.
Olinia gasped, causing Will to turn in surprise. At his look, she said, “Zedge isn’t in Delvich anymore. He’s in here, in the dungeon, but he’s not there alone.”
“What?” Will mouthed the word.
“Your Nagreth followers are easily read.” She grinned. “They might as well be thinking their thoughts aloud.”
Will rolled his eyes, and she laughed. After a moment, though, she asked, frowning, “Should I leave you with Sazx to find him?”
But they were to Dagon now. Sazx stopped in front of a single door. Olinia pulled a face. “I’ll wait.”
“Leave us,” Sazx tossed over his shoulder. The Nagreth left without a word. To the door, Sazx next called out, “My lord Dagon.”
Will heard obvious surprise at the other end before came the muffled response, “Enter, Sazx.”
Sazx took hold of Will’s arm as he opened the door, and flung him into the room on his knees. Will winced as he hit the floor. Must he shove so hard?
“Milord, look at what my men found in Caprith.” The Captain’s voice rang through the hall.
The room grew silent. Will looked up from the floor defiantly and blinked. There, sitting behind a large desk, sat a dark haired man who appeared to be the same age as Sazx. Will was somewhat startled to find that he greatly resembled Zedgry. He couldn’t help but stare. On Dagon’s lap sat a beautiful woman with flowing auburn hair and hazel eyes. She sat poised, as if the position she held was her right. Off to one side, Olinia was leaning against one of the shelves of books lining the room. She was glaring.
“Is this the Key’s heir?” Dagon sneered.
Sazx nodded once. “He is, milord.”
Dagon pushed Illein out of his lap. “Return to your duties, my dear. I have business to attend to.”
As Illein turned to leave, Olinia grinned, her eyes wild. “Excuse me, Will.” She rushed after Illein.
Will let out a short laugh, shaking his head. She had better take care of herself.
“What’s so funny, boy?” Dagon snapped, leaning back in his chair.
Boy? The last person to refer to him as boy had been Trenton on his last day in Ethon, months ago. At the moment, it felt more like years. Will raised an eyebrow. It was almost ironic that Will now knelt before the man his great-grandmother had left generations before. Will smirked. “I see you had no problem replacing Tyra.”
The surprise on Dagon’s face was evident. “Tyra?”
Will nodded. “The woman who chose Trenton over you.”
Dagon’s mouth hardened. “If this is your att
empt to show me your courage, it is rather pitiful.”
“I realize this isn’t courage. It’s more like an attempt at small-talk.”
“For small-talk, your words are rather imprudent.”
“I think in this situation prudence isn’t necessary.”
Dagon glanced past him to Sazx. “Wonderful young man, isn’t he?” He returned his gaze to Will. “Are you trying to be like Trenton?”
“I didn’t know I was.”
“Of course you didn’t.” Dagon began to pick at the dirt beneath his fingernails with a small knife. “So, what were you doing in Caprith?”
“Seeing the sights,” Will replied dryly.
“Naturally,” Dagon snorted. “Where’s my niece?”
“I don’t know.”
Dagon set the knife down on his desk. “You don’t know?”
“Last time I saw her, she was following after your fiancée.”
“She was here?” Dagon hissed, shoving himself to his feet. He glared at Sazx. “Did you know this?”
The captain smiled grimly. “Who do you think brought them here?”
The next few moments went by in a blur. Will’s mind ceased as his instincts took control. Dagon reached for the knife on his desk and tossed it at Will’s chest in one fluid movement. Just as it was released, Will rolled to the floor, freeing his hands from the mock rope cuffs. Sazx leapt at Dagon, throwing Alonavess at Will as he unsheathed his own sword. Will caught Alonavess midflight and slipped it from its case, jumping to his feet to join the no longer gray Sazx. From his waist, Dagon yanked out his own blade and the steel of all three swords hit each other at once.
* * * * * *
Legann usually liked the night, but at the moment he longed for sunshine. The Vrenyx had never really been part of Legann’s life. His battle had always been with the Kendrens. Legann gritted his teeth as he searched the exterior wall above him for another handhold. He, along with two of Yrond’s Saerdian friends from Ellidyrn, was climbing up to one of the towers containing the anti-Eve device. Yrond had given the special project to him and the Saerds. Apparently, Dagon had some sort of protection on his world, prohibiting any Eveon communication and entrance to the Vrenyx. So now, Legann was struggling over the ragged rock – his bow slung over his back – to reach the top of the tower.
A natural climber, Legann had thought he would be a good candidate for the job. The two Saerds were far better. They would have to stop to wait for him to catch up. Their skill made Legann look like a beginner, as if he’d never even seen a rock wall before. By now, they were almost to the top. Soon, Legann and his companions would be hoisting themselves back onto solid ground and into the view of any waiting Nagreth. This was the first step in the upcoming battle. And just a few more feet away.
Suddenly, a limp body was flung past them, careening down into the darkness. All three climbers froze in their tracks. “What was that?” Legann whispered.
He didn’t have to wait long for his answer. Not quite a moment later, a second body dropped, confirming his assumption of the first. This time, Legann noted the gray skin. His gaze shot upward in surprise. He doubted the Nagreth had jumped on their own, and definitely not so silently.
Biting his lip, Legann began his ascent again. The Saerds did the same. As they neared the top, Legann heard hushed voices. He frowned, straining his ears to make out the words.
“Start on the code,” a man said in Eveon. “I’ll keep an eye out for more Nagreth.”
Code? Legann blinked. Whoever it was, they were trying to disable the device. Legann motioned for the Saerds to get ready to leave the wall for the tower.
As one, they leapt over the edge, notching their bows. The occupants of the tower whirled. They were servants – a man and a woman. Legann raised his eyebrows. “What are you doing?” He asked in Eveon.
“Who are you to ask?” The woman shot back. She was kneeling beside a flat board with six small levers. From the board stood a tall flagpole, except without any flag.
“I’m Legann Reien.” It was the first time he had ever used his real name out loud. Legann smiled slightly to himself. It felt oddly refreshing.
“Reien?” Both servants blurted.
The woman looked startled. “Are you Dagon’s son?”
Legann pulled a face. “My uncle has a son?”
They visibly relaxed. The man shook his head. “Not that I know of. Are you Olinia’s brother?”
“One of them.”
The man frowned. “Why are you here?”
“For the same reason as you, I think.” Legann glanced down at the board. “Do you know the code?”
“I’ve already started it.” The woman nodded.
“Good.” Legann lowered his bow and crossed to her. “Pull the next lever in the sequence. Let’s get this shield down.”
* * * * * *
After only minutes of trailing Illein, Olinia knew she wouldn’t be able to find her way back to Dagon’s study. Too many turns. Not to mention, Illein was keeping a brisk pace. Olinia frowned as she practically ran to keep up with her. Why was Illein in such a hurry anyway? Olinia continued to grumble to herself as Illein began the decent downward through several flights of stairs. While Illein occupied herself with her sprinting, Olinia nudged her way into Illein’s thoughts. The woman had surprisingly efficient barriers. When Olinia broke down one another popped up in its place. She hid her true emotions well. A genuine temptress. Illein used her natural ability to entice in order to get what she wanted: power. As Dagon’s future bride, she most assuredly was guaranteed power.
At last they reached the bottom of the castle. Not even the Dark was as cold as it was here. Olinia rubbed her arms with her hands, expecting to see her breath at any moment. Illein moved through the grimy – or what Olinia would describe as grimy – hallway, guided by sporadic torches. The hallway didn’t last long though. After one more turn, it came to an abrupt end.
The hallway literally dead-ended at a wall. In a corner, sat two Nagreth across from each other playing some sort of board game over a makeshift table. At Illein’s appearance, both jumped to their feet.
“M’lady,” one said after a small bow at the waist.
“Is he still asleep?” Illein asked as she slipped her lavender dress off her shoulders. Olinia blinked as the gown gave way to a tattered one beneath it.
The other Nagreth nodded once. “Last time we checked.”
“Which was?” Illein raised a perfectly formed eyebrow.
“About twenty minutes ago.”
“Good.” Illein tossed the gown to the side, while one Nagreth flung her a small vial. “Same time tomorrow?”
“We’ll be here.”
Olinia couldn’t help but stare at the strange exchange. Was this normal Vrenyx behavior? They took their deceit so lightly. Olinia watched as Illein brushed her hand over both chests of the Nagreth before heading for the wall where the hallway ended. So much for fidelity, Olinia grunted, hurrying off after her. As she neared the wall, she noticed Illein didn’t stop. Olinia once again found herself staring. Illein walked through the wall, as if it wasn’t even there. Olinia grimaced and followed suit.
Instantly the light from the torches disappeared, leaving Olinia in a blackness that she could almost feel. Where did Illein go? Olinia waved her hands in front of her, hoping to brush against anything. But her hands only grasped at air. The wall had to be a Velvitor creation of some sort – one that blocked out light and sound, but not people. Could she go through the wall from the reverse side? She grimaced and took a step backwards. The light returned, as did the chatter of the Nagreth. Olinia bit at her lower lip. She needed light on the dark side.
Her eyes landed on a torch mounted beside the Nagreth. Would it work through the wall? Olinia shrugged and snapped her fingers, pausing time. It was worth a try, and the only way to make an attempt without startling the Nagreth was to do so with them frozen in the present. The torch was too high on the wall for her to reach, but with the wave o
f her hand, she drew it out of its mount to float right into her outstretched fingers. Olinia grinned and began again through the wall.
The light went with her, much to her own relief. Olinia smiled and glanced around. To her surprise, there were three doors with bars over the small windows at the middle of them. These must be the cells. Olinia frowned. Which one held her brother? Olinia stepped closer to the door to her right and waved the torch in front of the bars to see inside. Empty. She moved to the next one to do the same. Like the first, it too looked empty. But then, just before she turned away, she glimpsed a hint of red.
Illein was on the floor kneeling, her hair falling over her shoulders and into her face. On her lap, face turned upward, was Zedgry. Olinia nearly sank to the ground. Illein held the vial the Nagreth had given her to Zedgry’s lips, letting whatever its contents were to slip into his mouth. Anger suddenly boiled up inside of Olinia. She clenched her jaw and glanced down at the door for a way into the cell. There was no handle. None of the doors had handles. How did Illein get in? Frustration soon added to her anger as she struggled to find a way inside.
Then, she noticed the empty torch mount to the left of the door. It looked more like a lever than an actual mount. After another quick glance around the area, Olinia saw that there were two more identical mounts. Odd, when only one would have been sufficient for such a small area. Olinia furrowed her eyebrows as she reached up with one hand and yanked downward on the mount. The door creaked open. Olinia released the lever. The door shut. It would only remain open so long as the mount stayed down. She could squeeze inside before it shut, but how would she get out afterwards? Olinia bit at her lower lip again and slipped the torch into the mount. It was getting heavy.
All at once the door opened again. Olinia blinked the mount hadn’t moved, just the door had. The torch was keeping the door open in place. Olinia let out a short laugh and stepped into the cell, her gaze locked on Illein.
The contents of Illein’s vial were almost gone. Olinia guessed it was the reversal to whatever sleeping drug she had given him earlier. Zedgry probably needed all of it, but once Olinia brought herself back to the present, she knew Illein wouldn’t let him finish it. With a sigh, Olinia raised her hand slightly to snap. “Sorry, Zedge,” she muttered. “We’ll fix you once we’re back in Evedon.”
