“Not in the same way. Talent is freely practiced here, though there aren’t too many with great amounts of it anymore. Our priests simply interpret the Word and spread it from the main temple across the land. They don't have anything to do with training or using magic, though I believe there have been priests who have also been mages.”
“You make it sound like Gamoland, a utopia, over here.”
Gryffon laughed. Layna felt a happy shiver run down her back at the sound. “Hardly. We have our share of troubles, but you'll find those out soon enough. I think we both deserve a little break from all that for a little while at least.” He grinned at her. His old self was definitely beginning to shine through the previous pain.
“Yes, please,” answered Layna emphatically, returning his smile with enthusiasm. “Tell me about your family then, how much of what you told me was real?”
Gryffon sobered. “Unfortunately most of that was. My mother grew ill when I was young and we fought hard to keep her alive, but in the end the suffering to continue living outweighed her fear of dying and she let herself go. My father was never the same, and though he did right for me, once I was on my own he faded away as well. We didn't lose our holdings as I told Jezebel to gain entrance to her manor, but ever since I enlisted with the Ieldran's spies, it has been managed by my cousin.”
“I'm sorry about your parents.”
“No need. They were both wonderful people, and I will remember them both with happiness. They are together once more in Gamoland.”
Layna was silent for some time. “Are you going to get in trouble for not following orders and staying in Avonmora?”
“I thought we weren't going to talk about things like that,” he scolded her playfully.
“Sorry,” she replied, “I hope not though.”
He didn't answer.
*
Jezebel moaned and opened her eyes. Her wrist was sore, but the rest of her was substantially better than the last time she had woken up. She blinked until she could focus and at once noticed that the man she had just been dreaming about was there with his back to her. He seemed to sense her waking and he turned.
“Ah, you are finally awake. That was quite a nap you took.” He laughed an eerie sort of chuckle.
Jezebel just stared at him. She didn't like being laughed at.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, and she felt compelled to answer.
“I believe that most of my body is healed, but I can't seem to remember anything.”
The man nodded as he undid the shackles around her arms and legs. “I expected as much, I'll have Devon fill you in on what's been happening and maybe he can jog your memory. I need you back in action as soon as possible.”
Jezebel tilted her head as she sat up slowly, rubbing her wrists. Back in action, he had said. This was the King she had decided, her memory would not relinquish any other information about him, but of his identity she was suddenly clear.
So she had been correct in thinking that she worked directly with the King.
But of course, what else would a woman of my standing be doing?
Her body protested the movement, but nonetheless she forced it to sit up straighter and she jutted out her chin stubbornly. “I won't be doing anything until you explain to me why I am being held here against my will.”
The King gave her an appraising look, a smile playing on his lips. “Against your will, my dear? You have been unconscious for weeks now. I have spent countless hours performing strenuous healing,” he waved a hand towards the table, “which is the purpose of the restraints,” he paused and had the good graces to look ashamed as he said, “some of the healing was rather rough on you and your body would have reacted by flailing even in your unconscious state, so I regret the need to hold you. However, at no time were you my prisoner as you imply, but rather my patient. But, that is behind us now and we can begin to move forward. As I said, I will be requiring your services as my First Advisor as soon as you feel up to it.”
Jezebel raised an eyebrow. First Advisor, well now. That sounds important. “I am sure that I can perform my duties as needed right away. But tell me, what happened to me?”
The King gave her a pitying look. “I'm sorry to say that an experiment you were working on went terribly awry, almost killing you in the process. Had I not been there to stop them...” the King trailed off.
Jezebel's mind played tricks on her as she swore she could hear the barking and snarling of dogs and she had a flash of intense fear, an emotion she was not at all comfortable or familiar with. Then it faded.
The memory was gone, and she was once again left with the horrible void of her past. She didn't pry further, refusing to admit to herself that she didn't want to know, didn't want to relive whatever it had been that had caused the unwanted emotion.
“So,” she said instead, “I'm sure that whatever I was working on was extremely important, I assume I have quarters that you can have a servant direct me to and then you can send along this Devon fellow to fill me in. I want to get started right away.”
The King's smile grew wider.
“Well?” she prompted, stepping carefully off of the table. Every inch of her body felt weak and battered but she didn't flinch - it never paid to look weak in front of your King. She obviously deserved respect and knew that she probably already was working on a plan to get even higher. Perhaps this Devon would know.
The King nodded his head to her appropriately and waved a hand indicating that she take the stairs ahead of him. She did so, noticing for the first time that she was wearing a ghastly robe, no doubt picked out by the King. Men simply have no taste. She had a moment's embarrassment as she remembered she had been naked on the table earlier, but it passed quickly. It wasn't worth worrying about such trivial matters when she had important royal business to take care of.
The top of the stairs opened up into what must be the King's office area and she paused to let him catch up to ring for a servant. As soon as he closed the passageway behind them which blended into the wall as it shut, the door opened and a servant came in and bowed to them both, without the King ever having to lift a finger.
“Your Majesty.” A quick bow. Then to her, “Advisor, welcome back.” The man turned sideways and held out a hand. “This way to your suites, ma'am.”
The King had settled behind his desk and was ignoring her, and he did not even bother to look up to dismiss her.
She turned on her heel and swept ahead of the servant, pausing in the hallway to let him take the lead. He led her back out of the King's wing, passing more guards than Jezebel would have thought necessary, and she idly wondered if there was a reason for the King's added security. She was led down another hallway, and they stopped at a door partway down.
The servant bowed to her and opened it, letting her step inside first before asking if she required anything else.
“No,” she said absently, her eyes taking in the room around her for something, anything that she might remember. Nothing seemed familiar, and she turned to the servant who was still annoyingly hovering. “No, I don't require anything else, you may leave me.”
The man bowed again and took his leave, closing the door behind him. Jezebel glanced around once more. The room was large and tastefully decorated though once she completed her plans - whatever plans they may be - she was sure her new rooms would be much more lavish.
A knock sounded at the door and she called out, “Enter.”
A wolfish man came in and gave her a lopsided grin. “My lady,” he greeted her. “I was so glad to hear that you were back.”
She stared at him, without recognition. “And you are?”
His forward steps faltered. “Devon, my lady. You don't remember me?” He seemed rather more hurt than he should have been seeing how from what she had gathered he was simply her errand boy.
“I seem to be experiencing some memory loss from my accident,” she told him waving her hand as if swatting a fly. “I was informed that you would be
bringing me up to date on what I missed and helping me to recover my memory.”
He inclined his head towards her, “I will. And it seems as though we will be taking a little trip as well.”
*
Blood flowed freely from Katya’s neck as she tossed the collar aside. Detaching it had been slightly harder than she had imagined and her neck had taken a beating in the process.
It felt wonderful, though, and she didn’t mind the wound in the least. Despite the warm stream of blood that was running down her body, she was happy.
The freeness she felt as the weight of the collar was relinquished from her was indescribable and she grinned from ear to ear. Marak raced around her arm feverishly, much like he did before a kill. But there was no such excitement in the future. Their biggest excitement was -
Well, she didn’t know. And that was what was so exciting. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been able to make a real decision for herself.
And how many have I killed? She felt a moment’s remorse, but quickly repressed it. No matter. Let it be on Karl’s conscience.
It was like being reborn. She was a new person, and would not let past wrongs interfere with her new persona. The assassin she had been while under Karl’s control was no more.
She growled under her breath. Thoughts of Karl led her to a murderous rage, and she quickly suppressed these feelings. They were not conducive to her future self. She didn’t know what exactly she would be from now on, but had no doubt that she would not simply be someone’s useless killer.
Where she should go, and what she should be were questions that burned in her mind. Never before, at least in her memory, had she had such a choice. It was tempting - oh so tempting - to stick around just to see what happened to Karl without her. No doubt those in this secret society he thought he was so important in would be annoyed at him for allowing her to escape. She wondered what kind of punishment would result from the misplaced trust. It would be amusing to find out.
Perhaps that was what she would do. After all, what else did she have pressing that she should attend to? As far as she knew, her parents were dead, and she had made no other acquaintances that she hadn’t then killed, so why not?
Something bothered her, though she didn’t really know why, about the thoughts she had gathered from Karl before breaking the unwanted contact. She felt as though something that he was involved in was vile, but was not so convinced that she felt any compulsion to find out more by direct contact with him. Maybe she would just disappear but continue to watch him. That way, she could satisfy her curiosity how well he did without his favorite pet and with his peers angry with him, as well as hopefully finding out more of what was nagging her without actually having to maintain a contact with him again.
She didn’t care if he was planning on taking over the world. She would never - ever - initiate a contact with him again. Her lips curled in revulsion at the memory of her first unwanted contact.
No.
But just watching wouldn’t hurt…her at least…
Yes. It would make her happy to see him hurting. She would stick around until she was satisfied that he was doing so. Or if it didn’t come fast enough by itself, she would make him suffer for what he did to her…
CHAPTER 6
Here in Treymayne, they were able to stop at the inns, as there were no wanted posters displaying their identities all over the place. Layna was almost disappointed since she was still nervous about being in a new land, but her fear was unwarranted as it turned out to be very similar to back home.
Back home. This was a phrase that her thoughts had been using a lot in the last few days, and Layna was beginning to grow homesick. Not for Jezebel's manor, certainly, and not even really for her parents’ house. Though maybe for Mila's a little, and there was definitely still the pain from Mila's passing.
More than anything though, she longed for the feeling she used to have. The feeling of home as a place where she knew who she was and what her purpose was in life. It seemed like just yesterday that she had been sitting around the fireplace in the kitchen with Aaron and Katrina and the bunch gossiping about the nobles' love lives. How different her thoughts were now.
In between memorizing new spells and practicing with her newfound talent, she thought about kings chasing her, hellhounds being created by her former mistress and sent after her, and now horses that talked. She constantly had an itching feeling like something was sneaking up on her from the shadows.
She also hadn't mentioned it yet, but the mark on her neck had started to burn shortly after they had dissolved the barrier. She had thought it was her imagination at first, but she couldn't continue to ignore it as she was now sure it wasn't just her mind playing tricks on her. She couldn't deny the very real sensation that persisted. Her nightmares had worsened as well, and the King’s face kept appearing before her, urging her to join him once again as he had in the cavern. Aileen’s warning seemed to be correct.
To make matters worse, for some reason Echo kept throwing mind probes at her at the strangest of times. Gryffon said she was probably just trying to be helpful in reminding Layna to keep up her shielding, but Layna found it awfully draining both physically and emotionally.
Layna did notice some subtle differences to the countryside that at least made the differences she was sensing a little more bearable as they had physical manifestations. She had observed several altars to the Three that had been erected and obviously well-used as they were overflowing with the offerings of the worshipers.
The number three was even more prominent than at home, and Gryffon had explained to her that unlike in Gelendan where the nobles had mostly converted to the worship of the Sleeping God, that in Treymayne the people were almost ubiquitously still loyal to the Three. Layna herself was a believer in the Three, a fact she was even more grateful for having heard Aileen's account of the Sleeping God's true identity. She was eager to reach the capital and pass along the burden of their information to those more capable of handling it.
They had had little news of her homeland, and Layna fervently hoped that nothing had gotten worse. She had daydreams of hellhounds running the streets unchecked and the black robed figures of her dreams murdering screaming villagers as they tried to escape their evil grasp.
Before long, they reached Endlyfta and they rode their mounts through the crowded streets towards the impressive castle in the center of the winding pathways. They finally reached the last gate to get into the palace grounds and they were stopped for Gryffon to produce his papers. The process was hurried along by Echo's presence, as she grew the horn on her forehead for the meeting.
During their travels, she had been content to be treated as a horse, and she stayed in the stables of the inns, choosing not to draw attention to herself by betraying she was more than just an animal. Back in her element, however, she took full advantage of the awe that she inspired, and their group was quickly ushered inside.
Gryffon drafted a message for the Ieldran which a messenger boy promised to deliver as soon as they were out of the meeting they had just been called to.
A young woman came to show them to their quarters in what Gryffon called the barracks.
They didn't look like what Layna would have imagined as barracks. These were long thin hallways with small rooms packed in. She would have imagined it as a large room with a bunch of bunk beds. She was happy with the rooms. The young woman showed one to her and Aileen, and Gryffon and Charles shared another. Echo had left them at the gate, apparently having other matters to attend to.
“Your talent is growing stronger,” Aileen commented to her as they unloaded what little supplies they had left into their room.
Layna took out her bedroll and spread it over one of the straw mattresses that had been provided as their beds. “I guess so. I've been trying to practice. That horse - Echo - kept trying to break through my shielding.”
Aileen chuckled. “That sounds like her, the little imp. Have no doubt she would have
if she had really wanted to break them. I'm sure she was only doing it to force you to try harder to block things out. It is in everyone's interest that you are able to withstand any intrusion.”
“Why do you keep insisting I’m so important? I am just a maid who got mixed up in all of this. I’m not going to let this mark rule my life, no matter what it tries to tempt me with, and I can’t possibly be the only one who has it.”
“No, you certainly are not.” Aileen sighed, “It is unfortunately far too common. However, the number with your distinct abilities are much fewer. Has it been trying to tempt you further?”
Layna flinched uncomfortably, she hadn’t meant to mention that. “I’ve been having more dreams,” she finally conceded, “where the King keeps trying to convince me to join him like he did in the tomb.” She refrained from mentioning the burning sensation in her mark.
“And what do you tell him?” Aileen seemed tense.
“The same thing I did when we were really there.”
She relaxed, “I know you don’t believe me child, but you will be central to the coming conflict. The clash between good and evil is almost upon us.”
“And who will win?”
Aileen just shrugged. “We shall see.”
*
Nathair was sorely tempted to make Jezebel physically make the trek herself, but it would be well worth the effort for this display of his strength. It would be good to instill fear into the hearts of the people of both Gelendan and Treymayne.
And hopefully, his mother.
One of the good-for-nothing council members had been spreading word that the King was more wrapped up in his own projects to pay attention to their plight. Unfortunately for the man, he had been stabbed to death before he had gotten to see the results of his scheming. Nathair almost smiled until he continued this thought. Too bad his plan hadn't died with him. There were too many who had heard the message and took it to heart. It would do them good to see what a strong leader he was. And how strongly I could squash those who would oppose me.
Those Who Fear the Darkness (BloodRunes: Book 2) Page 9
