“Mara, you don’t have to-” Brelynn started.
“Yes, I do.” Mara tightened her hand around the hilt of her sword. “Arch-Grimveldt Korvar is worse than you know. This is for you and others I couldn’t help when I was bound to Mokkar Calmont.”
“Better send word to King Eli that we got a necromancer and whatever she is,” Sir Leopold said pointing his thumb at Mara, “in Aerius.”
“I will see to it,” Lady Matilda assured them.
Footsteps outside the shattered door had Sir Marcus and Champion Mara drawing their swords while the rest of the group turned.
“Place needs work,” Sir Matthias said and grinned. “They really let it go while you were away.”
“Sir Matthias.” Brelynn beamed.
“Imagine seeing you here.” Sir Matthias winked. “Funny rumors are going around that Sir Marcus has a wife, and she’s being targeted by a necromancer.”
“It’s not a rumor,” Sir Leopold snapped. “Now stop yapping and tell me they sent more than just you.”
“Sent two squads of us,” Sir Matthias said. “Not messing around on this.”
“Get these two in the carriage, and I’ll explain on the way,” Sir Leopold said.
Ten Knights all in battle armor waited outside for them, their eyes fixing on Brelynn as Sir Marcus led her to the carriage. Sir Marcus nodded his thanks to them, then he helped Brelynn into the conveyance.
A moment later, the carriage was in motion, and the Knights along with Sir Leopold and Champion Mara fell in around it.
Brelynn studied the streets of Tamryn as people stopped to stare, their armed escort making quite the spectacle.
If Arch-Grimveldt Korvar hadn’t known where she was before, he did now.
She shivered and leaned closer to Sir Marcus.
“It will be okay,” he promised.
“I’d thought I’d be safe once we got to Aerius.”
“You are,” Marcus whispered against her temple. He thumbed over her cheek, and when she glanced up at him, he touched his lips to hers.
She wrapped her arms around him and lost herself in the heat of his kiss, the warmth of his strong arms, and the rich masculine scent of him. She couldn’t believe she’d woken up happy and only worried about meeting the prince.
That she could lose all of it, that she could lose him to Arch-Grimveldt Korvar…
Sir Marcus held her close. “It will be okay.”
“I don’t want to lose you,” she whispered.
“You won’t.”
“I have a bad feeling, like we’re walking into a trap.”
“I think you’re the first person to call the Dragon Cathedral a trap.”
“Maybe it’s because I’m from Oskelez,” she murmured as the massive stone structure loomed ahead of them. “Or maybe it’s because I’m not sure the wards will stop Arch-Grimveldt Korvar.”
“It would take the act of a god to breach the Dragon Cathedral,” Sir Marcus promised.
As the carriage stopped in front of the monolithic structure, Brelynn understood why Sir Marcus thought that.
As large as the palace itself, the cathedral was made of the same solid alabaster stone. While the palace commanded earthly power, here she felt something more.
She felt a whisper of the divine.
Heavily armored Knights of Valor, paladins, and priests walked with purpose among the stone pillars and towering Dragon Oaks, each armed and ready to come to the defense of Tamryn.
Order reigned as the followers of Dracor carried out His divine will.
Yet Brelynn didn’t feel safe or protected.
Sir Matthias helped her out of the carriage, and Sir Marcus followed. Their Knight of Valor guards flanked her and Sir Marcus as they entered the shining cathedral and allowed no one close enough to recognize the Great Lich Slayer or his new bride.
Sir Marcus guided her through a pew-filled prayer chamber, down a corridor, and into the heart of the cathedral.
“This is the sanctuary,” Marcus explained as he led her into a room carved out of white marble.
Dragon statues over four times taller than Sir Marcus supported the vaulted ceiling, and a single gleaming white altar adorned only with the symbol of the Dragon God dominated the center of the room.
The air smelled like a windswept mountain, and not even a whiff of incense invaded the chamber.
Sir Marcus walked to the altar with her hand in his, knelt, and bowed his head. Brelynn copied him, listening to his prayer as the power of Dracor reverberated through the room, through him, and even through her.
“You’ll be safe here,” Sir Marcus promised.
She bit her lip as she glanced up at the enormous dragon statues and felt as if they were staring back at her. “I don’t feel safe.”
“There is no safer place in all of Tamryn.”
“What if Arch-Grimveldt Korvar finds me here?”
He kissed her forehead. “You saw all the defenders out there he’d have to get through to get to you.”
“I know, and yet…” She stared down at the smooth floor as fear pooled in her.
Biting her lip, she squeezed her eyes shut as cold dread seeped through her veins.
Selfish, but Brelynn wanted him to stay with her even if it meant others risked their lives to find Arch-Grimveldt Korvar.
But it wasn’t who Sir Marcus was, and it wasn’t who she’d let herself be.
“Is Lucky around? He could keep me company.”
“I think he’s with Mara.”
Brelynn nodded and studied the interlocked stones on the floor.
“You’re safe here. I’m not exaggerating when I say it would take divine intervention to breach the defenses.”
Brelynn sucked in a breath. “I’m sure you’re right. Just promise me you’ll be careful. I can’t lose you. Not now.”
“I will.” Sir Marcus hugged her then stood and walked towards the door, ready to fight evil once again.
She’d known it when she’d married him. He was a lich slayer, and retired or not, his first loyalty would always be to Dracor. Accepting that was part of accepting him, of loving him for who he was.
Brelynn sat down on the floor and wrapped her arms around her knees, trying to make herself small and inconspicuous.
She didn’t want Arch-Grimveldt Korvar to find her, but she also didn’t want Dracor to think she was leading one of His Knights astray.
Chapter 65
Sir Marcus turned back to say goodbye to Brelynn and saw her sitting alone on the floor, her knees tucked up under her chin, trembling as she stared at the wall. She found neither comfort nor solace here, and she was scared despite being in the sanctuary of Dracor’s cathedral.
His heart clenched.
As he started back towards her, Sir Matthias opened the door and poked his head around it. “We’re ready. Arch-Mage Ndrek is here to help as well, and King Eli set the city guard to high alert. Korvar picked the wrong people to invade.”
Brelynn glanced up and smiled halfheartedly at Sir Matthias. “Be careful. Arch-Grimveldt Korvar has survived in Oskelez this long by always being one step ahead.”
“You don’t go after a necromancer thinking it will be easy, even one outside his lair,” Sir Matthias promised.
Brelynn shivered then nodded as she stared down at her knees.
“Hey, it will be fine,” Sir Matthias promised. “No safer place in the whole city.”
“That’s what Sir Marcus keeps saying.” Brelynn sucked in a breath. “Thank you for going after Arch-Grimveldt Korvar.”
“There’s a necromancer in Aerius. We’re doing this for you, for our Lich Slayer, and for all the Knights that have given their lives to keep Tamryn safe. We’ll show Korvar and those like him what it means to challenge Tamryn,” Sir Matthias said.
Marcus glanced from Sir Matthias back to Brelynn. She’d let him go even though she was scared and surrounded by strangers.
But that’s not what he wanted to do.
Sometim
es, it was okay to take rather than give.
Sir Marcus studied the stone altar and sensed no recrimination. “Go on without me.”
Brelynn swallowed hard as she stared up at him. “You’re staying with me?”
“I’m retired, remember?” Marcus scooped her up and held her close to him. “Sir Matthias’s turn to be Tamryn’s hero while I stay here with my wife.”
Brelynn smiled and hugged him. Hard.
“You sure?” Sir Matthias said.
“I’m sure.”
Sir Matthias grinned. “An Oskelesian sorceress may be the best thing that ever happened to you.”
Marcus kissed Brelynn’s forehead. “She certainly is.”
“Okay, you two stay here. We’ll take care of this.” Sir Matthias left, closing the door behind himself.
Marcus sat on the floor, his back propped against the wall as he held Brelynn close, the heat of her soaking into him, and the scent of her enveloping him.
No, he didn’t have to be the hero, and both he and Dracor were okay with it.
Sir Marcus hugged his wife. “It’s going to be okay.”
She pulled his arms tighter around herself. “I haven’t been this close to Arch-Grimveldt Korvar since I escaped, and now I know why he wants me.”
“We’ll be safe here. Dracor’s light fills this sanctuary.” Marcus leaned his cheek against her hair. “I used to come here all the time to pray and ask for guidance. Occasionally, forgiveness.”
“I can’t imagine you doing anything that would require forgiveness.”
“Give a little boy a sword and see how long it takes before he needs forgiveness.”
Brelynn laughed. “I imagine you were a very serious, very brave little boy.”
“And a bit awkward at first. Lotta practice.”
“It’s beautiful here, tranquil.” Brelynn closed her eyes and enjoyed the moment. “You can feel the divine energy.”
“It’s the first time I’ve been here since I came home from killing the lich.”
“Dracor still favors you. You can really sense it here. Maybe you can find a place in the church, like Sir Leopold has.”
“I’m not sure administration suits me.”
“Your aunt will-”
A wall of magic slammed against them, stealing Brelynn’s voice before she could scream.
Marcus was on his feet, armor shimmering into place as he stood in front of Brelynn and drew his sword.
“Time to return to your master,” a chill voice called as the shadows of the dragon statues ripped open.
A gaunt man with eyes as black as night and skin like old parchment paper stepped from one of the shadows, and an archer stepped from each of the others.
Chapter 66
“Korvar,” Sir Marcus said. “How…”
Arch-Grimveldt Korvar smiled. “Of course you would bring her here once you learned I was in Aerius, and I wanted you to come. It’s the only reason I let that traitorous snake live.”
“Mara,” Brelynn whispered.
“I will deal with her when I’m ready. It will be interesting to see how much torture one of her kind can endure.”
Marcus motioned Brelynn towards the door, covering her retreat.
Magic ripped past them and sealed the exit.
Brelynn felt the divine power swell, angry and bright.
So did Arch-Grimveldt Korvar, and he pulled a canister from his robes and dumped its contents over the altar.
Blood, dark and viscous, coated the altar, polluting it, poisoning it.
The divine energy pulsed against it then quieted, replaced by a darker and far more sinister presence.
Brelynn’s stomach heaved at the blaspheme, and she whispered a prayer to Dracor to forgive her for bringing such evil to His temple.
“What have you done?” Sir Marcus snarled.
“Paid homage to Uzakiel, may He be pleased with the defilement of this temple and drink in its lifeblood. Perhaps He will even accept the gift of Dracor’s Chosen.”
Brelynn’s magic strained against her control, snapping and snarling as the archers aimed their bows at Sir Marcus and each knocked back an arrow.
“Wait,” Brelynn said. “What if I cooperate? What if I give you what you want?”
“Brelynn, no!”
“I’m intrigued.” Arch-Grimveldt Korvar arched a dark brow.
She swallowed back her revulsion and clenched her fists at her side even as her magic howled. “I give you the child you need for the Dark God, and you let Sir Marcus go, unharmed.”
“Seems the traitor knew more than I thought she did. Your bargain would save me a lot of trouble, but it would also deprive Uzakiel of the Dragon God’s Chosen.”
“I will not walk out of here and leave you with him!” Sir Marcus shouted.
“Then you won’t have to.” Arch-Grimveldt Korvar lowered his hands.
The archers loosed their arrows.
Fear amplified her magic, and Brelynn blasted it at the archers, a boiling wave of fire so hot it incinerated the arrows before crashing over the archers. Their silent screams were lost in the maelstrom of heat as the inferno turned them to ash.
When the fire hit Korvar, he batted it away as if it were nothing more than a summer breeze. “Your feelings for him have helped you come into your magic. But it will not be enough to save him.”
Arch-Grimveldt Korvar raised his arms, and the shadows in the room began to coalesce as the stones under their feet froze, cracked, and split into deep fissures. The entire cathedral groaned, and pebbles rained down on them.
Sir Marcus charged, his sword flaming white.
The floor heaved and bucked, tossing Sir Marcus back against the far wall like a rag doll. He slid down, and Brelynn screamed as she ran toward him.
The ground swelled again, knocking her away from Sir Marcus and throwing her to the ground.
Marcus pushed himself up to one knee and then back up to his feet as he wiped blood out of his eyes.
“Too late, Knight,” Korvar said as he yanked Brelynn to her feet and placed a black blade to her throat.
Brelynn’s lungs tightened and fear choked her as Korvar wrapped a cage of magic around her, freezing and nullifying hers. The cold of his power sank into her, biting her flesh and digging into her soul.
She struggled against it, tried to burn it away, but her raw magic paled in comparison to the arch-grimveldt’s centuries of mastery.
Korvar eased the dagger down her chest, its razor-sharp edge splitting her robes and drawing a thin line of blood.
The shadows swirled, coalesced, and danced. It felt as if they were biting her ripped flesh, a thousand teeth tunneling into her and feasting.
Brelynn whimpered as she tried to curl around herself, to protect herself, but Korvar yanked her hair back and forced her erect.
Sir Marcus charged again.
The arch-grimveldt only smiled as the floor swelled and knocked Marcus back, slamming him against the far wall.
Korvar poised the blade over Brelynn’s belly, its bite drawing another trickle of blood.
He paused, and his anger radiated through the sanctuary. “You are already with child!”
The shadows screamed, tearing at her and shredding her flesh. Her blood dripped on the floor as Korvar’s dagger hovered above her while his gaze fixed on the desecrated altar.
“No matter. I will offer the unborn to Uzakiel first. Whet His appetite.”
Child. She was with child. Marcus’s child.
Brelynn struggled, but Korvar tightened his grip, forcing the breath from her lungs as he dragged her to the blood-soaked altar.
Brelynn’s gaze fixed on the altar. Korvar had desecrated it with blood, most likely lifeblood obtained through a horrific ritual to Uzakiel.
An act of a god.
Uzakiel.
If she could conjure enough power to burn away the blood, maybe it would weaken Uzakiel and Arch-Grimveldt Korvar enough that she and Marcus could get out of the sanctuary.
Arch-Grimveldt Korvar grinned and strengthened his cage. “Shall I sacrifice your Knight before you? Let you watch as I crumble his precious church around him?”
Brelynn yelped as she stared across the shattered sanctuary to where Marcus was climbing back to his feet. Blood stained his pristine armor. His blood. Still he tried to save her. To protect her.
He loved her. And she loved him.
Tears wet her cheeks.
She would not lose him. Not to Korvar. Not to Uzakiel.
She had brought this to Aerius, and she would make it right.
The fear and hatred slipped away, and love, compassion, and righteousness replaced them.
She had come to Aerius to find a new life and to help a little boy. Along the way, she’d found love, friendship, and family.
Brelynn found a place she belonged, a place she wanted to be.
She’d finally found a home.
She would not let Korvar steal it from her.
Would not let Uzakiel corrupt it.
Her magic surged into a brilliant flame that snapped through Korvar’s cage.
The necromancer strengthened his personal wards, but she didn’t aim the flames at him. Instead, fire engulfed the blood-soaked altar, burning hotter and brighter, expanding until the inferno escaped her control and filled the room.
As the blood burned off the altar, the flames changed from orange to bright white then crescendoed into pure silver.
The shadows fled before the brilliant fire then were snuffed out completely.
Arch-Grimveldt Korvar snarled as he wrapped himself in magic wards, but the silver flames blinded him and forced him to shield his eyes as they blanketed room.
Years of training took over, and Sir Marcus raced forward, braving the thunderous magical heat as he rammed his sword through Korvar’s chest.
Calling on Dracor’s power, Sir Marcus sent it racing down the blade and into the necromancer.
Arch-Grimveldt Korvar stared up at him, his black eyes wide as shock and fear contorted his gaunt face. Sir Marcus’s sword flamed white then silver as the holy fire consumed the necromancer.
Knight of Valor: Knights of Valor Page 27
