Divine Blood

by Beck Michaels

  He whirled away. “What are you doing?”

  “Where are they?” she asked in confusion. “Where did they go?”

  “Nowhere.” He strode away.

  “I don’t understand.” She rushed after him. “What did you do with them?”

  Their voices faded as they made their way down the road leading out of Landcaster. Von left the alley and stared after Dyna, watching her walk away into the twilight with her prince.

  Elon appeared from the shadows. “She is the Maiden, Commander.”

  “Yes, I gathered that. Thank you,” Von snapped. The incredulity of it was agitating him. Her existence gave substance to his greatest fear.

  “Shall I follow?”

  To capture Dyna now would be easy. The werewolf had left, and the other would be no match for them. If there was any chance, it was right then.

  “No,” Von said. “We need to proceed with caution. Return to camp while I report this.”

  Elon didn’t leave and Von tensed. The elf was under his command, but he ultimately served Tarn’s best interest and was paid well to do so.

  “Commander,” Elon warned, looking past him to the road.

  He heard the rapid rhythm of hooves beating on the road as an assembly of Rangers in navy frock coats raced toward them on horses. Brass badges with the insignia of Azure shone on their lapels.

  “Shite.” Von slipped back into the dark alleyway, cursing the fates under his breath.

  “Search every building and alley!” a Ranger shouted as their horses galloped into the pub street. “Bar the exits! The merchant said he would be here!”

  Von glared at the dead merchant at their feet. This had been a trap after all. How had he managed to lie?

  “Deniability,” Elon answered his unspoken question. “By not being aware of the plans for the ambush, he could deny it was not one.”

  Von cursed. He used truth spells to avoid unnecessary bloodshed but he may have to rely on other methods from now on.

  He took out another knife. Elon drew his sword, the blade soundless as it left the sheath. Von took point, sprinting down the alleyway. Three Rangers charged through the adjacent alley of the Big Valley pub.

  “Halt in the name of the King!”

  Von flung a knife, impaling a target in the heart. He leaped over the body and stabbed through the stomach of the second. The third Ranger whipped out his rapier. Von ducked under the whizzing edge, coming out behind the Ranger and slashed through his gullet. The man gurgled, blood spurting from his mouth before he crumbled in a heap.

  Another five Rangers came running.

  Elon shrugged off his cloak. “Go, Commander. You have somewhere to be.”

  Von hesitated to leave him behind, but the elf readily faced the men with rare elation. The Rangers took out their rapiers, calling out orders of surrender, but there would be none this day.

  Elon streaked between the men like a black spirit, parrying and evading attacks at incredible speed. His sword glittered between bodies in flashes of steel and blood, taking down opponents as quickly as they came. Their cries drew more men, and they swarmed into the alley from all directions.

  Von felt more than saw the elf draw Essence from the surrounding atmosphere.

  Elon raised his sword straight in alignment with his face and murmured, “Ogap’maler.”

  Wild electricity sparked from his hands and coiled around the blade in spiraling vines. The elf ran to meet the Rangers and launched into the air, bringing his sword downward. It hit the ground with a deafening boom. Thunderbolts blasted outward in violent waves.

  Von sprinted from the explosions and shaking buildings, ducking low. The remnants of electrical magic crackled at his back. The screams of the dying followed him, even as he exited the alleyway into town.

  Von stalked through the dark, avoiding the lanterns lining the deserted roads. He headed for the Smithton Tavern in the posh part of Landcaster. The imposing building stood three-stories tall with arching windows.

  He went through the front doors and found it much quieter than the pub. The sleek wood floors gleamed under the chandeliers overhead. Stairways with iron spindles flanked the tavern walls, leading to lodging on the floors above. Dark wood tables spread throughout the public lounge. There were only a handful of patrons and all had veered off in separate corners where servants brought them fine food and drink on polished trays.

  His master sat at a table within a shadowy alcove. The sharp planes of Tarn’s face were not easily discernible under his dark blond hair. A section of it hid part of the mangled scar that coursed diagonally from his right brow, across the bridge of his nose, and curved to the left end of his jaw. An immaculate overcoat, the color of charcoal, with notch lapels and silver buttons contoured his tall, lean frame.

  Two other men accompanied him, laughing and shuffling a deck of cards. A pile of gold coins gleamed in the center of the table. Tarn sipped from a goblet as he tossed in a few more stacks, coins spilling down the mound. The men shared an impish grin and added their bets.

  Von came up behind them, glancing at their cards. Each was painted with the sigil of each kingdom within Urn. The kingdoms were valued differently based on their size, wealth, and army. Both of the gamblers had matched pairs. Good enough plays to win, not that they would.

  Von approached his master’s side and bowed. Tarn idly flicked his fingers, permitting him to stand. He glanced at the cylindrical case and Von nodded, confirming they’d gained another Sacred Scroll. But then Tarn noticed the speckles of blood on his coat. He fixed him with eyes that were the striking ice blue of a frozen lake, bottomless and frigid. A chill flushed through Von’s veins at meeting them.

  He leaned down to whisper, “We had trouble with Rangers.”

  “Cause?”

  “It was a trap.”

  “You should not have lingered.”

  “I was delayed, Master.” Von took a breath and added, “I found the Maiden.”

  Tarn’s responding smile was slight and as cold as the rest of him.

  The two players laid down their ten cards. Tarn then tossed his across the table, revealing a matched set representing the five major kingdoms of the country: the seven-pointed star of Azure, Greenwood’s Dynalya, the dunes of Harromog Modos, the fire-breathing dragon of Xián Jīng, and the triad symbol displaying the three guilds of the Magos Empire.

  The men scowled.

  The one with a beard slammed his hand on the table. “It’s impossible to get all five. You bloody cheated.”

  Tarn took another drink. “Did I? Or might it be you’re too incompetent to win?”

  The man lunged. Tarn kicked out the vacant chair between them, knocking the man’s feet out from under him. He tripped face-first onto the edge of the table with a sickening crunch. The man cried out and blood gushed from his broken nose. His friend leaped to his feet, whipping out a dagger. Von grabbed the man’s arm and twisted it behind his back until there was an audible snap. A keening cry echoed in the quiet parlor, followed by the dull thud of the dagger hitting the floor.

  Von slammed him atop the pile of gold. “He won this round fairly, aye?”

  “Aye,” the man garbled against a mouthful of coins.

  Von tossed him next to his companion. The servants hardly looked over at the commotion. This must be a common occurrence.

  “Shall we play another round?” Tarn asked as he shuffled the cards. The gamblers weren’t interested. Von jerked his head for them to go. They snatched up their belongings and scurried out of the tavern.

  Tarn’s icy gaze pinned on him again. “Are you sure she is the one? I’m tired of rumors and false leads.”

  Von lowered his head, keeping his voice low. “She matched the Seer’s description: hair like fire and eyes emerald-green.” Those were common characteristics, but there was no mistaking how Dyna had looked to him in the sunset, and there were other indications. “She has the key, as foretold. I overheard her companions mention a map to Mount Ida.”

/>   Tarn’s expression didn’t change, but Von sensed his contentment. “And she’s accompanied, you say. By the Guardians?”

  “Possibly.”

  “How many?”

  “Two. There may be more. The Rangers impeded us from following.”

  Tarn studied him. Von was careful to keep his face composed, but he tensed at the partial lie. There had been a chance to go after her.

  “Send the spies.”

  He suppressed his relief. “Yes, Master. Allow me to escort you to camp. After today, the news of your return will spread to all of Azure.”

  Tarn flagged down a servant for more wine. “How did you escape?”

  “The captain.”

  “Then he’ll see any other problems tonight. Go. You know what must be done.”

  Chapter 23

  Dynalya

  Landcaster’s silhouette blended well into the night, despite the faint candlelight glinting from the windows and scattered moonlight trickling over the roofs. A nervous sweat sprouted along Dyna’s skin. The shiver whispering down her spine had nothing to do with the chilly breeze rustling the leaves.

  Zev said to wait for him. Why had he gone? He knew she couldn’t stand to be alone in the dark.

  Well, she wasn’t alone. Beside her, the silent Celestial Prince leaned against a tree, arms crossed, frowning in the direction of the town.

  “Should we light a fire?” she asked, struggling to hide her unease.

  He pulled his gaze from Landcaster to her. “It would be pointless to do so. We will not camp here tonight.”

  Dyna rubbed her arms, biting her lip. She heard the faint accusatory hint in his voice. He was annoyed at the mistake she made, but revealing the location of their journey had not been on purpose. The words had been plucked from her somehow. She had no explanation.

  But how much longer would Zev take?

  The shadows grew and stretched in the forest where they waited. Shapes lurked in the foliage, watching. No, there was no one. It was only her unfounded fear. But the darkness was all-consuming.

  Dyna squeezed her eyes shut and crouched down on her heels, wrapping her arms tight around her. She pictured herself huddled in the burrow beneath the glowing Hyalus tree outside of North Star.

  It cannot hurt me. It cannot reach me. I am not alone.

  “Are you cold?”

  She flinched at finding Cassiel suddenly in front of her. He canted his head, skimming her face. She gave a stiff nod. It was not a lie; her arms were prickly, and her limbs were trembling.

  “Perhaps a small fire?” she managed. Anything to bring the light.

  The Prince stepped back and drew his sword, white flames bursting to life. Dyna yelped. She jerked back from the rupture of heat, falling on her bottom.

  Cassiel raised the blade and thrust the point into the dirt. “There.”

  The wide band of flame cut through the darkness, banishing all creeping shadows.

  She sighed in relief and basked in its warmth. “That’ll … do.”

  Rummaging through his pack, Cassiel pulled out his enchanted coat he’d used to hide his wings and unexpectedly draped it around her shoulders. He had taken it off as soon as they had left town. She wasn’t sure if it was whether from her constant questions or from the discomfort of having his wings confined. A brocade jacket now rested on his frame. It was as black as his hair, patterned in silk and trimmed in gold embroidery.

  “Thank you,” she murmured, wrapping herself in the coat. It was as large as a blanket. The fine material was unfamiliar, smooth, and lined with what felt like velvet. It carried his unearthly scent she couldn’t help breathe in.

  She slid her arms beneath the coat and stretched them behind her. Where she should have felt the back of the coat was instead endless space as though it was an immense cavern.

  Stardust.

  It was all Cassiel had offered as an explanation. She had read about Stardust in Azeran’s journals. It was a spell in mineral form the mages had created to enchant limitless space where it was needed. It was rather clever of Cassiel to use it on his clothing to conceal his wings. He had looked almost human with the coat on.

  The took a seat at arm’s length from her. He didn’t like being touched, which she had noticed from the first time they met. Did it have any meaning, or did he simply find her touch repulsive?

  A silence settled over them as they watched the petals of fire swivel around the sword. The roots of the flames were the color of cobalt. It didn’t affect the blade, though she felt the tremendous heat. A weapon of divine fire meant to strike down demons. What would it do against humans?

  She glanced at the Prince, finding his faraway stare fixed on the flames. The divine firelight was different than the muddled orange glow of a campfire. The white fire lifted all darkness, casting it away. It softened the sharp planes of Cassiel’s face, drawing out the hint of luminance that lingered beneath his skin. For a moment she could almost see how he’d looked as a boy: cherubic, soft eyes, mouth curved with a hint of laughter. She blinked and it vanished.

  He caught her staring, and Dyna quickly looked away. “Where do divine weapons come from?”

  “I would think the answer obvious.”

  Right. Such sacred things were not manmade.

  “Divine weapons are called Kados Lezayen,” Cassiel said, the lilting words sending a whoosh of warmth through her. The way it had when King Yoel spoke the God of Urn’s true name.

  She tried and failed to repeat it so eloquently.

  A slight twitch of Cassiel’s lips gave away his barely reserved amusement. He said it again, slowly sounding each syllable. “Kah-dosh Leh-zah-yen.”

  “This is the language of the Celestials?”

  “It is the language of the Heavens.”

  The revelation left her briefly astounded. “What does it mean?”

  “To arm with His divinity. It’s a general translation. The first true divine weapons forged by Elyōn contained blue fire. Some had been brought down with the first Seraphim, but they are kept locked away. Too valuable and too powerful in their creation to be wielded in the Mortal Realm.”

  Then where did the white fire blades come from?

  “We had to make do without them,” Cassiel said, answering her silent question. “When a Celestial child comes of age to train in combat, they choose their weapon, and it will be forged by the Smiths in the blessed fires of—”

  He abruptly cut off, and his expression grew guarded. Their conversation flowed so easily he must have been about to reveal another location of the Four Realms. Hermon Ridge—the northern mountain she overheard Cassiel mention to Zev—was one. Perhaps he revealed that to her cousin because of the Accords, knowing Zev could never speak of it. Dyna wasn’t sure how that differed from her royal immunity, but she didn’t press any further. While she knew some of their secrets it was best that she didn’t know all of them.

  “Does your sword have a name?” she asked to change the topic. “Every great sword has one.”

  “No,” he answered much too quickly. A flush rose to his face.

  She smiled mischievously and inched closer to him. “It does! Tell me.”

  “No.”

  “Why? Is it a secret?”

  He turned redder, looking away. This was the most unruffled she had seen him. She waited, silently begging to know what could make him blush that way.

  Cassiel peeked at her and rolled his eyes at her grin. He cleared his throat. “Esh Zayin.”

  “What does it mean?”

  The question hung in the awkward silence as the Prince picked at the cuff of his jacket. Dyna kept still, waiting.

  “Fire Sword,” he mumbled so faintly she almost didn’t hear it. At her blank stare, the blush dropped down his neck. “I was given my divine weapon at eight years of age. I was not the most creative sort.”

  A giggle slipped out before she stifled it behind her hand. Cassiel shot her a mild glare.

  “Well, I like it. A sword befitting of i
ts name.” She smothered another laugh, meaning it only as a gentle tease.

  The Prince scratched his head, black wings twitching. The color remained in his cheeks. Unusual of his cool, stiff manner, she found it rather charming that he would be embarrassed over anything.

  “What happened to your arm?” he asked suddenly.

  The coat sleeve had slid down her arm, revealing a part of the welt. Before she could reply, Cassiel yanked down her sleeve and exposed her swollen wrist to the light.

  “Ah, there was a bit of trouble—”

  His expression darkened with a fury that stalled the words on her tongue. Whatever he was going to say was interrupted by a rustling in the foliage. Cassiel leaped to his feet, simultaneously tearing his weapon from the ground.

  “It’s me,” Zev said as he entered the pool of white firelight. “Though you were easy to find. I could see you from the road. Put that thing away. I’m here now.” He said the last bit while looking at Dyna.

  She nodded to assure him she was all right. Her conversation with the Prince had done well to distract her.

  Cassiel sheathed his sword. The darkness engulfed them again and banished all remnants of heat. “What had been so important to return to town for?”

  “I had to see an old friend,” Zev said, coming quickly to her side but his answer momentarily diverted her fear of the dark.

  What friend? He didn’t have any friends in town that she knew of, other than … oh.

  The rattling coming from his pack as he guided her further into the woods was answer enough. Zev had gone to see Ragan.

  “What is this about trouble?” he asked, expertly removing the attention off of him.

  Cassiel looked at her expectantly. Zev waited for the answer as well. Dyna tried to hide her hand, but he noticed too and yanked down her sleeve. He growled, his eyes flashing.

  “Who did this?” his gravelly voice was so wild she knew his wolf was completely awake.

  She didn’t want to explain her encounter with Dalton. Cassiel was not aware of the customs of the Magos Empire, but Zev was, and he would hunt down the young mage to protect her. That was not something she would add to his conscience.