In the castle, they had servants prepare their meals, but Annoxoria knew he enjoyed feeling self-sufficient when out in the wild. She did as asked, knowing he’d take care of the cooking once she returned. His apparent lack of concern about Sepathia put her more at ease, and she had to agree they’d be in more danger come sundown. Until then, she’d decided to try and relax.
She picked her way through the shallow banks of dead leaves until she came to a creek. The water was biting cold, but moving well downstream. Squatting to dip her pot caused uncomfortable pressure on her abdomen, so she pressed her empty hand against the wound. Her vessel was halfway full when Annoxoria heard the snap of a branch. Looking up in alarm, she spotted a wild boar approaching from the far side of the stream to drink.
She kept still, assuming the creature had not yet noticed her. The boar rooted in the mud along the bank of the creek with its nose, and Annoxoria decided to risk standing since her legs were cramping.
The boar rose to attention at her movement, turning its head to get a better look. Annoxoria was certain the animal would have no trouble crossing the shallow water, large as it was. Would casting a spell scare it away or provoke an attack? She wasn’t sure. While contemplating her next move, she heard the low thwap of a bowstring from behind.
An arrow struck the boar in its upper shoulder, triggering its flight response. It bolted east, away from the stream, and Annoxoria turned to see Thuvian jogging toward her, a longbow in his left hand. Switching back to the feral swine, she watched it head for a swath of undergrowth, then collapse onto its side.
“Better still,” Thuvian said as he reached her. “We’ll have fresh meat. Our luck must be changing.”
He didn’t seem at all concerned for her safety, and she wasn’t sure how to take that. “Do we really need a whole boar for one meal?” she said, shifting the weight of the pot in her arms.
“Probably not,” he replied, “but the forest provided, Nox.” Thuvian propped his bow against the trunk of a nearby tree and leapt across the water, making his way to his kill.
Annoxoria decided to leave it alone and head back to their campsite. Her lover’s fire-making had been interrupted by the arrival of the boar, so she set the water down near the already positioned logs and looked for a reasonable place to sit down. Even if she’d wanted to get her hands dirty, the pain in her stomach was flaring and all she craved in the moment was getting off her feet.
Thankfully, Thuvian carved up the animal out of her view, and she’d apparently dozed off while leaning back against a large rock, because the hiss of water coming to a boil roused her. “How late is it?” she asked, the clearing noticeably darker than when she’d sat down.
“The bleeding started again,” Thuvian answered, nodding toward her. “You need more rest.”
Annoxoria glanced down at her bandages, which appeared sticky, but she couldn’t tell the relative freshness of the blood. “What about your sister? Won’t a fire give away our position if she’s on the hunt?”
“We’ll eat soon, then have to move, yes. But I want you still for as long as possible.”
He was so hard to read, but sounded concerned. This both warmed and worried her. “That smells good,” she finally said, desiring to change the subject. “How did you know about this place? And who else knows?”
“I’ve got a few shelters like this within a day or two of the Castle. My hunting partners or I visit every few weeks to check on supplies and keep it stocked. Makes sure we have something to eat, even if the trip’s not successful.” Thuvian stepped toward their modest fire and lifted the simmering kettle from the flame by the spit. “The change in diet was just a luxury, though. We really came here for the bow.”
Annoxoria appreciated how Thuvian seemed to always think a step or two ahead. It reassured her, even though she knew a single bow would be of little use against a full grown Nightwing. She waited patiently as he poured his meaty broth into a wooden bowl and handed it to her. The warmth of the steaming bowl felt good in her hands while reminding her just how hungry she was.
She sipped at her meal, consisting of diced green onions in addition to chunks of the boiled boar flesh. Thuvian crudely fished bits of meat out of his broth with his scaled hands, oblivious to her judgement. Her back felt cold, propped against a rock, though she decided to finish her dinner before moving closer to the fire.
They ate in silence, save for Thuvian’s slurping, and once he stood, Annoxoria slid toward the flames to soak up what warmth she could before they had to be on their way. She knew her lover had no trouble seeing, even in near-dark, and trusted he’d be able to navigate regardless of nightfall. What she hadn’t counted on was the rumble of thunder coming from the north as she stretched her hands to the fire.
“Foul weather headed our way,” Thuvian said as he positioned the longbow beside Viper’s Kiss across his back. He dumped the pot of uneaten broth on the fire, then scattered the smoldering logs with his foot. “We should try to stay ahead of it. Are you feeling well enough to ride?”
She nodded – she wasn’t going to be a burden. At least, not more of one than she could help. They climbed atop her summoned steed once more, and Thuvian had them traveling south again as the wind picked up.
The temperature was falling fast, and the breeze that streaked across Annoxoria’s face as they wove through the wild woods held a bite. Twilight was full upon them as the unseen sun dipped behind the Wyvernwatch Mountains, and she couldn’t help looking to the sky to see if the shadow of death was hovering over them. Her face was upturned when the first drops of cold rain fell upon her cheek. This was not the recipe for a pleasant night, she thought.
Thuvian kept his eyes ahead, watching for obstacles, checking landmarks, and making decisions where to steer their steed. He didn’t even flinch when a boom of nearby thunder seemed to shake the trees around them. Rain descended harder, picking up until it was driving down in sheets that seemed to oscillate with the wind.
Annoxoria’s leather garments were quickly soaked, and she had to squint to keep water from rolling off her forehead into her eyes. Maybe the rain would at least make them harder to see from above? That wouldn’t make much difference if she ended up freezing to death before morning. She was already shivering, and it was only going to get colder.
She was having trouble keeping a tight grip around Thuvian’s waist. His scales were slick, but her strength was also failing. Annoxoria put one hand to her bandaged stomach and it came away stained red, though any traces of blood were quickly rinsed clean by the rain. Perhaps she needed a surgeon worse than she thought.
Her consciousness became fuzzy and Annoxoria drifted repeatedly to the verge of passing out. More than once, she caught herself slipping out of the saddle and had to clutch at her Lord to keep from falling. They rode well into the night, though she’d lost any certainty of time. The rain finally passed them by, and after what seemed like perhaps another hour, Thuvian brought their summoned steed to a halt.
“We’re drawing near the pass,” he said, slipping down from the saddle in front of her, then catching her as she started to slip from the shadowy mount. “Nox, are you still with me?” he asked, a tinge of panic stressing his tone.
She was so cold, she wanted to stay curled up in his arms forever, the heat of his broad chest spreading into her skin. “Mmm,” she responded, but her lids were closed and she was floating on the night wind as the squishing of Thuvian’s soles into the muddy earth counted out his steps in a rhythmic lullaby.
Then the world moved around her again and Annoxoria’s bottom pressed against the wet ground. Thuvian released her and she sank back against the rough trunk of a thick pine. This certainly wasn’t the castle, so why were they stopping? Thuvian’s clawed hands cupped her face and she forced her eyes open.
“We’re nearly home, my Lady, but I need to leave you here while I scout ahead. We’re near the valley, which is exactly where I’d set an ambush if I was my sister. Sepathia knows we have to cross this way
to reach the castle.”
Izefet knows it as well, Annoxoria thought, though she didn’t speak the words aloud. Instead, she nodded her understanding, though she was freezing and didn’t want to be left alone. She closed her eyes again, savoring the warmth of her lover’s hands upon her cheeks, though an instant later they were gone.
Annoxoria shivered and looked down at her stomach. The front of her bandage was solid red, and she pressed her hands against the wound, hoping the pressure would help preserve whatever blood remained. Though the rain had now passed ahead of them, the forest canopy was dripping with the remnants of the recent storm – the air still heavy and wet.
Thuvian had already disappeared into the maze of soggy pines, and the vanishing sun’s ambient radiance was only enough for her to see outlines in the dark beyond a few feet. Annoxoria closed her lids and worked on steadying her breath while she awaited her beloved’s return – dying now on the forest floor was unacceptable.
Her forked tongue darted out to taste the air, something she avoided in Thuvian’s presence. With night so near, however, it would be a comfort to at least get a glimpse of what her eyes couldn’t see. If she could only catch Thuvian’s lingering remnants, it might help her remain calm.
But she tasted something different. Something unclean. Her eyes shot open and she strained to spot whatever matched up with her new sensory input. She used her tongue again, penetrating the wet air repeatedly as panic rose within. A fog was rising, she could barely see, and every quickened beat of her heart sent blood pulsing into the wound she continued clutching tightly.
A scratching noise, like claws stripping pine bark, drew her attention from ahead and to her left. She faced the source, only to have it answered by a hissing laugh from somewhere behind. She swiveled again, but footsteps sliding against wet needles called her back to the front.
“Thuvian?” she whispered harshly, though she was nearly certain it wasn’t him. A dark, human shape, tall but smaller-framed than her Lord, stepped into view from behind the trees, the contrast of the fog against its skin her only aid against the falling blackness. It approached slowly, assuredly, and Annoxoria heard the sound of steel being drawn.
She drew up her knees and pushed her free hand against the damp pine straw beneath her, attempting to rise. As she did, the hissing from behind returned, other this time directly above her, and Annoxoria’s back slipped against the trunk as she flinched, dooming her to the ground.
This creature was close enough, even in the dark, for her to see its filed teeth as it pulled back its lips. It was a Thrall of the Nightwing, grey and scaled, leering at her with a downturned dagger in its hand.
Annoxoria knew she was finished. She didn’t possess the concentration necessary to call upon her magic, nor the strength to physically resist. She shook her face reflexively after a large drop of water struck her forehead. Her movement coincided with a series of rapid, rhythmic thuds, accompanied by a powerful rush of air as if a stallion had just charged by.
The glowing blade of Viper’s Kiss sliced straight through the midsection of the more distant Thrall, just beneath its ribcage. It spiraled to the ground, and the one standing above her snapped its neck to assess the oncoming threat.
Perhaps calculating his own physical inferiority, the Thrall hissed and flung his dagger at Thuvian. The Lord of Nightwing Castle ducked and brought up one end of his double-bladed weapon just in time to redirect the hurled projectile harmlessly into the pines.
The Thrall turned and bolted back into the darkness from whence it came. Thuvian snarled and gave chase, sparing a glance at Annoxoria as he passed. Her predicament must have changed his mind, for shortly after disappearing beyond the nearest trees he abandoned pursuit, circling back to her side.
The wounded Thrall was regaining his feet. Annoxoria could make out his silhouette, holding his injured side with one hand while brandishing a curved sword in the other. Thuvian stiffened his posture above her, his menacing shape outlined in the icy glow of his enchanted blades as he advanced on the defiant enemy.
A whirl of light and the clang of steel against steel hinted at the action she could barely see. They parried several of one another’s blows until Thuvian, the quicker and stronger, delivered an arcing swing the Thrall couldn’t account for. He toppled to his knees, defeated, and Thuvian ended it with a definitive thrust to the grounded Thrall’s chest.
He turned back to Annoxoria, who had barely moved since Thuvian arrived, and scanned the forest with his draconic sight. Satisfied, he returned his weapon to its harness and dropped to a knee to lift her. Returned to his arms, she welcomed his warmth again, though it served to remind her how frigid she’d become. She started shivering once more as he carried her.
“Two more were overlooking the base of the pass,” Thuvian stated, though she was sure her chattering teeth hadn’t produced a question. “I dispatched them with arrows then returned as quickly as I could. You’re safe now, Nox – I won’t leave you again.”
Annoxoria felt safe, at least from any outside threats, but she wasn’t sure it mattered. She had no doubt her lover would carry her all the way back to the castle if he had to, she simply wasn’t sure she’d still be with him. The cold and the pain were slipping away to an absence of feeling, and she had the sensation that her mind was slipping away from her body as well. She could see herself hanging limply in Thuvian’s arms, as if watching from above, and it was the strangest experience.
“Wake up,” she ordered herself. “Open your eyes!” But her body didn’t respond, and she was starting to float higher …
Chapter 4
Retrieving the Key
B e’naj wasn’t sure how to process what she just saw. Not having known Phaerim all that long, she was nevertheless certain this wasn’t how he should meet his end. She could read Saffron’s quiet sorrow, but Dyphina seemed as if the loss might break her. The half-fey held Phaerim’s limp body against her chest, which shook under an avalanche of sobs.
“Was there no other way?” Be’naj asked Saffron quietly, trying not to disturb Dyphina’s grief. She glanced at Rhazine, who stood mutely, appearing more scared than anything.
Saffron raised her brows while shaking her head slightly. “Someone had to die to let us through the gate, but that’s if you believe the fiend.”
Was that devil from the summoning room the one behind this? Thaelios was the only one who could converse with him, and Be’naj wasn’t sure how impressionable the eladrin Shaper was. Would he be able to discern between the truth and a convenient diabolical trick? “Thaelios,” she called, continuing in their native tongue. “What exactly did the fiend tell you about opening this portal?”
Thaelios looked nervous at her question. “M’thenzor said that, in order to open this portal and retrieve the key to the Gates in the hall of Doors, someone would have to willingly kill themselves.” He swallowed. “And then we’d have to place their heart into the basin.”
Be’naj was horrified and couldn’t find her voice for a moment. “That’s … barbaric,” she finally sputtered.
“I agree, and I’m not sure it’s wise to mention it aloud with Dyphina in her current state, but our time is running out.”
“So you believe everything the devil said?” Be’naj wanted to know if Thaelios was too concerned with pursuing knowledge to accurately appraise the costs.
Thaelios sighed. “I think Phaerim already took his life, and macabre as it may be, he won’t miss his heart now.”
“What about his sahd, Thaelios? You think Phaerim’s spirit will achieve peace if we defile his body?” Be’naj felt her ire swelling and took a deep breath, mindful that Thaelios was not one of the tormentors of her youth, though he seemed cold enough now to resemble them.
“What would you have us do, Be’naj?” Thaelios’s answered tersely. “We, the living, are going to end up trapped in this tomb unless we make these tough decisions. Should we squander Phaerim’s sacrifice by not completing the ritual?”
�
�What are you two arguing about?” Saffron interjected.
Be’naj balled her hands into fists and set them against her hips, then rotated to face Saffron. She saw Thaelios’s point, but didn’t want to admit it so quickly. “Thaelios says there’s more to be done,” she said, switching to Illanese.
Saffron turned to the Eladrin. “More? What does that mean?”
The apprehension in her voice dealt Be’naj a tiny pang of guilt, but she figured the least Thaelios could do was deliver the news himself. His eyes darted her way first, his thin lips pressed hard against one another, before he answered.
“Obviously,” Thaelios started, “Phaerim’s death is a tragedy.” He looked down at his companion’s lifeless body to find Dyphina’s tear-streaked face peering up at him. “But as you’ve no doubt noticed, no portal has opened merely because of his demise.”
Seeing Thaelios squirm with everyone’s eyes expectantly upon him, Be’naj felt bad again. This wasn’t his fault, after all. He just happened to be the only one who’d studied the Infernal speech. “We have to place Phaerim’s heart in the basin,” she cut in. “It’s the only way to get us out of here.”
Thaelios looked at her over his shoulder, but she was more concerned with Saffron’s reaction. “Give me the dagger,” Be’naj urged softly, holding out her hand. “You shouldn’t have to be the one to do this.”
Saffron stared at her without moving. “All right, everyone, back out of the tunnel,” she finally said. “Time to get up, Dyphina.” Saffron crouched and took hold of Dyphina’s upper arm, helping her to her feet. She seemed hesitant to release Phaerim, but Saffron’s grip was firm and she didn’t resist.
Be’naj glanced at Thaelios, who merely shrugged before supporting Dyphina with his untethered hand. “I said I’d do it, Saffron.”
Saffron ignored her. “Rhazine, ishuari fat-al.” She cocked her head back toward the way they’d entered, and the girl eagerly joined Thaelios and Dyphina in their exit.
The Hall of Doors Page 6