David pulled the crystals from his pocket. “These.” He held up the three crystals high enough for her to see them while keeping them in his grasp. “But how did you know?”
“Before Finn died he held my hand and entrusted me with a deep secret. Seyekrad placed the spell on the rutseer so that you would follow him. Finn knew you wanted the crystals for me, so he countered Seyekrad’s spell with a charm that would not only alert me whenever you found one, but ferry you to me once you spoke the incantation. Quite ingenious, I think. Sadly, he passed before I knew how it all worked, so you can imagine my surprise when a glowing green mark appeared on the back of my hand with an image of an odd shaped crystal in the center.”
David nodded, rubbing his tattoo. He completely understood how it felt to wake up with a mark on your body with no idea how it got there or what it was for. So been there. So done that.
David propped a few pillows behind him and sat back, his arms and legs crossed. “Why didn’t you come get me yourself?”
“If you must know, my father and I were engaged in a disagreement over my interference in the matter. I explained to him I wasn’t going to let you die at the mercy of Einar or his henchmen. Father, in his infinite wisdom, suggested Twiller go, therefore, I wouldn’t break my celestial oath. So, he sent Twiller after you while I concocted a non-detection charm that would make my father proud if it weren’t used for the purpose to interfere with the destiny of man.”
“Yeah, like he so doesn’t interfere with the destiny of men.” David rolled off the bed, his temper growing. He hated being used. Hated being a pawn.
“You and I know that’s a whole other story unto itself, David. Be thankful he breaks his own rules every now and then. If he didn’t, you wouldn’t be here.”
A rocket discharged in his brain and the launch pad was in flames.
“You’re right, I wouldn’t be here. None of this would be happening if it wasn’t for your father!”
“What are you talking about?”
David whipped around. “Your father. He tagged me for this job two hundred years ago. He was the one who preordained my life.”
Slavandria shook her head. “No, you’re wrong. The Book of Telling ordained the lives of the heir and the paladin. He was merely the vessel responsible for putting it into play.”
“Really? And who was the vessel that put you and Seyekrad into play with one another?”
Slavandria’s face paled. She closed the bedroom door. “What do you mean? What do you know?”
“We know you had a crush on Lord Seyekrad Krawl. We witnessed your infatuation with that monster in this very house. How could you let him kiss you?”
Slavandria brought a hand to her chest. “Where did you see such a thing?”
“Lily. She gave me a vapor thing.”
“David listen to me. Those weren’t my memories. I never housed a vapor.”
“Are you saying you never had an affair with him?”
“Yes. No.” For the first time ever, David had her in an uncomfortable position. “I was young. He wasn’t always vicious.”
“Oh yeah, that’s right, he didn’t become evil Seyekrad until you got married to that Mangus dude.”
Her face fell into a panic. Her eyes searched his. Desperate. Begging. “Please, David, you must not say that aloud. My father doesn’t know.
“I suppose he doesn’t know about your child, either.”
“What? I do not have a child. Why would you even think something like that?”
She looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. Did she think he was that stupid?
“We saw you. You were pregnant. Very, very pregnant. What happened to your baby, Slavandria?”
“I never had a child, David. I don’t know whose memories you saw, but they weren’t mine.”
He wanted to believe her, but he didn’t know what to believe anymore. Why would Lily give him a memory that wasn’t true?
David waved her off. “I know what I saw.” He scowled, looked away, and clenched his teeth.
A knock sounded at the door. “We’ll speak of this later,” Slavandria said.
David tucked the crystals back in his pocket.
She turned the knob and admitted Garret and Gertie. Smiles creased their faces.
“David!” Gertie rushed toward him and engulfed him in a hug. “We were told you were dead.”
Garret embraced him as well.
David smirked, his eyes on Slavandria. “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.” He studied their faces. “How are you doing? Have you been harmed in any way?”
“Not too bad,” Gertie said. “We’ve been alone ever since we were brought here. No one has come to see us. We were forbidden to leave and have had very little to eat. We tried to leave once, but the doors were infused with magic.”
Garrett held up his left hand showing the vertical, bubbling wound on his palm.
With his permission, Slavandria placed a healing spell upon it and released his hand.
“Has anyone heard anything from Ravenhawk?” Gertie asked.
“Last I heard,” David said, “was that he was in Berg Castle.”
“They’ve been moved,” Slavandria said. “Einar has amassed his armies to the north and east along the Valley of Tears. Hirth and its allies have taken up the western ridge. The palindrakes have reported all of Einar’s prisoners have been taken to the deepest part of the valley and staked. If this is true, your friends are awaiting a slow and deliberate death.”
“We have to stop the massacre,” Garrett said.
“We can’t,” Slavandria said, “not until we locate two important pieces to the puzzle.” She glanced at David. “Where is Eric?”
“I don’t know. We got separated.”
She glanced at the necklace David wore. “Would you mind if I borrowed the rutseer? I might be able to discover when and where the fork occurred and trace where he went.”
“Umm, that would be a big no. The last time I took this off, Seyekrad discovered our whereabouts and kidnapped Charlotte.”
“I understand your hesitation, David, but I can assure you, you’re all safe here. I have wards protecting every inch of this manor. If anything or anyone with ill intent attempts to enter this home, I’m afraid they are going to be in for a shocking disappointment.”
Slavandria approached him, her face so close he could see his reflection in her mesmerizing eyes. It took a great deal of effort to force the rattle from his bones, but he managed and held her gaze.
She held out her hand.
He slipped the Eye of Kedge and the rutseer from his neck and handed both to her. “Take them. And here are your crystals, too. They’re yours. I want nothing more to do with either of them.” He turned his back to her. “I’ve been told activating the tunnels will allow evil to enter this world, evil so immense it could destroy everything, not just Fallhollow but other worlds as well, including my own. I’d like to suggest you consider that before using them.”
She touched his shoulder. He shirked it off. “You’ve done well, David. We’ll talk more when there is time.” She turned to Garret and Gertie. “I will try to find out what has happened to all of your friends, especially Ravenhawk, but I fear for their lives if they are sequestered in the Valley of Tears.”
A hollow feeling pierced David’s gut. “You don’t think Seyekrad took Charlotte there, do you?” He met her eyes.
“Let’s hope not.” She walked out of the room, paused, and looked back once before disappearing from view.
David exhaled. His insides trembled. He folded himself on the bed, his knees drawn to his chest. He’d promised Charlotte’s father he’d find her, bring her back in one piece, but had he spoken too soon?
The Valley of Tears.
It sounded so desolate. So hopeless. He was petrified. Petrified of the possibility he would never see her again. Never hear her laugh. Never see the way her jaw clenched when she was mad or feel her hands
on his chest, her lips on his.
He looked away, hoping no one would see the tears congregating in the corners of his eyes, waiting for their chance to do the drip drop thing on his cheeks.
Gertie untucked her shift from her trousers and sat on the bed. “You know, it’s okay to cry. You don’t have to be brave. Not with us. We’ve all lost people we love. But don’t wallow in self-pity too long or you’ll fall into the pit. It’s a dark place to go and difficult to get out of.”
David nodded. He struggled to find words to say but they wouldn’t come. For the rest of the day, he listened to Gertie and Garrett tell their stories of everything that had happened since Trog, David, and Charlotte left Gable. Their demise came as assassins dressed in black ambushed them outside the town of Keorne in daylight. Other prisoners had been with them in the beginning, but were sanctioned off like chattel. They never saw the faces of their capturers, but they knew the voices. And they couldn’t wait to dislodge them from their owners.
***
It was midnight when Slavandria entered David’s room and sat on the edge of his bed. Her drawn face in the candlelight said everything he already knew and feared.
“He’s got her, doesn’t he? She’s in the Valley of Tears.”
Slavandria nodded. “It’s worse than that, David.” She glanced at Garret and Gertie sleeping on the floor. “She’s strapped to the Elwood. She is to be the first sacrifice to Einar’s shadowmorths.”
David’s lips trembled. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He couldn’t let her die, especially like that. A single tear fell.
He wiped it away. Anger sank into every pore. The tension and fear in his body morphed and his lips curled into a sneer.
“Then I guess you’re going to have to show me how to fight the shadowmorths and save her, right?” David asked.
Slavandria’s eyes spoke of sorrow, sadness. “You cannot fight shadowmorths, David. Not all the magic in the world can do that. The only thing that can stop them is to kill Einar.”
“Then show me how to do that!”
“You cannot. You are a paladin. Only the youngest heir to Hirth or Einar’s offspring can do that, and neither are anywhere to be seen. Pray Eric and Mirith will arrive soon. They are our only hope to end this war and release Charlotte from certain death.”
David couldn’t believe what he was hearing. How could it come to this? Why were soldiers gathered if there was no way to win? What was the point?
Every nerve in his body trembled. Death kicked back and laughed, his long, boney fingers toying with David’s lungs, squeezing and letting go. David clutched his chest and counted. What to do? His thoughts swirled into a thick soup of chopped sentiments, grated emotions, and pinches of crazy ideas.
Slavandria cupped his chin in her hand. “I must go. There is something I need from Chalisdawn. Garret knows what to do if I do not return in time. Listen to him.” She kissed his forehead. “We’ll get Charlotte back. I promise. Somehow, we will end all of this.”
She vanished.
And David set about finding his smidgeon of faith and hope.
David
David sipped his tea and watched from his window as shadowmorths swarmed over Tulipakar. Black veils, billowing, drifting, turning. They’d been at it for hours. It was as if they could sense the battle, smell the blood that was coming. A feast. New recruits. As the sun began to rise, they banded together, a single great black cloud of hissing terror. As if on a signal, they closed in tighter and headed north.
“They’re leaving,” David said. “The soldiers took off a few hours ago.”
“Are you ready to fight?” Gertie asked. She was decked out in brown leather pants, a matching long–sleeve doublet, and boots to her thighs. She wore two bandoliers stuffed with every sort of hand weapon imaginable.
“Is anyone ever ready to fight when there is no chance of winning?”
Garret sat in a chair to put on his boots. He was dressed in similar garb to Gertie, except he had crossbows, swords, and some small explosive devices Slavandria gave him.
“You’re still doubting our resolve?” Garret asked.
David shook his head. “I’m not doubting our willpower or courage, but we cannot defeat that monster out there without Eric or Mirith. That is a fact. If they do not show soon, this battle will be a massacre. All of us will die.”
“That may be true,” Gertie said, “but I intend to kill as many of those tyrants out there who are responsible for killing my parents, my friends, and my family as I can. If we don’t stand up to them, they’ll continue to think they can have whatever they want. They will continue to spread their vileness all over this world. It is time to bring peace.”
“Through war?” David asked.
Garret stood and faced David, vambraces in hand. “We all have our reasons for being here. Mine are similar to Gertie’s. Yours, I believe, is tied to a sacrificial tree. Those knights out there, they fight because they believe in freedom for all, not just for some. They are willing to die for that. What are you willing to die for?”
David stared at the floor. An image of Charlotte formed in his mind. Her smile. Her eyes. The light that would leave this world if she was no longer a part of it. That’s what he would die for. A hundred times over.
He held his arms straight out to his sides. “I’m ready. Put the armor on.”
Garret and Gertie smiled.
It was time for war.
Eric
Eric winced as Seyekrad dragged him down a long castle hall, through a field of shattered stone and wood debris. He coughed, his nose and lungs rebelling against the horrid stench of spoiled eggs and rotting fish. Death.
A familiar ceiling painted with grand frescoes passed overhead. He knew them. He’d seen them while searching for the Eye of Kedge and the king’s sword.
His stomach lurched.
Berg Castle. The carnage he’d sloughed through was the devastation left by Einar’s chase with David. But this time, there was no David. No ferrying to make him vomit.
He wanted to vomit.
Bad.
Up ahead he heard stomping and crunching, the emphatic sounds reverberating clean through to his bones. He lolled his head back and got his first glimpse of his executioner.
He didn’t look any different. Still mammoth. Still black as obsidian, molten with liquid amethyst.
Einar stopped his chewing as Seyekrad approached with his trophy. A toss of the sorcerer’s arm and Eric slid across the floor. He rolled and groaned and came to a rest at Einar’s feet. A talon scraped the ground at his head, the sound shattering the crux of Eric’s existence into a million pieces. He knew the danger of that weapon. It had once been lodged in his back.
What he would give to bring his blade down on that offending claw and chop it off. Maybe even rip his heart out. He lay on the floor and chuckled at the thought.
Einar flicked him with the talon.
Eric skipped across the floor, every contact with a fragment of stone a painful reminder of the hole in his leg.
Einar snorted a concoction of putrid derision and smoke. An embodied laughter bubbled from his gut.
Eric stopped breathing. Surely he’d heard wrong.
A door in the distance slammed shut. Booted footsteps thundered across the floor, drawing nearer.
“You summoned me, My Lord?”
Eric gasped for air. Bainesworth!
Eric tumbled over shards of rock and bone as Einar drew him near again, his body howling as fragments ripped his clothes and scraped his skin.
Einar chuckled, his voice deep, melodic. Formidable. “I did indeed. Lord Seyekrad brought you a present.”
Eric lay still, his head spinning, his stomach churning as the Dragon King’s talon rocked him back and forth. His mind fell numb.
The dragon could speak. He was sentient.
This was not good. He liked it better thinking Einar was nothing more than mindless evil. But
that was far from the truth. He understood. He reasoned.
And he was far more dangerous than believed.
Bainesworth folded into a bow. “What sort of present has the great sorcerer bestowed upon me?”
Eric braced for the flick. It came hard, almost knocking the wind from him. He rolled five times before coming to a stop at Bainesworth’s feet.
The knight’s lips broke into a sneer. “Well, now. Look at what we have here. A puny pup.” He knelt beside Eric. “Where are your comrades now?”
Eric spit in his face. “Go crawl in a hole and die.”
Bainesworth backhanded him across the face. Blood trickled down his throat.
Seyekrad stepped forward from the shadows, his tone triumphant.
“His friends have been eliminated, My Lord. The paladin, I am pleased to report, has suffered an unfortunate cave-in beneath Lake Sturtle and has drowned.”
Eric’s heart stopped for a moment. No. It can’t be true.
Einar laughed again. It embellished the hall. “Good. Good.”
“The heir, however, has not yet been found,” Seyekrad continued, “but I sense his presence. He is near. As you know, the girl who was traveling with this rat and the paladin has been strapped to the Elwood. The heir will have no choice but to try and save her. He will come. When he does, my detection spells will ensnare him at which time I will deliver him personally to you for your entertainment.”
Einar snorted. “And you are certain the paladin has drowned?” His words were drawn out in long syllables, the pace as fast as honey pouring from a jar.
“As you know from experience, there is no way out, except with the help of a bit of magic, which, sad to say, he won’t get.” He curled his fingers. Looked at his nails.
Einar lowered his neck. “And where is Slavandria?” He spoke her name as if he had tar stretched between his teeth.
Rage of the Dragon King Page 22