The candlelight illuminated cobwebs in corners and dust on tables. Tomato, poking around the room, kept sneezing. Velsa would bet no one had slept in these beds in a long, long time.
“If you need anything, ring the bell,” the maid said in a monotone.
“Wait—I do need something,” Kessily said. “I want the answer to a question. What is your story? Are you undead?”
The maid showed her first sign of emotion with slightly widened eyes. “Yes.”
“But why do you act like this? Why are you all so creepy?”
“I’m sorry you find me creepy. My soul was badly damaged when I died.”
“How did you die? Why do you work for Dormongara now?”
“I have always worked for Dormongara. But we don’t discuss our lives here with outsiders.”
“Well, if I’m going to trust him to make this deal, I’d like to know why his servants act so mindless.”
“Not mindless,” the maid said. “Soulless. But our condition isn’t his fault. Despite his airs, he is a trustworthy young man at heart.”
“Young man?” Velsa asked. “Isn’t he a century old?”
“That is—he’ll always be a young man to me. Good night, miss.” She slipped out the door.
“I bet he would lie about his age for the sake of mystery,” Kessily said.
“We don’t know how old his servants are,” Velsa pointed out.
Kessily sighed and turned to the bed, struggling to pull back the covers with her wing and then her foot. They were tucked in tight.
“Here, let me help you.” Velsa turned them back for her. Kessily climbed into bed and Velsa draped the covers over her.
Kessily’s eyes welled with sudden tears. She tried to wipe them. “I hope I’m not getting mites in my eyes.” She gave Velsa a stricken look. “I just want it all back the way it was. I want to go home to the river and see my parents, and—never leave again.”
“I know how you feel…,” Velsa said. “Maybe it’ll work out in the long run. He might change his mind about marrying you if you drive him crazy. I can’t live with myself if I put you in a bad situation for our sake. I thought about getting in his head and forcing him to give us the body, but…he’s protected.”
“Just go to sleep. Don’t worry about me.”
“I’ll worry about you if I want to,” Velsa said, with a faint smile. “And I think we’ve made a pretty good team against these difficult men. So I really don’t want you to go.”
“Aw.” Kessily returned Velsa’s smile as Tomato settled at her feet. “But…if I have to go, maybe it’s for the best. I just need someone to fix me.”
Velsa couldn’t deny that this was true. Even Irik, who came from the land of shape-shifting, had not been able to figure out the transformation on her own.
Chapter 3
The maid entered early in the morning, a look of distress breaking through the edges of her blank expression. “You must get up,” she said. “Get dressed. The Keeper is very angry.”
“Wha?” Kessily lifted her head, strands of hair broken free from her braid, her eyes half-closed. She still had sleep to catch up on.
Velsa shot up in bed, grabbing her cloak from the bedpost. “Why?”
“I don’t know. He asked that you get dressed and go to the dining room to wait for him.”
“Where’s Tomato?” Kessily asked. The little wyvern was nowhere to be seen, and the maid was already leaving.
Velsa felt a little mushy inside, almost missing the weight of the fake jewels now. Absurdly, the idea of something happening to Tomato made her feel worse than anything. She buttoned her boots and fixed Kessily’s braid hastily.
The maid was waiting in the dining room. “He is giving his offerings to the ancestors,” she said. “Please have a seat.”
“Where is Tomato?” Kessily repeated.
“The Keeper has him.”
“Why?” When the maid kept looking blank, Kessily made a sound of disgust. “You’re useless! If something happens to that silly creature…”
Dormongara walked in the door, wearing a glower and the black cotton tunic of everyday mortals instead of a robe of liquid shadow. He was carrying a large birdcage with the squawking wyvern stuffed into it.
“What was this thing doing flying freely around my castle in the middle of the night?” he demanded, making full use of the rich tone of his voice.
“I—I don’t know. He was with me when I fell asleep,” Kessily said. “The door was closed.”
“He must have opened it. He’s very smart…” Dormongara glared at the little beast.
Tomato was clawing at the cage door.
“He is certainly not coming with us to Otare,” he continued.
“What did he do?” Velsa asked.
“He came to my room,” he said. “And urinated on my enchanted robe.”
Kessily snorted a laugh, but Dormongara pounded a fist on the table. “This is no laughing matter,” he stormed. “The spell to clean wyvern piss out of enchanted fabric won’t be cheap. That thing should have been out in the stables. I assumed it was housebroken.”
And how was this robe enchanted, exactly? Velsa wondered. She gently tested him again for protection spells.
They were gone. Velsa covered her mouth, suppressing delight at just how smart Tomato really was. Maybe they could steal the body after all.
Kessily— She spoke to Kessily’s mind.
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re an ass?” Kessily was saying. “Or is that why you live in the woods with a bunch of soulless servants who offer you blind obedience?”
“I don’t have to help you,” he replied coolly. “You can keep flapping your useless wings around forever.”
Kessily! Please—don’t agitate him. His protection spells are off. Just cooperate long enough to get the body and the carriage.
Kessily glanced at Velsa and visibly swallowed back anger. “Let’s—start over,” she said. “I am sorry about your robe. Can you let the poor guy out, at least?” Tomato was making increasingly pathetic, feeble squawks.
Dormongara opened the cage. Tomato flew to Kessily side with a whine.
“I don’t want to leave him behind,” Kessily said.
“Fine. He can stay. But he spends nights with the horses.”
“We need to get on the road,” Velsa said. “There is no time to spare. Can we get the body loaded?”
Another servant entered the doorway, holding a familiar pile of pitch-black cloth. “Lord Gara, your robe.”
“I thought you said it would be hard to clean!” Velsa cried.
“I said it would be expensive to clean.”
Great. Magical laundry services.
Now, Velsa had seconds to react as Dormongara crossed the room to take the robe. She struck him with her mind—struck him hard. He reacted as if someone had actually hit him in the head, buckling forward, his body pitching toward the startled servant. She tried to break his fall, but she was a slight, bony girl who probably weighed half what he did, and they both tumbled to the floor.
“Lord Gara!” She tried to move out from under him and winced with pain. “Lord Gara…”
“Stay there!” Kessily ordered her. “Stay down. Oh—gods—okay. We still need the body.”
Velsa held up her hands, glancing around for more servants who might help.
“How dare you…” The bony girl’s expression had turned into a furious glare as she struggled out from under her master and gently shifted the position of his head and arms so his face wasn’t crushed, his limbs unpinned. She stood up, clutching her arm, still in obvious pain, a nervous expression on her face. She glanced toward the hall.
Footsteps came from several directions. The maid and footman from last night entered from the main hallway and a servant’s doorway.
“Lord Gara…” The footman rushed to Dormongara, clutching his hand.
“Wake him,” the older maid said, looking at Velsa. “Or he will wake instead.”
&nb
sp; “I will wake him if you put the body in the carriage,” Velsa said. “And get it ready to travel into town.”
“You’re not going to ask who ‘he’ is first?” Kessily asked.
“No.” Velsa had to be firm. Whoever “he” was, she would have to hope her telepathy could handle him, too. She still didn’t sense any telepathic protections. “Do it quickly.” She nudged the servants to action with her telepathy.
The servants briefly moved one way and then the other, wrestling against her control before succumbing. They bowed their heads to her. “Yes, m’lady.”
One of them lifted a tapestry from the wall and opened a plain wooden door. In quick succession, they all disappeared through the door, but when Velsa and Kessily moved to follow, the door slammed shut. Velsa tried the handle, but it wouldn’t open.
“Use a little telekinesis on it,” Kessily panted into her ear.
“I don’t think I can! Let’s just go out the front door.”
“You’re disconcertingly good at that,” Kessily said.
“What, telepathy?”
“Making people do what you want.”
Shame twisted in Velsa’s stuffing. “You know I wouldn’t do it if Grau wasn’t in such a dire condition. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”
“I know. I just—well, let’s get out of here.”
Velsa sensed out the servants’ movements. They were descending the stairs into the basement, doing what she had commanded. Good.
A chill wind started to stir within the room, blowing strands of hair into their faces. It didn’t seem to be coming from the windows.
Kessily shivered. “What is that? It smells like a tomb.”
Tomato flew around Kessily’s head, screeching in panic.
A cloud passed over the sun. What little light made its way through the small windows abruptly dimmed. “We have to get out,” Velsa said.
“Do we have to go through the hall and pass the skeletons again? Can you sense another way?”
“Sensing space isn’t the sort of telepathy I’m good at. I’m better with people. It would take a long time to figure out.” Velsa was expending a lot of energy on keeping track of the servants already. Brushing against their minds gave her a chill. She dug Grau’s crystal out and clutched it. The crystal didn’t enhance telepathy, but it strengthened her resolve. Dormongara was staying down for now, but she had to keep track of him too. The exertion made her feel sick inside.
“Let’s just run,” Kessily said.
They dashed for the front door, heads down, but as soon as they stepped a foot into the hall, one of the skeletons began to stir, bones rattling. The sound compelled Velsa’s eyes to look up, against all sense.
The last skeleton in one of the rows was animated, hands grasping the arms of the chair to get to its feet. Hollow sockets stared at Velsa. The skeleton’s jaw flexed, as if it was trying to remember how to speak.
“Stop,” the skeleton commanded.
The voice was Dormongara’s.
Kessily screamed.
Wisps of dark smoke rose around the skeleton, obviously magic, and where this magic touched, bones became flesh. The colors of his black and red tunic, dulled with dust, became as new again. His hands lifted so he could see them as his face filled in with pale skin, dark eyes, and dark hair.
It was Dormongara’s face.
He looked at them, his mouth spreading in a wicked grin of fangish teeth. His eyes glittered at them, hungrily.
When Velsa stared beyond the surface with Grau’s crystal, the illusion briefly cracked. His dark eyes were swallowed once more by the caverns of a skull. A grinning skeleton face leered at her.
Velsa tried to hold her ground as he stepped down from his slightly elevated position, his bones creaking behind the illusion, and prowled closer to them, his eyes never breaking from hers.
“Dormongara?” Kessily breathed. “Were you dead all along?”
“I am dead, my pretty little intruder. It seems you are about to taste my real power.”
He lifted his hands. Whips of blue light flung toward them, radiating out from his palms. Bands of cold paralyzed their bodies. Velsa touched his mind with her own, and the bands instantly tightened.
“Do not try it, little maid,” he said.
She couldn’t move her arms and legs. Even telepathy wouldn’t budge them. His magic was like nothing she had experienced before; it didn’t follow the logical rules she knew. This power didn’t come from the elements, but from the darkness that seeped into the castle walls.
These must be ancient spells; spells from the time of magical beasts, from the time when the land was an untamed place.
“What do you want from us now?” Velsa asked.
“I want to see you contort with fear. I want to break you so you will never sleep soundly again. You dared to strike me with your mind and now you deserve to be struck with my power. I could ask all the the guardians of the hall to wake. Let their bony fingers dance along your flesh…” He walked his own fingers down Velsa’s breastbone, and she felt the sharp edges of his true form even as she saw flesh.
Next he turned to Kessily. “And you—ah, my little raven. You are so afraid. How could a girl like you, marked by magic, with such bold dark eyes, be afraid of the dead?”
Velsa lashed out at him. She didn’t know if it would work, but he was knocked back, stumbling into his chair.
Kessily thrashed, struggling to break free of the magic that held her. Velsa clutched Grau’s crystal and saw the sparkle of magic surrounding her, but she wasn’t sure how to break its hold. Every second it seemed to seep deeper into her, and it was becoming painful.
She wrestled him mentally for a moment before she was forced to back down. The cold barrier was beyond her abilities.
“No luck?” he said. “Well, well. It is my oath to protect this castle. First, I will have my fun.”
He lifted his finger and beckoned with it, and Velsa’s body dragged forward of its own accord, like a fish on the line. He picked her up by her neck and then abruptly threw her sideways. She hit the ground on her hands and knees.
He turned his focus to Kessily. “So scared,” he said. “Just how I like my prey.”
“Stay away from me,” Kessily threatened.
“Doll girls aren’t really that interesting,” he said. “They don’t feel any pain. They don’t bleed. But you will be a bird in a cage of my making.”
“What happened to you?” Kessily asked. “You weren’t like this before. You were a cad, but not a—a demon. Who are you?”
“I am the beating heart of this castle,” he said. “Its true owner.” He touched her face. She tried to turn away.
“The c-cold…it hurts.”
Velsa sensed back to the other room where she had left Dormongara fallen on the floor. His unconscious soul remained there. A distinctly separate soul.
“You aren’t Dormongara,” Velsa said, her voice oddly strangled, as if she were real and he had a hand around her throat. “Who are you?”
“I am the real Dormongara.”
“The Dormongara we met is an impostor?”
“An impostor and a weakling.”
“What happened? Did he kill you?” Velsa asked, although she wasn’t sure if they could reason with him. Maybe he was susceptible to flattery. “I was surprised that I was able to take him out so easily.”
He scoffed. “He was always a sickly boy.”
“He’s your brother, isn’t he?” Velsa said. “Your younger brother?”
“My twin,” he said. “But I hate that word. He is my copy. My shadow. A useless little worm.”
This hardly seemed to describe the intimidating man they had dealt with, but Velsa played along. “How could it be that you are dead and he is alive? You must have faced a very powerful enemy.”
“Oh yes,” he said. “A huge band of telepathic bandits came up here, many many years ago. I must’ve taken out a dozen of them all on my own while my little brother simpered in the co
rner. But because I couldn’t hold them all off, I was killed and now the castle is his. I am the one who should be granting you your favors. Tell me—what do you desire? You have a loved one who is dead, or nearly so, and you came here to beg and plead for his life. But when he didn’t shed a tear over your story of woe, you decided to attack him. And now here I am…the enchantments drag me out of my tomb to frighten girls like you.”
While he spoke, Velsa dared to probe his mind, trying to determine the real story. She did see the dead brother battling a handful of bandits—hardly a dozen. But there was no cowering twin in sight. She sensed that the living Dormongara had not even been present for the fight.
One thing seemed clear: the dead twin didn’t like the living twin one bit, and maybe the reverse was also true.
Velsa only saw one possible way out. She nudged the living Dormongara with her mind, praying he could stop this menacing spirit.
She felt him stir, and then seemed to come to all at once.
The dead twin placed his hand on Kessily’s chest and slid the hand to her throat. His fingers squeezed around her windpipe. She choked, her wings trembling. She tried to twist her head away, and a strong wind stirred in the room. Kessily’s magic.
The dead twin put both hands around her throat now.
“Do you know how beautiful you are when you’re dying?” he whispered.
Footsteps approached rapidly. Dormongara ran in, thumping the end of his walking stick on the stone floors. “You,” he said. “Release her immediately!”
“Ah—look who’s all grown up and tough.”
Dormongara now stood face to face with his brother in the ghastly, dim room.
The dead brother grinned with cruel glee. “A couple of girls got the better of you? You don’t deserve this place.”
“Whether or not they are girls is rather beside the point. The Fanarlem is a telepath of some skill.”
“They should be dealt with, swiftly and mercilessly, don’t you think? I would like to wake the hall. Let the skeletons stir, let the cold of the tomb seep into their bones. I know you will protest, but you never knew how to wield your power.”
The Sorcerer's Equal (The Telepath and the Sorcerer Book 3) Page 5