Night of the Storm: An Epic Fantasy Novel (The Eura Chronicles Book 2)

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Night of the Storm: An Epic Fantasy Novel (The Eura Chronicles Book 2) Page 10

by K.N. Lee


  “What would you like, Chief Pretica?”

  “Three mugs of ale for myself and the Tryans.”

  Liam and Rowe exchanged looks.

  “I don’t drink ale,” Liam said.

  “Well, mead? Wine?”

  “None. I’ll take more water, please,” Liam said to the woman.

  “I’ll take his ale,” Rowe added.

  “Very good,” she said and hurried off to fulfil their order.

  “A man that doesn’t drink anything but water,” Pretica said with a light laugh. “That’s something I’ve never heard of. You are an odd one, Prince Liam.”

  “That’s what they all say,” Rowe said. “He is. And that’s what makes Liam here a gem amongst stones.”

  “I can see that,” Pretica said, tapping her long nails on the table.

  “Any news about your stolen sister?”

  Pretica stopped tapping the table and gave Rowe a heated glare. “No, and I would rather not have her mentioned.”

  Liam’s brow rose. “Why?”

  Sadness filled Pretica’s eyes. “I need to be strong for my people. Thinking of what those nasty Bellens are doing to her makes me lose sight of our plans. Ayoki is strong. She will survive. And I have faith in Vaugner’s assassin.”

  Liam’s face softened. He could understand that. The role of a leader was a difficult one. Showing any signs of weakness could be disastrous for morale.

  “There is comfort in that,” Liam said. “I’m sure she’s all right. She is the Seer after all.”

  “Right,” Rowe said, pulling Liam’s plate over to his end. “You’re done?”

  Liam grinned. “Yes. Go on,” he chuckled.

  Rowe took a bite of Liam’s leftover lamb. “I understand all that,” he said with a stuffed mouth. “But why didn’t her Seer powers help her against the Bellen’s? They're just a bunch little ladies with a bit of magic.” He chewed and swallowed. “Nothing like what a Chosen is supposed to be able to do.”

  Pretica grimaced. “They are more than just a bunch of little ladies with magic. And it is complicated. Ayoki refuses to use her power.”

  That last bit intrigued Liam. “Why?”

  Pretica glanced at him. “Enjoy your meal, gentlemen. I’m needed elsewhere.”

  Liam nodded, but he suspected that Pretica hid something from them as she got up and walked back out the main entrance.

  The young woman returned with three mugs of mead and set them on the table.

  “Enjoy,” she said.

  “Ah,” Rowe said, pulling all three mugs before him. He took a hearty gulp of foamy ale and licked his lips. “To be drunk in the afternoon.”

  WILEM COVERED HIS EYES against the bright sun. The bright light seeped through the slits of his fingers.

  He missed his large, plush bed stacked high with satin pillows stuffed with feathers. The soft covers that kept him warm nights when the fire in his bedroom went out. The milk and biscuits his nanny would bring into his room most nights before bed.

  His mother’s love.

  Dread filled his belly whenever he thought of her. One day, they would meet again. In the Underworld and Wilem would apologize and tell her tales of his adventures.

  Tears stung his eyes. When would the pain of losing his family fade?

  He feared it would be some time before their faces stopped making him wish he could vanish from the world.

  Wilem sat up with a deep sigh and glanced back at Vleta. She lay curled up on the edge of the mountain peak that looked over the Silver River.

  Vars said that it would be safer to stay high above ground—where they could see in all directions. They didn’t want any Shadow Elves sneaking up on them.

  Vleta agreed and stayed outside of the amulet to look after everyone.

  Wilem doubted that anyone, or anything, would come near them with a dragon around. Her scaled belly was red with heat that warmed Wilem and Jorge.

  Jorge stirred in his sleep.

  Wilem wondered if he missed his mother as well. He never spoke of the palace cook.

  “Morning, Wilem,” Vleta said, uncoiling, sitting up, as tall as the trees that used to make up Raeden’s forests.

  “Good morning, Vleta.”

  “The fairies left to go find fish.”

  Jorge sat up and rubbed his eyes. “Breakfast?”

  Wilem grinned. “I thought you were asleep?”

  Jorge yawned. “I heard Vleta mention food,” he said with a shrug.

  Wilem chuckled. “Did you sleep well?”

  “We are lucky to have a dragon to protect us. She makes me feel safe and warm like the stove I used to sleep next to. Thank you, Vleta.”

  Vleta licked a talon. “You’re welcome.”

  Jorge drank from his water flask. “I was dreaming about beef stew and fresh bread. But, fish is fine with me.”

  “Beef stew,” Wilem said, leaning back to rest on Vleta. “That does sound good. Your mother’s red sauce and noodles were my favorite.”

  Jorge pursed his lips and nodded. His voice lowered, his blue eyes looking down at the Silver River.

  Wilem sighed. He wished he hadn’t brought up Jorge’s mother up. “How long before we make it to the Silver Elf realm?”

  “We are not far. Alfheim is just beyond the White Plains of Ilwisone. It is going to get colder, little master.”

  Wilem nodded, already chattering despite Vleta’s body heat. He had the power of Creation, and he wished he could make something to keep them warm.

  Jorge didn’t even have on shoes, let alone warm cloaks.

  Wilem patted Vleta’s belly. He forced a smile. “At least we have you to keep us warm, Vleta.”

  Jorge stood and walked over to the woodpile. He tossed sticks from a pile onto the waning fire. He knelt before it and warmed his hands. Leaves and twigs stuck out of his brown hair that had grown past his ears and into his eyes.

  “More fire, please,” Jorge said.

  Vleta extended her neck toward the fire. “Step back, please.”

  Jorge moved backward, careful not to get too close to the ledge.

  Wilem ran his hand through his own hair. He was lucky that no one would see the King of Raeden with tangles in his hair and dirt on his face.

  “Ah,” Vars said as he and Ved flew back from beneath the ledge, fish hanging from a string. “You’re all up just in time for breakfast.”

  “We caught enough fish for everyone, even the dragon,” Ved said, pride on his face as he pulled up a long string of shining green fish and placed them next to the smooth stone beside the fire. “And I found some frost berries.”

  “What is a frost berry?” Wilem rose to his feet to get a better look at the berries that Ved pulled from his side pouch.

  They looked like blueberries encased in ice.

  “They are good,” Ved said, his gray eyes meeting Wilem’s. “A bit sour like green apples, but tasty nonetheless.”

  Wilem popped one into his mouth. The burst of flavor made him wince.

  “They are sour,” he said, puckering his cheeks.

  Vars chuckled. “Eat up. They will give you energy. We have a long day of traveling ahead.”

  Wilem took a handful and sat next to the fire.

  “I’d say we will be in Alfheim in a few more days. We just have to follow the Silver River to the white gates. All of the fairies are welcome in Rargard.”

  Wilem raised a brow. “How? Why? Silver Elves are not our allies.”

  Vleta used a talon to take a fish and use her teeth to pull it from the string. She swallowed it whole. “We aren’t going to the Silver Elves, Master.”

  Wilem ate more. He chewed them, blue juice running down his chin. “I don’t understand.”

  Ved sat beside him, stringing the fish up on a spit. “You didn’t know? Rargard is a city full of hybrids.”

  “What is a hybrid?” Jorge folded his arms across his chest for warmth.

  “You two must not listen to your lessons,” Vars said with a laugh.<
br />
  “In this case, the hybrid we speak of is a mixed race of fairy and elf. Before the Great War, fairies and elves were friendly with each other.”

  Wilem’s eyes widened. “Holy Elahe. I didn’t know such a thing was possible.”

  Ved put a hand on his shoulder. “In Ellowen, anything is possible.”

  DELIA LED THE WAY, her staff outstretched before them, casting a glow that lit the overgrown path beneath her and Liam’s feet.

  Though Lilae rested, seemingly peaceful, Liam worried that he shouldn’t have left her side. Rowe was there; he would protect her. Liam had to be content with that fact. There was no one he trusted more than his old general.

  How many times had Rowe saved his life, stood by his side in dire situations, and left his family to accompany him on the most dangerous journey of their lives?

  Gollush’s front gate was far behind as they walked farther into the surrounding dark woods. The charred trees were tall, the tops fading into the night sky. The air was hot and humid, filled with the sounds of nocturnal creatures.

  “Just a little bit farther,” Delia whispered.

  Liam’s eyes scanned the left and right. He had the distinct feeling that they were being watched. He had faith that Delia knew where she was going, but the hairs on his flesh rose at the thought of unknown creatures that waited in the darkness, ready to strike.

  After crunching on dead leaves and twigs for what felt like much longer than they’d actually been trekking, Delia led him to an old, abandoned temple.

  “Here it is,” she said, stopping just before the old stone steps.

  Liam waited beside her, his eyes taking in the sight of the ruins. Crumbled stone, broken pillars, and dark windows awaited them.

  “This is it?”

  Delia turned her gaze to him and nodded. “It is.” She rested her weight on her staff and sighed. “This is where Dragnor was born and raised. He trained here and ultimately became the temple’s grand master.”

  Intrigued, Liam took his first step onto the stairs.

  “Careful,” Delia warned. “Dark magic still lingers here.”

  Liam looked back. “Wasn’t he dead for centuries before Wexcyn brought him back?”

  “Yes. But dark magic can remain alive until the end of the world. It is not to be trusted or taken lightly.”

  “What am I supposed to do here?”

  Delia pointed her staff to the front door that looked as if it had been broken down. The light shot toward the inside, illuminating the entire building.

  “Inside, there should be a black book made of elven flesh. Find it, and bring it to me.”

  “You aren’t coming?”

  “I will stay behind and keep watch.” Her eyes turned to the forest that encircled the ruins. The trees rustled as a breeze blew from the mountains. “There are many that do not want us here.”

  Liam rubbed his hands together and nodded. The air felt tight as if it urged them to leave. Not even the forest wanted them there.

  “Right,” Liam said under his breath. “I can do this.”

  Delia lifted a quizzical brow. “You have to. Lilae may not survive without that book.” She took a step toward Liam, her finger pointed at his face. “We must attempt to counteract the curse he’s drawn into her flesh.”

  The notion of Lilae not surviving was enough to send Liam running up those stairs, but he had to be cautious. Dark magic was not something he was used to meddling with.

  The power inside of him was god-given and pure, not a spell contrived from darkness and evil—not the kind of arts the Bellens practiced.

  Quiet filled his mind as he tried to tune into his senses. He stepped over stones and deteriorated wood as he entered the temple. Delia’s light cast a glow on everything, making it easy to navigate his way into the main room that closely resembled the temples in Oren.

  A red altar stood before a black wall with symbols much like the ones of Lilae’s tattoo painted over every inch. Tattered rugs were scattered on the floor for people to sit and listen as the Dark Clerics gave their speeches.

  Statues of the Shadow Elf god, Inora, lay in pieces on the stone floor. He looked up, following vines that had wrapped themselves around the columns and beams to the domed ceiling that had a gaping hole in it.

  The air was thick with the smell of mildew and a faint hum—as if someone was right behind him, breathing in his ear.

  Liam tensed.

  He was certain that someone other than Delia watched him, and it made his skin crawl. Liam looked around and saw nothing but artifacts strewn about.

  “Try to be quick,” Delia called from outside.

  Liam looked back at her. She sounded farther away than she was. Her voice was muffled.

  Warnings filled Liam’s gut.

  Go.

  Liam’s eyes widened. A smile crossed his face at hearing his old friends.

  The Winds.

  “Go where?”

  He spun around as if he might catch sight of one of the spirits who had guided him since childhood.

  Lilae. Go.

  Liam pursed his lips. His back straightened.

  “What about Lilae?”

  Delia’s light went out, leaving Liam in darkness.

  Something creaked behind him: A loose floorboard, or a door. Liam glanced back to see a shadow cross past the archway at the back of the room.

  Fear gripped Liam’s throat.

  Dark magic.

  It wasn’t something he was prepared to meddle with.

  But Lilae. She needed him.

  Liam ran the palm of his hand down his face and sucked in a deep breath.

  He looked back.

  Delia was gone.

  Liam ran for the door, and some unseen force grabbed him by the shirt and threw him far across the room to the archway where he’d seen the shadowy figure.

  “Delia,” Liam called, getting to his feet. He drew his sword, not quite sure what use it was against an evil spirit.

  Silence.

  Liam held his breath, listening.

  Delia’s light returned, and with it the vision of a Shadow Elf standing before him.

  The color drained from Liam’s face as he beheld the being. There was no doubt in his mind that the elf was not alive.

  Dark eyes, dark skin, a svelte body under black robes with long black hair.

  And a snarl.

  “You’re The Storm,” the Shadow Elf said. He lifted his head, looking down his nose at Liam. “I expected more. Not the frightened boy before me.”

  Liam’s heart pounded—not with fear—but with realization.

  Realization turned to rage.

  His eyes glared at the elf.

  “Dragnor.”

  The Shadow Elf took a step forward. “You’ve heard of me,” he said. “And yet you still came to my temple. My house. I should kill you right now. The spells I’ve left behind will do it for me. And then I can kill that temptress in Gollush.”

  Liam pointed his sword at Dragnor’s nose. “You touch her, and I will skin you alive,” he said through clenched teeth.”

  Dragnor grinned. “But you can’t, boy. I’m not here with you.”

  Liam lifted a brow.

  “I’m with Lilae.”

  A gasp escaped Liam’s lips. He ran through Dragnor’s body as if he were composed of nothing but cold air. The room was empty when Liam spun around.

  Lilae!

  Once outside, he saw Delia standing there, a look of surprise on her face.

  “What is it? Did you find the book?”

  “Forget the book,” Liam said. “Dragnor has Lilae.”

  He ran into the forest, unsure of where he was going and hoping Delia would hurry and lead the way, when a blast behind forced him to stop.

  No, Liam thought with dread.

  Lilae. Go.

  The Winds had tried to warn him.

  Delia sped past Liam.

  “Come,” she said, seeming to float on air as she headed toward Gollush.
>
  Liam nodded and ran into the darkness of the forest as the temple burned.

  “YOU WILL WISH YOU WERE DEAD,” Dragnor hissed into Lilae’s ear.

  His hot breath made her shudder.

  Strapped down to a cold stone altar, Lilae wanted nothing more than to get up and run, but her body wouldn’t obey.

  This dream—or whatever alternate reality this was—terrified Lilae.

  Once again, her greatest enemy had the ability to manipulate her and do whatever he pleased.

  Why couldn’t she wake up?

  She winced as his sharp dagger traced the tattoo he’d etched into her skin. She watched the blade trail from her breastbone to her navel. The tattoos burned as if her skin had been removed and she’d been patted down with salt.

  Dark eyes met hers as he leaned down, an inch from her face.

  “If you do not come back to me, Lilae,” Dragnor purred. “You will regret it. I will not stop until I have you back.”

  She twitched, refusing to cry out as the pain increased tenfold.

  “I will not,” Lilae said through clenched teeth. “You will be the one to wish you were dead.”

  “Is that so? What about those you love and care about? What if I exert my rage on them?” His breath was hot on her ear. “What if I kill Kavien while he sleeps?”

  Her door burst open, waking her.

  “Kavien,” she said into the darkness.

  “Lilae,” Liam called. “Are you all right?”

  Lilae’s eyes popped open.

  Lilae’s entire body tingled with the after effects of Dragnor’s curse. Her stomach churned, as she processed what she’d just learned.

  Her breaths came out too quickly as she sat up in her bed. She ripped the blanket off, desperate to cool her sweaty skin.

  “Liam?”

  “I’m here,” he said.

  “Where is Delia? Dragnor—” Lilae paused, shooting up in bed to search the room. “He visited my dreams.” She tried to get out of bed.

  “No,” Liam said. “Please, lay down and rest. You need to conserve your energy.”

  Delia stepped inside the small room. She knelt down beside Lilae and took her hand into hers. The lines in her forehead were creased as her blue eyes looked over Lilae’s face.

  “What is it? What happened, Lilae?”

 

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