Angst Box Set 1

by David Pedersen

  “Dulgirgraut,” Hector whispered. “But how did it get down here?”

  Hector spun about when he heard a muffled cry, sword and dagger once again at the ready. It was the first human noise since entering the dungeon, and he cautiously approached the nearest cell door. Hector pulled and found it unlocked; the door swung open with a squeaky whine.

  An old man lay on the ground against the far wall. Skin clung to his bones, desperately trying not to fall off. His face was a wasted skull of hunger and anguish. Deeply-socketed dark eyes looked at him, and the man held out a glowing hand. Hector rushed to his side and kneeled.

  The man’s labored breathing was wracked with pain. He seemed barely able to lift an arm, but still pointed to the far corner of the room. Hector looked over to find a pile of blackened dragon bones. He followed the man’s finger to see stacks of armor and weapons leaning against the wall. Some were standard chrome while others were coated in the blue-black.

  “Did you do this?” Hector whispered. “Did you make the armor?”

  The old man nodded, licking his thin hairy lips. Hector thought for a moment, trying to decide if he should kill the creator or try to save him. There wasn’t much man left, and Hector drew his dagger. The man nodded gratefully, desperate for release.

  “Rest well,” Hector said and, with a swift motion, cut the man’s throat.

  There was a wet, gurgling sound as the man died in his arms. As he passed, his large dark eyes looked over Hector’s shoulder in panic and Hector finally realized his mistake. All his finely honed senses, all the abilities that kept him from being snuck up on, even his heightened hearing, were all smothered by the dark armor he wore. Hector could only think no before the pommel of the sword struck the base of his skull. The loud, wet smack was quickly followed by darkness.

  Victoria slipped into the chainmail skirt, which—at mid-thigh—seemed much too short to protect anything, including her modesty. The chainmail top Crloc had given her looked uncomfortable, and the thought of that cold metal rubbing against her was horrifying. Fortunately, there was a layer of padded cloth beneath the mail. Unfortunately, that cloth only covered her breasts, and barely at that, holding them suspended unnaturally. Victoria’s cheeks warmed. Angst was the only person she felt comfortable being naked with, and only because she was sure he didn’t care. Tori looked in the mirror. While she wasn’t disappointed with the view, she also wasn’t comfortable sporting this outfit for just anyone.

  She couldn’t help but think that Angst would love this, and hate it. He would gawk at her in this outfit, dousing her with compliments while at the same time desperately lost for words. It made her giggle. Victoria loved her friend so much, and was grateful he understood their boundaries. At the same time, he would hate sharing her with another man. Victoria was so frustrated with Angst it completely distracted her from everything else.

  A rapping at her door was followed by Crloc impatiently clearing his throat.

  “I’ll be a few more minutes,” she said, faking enough happiness to muffle her worry.

  Victoria reached behind her back and awkwardly gripped the strings for the left and right flap of her top. Looking at the mirror, she sighed. If she left the strings loose, she worried her entire top would fall off. If she pulled them tight, the padding would shove her breasts up and together. There was no winning.

  Was this truly what she wanted? Was this really the life of an adventurer? As a group, they had fought and struggled all the way here only to find they would have to keep fighting. It sounded so much more romantic than the life of a queen, but there was no break—it was no wonder Angst always seemed exhausted. But, really, what choice did she have? Everything she did was to save Unsel and, just as importantly, her best friend. He needed that stupid sword to live, and Unsel needed Angst to have the sword, no matter the consequence to her.

  When Crloc had come to her room earlier and presented her with the Berfemmian armor, Victoria had been speechless. It wasn’t at all like armor. If not for the chainmail, it would’ve looked like something a woman working a brothel would wear. She would look cute in it, but she also didn’t want to wear it for Crloc. Still, maybe she could be like Angst and woo what she wanted. Some sweet talk, a little skin, and a few kisses, since she liked how Crloc looked, would render the location of the blade.

  Kisses...why not kisses? Angst had kissed her whore cousin. Alloria wanted everything that was Victoria’s. The moment Victoria announced she wanted to adventure, Alloria had pried her way into the queen’s favor. As if Alloria would ever be queen. But worse than that was Angst, the one relationship that was genuinely hers. Alloria had brazenly thrown herself at him, and he’d fallen for it! Kissing him, practically naked, with her giant breasts pouring out! Victoria was positive, completely convinced, that she wasn’t jealous at all. But Angst would be when he found out she’d kissed Crloc. Thinking of Angst, she pulled the laces tight in frustration, shoving her breasts together in the Berfemmian top, before knotting the back.

  “Is everything all right, Your Majesty?” Crloc said from the door once more.

  Victoria took one last look in the mirror. She pulled at her long curly blond hair and shook her head. She’d never understood why Angst liked blond hair, but even though he never complimented her on it, it added to her disguise. Victoria looked herself up and down and smiled until she noticed she was barefoot as a peasant. She ran around the room, her feet slapping loudly on the tile.

  “Princess?” Crloc said loudly.

  The only shoes she could find were her black riding boots. She sighed to herself and rolled her eyes as she slipped them on. They were almost knee high, and even though they helped cover more skin, they looked trampy. At least it was better than being barefoot. She took one last deep breath.

  “I’m changed,” she said.

  Crloc opened the door, stepped into the room, and closed it behind him, almost-slyly locking it. For the briefest of moments, she once again wished it was Angst viewing her in this costume. Victoria could feel nothing from this man, and inwardly cursed herself at her waning ability to wield magic. She could understand if he’d been wearing that armor, but Crloc wore a handsome black leather tunic and gray tights. What was the point of wielding magic if it didn’t work when needed?

  “You look gorgeous,” Crloc said, stepping close. “But not at all like one of the savage Berfemmian.”

  “Good,” she said, her thin brows furrowing with worry. She wanted to delay the kissing and tried more banter. “Do they really wear armor like this?”

  “They do, Victoria.”

  Crloc didn’t use her title, and eyed her hungrily, staring at her exposed flesh. Victoria sought the wooing words Angst might’ve used, but they were lost in her growing panic. She knew how to flirt with boys, even when she couldn’t find the words. Looking down at her exposed midriff, she rubbed her taut tummy.

  “How do they stay protected when so much is left uncovered?” Victoria asked.

  She looked up at Crloc; he was staring at her hand and stomach. Instinctively, she sucked in her gut before cursing herself for being so obvious. Why did this have to be so hard? She should just beat the man senseless to find out where the sword was, but Melkier was an ally and he was attractive...

  “They are the most fearsome of warriors,” he said in a low voice. “They only feel it necessary to cover their vitals.”

  Victoria immediately realized that her coy move of bringing his attention to her uncovered stomach was a mistake as he eyed her hungrily, licking his lips. Her heart raced as he advanced but she only realized she’d been backing up when her shoulders hit the wall. Crloc pressed his lips to hers, and Victoria let herself melt into him. There was one kiss, a second, and then she brought her goals into focus again. She would let him continue for a little while longer then ask about the sword. This might just work! Excited, Victoria kissed him back aggressively.

  Crloc rubbed a hand up and down the outside of her left thigh. Her eyes flew open, and she
reached down to shove it away. He grabbed her small arms and lifted them over her head, pressing her against the wall. He kissed her neck, making his way to her chest.

  “No,” Victoria squeaked, trying to pull away from his hold.

  “If I were to become king and be rid of Nicadilia, I could take you and become master of two kingdoms,” he said in a husky voice between kisses. “Now wouldn’t that be a coup.”

  Crloc pulled her arms together and held her wrists with one of his giant hands, groping freely from her waist to her breasts with the other. Victoria breathed heavily, struggling in vain against the large man.

  “I didn’t say you could do this,” she pleaded weakly.

  “I didn’t ask,” Crloc said, looking deep into her eyes before plunging his face between her breasts.

  This wasn’t working at all as she had intended. Victoria had never been touched like this. She felt aroused and betrayed at the same time. This was wrong. She was attracted to the man, but his advances were unnatural—rough and aggressive. She needed to find out about the sword...for Angst...for Unsel.

  “Wh...where is Dulgirgraut?” she stuttered.

  Crloc ignored her, continuing his unwanted groping. He reached behind her and struggled with the strings of her top.

  “Stop this now!” she said loudly, inching down the wall away from his hand.

  Crloc pulled his face up, lifted his free hand and slapped her.

  Victoria cried out helplessly.

  “Your coward boyfriend hasn’t bedded you yet?” Crloc asked, looking in her eyes for confirmation. He put his hand over her throat. “It makes me glad to ruin you for any man.”

  “He’s not my—”

  Crloc kissed her square on the mouth.

  Victoria bit hard, drawing blood. The man yelled, jerking his mouth back. He wiped blood from his lip and beard. Crloc looked at the red on his hand with a broad grin then raised it and struck her over and over. Victoria screamed in pain.

  “I’ll take you, and I’ll take you again until you enjoy this,” Crloc said.

  Her thoughts were lost to panic and fear as the enormous man continued his groping. She wanted to cry, wanted Angst to break through the doors and save her.

  Angst.

  What would he do? When the statues in that village had attacked, he had said something. He’d said—

  Crloc squeezed her breast so hard she squealed. The freak was enjoying this.

  Focus. What did Angst say?

  Angst said to bury her panic, all her emotions, that there was always time later to let it out. Bury it, he’d said, so she could survive and do the job. Sometimes, his age was actually wisdom. He was always there for her, even now, and she fought to climb over her panic. Even if she couldn’t read Crloc’s thoughts, Victoria had been trained to defend herself by one of the greatest fighters in all of Ehrde.

  “I’ll take you while your boyfriend dies!” Crloc yelled maniacally as he prepared to dive in for more young flesh.

  “I don’t think so,” Victoria said, deadpan.

  46

  Rook’s fingers were stiff and his injured leg reluctant to bend after the frigid ride to Unsel. He dismounted slowly, shoving the reigns of his pinto into the hands of a bundled-up stable boy. The scrawny youngster looked colder than Rook so, rather than exchanging pleasantries, he dismissed the lad with a nod and limped inside. Rook was definitely a summer boy. He would’ve much preferred to be in a warm bed with Janda—as long as she didn’t burn him alive.

  Rook removed his gauntlets and tucked them into his belt. He rubbed his numb fingers together for warmth as he made his way down a gray stone alcove. A large crowd had gathered at the castle forebuilding in front of the keep entrance, and he hoped to bypass that swarm of busyness with this lesser used entrance. His hopes were lost to bumped shoulders and the frustrated apologies of servants or guards seeking the same shortcut from traffic.

  “What’s going on?” he asked himself aloud.

  This maze beneath the castle was the main byway for the staff when entertaining guests, but was otherwise empty. Rook passed by numerous adjoining corridors that led to every corner of the castle. The smell of hops from ale storage wafted down one hallway. Mouth-watering roast gently drifted from another and, finally, the heavy scent of oily metal came from a dark corridor where armor and weapons were stored.

  Rook hungrily took note of the hallway the roast-smell came from, in hopes of investigating later, before limping up a flight of stairs. At the top was an antechamber with direct access to the temporary throne room. It was large enough to host a dozen people, and often used for servants waiting with food. It even smelled of sweet molasses and ash, Rook assumed from past feasts. The room was sparse, and mostly devoid of people. Two soldiers stood in full plate on either side of the alcove stairway, unmoving in their formal attire, while Jaden rested in a nearby high-backed chair.

  Rook forced himself to smile at the young man. He hated the conceit in Jaden’s face, and the fact that his curly blond hair was now oddly long. The annoying wielder wore loose-fitting burgundy pants and a tan jerkin that fit his thin, wiry frame tightly. Rook wanted to beat the smug off the man’s mouth, but owed Jaden for healing his leg, so he fought back the urge.

  “You’re finally here,” Jaden said in a tired voice. “Oh, that’s right, you ride a horse.”

  “Did you find them?” Rook asked, ignoring the insult.

  “No, I’ve been waiting for you,” Jaden replied shortly.

  “Did you at least speak with Alloria?”

  “No, the coronation is soon and I haven’t been able to get her attention,” Jaden said with a sigh.

  “That’s why it’s so busy. You never mentioned this to Janda,” Rook said impatiently. “I thought the coronation wasn’t for several weeks.”

  “I didn’t feel it important,” Jaden said, rolling his eyes.

  “Are you really that stupid?” Rook asked.

  “Pardon,” Jaden replied, standing with a lazy stretch and walking over to Rook.

  “Alloria and the queen could be in danger,” Rook tried to explain.

  “Don’t speak to me like I’m a fool,” Jaden said defensively, now at arm’s length from Rook.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Rook demanded. “You were completely different when Angst was here.”

  “I respect Angst,” Jaden said, peering down his nose at Rook with his sharp blue eyes. “You don’t even wield magic.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?” Rook asked.

  “Power is respect,” Jaden replied in a surly tone. He lifted a pinky. “In this small finger...”

  Rook whipped his hand up from his side, grabbed Jaden’s finger, and jerked it back. The bone snapped loudly, and Jaden screamed. Rook glanced at the two soldiers guarding the doorway but neither moved, and he smirked to himself.

  “If you don’t respect that,” Rook said, covering the man’s mouth with his hand and pushing him back into a chair, “you’ve got nine more.”

  Jaden’s eyes filled with hate, and Rook’s dagger was against his neck even before Jaden’s arms began glowing.

  “Your wielding better be to heal that finger,” Rook growled. “I don’t have any more time for your nonsense. I’ll gladly kill you now and ask the princess’s forgiveness later.”

  Jaden put one hand on the broken pinky and pulled. He grunted as the finger once again pointed in the right direction then squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating on the magic needed to mend the damage. Rook removed his dagger but didn’t sheath it.

  “First Angst and now me,” Rook said in disgust. “Do you really need someone to beat you down before you respect them?”

  “It’s how things are done at home,” Jaden said apologetically. He suddenly looked lost. “Wherever that is.”

  “Remind me never to visit. Your home sounds pretty messed up,” Rook said. “Look, as far as I’m concerned, you can leave.”

  “The throne room, through those doors, is the las
t place the boy and the guard were seen.” Jaden bent his pinky carefully.

  “Fine,” Rook said dismissively.

  “I want to help,” Jaden offered, almost pleadingly.

  “Is there anything you can do to locate them?” Rook asked, wiggling his fingers to indicate magic.

  “Nothing I’ve been able to think of,” Jaden stated. “I did search through the throne room and extended hallway thoroughly, but found nothing. As far as we know they could be in town.”

  “You could’ve just said that from the beginning,” Rook said, disgusted.

  Jaden stared at him blankly.

  “Let me check with Tyrell to see if the guard ever reported back to duty,” Rook suggested. He pointed down the stairs. “Maybe see what you can find down there, and we’ll meet back here in thirty minutes.”

  Rook spent ten of those minutes locating Tyrell, and another five impatiently waiting his turn in line. The old man had aged these last few months. His short hair was more gray than blond. The skin along his cheeks seemed pulled tight, as though straining to maintain youth and fight back inevitable age. Still, in spite of the dark circles beneath the man’s eyes and his tense shoulders, Rook wouldn’t even consider dueling Tyrell.

  Rook coughed as politely as he could. Tyrell didn’t look up from the long list of items on his to do scroll, clicking his tongue as he mentally checked off completed tasks. He did, however, raise an eyebrow in acknowledgement. After another moment of reading aloud, something about pastries, he sighed. “How’s the leg?” he said speedily, still staring at the list.

  “Fine, sir,” Rook said formally.

  “Heather?” Tyrell asked.