Angst Box Set 1

by David Pedersen

“She’s well.”

  “Good. Thanks for checking in,” Tyrell said. “If that’s all—”

  “It isn’t, sir,” Rook said quickly. “I was told a boy and a guard are missing.”

  “Nothing more than rumor and innuendo,” Tyrell said dismissively.

  “But the unsealed parchment requesting more troops?” Rook asked in concern.

  Now Tyrell looked up, peering down his nose at Rook with fatherly chagrin. After his time with Jaden, Rook was tired of looking up people’s noses.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be guarding Heather?” Tyrell asked.

  “Yes, but...” he replied hesitantly. “I left her with Janda.”

  “Considering Janda’s troubled past, I would think twice on that decision.”

  “Her what?” Rook asked.

  “I don’t have time for this, Lieutenant,” Tyrell replied tartly. He leaned forward and whispered, “I’ll ask later how you learned about the troop deployment but, to set your mind at ease, there was a seal on the document. It was broken by an inexperienced soon-to-be princess.”

  “But—” Rook said helplessly.

  “No one has reported a missing boy, or even mentioned one arriving at the castle, and the guard in question is AWOL,” Tyrell said, obviously tired of the conversation. “The man was about to be discharged due to his poor attendance. In short, he drank too much and had trouble showing up for duty.”

  Rook’s shoulders dropped, and he stared at the floor with a long face. Tyrell smiled genuinely at the younger man. He stepped back from formality for the briefest of moments and placed a hand on Rook’s broad shoulder. Rook looked up to see Tyrell nodding thoughtfully.

  “Rook, you did the right thing to follow your instincts and bring this to me, but all of this has been accounted for,” Tyrell said. “Thank you, son, but we really do need you guarding Heather. If Angst comes back with that sword, the last thing we want is for Heather to be in danger. Assuming Angst is even alive.”

  “He is alive, sir,” Rook said, now whispering. “Angst, the princess...all of them are alive and in Melkier. They think they know where the sword is.”

  “What?” Tyrell said with wide eyes and a half-smile. “How do you know this? I hope this source is more reliable.”

  “It’s the same source, Captain,” Rook admitted. “It seems Jaden has the ability to communicate over a long distance using magic. He informed Janda of what he heard here at the castle, as well as his communications with our team in Melkier. I assume he’s talking with Angst.”

  “Of course he is,” Tyrell said defensively. “Who else would he be speaking to?”

  Rook looked at Tyrell in surprise, but remained silent.

  Tyrell leaned in very close, his lips mere inches from Rook’s ear. “Did Jaden report anything on Princess Victoria?” Tyrell whispered.

  “She’s with Angst, sir,” Rook replied quietly. “Her Majesty is safe.”

  Tyrell’s shoulders collapsed, and Rook jerked to position himself for a catch in case the Captain Guard collapsed. Tyrell took a deep breath, stood straight, and slapped Rook on the arm. The man was actually grinning.

  “The queen will be very pleased with your report, Lieutenant,” Tyrell stated. “Was that all?”

  “It seems they’ve been arguing a lot,” Rook said quietly. “Angst and—”

  “Even better,” Tyrell interrupted, practically beaming. “I’m glad you came to me with this. Please return to Heather and Angst’s home, and let Jaden know I need to speak with him immediately after the coronation. It seems he is no longer useless.”

  “Yes, Captain!” Rook said with a stiff salute.

  “Dismissed,” the Captain Guard said, returning the salute.

  The antechamber was the perfect size for pacing. Rook squeezed his hands behind his back as he walked the length of the room. More than anything, he wished there was something physical he could do. A solid workout, like chopping wood or dueling, would set his worries at ease and allow him to think clearly. Something just didn’t add up, and he felt he was missing the obvious.

  Rook wanted Tyrell’s guidance, like when they’d faced Aereon, but the Captain Guard believed nothing was awry. At this point, he would even settle for talking to Jaden again—grill the arrogant bastard for what he’d found out and use him as a sounding board—but forty-five minutes later, the man was still nowhere to be seen. Rook needed to get back to Heather before Tyrell found out he’d delayed.

  Rook continued stomping around the small room. It was so frustrating, so upsetting, he just couldn’t concentrate. And there was that smell! Molasses and ash...it was too sweet and scratched his throat at the same time, distracting his very breathing. When he returned to the castle, he would have it out with the cleaning staff.

  Jaden popped through the door, out of breath, with sweat beading down his forehead. He appeared exhausted and made his way to a chair. Rook eyed the strange man up and down, confused about his condition.

  “Are you okay?” Rook asked, almost annoyed by the display.

  “I searched every corridor as quickly as I could,” Jaden said, frustrated and out of breath. “I used every spell I could think of. I sifted through dust on the floors to find remnants of blood. I filtered all smells with air to find the lingering scent of decomposition. I even sought out remains of water in drying blood. There is nothing down those stairs. I’m sorr—I, well, I did everything I could.”

  Rook smiled inwardly at the lost apology, and nodded his head in acknowledgement. He was impressed; it seemed Jaden had actually tried.

  “You did fine, Jaden,” Rook said. “I spoke with Tyrell, and he feels everything is accounted for. I still don’t know. Something feels off, but I trust the man.”

  Jaden looked disappointed but nodded in understanding.

  “He ordered me to return to Heather and Janda, and he would like to speak with you after the coronation. He—” Rook stared at Jaden’s foot. “What’s that?”

  Jaden followed his eyes, bemused but unmoving.

  Rook rushed over and kneeled, shoving Jaden’s foot aside. A tiny, tiny speck of brownish-red rested on the brown tile floor. Rook had to stare to see it, and the more he stared the easier it was to lose sight of. He glanced up at Jaden, who nodded in agreement and dropped to a knee. Jaden’s hand began to glow and he touched the dot.

  “Blood,” Jaden said with an almost-smile. “I’m sure of it.”

  “Is there more?” Rook asked, his heart now racing.

  Jaden stood, both arms glowing brightly. He closed his eyes and spread his fingers out. Moments passed and the glow subsided. He opened his eyes with a look of discouragement.

  “Nothing in the tile,” he stated. “It could’ve been from a nose bleed.”

  “But it’s right here in front of us,” Rook said in frustration. “How could we miss something so obvious?”

  “I wouldn’t call that obvious,” Jaden remarked.

  Something obvious, Rook thought to himself.

  He looked around and found himself drawn to the soldiers in armor, still standing at attention. The room was otherwise empty. He walked up to the closest one and saluted. No response.

  “Is there a problem, soldier?” he asked in a commanding voice.

  There was no reply. Rook looked back at Jaden, who shook his head in confusion.

  “I thought the suits were decoration,” Jaden said.

  Rook rapped on the armor with the back of a knuckle. The knocking did not sound hollow—the metal resonated thickly, as if filled with water. Rook gripped the arm of plate steel and pulled. The suit fell forward and the helm rolled off.

  Beneath was a soppy wet head covered in thick brownish goo and sprinkled heavily with ash. Molasses bubbled from the guard’s mouth and ears. Now that the helm was removed, the sweet smell of molasses no longer smothered the sickening scent of decomposition.

  “Why molasses and ash?” Jaden asked in confusion, trying not to choke on the stink of death.

  “It hid
the smell well enough that we didn’t notice, and the killer had easy access to both,” Rook determined. “They use molasses to make ale, and the ash is likely from the kitchens—both readily available down those stairs.”

  Jaden walked over to the other suit of armor and put his hand on it.

  “Don’t,” Rook said. “We both know who’s in there.”

  “What do we do?” Jaden asked.

  Servants of all type poured out of the stairwell, ignoring the armor, the body, Rook, and Jaden. They held candles, and decanters of wine, and towels, and flowers. There must have been forty people moving through the antechamber, rushing to the throne room as quickly as they’d entered.

  “Nothing,” Rook said, his shoulders dropping. “It’s too late. The coronation is starting.”

  47

  “It’s here, Angst. In the castle,” Nicadilia said consolingly. “I want you to have it. I want you to have Dulgirgraut so you can live.”

  Nicadilia pressed her lips hard against his, her tongue reaching out hungrily. Angst didn’t want to kiss her, Nicadilia wasn’t his wife, but he couldn’t turn away from her attentions. He needed the sword. He was too exhausted to find another way, and Nicadilia’s tongue was far too aggressive. She was so unlike Heather, who was passive-aggressive, or Victoria, who was aggressive only for “cute boys.” A small part of him actually appreciated the attention. She put her hand on his chest and squeezed.

  “Come,” she said invitingly as she pulled away from his mouth. “Come with me.”

  “Where?” Angst said weakly.

  “To your great sword.” She offered a supporting hand. “Let me save you.”

  Emptiness encompassed Angst. It was now the sort of illness that left you so weak you didn’t even have the energy to vomit. Every movement made Angst’s muscles shake uncontrollably. He shivered without the accompanying cold. He took her hand and stood from the bed. The room spun about in a pot of vertigo. Angst was too embarrassed to tell Nicadilia to leave him be, and steadied himself with all of the pride he had left.

  “Please,” he said too desperately. “I need it...the sword.”

  “I will bring you to it.”

  The room momentarily became dark as though the guilt from her kisses had sucked the remaining strength from him. More than anything, Angst wanted this to be over. For the first time in his life, he just wanted to die. He felt the nearly undeniable temptation to let it all slip away. Unsel could fend for itself; his friends would be safer without him. But then there was Heather, and the baby. And Victoria needed him.

  He nodded reluctantly. “Let’s go.”

  She put his arm over her shoulder, which was awkward because Nicadilia was so much taller. In spite of the difference in height, she still glided. Angst smiled inwardly at this observation, and chuckled to himself. He stared at the ruby ring, which she wore on the hand clasped around his chest. Like a drunkard, Angst fumbled with his own necklace, digging into his tunic. He pulled out Alloria’s ring and smiled at it, thinking about the beautiful young woman who’d given it to him. He held it up.

  “It looks just like yours,” he said in a raspy whisper.

  Nicadilia almost dropped him. She shoved Angst against the wall, leaning him beside the door, and lifted her own ring next to the one around his neck. They were identical, and she sucked in her shuddering lips.

  “Did he... Who gave that to you, Angst?”

  “Alloria,” he said distantly. “She’s so pretty.”

  Nicadilia drew in a deep breath then smiled. “Is she still alive without her ring?”

  “Yes.” Angst nodded. He felt disconnected, almost drunk, and pressed his fingers to his lips. “Very alive.”

  “Walk with me, Angst,” she said with newfound courage. “I’ll bring you to Dulgirgraut.”

  “You are so kind, Nici,” Angst said. “Thank you.”

  Nicadilia winced at the nickname as she struggled into the hallway with Angst under her arm. Loud noises and a muffled scream came from behind Victoria’s door as they passed.

  “What was that?” Angst asked. “Is she all right?”

  “She’s being taken care of,” Nicadilia said.

  “Oh,” he said, completely befuddled.

  “You weigh a lot for someone so short,” Nicadilia grunted.

  “...only short on the inside,” he muttered as they struggled down the stairs.

  The journey from his room to the dungeon entrance was a dizzying, nonsensical trip. Random muscles throughout his body twitched of their own accord. His vision went in and out of focus. Angst kept thinking of waking up with Victoria naked, and then she was gone and he was alone. He thought of Heather, and his children, and Scar. Nothing made sense. There was a blur of guards, and finally a long set of stairs leading down into a limestone cavern.

  “I hate dungeons,” Angst muttered.

  “Can’t you feel it?” Nicadilia asked, ignoring him, forcing happiness into every word. “Dulgirgraut!”

  He sought the great blade with his mind, reaching out to the end of the dungeon. It was so very close. Another set of arms helped him down the hallway. He tripped along helplessly as they directed him into a cell. His arms were lifted up into shackles and when Nicadilia let go, he hung from them painfully. The tiniest amount of power trickled into him, like a single drop of water squeezed out of a rag. It wasn’t even enough to catch his breath but, maybe, barely enough to keep him alive a while longer.

  “Angst, you have to help us,” Nicadilia said in a voice that was almost sweet.

  “I can help,” Angst said nobly, his blue eyes rolling in his head. “What do you need?”

  “Do you see the armor over there?” she asked, pointing to the far wall. “Cover it in dragonbone.”

  “No...no magic,” Angst slurred. “I can’t.”

  “Focus, Angst,” she said loudly. “You can!”

  Angst pointed his shackled hand at the armor but nothing happened. He began to slip away into the inviting darkness. Nicadilia nodded toward a nearby guard. There was a loud scream.

  “Dallow?” Angst asked, opening his eyes.

  Dallow’s scream was soon accompanied by another, deeper moan of pain.

  “No,” Angst pleaded, now standing on his tiptoes. “Tarness!”

  Nicadilia nodded once more but nothing happened. She shot a cool look at the guard, snapped her fingers and pointed down the hallway.

  “What’s going on?” she demanded.

  “He’s killed two guards with his legs, Your Majesty,” the soldier said. “Broke their necks.”

  “Shackle them,” Nicadilia commanded.

  “We’ve tried,” he said in desperation. “No one can get close enough.”

  Angst smirked to himself, knowing that Hector was somewhat safe, but Tarness and Dallow were in danger. And what of Victoria?

  “Where’s Tori?” he said between strained breaths.

  “She’ll be joining your friends,” Nicadilia promised, “after Crloc has had his way with her. Didn’t you hear her screams from the hallway?”

  “No,” Angst pleaded, pulling weakly against his chains.

  Now, more than anything, he wanted to bring the entire castle down. He wanted to destroy everything, kill everyone. Like everything else, the wish was hollow.

  “You can save them, Angst,” she said tenuously. “Imbue our armor with the dragonbone. Now!”

  It took every ounce of energy to direct his right hand toward the far wall. As he summoned magic, it glowed a faint blue, and the inviting power of Dulgirgraut tickled his periphery. In exhausted desperation, Angst grasped the mineral from one of the dragonbones piled against the wall. The dark, cold void sucked the energy from him. Angst wanted to stop, but Tarness and Dallow still screamed in pain, and who knew what Crloc was doing to Victoria. What they’d planned for Hector.

  The bone was cold and slick, a sucking emptiness that made his mind recoil. No matter how hard he tried to wield the minerals in the dragonbone, they wouldn’t change
. The screams were unrelenting. Angst didn’t have the energy, or the power, needed to do this.

  “Bring a bone to me,” Angst commanded, his voice shaky. “I have to touch it.”

  Nicadilia nodded to the guard, who brought Angst a black bone the size of his arm, putting it in his hand. Angst could feel its grainy nature, but couldn’t make it move until he understood. He drew as much power as he could from Dulgirgraut and filled the porous bone with magic, saturating every crevice and valley with the green power of the foci. Angst squeezed the darkness out like juice from a lemon.

  Dusty remains of the dragonbone fell to the floor like sand, leaving a floating glob of darkness. The small blue-black cloud floated over a nearby piece of chest armor. It slowly melted away, pouring into the plate chestpiece. The armor shivered as the darkness infused into it. When it finally stopped moving, it was no longer bright silver but the blue-black sported by all Melkier soldiers.

  “You did it!” Nicadilia said, kissing Angst on the cheek. She slashed the air with her hand and the screaming stopped.

  “Why?” Angst asked. “Why are you doing this to my friends?”

  Nicadilia’s eyes were wide with crazy. Her left hand rubbed violently over the large ruby ring on her right, as though scrubbing away a maddening itch.

  “Leave us!” Nicadilia screamed. “Now!”

  The guards abruptly scurried out of the room. More guards from the hallway followed in a loud clanking of armored steps.

  “This is your fault!” she spat in a dark whisper. “You did this!”

  Nicadilia gripped Angst’s cheeks in one hand and directed him to look at a nearby corpse he hadn’t noticed until now. A man his size, whose life was sucked from him. His skin was so thinly draped over his body that, even dead, he looked in pain. An ugly splatter of dried blood covered the man’s chest from a gaping cut across his neck.

  “I loved him!” she screamed. “I loved him, and you killed him!”

  “How did I kill him?” Angst asked helplessly through pursed lips pinched by her fingers.

  “Magics! Your magics!” she screamed maniacally. “So you will pay the price!”