by Nesa Miller
His eyes narrowed. “Don’t change the subject.”
“Well,” Dar remarked with a sardonic tone, his gaze going to the Council, “looks like our dance card just filled up.”
“You shouldn’t be so cavalier, Dar,” Pyro snapped. “You’re charged with dereliction of duties and treasonous acts against the clan.” The fire cast a reddish tint to the stubble along his clenched jaw, but it was the one burning within that fueled the dangerous glint in his grey eyes.
“Stand down, Nae’Blis. You go against Alamir protocol by showing up here under false pretenses, accusing people of things you know nothing about.” Dar tapped into his demon blood to increase his size, causing Pyro and Savage to step back. Even Inferno backed away. “I’ve heard every word that’s come out of your mouths. The Ambassadors have been advised and have lifted the restrictions on the clan. On the same day, I sent a messenger to advise my Council of the decision.” He eyed Savage. “What’s this really about?”
“You’re different,” Swee said from her seat on the sofa.
Dar’s steely gaze turned to the healer. “Pursue this matter and it will become all too evident.”
Savage refused to back down. “You will do as the Council orders, or you will be stripped of your title.”
“Careful, Savage. You can be stripped of more than a title.”
Etain stepped between Dar and the Council. “I’d be happy to show you the way out,” she said, making a grand sweep with her hand.
Spirit gasped from across the room. “Not me new windows.”
“The witch has cast a spell on you,” Warden said, nonplussed by the changes in Dar. “She will answer for that.”
“Why wait?” Etain’s hand smoldered with an electrical charge. “We can-”
Dar placed a hand on her shoulder. “No, this is not the place,” he said, gently pulling her to him. “It’s best we take the boy away from here to conduct our business. Let things cool down before they get out of hand. Get Faux and take her to Sólskin.” He eyed the others as he leaned down to her ear. “I will come to you there, the boy in tow.”
Etain studied his face, then kissed him on the lips. “Don’t be long.” She left the room without another word.
“She will be dealt with next,” Pyro muttered, watching her walk through the doorway.
“You will not touch her,” Dar said. “She no longer answers to your rules.”
“She is Alamir and subject to Alamir law,” he countered.
The High Lord bent down into Pyro’s face. “I am the chieftain of this clan. You will listen and do as I command.”
“Calm down, Dar.” Swee shifted on the sofa, but a low growl from Ruby gave her reason to keep her seat. Swee chastised Pyro with her eyes, then spoke to Dar. “You’re the one we’ve come for, not Etain.” She turned an accusing glare on Savage. “I, personally, am not aware of any messengers sent by the Ambassadors…” She looked at Dar, “but there are other problems only you can resolve.”
“We will talk, but my lady and I have unfinished business with this one.” Dar nodded toward the lurking young man.
“No!” Savage yelled. “We will not be ignored. This has gone beyond your incessant need for chitchat. You will return with us immediately.”
Felix lunged. Only Inferno’s iron grip held him at bay. Ruby snapped and growled in reaction to the outburst.
“You will wait until I return.” Dar turned to Inferno, who had crouched beside Felix. “I apologize for the rude behavior of my Council. They will repay your good graces, milord.”
After murmuring soft words to help settle the hound, he answered. “Take care of business with this wee brat. Don’t worry about the others. Me and me clan will keep ‘em busy.”
Dar grabbed the scruff of Freeblood’s shirt, lifting him off the ground, and disappeared amid a flurry of angry protests.
3
Enlightenment
A small rise in an otherwise desolate landscape held the only item of interest…a red castle with four large turrets, one facing each direction, its walls gleaming like fresh blood. The turret rooftops were lined with row upon row of skulls darkened by the elements. At its entrance stood two immense gates of solid metal marked by substantial studs tapering into lethal points. In this dimension, the sky above was as grey as the dirt below.
Commander Thamuz stalked down the corridor toward a set of heavy wooden doors, muttering condemnations that echoed off the walls. I will be straightforward, as always.
A fantastical idea, rather unusual for the steadfast military man, flitted through his mind. He will understand.
His broad shoulders slumped with the burden of his news. Stopping short of his destination, he slid a hand over his close-cropped grey hair, then adjusted his dark uniform. Hell may well be an amusement park... Curling his fingers into fists, he then splayed them out and fisted again. Composed, he reached for the bronze handle.
Thamuz found his blood-skinned master behind an elaborate Louis XV-style desk in front of the only window in the room, its size equal to half the wall. Impeccably dressed, black suit and crisp white shirt tailored to accommodate the ridge along his spine, the master’s focus was on the courtyard below. Thamuz noted his black leather boots, their excruciatingly pointed toes, and clenched his jaw. He had personal experience of the pain they could inflict. Despite his master’s taste in sadistic footwear, the commander appreciated the image he projected. Considered young by any standard, twenty-seven in human years, his confidence was indomitable.
Although aware of a possible negative reaction, the voice of the commander revealed nothing of his apprehension. “Milord, we have news.”
“Commander Thamuz,” Dathmet said without turning. “I take it my father was successful?”
“The target was acquired.”
“Was,” he echoed, stated as a fact rather than a question. Tendrils of fire that passed for hair flickered around his strong features. “But…”
Thamuz felt the large room suddenly shrink. He cleared his throat. “The brother-”
“Yes.” Dathmet’s voice carried a lethal edge. “The fucking brother.” He turned, his black gaze impaling the commander. “How did he interfere this time?”
Thamuz shifted his shoulders in response to the trickle of sweat making its way down his back. “Midir underestimated the bond between them.”
Dathmet’s head of flames surged and licked out. “Do not judge, Thamuz. You have no idea the estimations or the sacrifices of my father.”
“It is fact, milord.” The commander stood his ground. “Your father placed me in this position because I say what must be said, not what you wish to hear.”
The black eyes resembled burning coals. After a long moment, his gaze returned to the window. “Where are they, now?”
“Midir is dead. His brother has taken his ashes to Krymeria.”
Light gleamed along the tapered edge of Dathmet’s ridged back, giving a ripple effect. “Why?” He came around from behind the desk, walking up to his commander. “Why take him home? They hated each other.”
Another line of sweat slithered along Thamuz’s spine. He lifted his shoulders and lengthened his neck, attempting to match the young master’s six-foot-five frame. “It is where all Krymerians are buried, milord. It would be sacrilegious to bury him elsewhere.”
“Sacrilegious?” Dathmet shouted, slamming his hand down on the desk. Flames billowed about his head, his eyes flashing red. “The fact that my father is dead and his arrogant brother still lives is sacrilege! He has no right to bury him. It is mine and mine alone.”
Thamuz blinked, unsure of how to respond. Dathmet glared at him, fanged teeth clenched, his body vibrating in outrage. He spun on his heel, jamming both hands through his flaming locks. The commander had to step back to avoid the tapered ridge.
After a few minutes, Dathmet blew out a breath. “Where is the woman?”
Thamuz raised a brow as the thought ran through his mind. The woman? Somewhat confused, he st
ared at his master’s profile. Dathmet turned his head, a hard look in his eyes. Thamuz recognized the bulldogged light within them and relaxed a degree. It was a look he had seen throughout the boy’s life, knowing it revealed an inner turmoil. Perhaps it was best for him to keep it impersonal at this point.
“She’s gone back to the Alamir realm. To Laugharne.”
Dathmet’s gaze turned thoughtful. “He won’t be far behind,” he said, twisting a diamond cufflink. “What of our other plans?”
The conversation now focused upon military matters, Thamuz felt his heart return to its normal rhythm. “Several moles have slipped through the Alamir net into the human realm and are already proving their worth.”
Composed and in control once again, Dathmet turned. “We cannot afford to repeat the mistakes of the past. There will be no assassinations. Human martyrs tend to unify the masses, which does not serve our purpose. Understood?”
Thamuz bowed his head, privately proud of the astuteness of his protégé. “A certain number of deaths will be required, milord. However, none will be high profile. Religious fanatics abound in the human realm. Suicide bombers vie for a one-way ride to hell, believing they serve a greater good. The spread of disease has also proven effective in the past, albeit somewhat more difficult to control. Whichever methods we implement, the death of insignificants will work to assassinate reputations and credibility. With the human realm in flux, our plans to neutralize their leaders will be realized. The chaos will keep the Alamir so distracted they won’t notice what we are doing. By the time they do, it will be too late.”
“Total chaos. I like it.” Dathmet stroked his chin.
“Pardon my saying, milord…”
Dathmet raised a brow but motioned Thamuz to continue.
“There are now only two living Krymerians. How do you propose to rebuild the Krymerian race when the other is your enemy and male, as well?”
A sinister grin came to his lips. “Another has come to light…a female. If I have found her, there must be more.”
“Dathmet, our antiquarians have found nothing to support this. As far as we can tell, the race disappeared completely, aside from yourself and VonNeshta. How do you know this female is Krymerian?”
“You will have to trust me on that, Thamuz.” He returned to his oversized leather chair behind the desk. “I believe that when the Krymerians’ precious High Lord went wandering after the death of his family, they left Krymeria and integrated with other races.”
“That makes no sense, milord. Krymerians-”
Dathmet stood up, the flames on his head licking out. “Krymerians are survivors. If they were able to cooperate with those disgusting Draconians, they would find other races easy to manipulate, especially humans and these…Alamir.”
“They were all human once, the Alamir.” The revelation made Dathmet raise his flaming brows. Thamuz felt compelled to explain further. “It was a part of your education Midir and I argued over many times. He saw no reason to familiarize you with a race he believed to be far beneath the Krymerians.”
Sitting down, Dathmet leaned back in his chair. “Yet he conducted business with many of them. In particular, the father of this woman we hunt.”
“Her parents were human, not Alamir.”
The young man considered his elder for a moment before speaking. “Are you sure they were both human?”
Thamuz thought it an odd question but kept it to himself. “Our information points in that direction, milord. Do you have reason to think otherwise?”
“It doesn’t matter,” he said, dismissing the matter. “My father dealt directly with these creatures?”
“Only her father, who served as liaison for any business he had in the human realm. Midir’s respect for that man and his family always puzzled me.”
“Perhaps he saw something past the human aspect of the man or, considering she is now Alamir, the daughter.”
“Perhaps...” Thamuz went on to explain how each Alamir was born human and raised as a normal human child, oblivious to their destiny until it presented itself. The manner of induction varied from person to person, dependent on their strongest traits. Few heard the call, and none refused. “They consider it an honor to serve as protectors of their human counterparts.”
“What honor is there to die for so primitive a race?”
Thamuz tilted his head. “Every species fights to survive, milord.”
Dathmet pushed out of his chair and returned to the window. “We’ll see how well they fare under Krymerian rule. Harborym has been briefed on the infiltration?”
“He has, milord. Once the Alamir are engaged with the happenings in the human realm, his team will move on the five clans and acquire the stones.”
“Good.” He seemed preoccupied with other thoughts but turned his head toward Thamuz. “These stones must be of great importance to risk so much.”
Given to the original Alamir, Leictreacha, so long ago that no one knew their true origins, the five stones were the source of the Alamir powers. In the beginning, the stones were one, but after years of fighting amongst the Alamir, it was split into pieces and entrusted to the five strongest clans…COL (Creatures of Light), UKElyte, FWH (Fight with Honor), SAF (Stand and Fight), and LOKI (Lords and Ladies of Kaos).
Dathmet smirked. “The woman is the key?”
“According to Midir, yes.”
“Why?”
“We believe it has to do with the human aspect. Somehow, her blood has integrated with the Krymerian’s rather than rejecting it. If we turn her to our cause, by strengthening the dark in her blood, and in conjunction with the stones, we’ll be able to turn the Alamir to Bok’Na’Ra. Control them and the human race will submit.”
Dathmet stroked his chin. “Your men, Thamuz. Were they once Alamir?”
Thamuz paused, beads of sweat popping out on his forehead, and inhaled to steady his nerves. “Some, milord. Others came directly to the Bok.” Dathmet raised a brow. “Disillusionment, for the most part.”
He nodded, seeming to understand the meaning of the commander’s words. “Does the woman know her history, or from where her mother came?”
“Pardon, milord, but I don’t understand what significance it would have.”
He waved a hand. “How much does she know about me?”
“Nothing. There’s no need just yet. If she knows too much too soon, the Krymerian is sure to learn of it. Our plans, your plans, could be disrupted.”
“Assemble your officers, Commander. It’s time to put those plans into action.”
“Shall I assign Togor to the woman?”
“No. I will take on the task myself.”
Thamuz raised an eyebrow.
“Don’t be concerned. She’ll never know it’s me.” He placed his hand on his chest, giving the commander a fanged grin. “Until I’m ready for her to know.”
“Please tread carefully, milord. She’s not a helpless little girl anymore.” Thamuz saluted and left his master to his thoughts.
Dathmet’s gaze returned to the courtyard. “Indeed. She is not.” The beauty of the pebbled walkways and multi-colored flowerbeds belied the torturous monument at its center…two black stones as tall as a man spaced the width of a man spread-eagled, each with two iron rings – one at the top, the other at the bottom.
As his father had not considered it necessary to inform Thamuz of the woman’s full history, he considered it unnecessary to admit his presence at his father’s death. His reasoning wouldn’t have set well with the commander and would have caused a needless argument. But the desire to see this…brother and, more importantly, her had been too great to resist. It had been a long time. He vowed to keep the sight alive in his head in order to repay them both in kind for Midir’s death.
“I will finish what we started, Father. I will turn their dreams into nightmares and their nightmares into reality. Their days are numbered.”
Freeblood paced around the dark cavern of a room, trying to regain his bearings.
The unexpected transport had left him disoriented.
The only light in the room, suspended from the ceiling, served as a spotlight for the silver-haired Amazon sitting on the lap of nothing less than a god crowned by a mass of golden locks and perched upon a massive black-and-blue-flamed throne, its back shaped into a winged serpent. Skulls formed the arms of the great seat which tapered down into griffin feet. Prompted to talk by the clearing of a throat, the sight of the duo made him hesitate.
“Okay, okay.” Freeblood blew out a slow breath. Take it slow, Joe. He directed his first question at Etain. “Why did you leave without explaining what had happened to me?”
Her look was somewhat sheepish. “At first, I wasn’t absolutely certain anything had happened to you.”
His next question was for the man. “I guess you’re the Dar who has everyone bent out of shape. How is it you know me, yet I’ve never heard of you?”
His eyes on Freeblood, the big man sat back, considering the question. “I became aware of you through my Etain.” The couple shared an intimate smile. “There were difficulties with her sister that required my assistance. Had it not been for her, I doubt you and I would have ever met.”
Freeblood thought back over the days since he’d met the Amazon and tried to envision a sister. His face brightened. “Short black hair with little horns on her forehead and a kinky tail?”
“Aye,” Dar said, more as an afterthought, his fingers combing through the ends of Etain’s hair.
“Whose name is?”
Etain answered. “Faux.”
“Hmmm.” Freeblood narrowed his eyes. “Now that you mention it, I can see the resemblance.” The perusal of her face sparked a memory. “You were chasing me.”
She straightened her back and frowned. “Faux was chasing you. I was trying to stop her.”
“Really?” Freeblood considered the explanation. “Why would she be chasing me?”
“Who knows why Faux does anything,” she snapped, darting her eyes to the side.