DreamReaper_Blood of Kaos Series Book II

by Nesa Miller

  Etain emerged through the opening, a shamshir in her right hand and a nasty-looking dragon-headed dagger in her left. Both were black blades. She walked straight to Taurnil and resumed her position. Taurnil swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, as he stared at the shamshir, then the dagger. When his gaze met hers, Etain raised a brow. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of his face. He drew in a breath and presented his blade. The Megiltura clapped his hands to begin.

  Exhausted after an intense training session, Etain returned her weapons to the armory and stormed out of the training hall, despite Rana’s bellowed orders to wait until being dismissed. Taurnil stared after her, blade in hand. He turned to the Megiltura.

  “Shall I go after her, sir?”

  A simple lift of a finger approved the request.

  Taurnil rushed down the hallway, anxious to catch up with his partner. He found her leaning against a bank of windows. “E?” She turned and collapsed into his arms. “E?” With no one else in sight, he carried her to her room and laid her on the bed.

  She woke just as he sat down to bathe her face with a cool cloth. “Taurnil?”

  “At least it’s not fatal.” He dabbed her temples and forehead.

  “What’re you talking about?” She swatted at his hand, trying to sit up.

  “You fainted in the hallway.” He set the cloth aside. “Luckily, I was there to catch you.”

  “Fainted?”

  “Yes, fainted, and you will stay right here.” Taurnil pushed her back into the pillows. “No need to rush into anything.”

  She offered no resistance. “Maybe I'm more stressed than I thought. The cloth does feel nice.”

  “Good.” He placed it on her forehead. “When was the last time you ate?”

  She closed her eyes. “This morning, I think.” With a sigh, she opened them. “I grabbed a bite on my way to the training hall.”

  “Must not have been much.” He sat back, happy to see the color returning to her face. “You have to watch that around here, E. We practice hard. You have to feed the machine to keep your energy at a high level.”

  “I'll try to be more diligent. I’m feeling better. Can I get up now?”

  “Are you sure?” At her nod, he offered his arm. “Take it slow.”

  “Really, I’m good. Thank you.”

  “Please tell me we’re not going back to the training hall.”

  She chuckled. “Perhaps I should get something to eat.”

  “Good idea, but I’ll go. You stay here and rest.”

  “No, I need to move.” She squeezed his arm. “Please understand. I need to keep busy or I’ll drive myself crazy, thinking of things I shouldn’t think about.”

  His resolve melted under the ice-blue assault and sensuous red lips. I imagine you taste like fresh summer berries.

  “Taurnil?”

  He cleared his throat. “Aye, I understand.”

  In the hallway, she offered him one last opportunity to bow out gracefully. “You don't have to come with me. I'm sure you have more important things to do.”

  “At this point, you are the most important thing on my list. You’re my partner. How can I train without you there?” He intertwined his arm with hers as they strolled down the hallway. “There's plenty of time for me to kick your butt in the arena.”

  “Aren’t we the confident one?” She laughed. “You know, I'm not a total novice. I have trained with the High Lord.”

  He laughed with her. “Which means your defeat will be all the sweeter.”

  “The challenge is on, Lord Taurnil. I shall make you eat those words.”

  “Lord Taurnil…,” he echoed, grinning. “I like that. Say it again.”

  “You're incorrigible.” She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “Lord Taurnil.”

  Although he enjoyed the company of the High Lady during lunch, Taurnil escorted her back to her room with strict instructions that she rest for a while. She was reluctant, but with his offer to sit with her until she fell asleep, she acquiesced and soon drifted off.

  With Etain sound asleep, the prince of Nunnehi tiptoed from the room and decided to find his mother for a chat. Over tea, they caught up on the recent happenings. He told of Etain’s introduction to the Blades, ending with the intense workout of the morning, purposely omitting the episode in the hall. In return, Alatariel advised her son of the events that had unfolded at Laugharne.

  “What do you think of our High Lady, son?”

  “I like her, Mother. She is intelligent, quick-witted…and a tad spoiled.” He maintained a cool façade, but his gaze repeatedly roamed toward the door.

  “Just a tad?” she teased.

  “Perhaps spoiled is a bad choice of words.” He contemplated for a moment. “She’s a woman who knows what she wants and expects to get it.”

  “At any cost?”

  His expression turned serious. “No. She’s determined, but she understands what’s at stake, móðir (Mother).”

  “She may understand, son minn (my son), but she is impulsive. It sometimes eclipses her better judgment.”

  A grin brought the sparkle back to his eyes. “Her heart is in the right place. I can deal with impulsive.”

  “Tread carefully, son minn.”

  He came to his feet and leaned over to kiss her cheek. “Always, Your Grace.”

  “Get out of here.” She laughed. “I will see you and our Lady Etain at dinner.”

  Taurnil rushed back to Etain’s room, anxious to be there when she woke.

  He knocked several times. “Etain? E?” Receiving no response, he chanced a peek inside. “E, are you awake?” The bed was neat and tidy. Scratching his head, he checked the adjoining bath. “I’m missing something,” he muttered, then thought of the training hall.

  Dalos, Valin, and several other novice Black Blades loitered outside the doorway of the hall. Taurnil stopped long enough to ask if they had seen the High Lady.

  “We haven't seen her since this morning. What's up?” Dalos asked.

  “She wasn't feeling well,” Taurnil replied, distracted. “Are you sure you haven't seen her?”

  “Sorry, Taurnil,” said another of the Blades.

  He turned down their offers to help search for her, saying he would meet them in the dining hall later. His mind worked at conjuring up locations where she could be but quickly dismissed them.

  Dalos waited until the others were gone before he spoke. “Maybe she's visiting with the queen.”

  Taurnil started at the invasion of his thoughts, looking as though he had forgotten Dalos was there. “No, I was with my mother all afternoon. I left E in her room to rest and promised to escort her to dinner, but she wasn't there when I went back.”

  “She has friends here. Maybe we should check with them.”

  His frown turned into a smile. “That's right! I forgot about them.” He slapped Dalos on the back. “You don't mind going with me?”

  “Not at all. Supper won't be ready for another half-hour, plenty of time to find the missing Lady.”

  They sped off to the other end of the palace to speak with Chelri. With a light tap on the door, they were bid entry by Swee who greeted them with a smile. “Hello. Can I help you?”

  “Hello, milady,” Taurnil replied, giving her a slight bow. “Please excuse the interruption. I’m Taurnil and this is my best friend, Dalos. We’re looking for Etain.”

  “Nice to meet you. Come in, I’m Swee. I’m afraid I haven’t seen Etain since yesterday.”

  “Hallo, Taurnil, Dalos.” Chelri came into the room from another doorway, his low voice was close to a growl. “What brings you to my domain?”

  “We're looking for Lady Etain,” Dalos answered, an interested eye on the Alamir healer.

  “I had hoped she came here to visit with Ms. Swee,” Taurnil explained, nudging Dalos in the ribs. The wood elf pried his gaze away but continued to peer out of the corner of his eye at the unusual woman.

  Swee turned to Taurnil. “Shou
ld we be worried?”

  “I’m sure she’s exploring the palace.” Taurnil stepped back toward the door, pulling a fascinated Dalos by the sleeve. “Sorry again for the interruption.”

  Chelri took Dalos by the other arm. “We’re done for the day and were about to leave for the dining hall. If we see the Lady Etain, we’ll be sure to let her know you're looking for her.”

  “Thank you, Frábær Heilari.” Taurnil tilted his head in a show of respect and shuffled his friend out of the room. “We’ll see you at dinner.” Closing the door, he gave Dalos a push, making him stumble across the hallway.

  “Hey, what was that for?” Dalos asked, indignant.

  “What’ve you been told about staring at others?” Taurnil was offended on Swee’s behalf. “I know you’ve not met many Alamir, but that was about the rudest I’ve ever seen, even for you, Dalos.”

  “I wasn’t rude.” He frowned, looking very hurt by the accusation.

  “Yes, you were. Didn’t you see how uncomfortable she was by your staring?”

  “I couldn’t help myself. She’s very pretty.” His eyes brightened with an idea. “Should I go apologize?”

  Taurnil caught him by the arm and whirled him around. “No. We have a High Lady to find. Perhaps our Nai Turamin has seen her,” he said, intent on dragging the wood elf as far away from Swee as possible.

  They hurried to the other side of the palace and the doors adorned with the Tree of Life. Before either could knock, the doors opened. “Come in, my young friends,” Sylvan called. “Have you met Spirit?” Without waiting for a response, she made the introductions, then addressed their concerns. The Nai Turamin nodded as she listened to their story, assuring the young elves neither she nor Spirit had seen the Lady Etain since their arrival in Nunnehi.

  Taurnil and Dalos bowed out of the room, anxious to be on their way, and faced one another in the hallway. Dalos’ brows rose, but just as quickly fell into a scowl as the elf bit his bottom lip. “What?” Taurnil snapped, his patience worn thin.

  “Do you think she went back to find Zysha? She wasn’t too happy to hear about what happened at the Gathering, you know.”

  “I don't even want to think about that.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, looked one way down the hall, then the other, coming back to Dalos. “Go on to supper.”

  “But, Taurnil-”

  “No.” He took the elf by the shoulders and pushed him in the direction of the dining hall. “Go on. I’ll be along shortly. I think I know where she’s gone. No reason for you to be late, too.”

  Outside the main gates, Taurnil closed his eyes, focusing on the eerie feeling that had been niggling at him since his discovery of her absence. A hunch urged him to go north, toward the portal. Unsure why, everything in his being assured him he was doing the right thing. With elven speed, he bridged the distance she would have already traveled.

  I can't let her go through that portal.

  He found her slumped on her knees at the base of the mountain. She looked up at him with a tear-stained face. “Taurnil, go back. You can't come with me. It's too dangerous.”

  “Why didn’t you wait for me?” he asked, kneeling beside her.

  “I have to get to Dar.” She coughed, choking on her words.

  He couldn’t understand the fear he saw in her eyes. “E, he can handle a skirmish. He's fought more than I can count.”

  “Not this one.”

  It wasn’t fear he saw in her eyes. It was pain. He reached out to her, but she avoided his touch.

  “He's in trouble,” she said, looking over her shoulder in the direction of the portal’s location.

  “What do you mean?”

  “His emotions were so strong, they woke me.” Her eyes came back to his. “I don't know what's happened, but it has to be bad to reach me here. When I left, I told him nothing would keep me away if I knew he was in trouble.” She stood up, running a hand through her hair. “I was headed up the path to the portal when another bolt ripped through me. All I know is that he's in serious trouble. He needs me.”

  A novice Blade he may be, but he was experienced enough to recognize a determined soul when he saw one. Taurnil stood with her. “Then I won’t try to change your mind,” he said, moving past her toward the portal. “But you’re not going alone. The Bok'Na'Ra will be en masse.”

  “Taurnil, this isn’t your fight.”

  He stopped and faced her with all the authority of the Prince of Nunnehi. “I will not allow my High Lady to walk into a trap. If you and I must come to blows to prove my point, so be it.” He touched the hilt of his black blade, hoping it would not come to that.

  There was a moment of steeled gaze versus steeled gaze, Etain’s hand on her Nim. Taurnil refused to be the first to break the link, knowing this was probably the first of many pivotal moments in his relationship with this unusual woman. To back down now would be suicide.

  “If it would keep you here, I would love nothing better,” she said, her eyes darkening to violet. “However, the love of my life is in mortal danger and I haven't the time to argue.” The violet light disappeared. “Let's get going.” Etain rushed past the elf and up the path to the portal, Taurnil on her heels. Once the shimmering gateway opened, she took his hand and stepped through into rain-drenched chaos.

  29

  Blood of Kaos

  A soft tap on the door woke Dar from a peaceful slumber. “Be right there.” By the slant of the shadows in the room, he figured it had been roughly two hours. He opened the door to a set of concerned eyes.

  Inferno pushed into the room. “It’s not a good day to do battle.”

  Not yet fully functional, Dar scrubbed a hand over his face. “There is never a good day, Inferno.”

  The Alamir chieftain paced back and forth, waving his arms. “Bloody clouds rolled in whilst you were asleep. It’ll be rain soon, and it won’t make our job any easier.” He stopped his pacing, fisted hands on his hips. “Do we have a chance against these bastards?”

  Dar retrieved his boots from the shower where he had left them after a thorough wash. “We do if I call in a few favors.” He continued to explain as he tugged them on. “There are many who owe me and would be more than willing to answer my call to remove that debt. However, no one here is going to like it.”

  “What do ya have in mind?”

  “Demons.”

  “For fuck’s sake, have ya lost yer bleedin’ mind?” Inferno set off in a new blaze of pacing, eyes glaring, hands jabbing this way and that. “I will not have goddamned demons anywhere near me home. They don’t keep to the deals they make. Bad enough we have the soddin’ Bok on their way, but now ya want to bring in a bleedin’ lot of fucking demons?”

  Dar stood up, stamped his feet in a final adjustment of his boots, and proceeded to strap on his blades. “They will honor a blood pact.”

  “The bastards got no blood to bargain with!”

  “I will use everything at my disposal to keep you and everyone else safe. You have to trust me on this, Inferno. My demons are more trustworthy than the Bok who plan to ride over that hill.” Dar opened the door and waited for Inferno to join him.

  Even if it costs me my life, they will not have her.

  “There has to be a better way, Dar.”

  He turned on the man, glaring into his stubborn gaze. “I’m not asking for permission. You warn the others about what I have planned. I have demons to see.” Before Inferno could protest further, Dar vanished.

  An abysmal land stretched out before the High Lord. Protocol demanded he present his petition in the guise of Lord Darknight, the High Lord of Kaos. Anything less could result in his immediate demise – blood pact or not.

  Dar called for his black armor. The armor, fitting like a second skin, encircled his throat and spanned across his shoulders, moving down to cover his chest, then out to his fingertips. At his waist, it circled around, continued over his hips, and extended down each leg, ending in dagger-pointed tips over each boot. The headpiece was th
e last bit to slide up his neck, around his head and face, leaving only his golden eyes visible, the VonNeshta family crest emblazoned on his chest.

  He made his way to where the Council of Eight awaited his arrival. A heated debate raged between several of the demon lords. He could guess why they argued. Dar approached the table. “It’s good to see a demon is true to his word.” As a show of power, the High Lord of Kaos stood over them rather than sitting. “The time has come to honor the pacts made between myself and each of you.”

  One demon lord, attired in an elegant suit that seemed to change in color with his movement, stood. When he spoke, his deep voice bubbled as though he were underwater. “That has yet to be decided, Lord Darknight.” Dar knew him as Leviathan, a rather innocuous-looking demon. Tall and graceful, with a perfect coif of yellowed seaweed that set off his pale blue skin, he was the lord of flesh-wearing demons. Human flesh was the most highly prized fabric, worn only by the elite. “Tell us what you want so we can be on our way.”

  “I am calling in the oaths sworn to me.”

  “We owe you nothing,” growled another demon lord farther down the table. “We made no pledges to you.”

  Dar recognized the voice. There was no way to disguise the gravel rattling in the demon’s throat. He turned on Buer, a demon with the head of a lion and a round body with five goat legs, and slammed his fist on the table. “Each and every one of you swore a blood pact to me. If you do not honor it, I will lay waste to your homes and your kingdoms. Nothing and no one will be spared. That is a promise.” His eyes transformed into golden slits as he placed both hands on the wooden surface and leaned closer. “All of you know that I always make good on my promises.” Dar glared at each demon lord as they absorbed his words. Before they could open discussions amongst themselves, he continued. “As an added incentive, I will consider your debts paid in full with no further obligations to me or my bloodline.”

  They considered the black-armored High Lord, each shaking his head as they engaged in private discussions. In time, one of the lords stood. Granach was distinctive by his contrasting features. One side of his body appeared almost human, save for its exaggerated size; the other side of his face and body was a metal skeleton beneath a horn-like substance. He spoke in heavily accented Latin. “Non petis nobis res simplex. Hinc etiam, si opus sit ad potentiae sapiens devitare. Praeterea, appellat, et inclinaveris cor tuum, nisi quod debetur nobis in animo de pactis (It’s not so simple a thing you ask of us. There are powers at work here that even you would be wise to avoid. Furthermore, your request only invokes and resolves one of the pacts owed by us).”