Rhada stood around only long enough to watch Lord Ivran bend down to pick up the severed head of the King then she turned and left the doorway she had been standing in with great haste.
She continued on her previous path down the servant’s corridor and turned round another corner, knowing that she was very close to her destination.
To her luck and surprise, the hallway was empty. She could hear Lord Ivran’s men in the next corridor and knew it would not be long before they reached her. She quickened her pace even more, hoping she could make it to her secret chamber before it was too late.
“Witch!” The cry came from behind. She stopped suddenly and turned around to find Protector Stanwyck standing in the middle of the hallway, sword in hand, staring at her with eyes that wanted to kill.
Rhada took in a deep breath, disappointed that she had not reached her secret chamber without incident. She did not want to fight with Stanwyck, or anyone else for that matter, she only wanted to hide her sword. She had known long ago that the battle was lost and she was prepared to give herself over to the enemy, but not before Bloodbinder was safe from their greedy hands. But Stanwyck stood in defiance of her plan. She wondered if she should lay the sword down and surrender or if she should defend her life. The sword began to buzz violently at her thoughts and she knew the answer. With a heavy heart, Rhada took a small step towards Stanwyck and raised her blade in defense.
Stanwyck ran forward, shouting in anger as he reached his opponent. Rhada spun to the side, dodging his blade and turned so that she was facing him once more. He stopped, turned and rushed at her again. She ducked and spun away, avoiding his blade with ease. She knew that he was too slow for her- that against her, he stood little chance. She would keep dodging until he realized this and let her pass.
But Stanwyck showed no sign of giving up. All her ducking and dodging only made him angrier. He brought his sword up above his head and pulled it down just as she raised her blade. Their steel met in mid-air, clashing together and sending an echo down the hall. She pulled her blade free and spun around, shoving her shoulder into his side and pushing him away from her.
Rhada stood up tall and stared at Stanwyck, waiting for him to regain his balance. When he turned to her, his face was red with anger and his eyes were glowing wildly in the dimly lit hallway.
“Fight me!” He shouted at her. She could see his body shaking with fury.
Rhada looked to him with sad eyes and shook her head. “Do not make me do this, Stanwyck.” She pleaded, but the man was filled with rage and would not allow her to escape.
He raised his blade and once again shouted; “fight me, you coward!” Then he ran forward and swung with all his strength.
Rhada raised her sword this time instead of dodging and met his blade in the air. She felt the ripple of strength as their swords collided and she easily pushed his aside. She pulled her blade free and bent down low, putting large gashes into the tops of his thighs.
Protector Stanwyck let out a bellow of pain and sank to the floor. He watched blood spill from the open wounds in both his legs with horrified eyes.
Rhada stood tall and lowered her blade, hoping that he would not advance again.
“Have you had enough?” She asked.
Stanwyck’s breaths were hard and labored but he pulled himself to his feet and rushed forward once more.
Rhada secured her footing and knocked Stanwyck’s blade to the side as he rushed past her. She spun and suddenly she was behind him. She grasped him with a hard grip on the shoulder and shoved Bloodbinder deep into his back. She felt Stanwyck shudder as she pushed the blade in farther and did not stop until the tip pierced through his chest.
Stanwyck’s blade fell to the ground and he gasped for a breath that he could not take. Rhada stepped close to his ear and whispered with sincerity- “I’m sorry”, then pulled Bloodbinder free of its victim and watched him fall forward, face-first onto the stone beneath their feet.
Rhada wished to waste no more time. She stepped over Stanwyck’s lifeless body and raced down the corridor. When she reached the end, before turning the corner to the next hallway, she reached up and grasped at a loose stone in the wall. It pulled out like a door handle and soon, part of the wall was swinging on old and rusted hinges. The door was completely hidden from the naked eye but Rhada knew where to find it without hesitation. It was her secret chamber and had belonged to every High Protector before her. Not even the King himself had known about this chamber. It was the chamber she had hidden in the last few days to avoid contact with anyone inside the castle.
She pulled one of the torches from the wall and carried it inside the secret hallway. She pulled the door closed behind her and turned to find herself facing the familiar twisting steps.
Down, down, down they went to the very bowels of the castle. She knew that this chamber went even deeper into the ground than the dungeons. She stepped carefully, knowing that the steps were small and steep. She could very easily lose her footing and fall the rest of the way.
Once at the bottom, she found herself facing the chamber door. She gave a hard push to open it and stepped inside the cold, dark room.
The chamber was not large, only a square carved into the stone, but it did contain a bed, a side table with a wine decanter and goblet, and a sconce to hang her torch on the wall. She hung the light and turned back towards the door. She pulled it closed and pushed the wooden plank to rest in two cast iron hooks, locking herself inside the chamber. If anyone ever managed to find where she was hiding they would have to break through the door. The one problem with this chamber was that there was only one way in or out but Rhada doubted anyone would ever find her there. But she knew she could not stay there for long, unless she wished to starve herself to death and save herself the humiliation of a public beheading.
She laid Bloodbinder on the bed, knowing that she had plenty of time to hide the blade. She looked down to it and frowned at the fresh blood staining the tip. Such a waste, she thought with sadness as she pictured poor Stanwyck in his last moment.
She sighed in frustration and sorrow, turned to the decanter and poured the red liquid into the goblet. She sat on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the wall opposite her and sipped her wine slowly, determined to enjoy every last drop- the last glass of wine she would ever taste.
Chapter 29
Myranda stood in the center of the great hall with the King’s lifeless form lying at her feet. How she had ended up there and how long she had been standing there, she could not say- time had passed without her knowledge.
No matter how hard she tried, she could not peel her eyes away from the gaping wound in the King’s neck. She stared hard at the protruding bones and severed flesh. She even found her gaze following the trail of blood that had splattered across the stone floor but she had yet to find his head. She turned her eyes back to what was once the King and winced at the bloody sight of him.
The great hall was cold and felt hollow but even though she stood there alone with the King’s corpse, she felt a sudden disturbing presence looming over her shoulder. She turned quickly and stared into the darkness of the vast room and took in a relieved breath, finding that she was indeed alone.
Slowly she turned back to the King and looked to him with despair. It was not sorrow for the King’s death that she felt, but sorrow for the future of Kaena. The King’s death marked the beginning of the real war- the war that would consume the realm in flame and shadow.
Myranda felt a chill in the air and grasped her bare arms as she shivered in the dark. All around her were shadows and she suddenly felt as though death itself had come to claim her. She looked up to the empty great hall and felt her eyes suddenly fill with tears. The death of the King could mean the death of them all.
Then slowly, a figure began to appear from the shadows. It walked cautiously, taking each step with care as though it were just as afraid of what could be lurking in the dark corners as Myranda was. She watched it with frightened ear
nest and gasped when the High Protector’s face appeared.
She looked as she always did, gaunt and pale, but fierce- with eyes that pierced through the flesh of those she looked upon. Her long, dark hair cascaded down her sides and framed her face in shadow. It flowed past her waist in long waves and began to blow in a breeze that did not exist. It was in that moment that Myranda could see she was lost. Her eyes darted from side to side and were filled with fear. She wrapped her arms around each other as though the same chill that surrounded Myranda now surrounded her. She walked slowly, hoping the shadows would stay at bay.
And then suddenly, she stopped. Her eyes were cast downward and they grew wide with terror. Myranda knew she was looking at the King’s headless body.
Then Rhada’s face changed. Her eyes grew heavy and began to burn with a brilliant light. She pulled Bloodbinder from its scabbard with anger and spun around quickly, as though an enemy was approaching from behind. Myranda strained to see and quickly noticed the figures that were now emerging from the shadows.
As Lord Ivran and his men began to surround Rhada, she held Bloodbinder at the ready. But the sword would not save her. It began to shake violently in her hands and started to glow as steel does when it is heated. Myranda watched in silent awe as the blade began to melt and drip at Rhada’s feet. Rhada cried out in confusion and within seconds, the steel was gone and all she held in her hand was the hilt.
Lord Ivran’s men held their swords out and encircled Rhada, leaving her no room for escape. She dropped the hilt and fell to her knees in defeat. She began to cry out that she was sorry. She begged for mercy but her words fell upon deaf ears.
Lord Ivran stepped through the men surrounding her and pulled his own sword free of its scabbard.
Myranda’s heart began to beat quickly as she stood witness to the last few moments of the High Protector’s life. She did not make a sound as Lord Ivran placed his blade at her chest. She watched with unblinking eyes as he gave a shout of triumph and pushed his blade forward.
Rhada jolted forward as the blade pierced through her heart. And even though she was dead, Lord Ivran’s men would take no chances. They all stepped forward and pierced their blades though some part of her body. When they stepped back, Myranda could see that twenty or more blades had been stabbed into the High Protector. Yet her body remained on its knees, not moving.
“Rhada!” The shout came from behind and was full of anger. Myranda recognized Mayvard’s voice and as she spun to face him, he charged forward with sword in hand.
“I will save you! I must save you!” He shouted as he ran. Myranda held up her hands to stop him but he paid her no mind. She tried to shout to him but her voice was lost to the darkness.
What is happening? Why can he not see me? She followed him with her gaze as he rushed forward and cried out in agony as his body was riddled with arrows that came streaming through the air. His sword fell first. His hands dangled limply at his sides and he swayed a few times before collapsing and lying motionless upon the floor.
“Save him.” Myranda turned and found Rhada standing before her. The swords that had pierced her flesh were gone and they were suddenly alone in the great hall.
“I cannot.” Myranda objected with tears in her eyes. She let them fall down her cheeks and she cried out in torment at the loss of her lover.
“Save me.” Rhada replied. She held up her shaking hands and when she opened her mouth, blood began to pour out. She gasped and choked as she tried to take in a breath but no air could reach her lungs. She shuddered and fell to her knees once more, leaning forward so the blood pouring from her lips fell into her open palms.
Myranda screamed and jumped back, away from the dying woman at her feet. She turned and was about run but a strange feeling suddenly came over her; a wave of remorse and despair unlike she’d ever felt before. She turned back to Rhada, seeing that Bloodbinder was whole again and resting in Rhada’s open hands. It did not matter if Myranda hated her, or if anyone else hated her. She must be saved.
Myranda knew then that Rhada’s life was valuable- that she was the key to defeating the shadow army that now threatened the world. She knew that even though this woman was her enemy- an enemy of the realm- she would be the first to stand up and fight against the Lord of Death’s minions and Myranda had to do what was in her power to save her. She would have to give her own life to protect the High Protector if it became necessary.
Myranda sat upright with a start. She breathed heavily as she sat upon her bed. She did not cry out or even wince in pain at the headache that took hold of her. The pain was to be expected after a vision such as the one she had just suffered through.
She grasped at her temples and closed her eyes, willing the pain to dissipate. When the throbbing grew weaker, she reopened her eyes and looked around her bedchamber.
The sconces and candles had all been lit earlier that day. The storm that had raged had shrouded the room in darkness and Myranda had ordered her new maid to give her light.
She turned her head towards the window and saw only darkness. The sound of the rain that pummeled the castle was almost deafening. How long have I been asleep? She wondered, cursing herself under her breath.
It had not been her intention to fall asleep. Her body had been shaking, riddled with anxiety over the impending battle.
Mayvard had come to her and told her everything the High Protector had told him. They will be here by nightfall. She could not escape those words as they raced through her mind over and over again. She watched in silent horror as Mayvard donned his armor and sharpened his blade. She begged and pleaded for him not to go but she knew he had no choice. He assured her of their victory, told her there was nothing to worry about and gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead before leaving her alone in her despair. As he was closing her chamber door, he barked out one last order to her; “keep this door secure and do not even think about leaving your room until I tell you it is safe.”
Myranda remembered sitting on the edge of her bed after he left and crying hysterically into her hands. I must have cried myself to sleep.
She turned her gaze back to the darkness outside and wondered at the hour. As she swung her legs over to the side of the bed to stand, her ears were greeted with the sound of a horn, barely audible over the pounding rain. She stopped, suddenly frozen in terror. Was that the sound of a war horn I just heard? Then the sound of men shouting filled her ears; the unmistakable signal that battle had broken out.
She wasted no more time. She jumped from the bed and raced to her balcony, caring nothing for the heavy droplets of rain that seemed to be trying to pierce through her flesh. She grasped the baluster and leaned over the edge. What she saw made her tense in fear.
Men were fighting and dying beneath her feet. Their cries of anguish echoed throughout the valley below but the thing that frightened her was not the battle itself but the men who were fighting. Off in the distance, she could see Lord Ivran and his host standing idly at the forest’s edge. The men that were fighting were Axendra’s own men and those that were supposed to be aiding them.
Then another horn began to blow and Myranda looked up to see Lord Ivran’s host rush forward. Their horses raced as quickly as they could to aid the warriors that had betrayed their King.
She could not say for how long she stood upon the balcony watching the battle unfold in silent horror, but it wasn’t until the battle cries had begun to die down and Lord Ivran’s army began pouring into the castle that she pulled herself out of her daze and stood up tall.
Mayvard is down there somewhere. I must find him! She stepped away from the balustrade and closed her eyes, focusing on the image of a black bird. She felt the change wash over her; a warm wave that blanketed her and made her skin tingle. She felt her clothes grow in size and slide off of her with ease. They were replaced with feathers.
Myranda opened her eyes and saw the world through a new light. The crow’s eyes were strangely sharp. She could see the tiniest mouse crawlin
g through a wide open field. And everything appeared to her in different hues of green.
She opened her mouth and cawed loudly then began flapping her wings and before she knew it, she was soaring through the air. The rain did nothing to stop her from flying at her fastest pace. She scanned the ground beneath her, looking for any sign of the man she loved.
Then she spotted him, fighting a group of men. She circled above and watched with anxiety as he cut them down one-by-one, even though he was outnumbered. But suddenly he was in trouble. A man with a bow and arrow approached and even though she began to descend as fast as she could, she could not reach him in time. She felt her heart stop as the arrow flew through the air and pierced his shoulder. He fell to the ground and the man with the arrow walked away triumphantly. She stopped and hovered in the air above him. She could not bring herself to rush to his aid. She knew that if she looked upon his face and saw there was no more life in his eyes, her world would end right then and there.
Then suddenly, Mayvard moaned and sat upright. He reached for the arrow and broke the shaft. Slowly he got to his feet and lifted the sword he had dropped.
Myranda’s heart began to beat with elation and she soared through the air towards him. She landed at his feet and did not care that he would discover her secret. She focused her mind on her human form and rose up tall on two legs.
Mayvard shouted out in surprise, jumped back a few paces and raised his blade into the air, ready to defend himself against whatever it was that had appeared before him. She saw the confusion in his eyes as he recognized her face. His eyes lowered at the same time as his blade and he looked upon her naked flesh in bewilderment.
Rise of Darkness (The Watchers Book 2) Page 29