Sorrow's Peak (Serpent of Time Book 2)

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Sorrow's Peak (Serpent of Time Book 2) Page 16

by Jennifer Melzer


  Breath snorted through his nostrils, the sound perking the sharpened, twisted ears of the enemy by the shore. Before he even had a chance to turn around, Finn darted from the grass and charged forward. Startled by the sudden appearance of an unexpected enemy, the orc pivoted slowly. Both hands reaching for the twin axes dangling from his belt, he gripped and wrenched them free with a fierce, throaty growl Finn didn’t have time to take notice of. He dove, throwing all of his weight at the monstrous creature. The element of surprise was in his favor.

  The enemy was still reaching when Finn tackled, the force of his body driving the orc backward into the water. The orc didn’t lose balance, the thick trunks of his legs firmly keeping him upright, but the reach for his weapons was interrupted and as gravity began to draw Finn back to the sloshing, icy water below, he dug the claws of his front paws into its bare chest and wrenched downward.

  Blood flooded to the surface of his pale green skin, rushing down the rippled muscles of his stomach and dripping with chunks of torn flesh into the water just seconds before Finn himself touched ground with a splash. Rising to his full height, even in beast form the orc was taller than he was, broader of chest and thicker around the waist. Finn never considered himself lithe; he moved in battle with purpose comparable to a battering ram, but against this new enemy he needed to be quick.

  The orc gripped his axes, the dulled iron blades glinting briefly in the pale silver light of the midday sun as they lifted to cross and block on instinct. For the first time since he turned around, Finn got a good look at his face. Wide-jawed, he had two tusk-like teeth driving upward, edging over his upper-lip, not unlike a boar. He growled, snarling a taunt through flecks of spittle Finn barely understood because the words were rough, guttural and jumbled.

  Hunkered down, one long arm draped between bent knees, Finn stared up at his enemy, watched large, black eyes widen just seconds before he nodded his head upward in taunt and snarled again.

  “Come on!” He battered a forearm against his thick chest, blood flecking in a spray from the wound Finn dealt him.

  Arms shot out, uncurling axes and brandishing them in an arc that forced Finn back two steps, his spine stretching his body away from their dangerous reach. In a fluid movement, he shot one leg out, foot connecting with the center of the orc’s thigh. There was enough force behind that kick to stagger the balance of his foe, who lifted his other leg and unexpectedly moved forward with a raging roar. The pivotal, movement loosened the orc’s footing enough that he wavered, foot slipping on the sinking sand beneath it.

  A great splash of water followed, rising between them like an icy curtain. In a moment of disarray, Finn charged forward again while his enemy’s arms wavered in an attempt to hold his position. He failed. Finn’s heavy body launched into his exposed chest. Sharp claws sliced across thick throat, digging deep and widening the orc’s eyes in surprise. One ax dropped into the water, the other came swinging inward. The blade struck Finn across the shoulder, jolting him enough to expose the closed fist rising on his right. He dropped before it connected, barreling into the trunk-like midsection and temporarily stealing the orc’s breath.

  The pain fueled his building rage. Coupled with thoughts of Lorelei in danger, he saw only red as the fury reached its pinnacle.

  Throwing every bit of his weight into the movement, he rolled forward with his arms clenched tight around its thick waste, sending the orc flailing backward into the water behind it. The beast followed through, pressing his body down hard to hold his thrashing enemy under.

  The orc was strong. Stronger than any foe he’d ever faced before.

  Determined and motivated by his own surprise as he railed arms and kicked legs to try and throw the wolf from his chest, several heavy punches landed, slightly off the mark, but enough to dizzy Finn’s mind. His head swam with stars; he shook them off and pushed himself beyond the next level of rage. He felt no pain. No reasonable thought coursed through his mind. There was only the fury of his attack, the salted metallic smell of blood spilling into the frigid water.

  In a windmill attack, arms swinging left and right, left and right, he raked the sharpness of his claws across skin and muscle, dug them deep into the chest of his enemy. The waves frothed red, the foam sweeping toward the shore, staining the sanded, stony banks with its color before retreating and carrying their battling bodies further out to sea.

  There was no time for fear. That part of his mind shut down completely, driven solely by the need to exterminate anyone, anything that might bring harm to his mate. The wretched, pitiless thing in his grasp would do unspeakable things to something as fair as Lorelei.

  Claws dug deep, wrapping tight around the thick muscle of the orc’s throat again, squeezing, piercing, tearing until the slickness of gushing blood made it impossible to hold on. The orc faltered, weakened and twitched beneath the wolf’s rage. It wasn’t until the last hint of life fled that monstrous creature’s body Finn realized he was still battering at the pulpy, lifeless mass, battling against the pull of the sea to hold it in place.

  Dead.

  It was dead, and as Finn began taking gaping, backward steps from the body he watched it float and rise on the crests of the waves like a doll tossed into the current. He gasped, wheezing to catch his breath and that was when the doubts began to settle back into his mind.

  More. The beast always wanted more, but somewhere in the tangle of his thoughts the man within knew he didn’t have enough in him to face much more.

  He was a strong warrior; he fought plenty of beasts and the occasional troll in the Edgelands, but what did he know of real battle? Against seasoned enemies who’d faced far fiercer than him? Why hadn’t his brother put up a bigger fight when he said he needed to go? How could he possibly have believed he had what it took to protect his princess on the dangerous road ahead?

  The sea was dark with blood, the color spreading and thinning into the pale water. He watched the ax still clenched in a dead hand floating atop the crimson waves, bobbing and dipping alongside the body that once held it.

  The wolf stood over the corpse, withering and rocking as the waves swept in again and began to draw the body back from the shore. He could feel his feet sinking deeper into the sand, chunks of ice battering around his ankles.

  In that same moment, his thoughts doubled back on him, pushing him beyond the limits of his own rage.

  There was no time for doubt. There were others, just like the corpse the sea was carrying away, and they were headed straight toward Lorelei.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Brendolowyn watched the pale grey of the mid-afternoon sky yawn above the dark endlessness of the sea. It took them nearly an hour after Finn disappeared to reach the shoreline, the thick crust of snow becoming slush as it yielded to pebbled, rocky sand peppered white with patches of ice. It was still a hike to the water’s edge, but Lorelei was anxious, anticipating her first glimpse of the sea. She was giddy, excitement flushing her cheeks a pale shade of pink that made her look so alive.

  He made the trip to Port Felar often enough to know the route like the back of his hand. At least once each year he traveled to the eastern edge of Rimian, to the very place he first landed after her hand reached out of the darkness to pluck him from death and lay him on the cold shoreline.

  At Hodon’s behest, he made the journey to Port Felar to gather intelligence from sailors and keep the lines of communication open with the elves of Nua Duaan, the city below the city. The King Under the City, Jonolov Silver-Tongue, made it a point to never be in Nua Duaan when Brendolowyn arrived, but the Alvarii always welcomed him, albeit boorishly. He wondered if the self-proclaimed king of the Alvarii Underground would be in Nua Duaan when they arrived, and if he would finally grant him audience to discuss terms of an alliance with the people of Dunvarak.

  Shielding his eyes from the dull silver light of the sun, he watched Hrafn spiral in between two gulls before turning back against the wind, wings fluttering before he flapped them and dove d
own to land on his shoulder. The bird’s thoughts flashed a series of images in his mind, their shared memory of the first time they’d landed on those shores, and then he tilted the soft feather of his head in to rest against Bren’s cheek in comfort.

  “Here we are again, old friend,” Bren murmured, a slow, weary smile drawing at the corner of his mouth. “Back at the beginning. Or is this the end?”

  Hrafn croaked low, a deep gurgling cluck that flowed from the back of his throat, and then he drew away from the warm comfort of his companion’s cheek to stare out into the distance with longing.

  “Fly then,” Bren laughed. “Go on, off with you.”

  The raven didn’t have to be told twice. He pushed off in a flurry of snapping black wings and climbed toward the sky until he was little more than a black spot against the grey.

  “Where does he go?” Lorelei’s horse sauntered up beside his, the girl’s long gaze following the bird’s flight path as she shaded her eyes with her hand.

  “Wherever he likes,” he chuckled. “He loves it when we come here.” He refrained from adding, and so do I, knowing she would want to know why.

  A secret he could never tell her, not if he planned to do what needed to be done. Yovenna begged him before she died, bid him keep his emotions and the memories never meant to become his to himself. Lorelei could never know he brought her to the very place he first knew what it was to love another; the place he first met her.

  Lowering the hood of his robes, he let it rest slack over his shoulders and lifted his face into the cold, salt smell of the sea. That scent, combined with the constant hushing call of waves crashing and receding from the shore always made his heart speed up, a sense of hope rising inside that nothing in the world could damper. He was in his safe haven, the one place in all the world where he felt completely at peace.

  “The rest of the journey will be much easier. The weather will warm the further northeast we travel,” he said. “Following the coastline will take us straight to Port Felar.”

  “How long will it take us to get there?”

  “Two days, maybe three.” Sliding off his horse, his hand lingered against the mare’s neck, fingers absently stroking through the coarse braid of her black hair as he stared out at the raging sea and watched the ice churn against its fury. “We’ll set up camp back there,” he gestured away from the waterline. “The tide comes in well past where I stand.”

  “Wow,” she marveled.

  Bren glanced over and watched her dismount. She took a moment to get her bearings, her legs wobbling under the strain of the long road at their backs. Her wide eyes never left the waves breaking and frothing several yards from where they stood.

  She’d never seen the sea before, only in paintings and the old books lining the palace library shelves. Head tilted, the mussed braid of her long, auburn hair rustling in the breeze, she wore an expression of wonder so precious, he committed the moment to memory.

  “I’ve never seen such beauty. Never imagined in my wildest dreams…”

  A moment of amazement, one of many, and the fool meant to share her life with her wasn’t even there to cherish the look she wore.

  How could someone so stupid be so smooth? It boggled Bren’s mind whenever he tried to understand what she would eventually see in the U’lfer, the thought making him feel petty and stupid. Much as he liked to tell himself he knew her heart, he knew almost nothing about her.

  “I don’t know why anyone thought we’d catch a ship from here. Not many come in this far.”

  “Because of the ice?”

  “We’ll be lucky if we see a single skiff before we reach the port.”

  “How lucky would we have to be?”

  “Very lucky,” he laughed, “and by that time we’ll be there, and won’t need transport. The caverns that line the coast are rich with valuable ore and minerals. Sometimes miners navigate the dangerous waters with smaller faerings, but they wouldn’t be large enough to transport passengers, especially not with horses. And besides, those mines are just as easily accessed by land without risk to the ships.”

  “Logren said the border is heavily guarded in Port Felar,” Lorelei remembered.

  “Because of the surrounding mines,” Bren nodded, “and the number of ships making port there. Getting around the guards and into the city would not be a simple task, especially if Aelfric’s got his men searching for you, but we will skirt around Port Felar and send word to the sentinels of Nua Duaan.”

  She shuddered quietly at the thought. “Do you think he does?” she wondered aloud. “Have men searching for me?”

  “It is likely.”

  The sound of her terrified swallow barely reached his ears, but she said not another word about it. “Let’s set up camp,” she decided. “I’d like to walk down to the water’s edge and take it all in before the sun starts to go down.”

  They were already developing a routine of sorts, and it didn’t take the two of them long to lay out the encampment. He complained about the U’lfer taking off every time they were preparing to stop for the day, but he was actually convinced Finn would only get in the way. After both tents were pitched and stable, he shooed her away, promising to take care of the fire and insisting she make her way down to the shore.

  “Are you sure?” she tilted her head, the loose auburn strands of hair framing her face jostling against her chin as they fell. “I don’t mind finishing.”

  “I’m positive,” he assured her with a slow smile. “There’s not much more to do, and it won’t be long before the tides start to rise.”

  “If you’re sure.”

  “I’m sure,” he laughed. “Would you like me to come with you?”

  “You don’t have to.”

  But I want to, he thought. To stand beside her as she took in the sea for the first time, the glory of that moment lighting her face with wonder and amazement.

  “It will be nice to have a walk by myself,” she went on. “I haven’t had many moments to myself these last few weeks.”

  “As you wish,” he conceded, calling for her to be careful when she started the short trek toward the water’s edge.

  Brendolowyn watched her. Even after days of wearisome travel, she was stunning to behold. For a woman with the weight of the world on her shoulders, her smile never seemed to fade, even when the weather and the road they traveled was less than kind.

  How long would it take for that weight to affect her, before her smile became a rare and precious thing to behold?

  As she walked, she unpinned the braid she wore in her hair and raked her fingers through the tangles until it all flew free around her head like an unruly crown of flaming waves caught in the lines of the midday sun streaming through the clouds. The breeze whipped it into her face, her arm constantly reaching up to brush and tuck it away behind her ears, and though she was too far for him to hear, he swore he heard her laughing into the wind just before she broke into a run that carried her all the way to the edge of the sea.

  He should keep an eye on her, he thought, make sure she didn’t come to any harm on her own, but then Hrafn dove in to fly behind her, assurance from his faithful friend he would keep watch over her so Bren could rest.

  He was weary.

  He only had cause to use his magic to raise and lower the barrier each night and occasionally start the fire, but constant travel taxed his energies. It probably didn’t help that he lay awake long through each night listening to the object of his desire talk to her mate. If they kept on as they were, it wouldn’t be long before she gave into the bond between them, strengthening its permanence and blocking Brendolowyn out forever. The choice would only remain hers until she accepted Finn as her mate, after that there was no turning back, no chance for him to swoop in and claim her as he wanted so badly to do.

  She is not yours to claim, he heard the old woman’s voice in the back of his mind.

  But the scolding tone of her admonition didn’t make him long for her any less.

  S
canning the camp, he still had not started the fire, and though he longed for its warmth, he just needed a moment to relax and think. He drew his hood up over his head, pulling it down to block the light of the fading sun from his eyes, which were closed, and then he drew a deep breath in through his nose.

  Another followed and he exhaled, then another, and another. He attuned his breathing to the distant sound of the waves against the shore. Each one carried him further and further from the disturbance of his own thoughts, of the powerful longing he could not give into no matter how much he wanted to.

  Being near her, feeling her presence, hearing her laughter, her voice—as wonderful as it was, it was also toxic. Fuel for an unquenchable fire.

  Every breath cleansed him, alleviated the longing and lessened the strain of his own emotions so he could focus on his true path. He was only there to help her with her task, to guide and protect her from enemies and her own sorrow. He made a promise, one the old seer swore he’d made to her lifetime after lifetime after lifetime; this time he would keep his promise no matter how much it hurt him to reach a hand out and save the U’lfer he still did not believe deserved Lorelei’s heart.

  Every time he exhaled, the breath carried him away from himself, allowing his body and mind to rest.

  With rest came the peaceful imagery of his homeland, of the warm sands of his village, the laughter of the children as they ran splashing into the water lapping at the land. He could almost hear the tinkling shell chimes hanging from the balcony of his mother’s home, smell the cleanness of the air and feel the heat of the summer sun baking his bare skin as he wiggled his toes in the sand.

  There were days he wondered what might have become of him if he’d never left Til Harethi. What kind of man would he be without the scars he earned after walking away from all he’d ever known to find his father? A wasted trip, his mother called it before he left. She didn’t understand the constant calling of his father’s blood inside his veins, the need to wander and roam and search for things which could never be found.

 

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