Crossing Forbidden Lines (Guardian Series Book 2)

by J. W. Baccaro

  Adeleric passed her a glare, and then looked to his Rosa. Tears were still cascading down her cheeks. “Do not be afraid, Rosa, my Queen,” he said, firmly gripping her palm.

  “My heart—shall always belong to you,” she answered, lightly rubbing her thumb over his palm, letting him know she was aware of his warm touch, aware he was there by her side, no matter what fate awaited her.

  “And I shall carry you in my heart, always and forever.” Adeleric closed his eyes and leaned over to kiss her palm, but his lips pressed against what felt like cold stone, then he noticed the same feeling on Rosa's hand. The warm sensation of her skin disappeared. Quickly, he raised his face, and fell back at what he saw.

  Rosa, from head to toe became stone, like someone carved a figure of her—immaculately.

  He turned to look at Talvenya.

  The Sorceress still held her staff high, pointing it at Rosa. She cast the spell. “It is done.”

  Adeleric sat speechless, his eyes still, never blinking. A difficult thing to accept; one moment he held Rosa’s hand, speaking with her, the next, she’s a figure of stone. He squeezed her hand, perhaps to see if the hard element was real, and when the reality of it finally sank into his heart, he fell to tears.

  Talvenya tapped the statue’s forehead with her finger. It fell back and cracked to pieces as it struck the floor. The severed head rolled toward Adeleric and bumped into his knee, stopping. He looked down on it, the face positioned upward, as if it returned the gaze. A smile sang on her cheeks—the last emotion his Rosa felt. Happiness—perhaps while Adeleric had been holding her palm. Teardrops spilled onto her face of stone as he began to weep bitterly. He meant to pick up her head, perhaps to keep it to remember Rosa’s smile, but even that was taken away from him.

  A black leather boot stomped onto it, crumbling the face to pieces, grinding it to bits under the sole.

  He peered up to see Talvenya, standing above him, smiling like a demon with a gaze of midnight darkness.

  “—what was the point of this…? Why did you—do this?” he asked, whimpering.

  She stared at him a moment, her face going expressionless. “Because I am the Dominant Power. I have the authority to do as I like, to whoever I like, and whatever I desire.”

  “Then kill me too—please! Kill me!!”

  She ignored his request, and turned around, tossing her long locks of raven over her shoulders as she left the room.

  King Adeleric brought himself out of those memories, looking over to Aurora, recalling her earlier question. “She was taken away before her time, killed by the Dark Queen of Asgoth, Talvenya, a woman of the deepest darkness and harshest cruelty—inhuman cruelty. But my Rosa—she didn’t deserve to die like she did, no one deserves a fate such as that—to be taunted and humiliated before your lover, and then turned to stone while he is on his knees, kissing your palm.”

  Aurora put her hand over her heart. “I’m so sorry.” She leaned closer to Adeleric, stroking his head, sifting her fingers through his wavy black hair. She witnessed the pain in his eyes, felt it in his heart, and pulled him closer.

  The same as a broken father might do, Adeleric fell against her chest.

  She rubbed his back. “I’m not your daughter, great king, but I promise to be like one to you, and to always be here for you, when you need me.” She kissed his temple.

  He raised his face to meet her sea blue gaze. “You have a very nice heart, dearest Aurora. When I first saw you, I admit, something about your presence frightened me, something I could not explain. But I see now it was just my own sorrow and guilt for losing my Rosa, and wishing, just for a moment, you could have been the daughter I longed for.”

  “You have nothing to feel guilty about. Your hand did not kill her. You cared deeply for her.”

  He smiled. “You said earlier that you have a lover?”

  “I do. His name’s Darshun.”

  Adeleric’s gaze lit up. “Ohh, the young Nasharin who dropped you off? A fine boy.”

  ‘Fine’, yes, yes, she thought, wanting to purr, remembering her night of passion with him on top of the mountain.

  “He helped me reclaim my throne. And I spoke with him briefly. Though he’s very young and a bit inexperienced when it comes to war, I see many promises within that warrior, his eyes speak of it, that deep blue gaze of his, promises this world has long awaited to be fulfilled.”

  Aurora gave him a puzzled look, but didn’t ask the meaning of his words.

  “Cherish him, Lady Aurora; you never know when that final moment will come.”

  “Final moment?”

  “The last time you look into his eyes, and then he is gone, forever, or at the very least, until your life ends.”

  “…last time, aye.” She wondered yet again where Darshun disappeared to after he’d let her off at Zithel. For Darshun said it was something he needed to keep secret. She didn’t like it, but she did like when he’d told her what he was doing, wasn’t just for the good of this war against the Dark, but also for her. It made her feel like he belonged to her—and he did, she knew that. The thought pleased her.

  ~~***~~

  Nightfall came and the city of Zithel grew quiet. Soldiers stood watch around the outer square walls, common folk nestled in their newly fashioned log cabins, and the majority of the monks meditated wherever they found silence. The little city looked almost entirely rebuilt save only a large monastery for the monks, still in the making. The prior one destroyed long ago upon the invasion of Asgoth.

  Earlier in the day, when the lady Aurora came after being let off by Darshun, all seemed fair and peaceful—as it had been since Zithel was taken back. But as twilight fell, something within the city stirred…something not part of the gathering and only the most spiritual of monks could feel, a disharmony lurking, electrifying within the air. Yet there wasn’t anything they could do; for after searching the grounds down to every nook and cranny, they found nothing out of the ordinary. Much skepticism surfaced, some even accused the monks of making such a thing up in hopes for the constructers to exceed on their monastery. For it the legends told when the monks gathered together in a place of comfort and familiarity, no evil could creep up on Zithel.

  Such accusations were ridiculous, and scoffed aside. The warnings were reported to King Adeleric. He’d been advised he should not let anyone in or out of the city, especially the stone tower, at least for this night. Having respect for them and their concerns, not to mention the King still felt frightened to death of another invasion, he heeded their wisdom.

  Zithel, tonight, would be on lock down.

  By the turning of midnight, a figure hooded and cloaked in black, accompanied by a couple of guards who were supposed to be watching the city’s gate, approached the tower. The cloaked figure seemed to be a woman, obvious by her sleek walk, and the outline of her breasts—as the wind blew the fabric against her. Nearing a few soldiers outside the tower’s door, the hooded woman stopped abruptly, the torchlight shining onto her.

  The guards with her stood at her side, but made sure to remain in the shadows.

  “Why have you brought this person here?” a soldier asked, glancing to and fro at the cloaked guardsmen. “You know all passage tonight is forbidden.”

  “She’s come to see Adeleric. Sent by the King of Loreladia.”

  “King Loreus sent her?”

  This time the other guard, the one standing to her right spoke, “She brings a dire message. Let her pass.”

  “Then give us the message and we’ll deliver it.”

  The first guard spoke again, “No, I’m afraid she must be the one who delivers it. Let her pass.”

  Becoming suspicious the soldiers kept their hands close to their swords, ready to unsheathe them if need be. After all, this defiance wasn’t normal behavior for guards of Zithel. Could this be what the monks were warning about?

  “Woman, remove your hood, so we may see you and know you speak the truth.”

  “Do you not trust her?�
�� the guards asked in unison.

  “Let her speak! You two come out from the shadows. Show your faces.”

  They stepped into the torchlight and the soldiers nearly froze, seeing that the throats of the guardsmen had been cut, the blood well stained onto their leather armor. Their eyes were blood shot, their faces pale and lifeless. They looked like zombies. “She has been speaking you foolish men,” the guardsmen said, their masculine voices changing over to feminine. “Yes yes, my poor pathetic souls…our voices are hers.”

  Finally, the men realized this woman—this sorceress was speaking through them, literally! They were being used as puppets.

  The cloaked woman raised her face casting a grin; her zombie puppets collapsing to the ground.

  The soldiers knew all too well now who she was and frantically drew their weapons.

  She grabbed the throat of the one closest to her and held him still, her touch paralyzing him. She reached for a dagger concealed under her left sleeve and struck the other directly between his eyes.

  The remaining soldier, suddenly able to move his arms, tried freeing himself from her grip, prying at her fingers desperately.

  She watched for a moment, sensing his determination to live, smiling because she knew no matter how hard he tried or how much he hoped, he too would die like his comrade. She brought him to his knees, the soldier gasping for a breath. Getting enough enjoyment out of the feeling of dominance she dug in her long dark fingernails and ripped out his throat. A pool of blood flowed past her boots. Stepping over it, she opened the tower’s door. Inside were a number of soldiers and monks sitting around a table fellowshipping and drinking ale. Hearing the creek of the door, they glanced down the hallway and saw the woman entering.

  “You there, halt!” a soldier commanded.

  Her cold gaze shifted to him.

  “Who let you in here?” he asked.

  “Why, the men outside of course,” she answered in a most seductive tone.

  “No one is allowed in the tower this night.”

  “That is also what they said.”

  Becoming suspicious they quickly rose from the table and approached her, keeping a distance of about ten feet, circling her presence. She could smell the alcohol on them and grinned, knowing what she’d planned on doing was going to be easier than she had originally thought. Drunkards were easy to defeat. They were slow to wit and clumsy.

  “Tyrus, Rashon, come in here at once!” the soldier yelled, calling to the guards outside.

  Smiling, she said, “They will not be answering you this evening.”

  Stepping closer, he drew his sword and pointed the tip at her throat. “Who are you? Show your face.”

  The woman pulled back the hood of her cloak. Her long raven hair flung down around her shoulders as her violet eyes became fire-red. They recognized her immediately, she—the Dark Queen of Asgoth who invaded Zithel once before.

  “No, it can't be!” the soldier whimpered, taking a step back.

  She grinned. “I am Talvenya, the Goddess of Death.” Her eyes flashed and suddenly, the soldier engulfed into a host of beautiful orange and yellow flames. The intensity of the heat became so extreme three other soldiers standing no more than five feet away caught on fire as well. In mere seconds, flesh melted to bones, the corpses lie smoldering at her feet. The stench of charcoaled bodies filled the room.

  Driven by rage the monks attacked. Being experts in martial arts they figured to make quick waste of her.

  How wrong they were!

  Every punch, kick, or blow they made, she quickly dodged, out-maneuvered, then countered with a series of her own deadly combo attacks, crushing the chests of her opponents, shattering their spines or breaking their necks. The blows were like smashing iron. While the last monk fell, Talvenya crushing his spleen with a stomping boot, blood gushing from his mouth, the soldiers stepped in wielding their swords.

  She reached under her cloak and pulled out hers, the silver blade glistening in the candlelight. “You are all going to die,” she said with a sort of purr, seeming to enjoy the mayhem. Without warning, she unleashed her fury upon them.

  If not for fear, they may have stood a better chance, but she cut them to pieces—literally, severing arms, legs, heads, the members scattering everywhere, flopping onto the ground, not to mention a horde of intestines. The dismemberment looked horrendous…she smiled sadistically and her words were proven true, she truly was the, ‘Goddess of Death.’

  A handful still remained but rather than join their fallen brothers for surely it seemed to be suicide to attack the Dark Queen of Asgoth, they made way for the stairs in hopes to wake Adeleric, only—they never reached the first step. Speaking in the demonic tongue Talvenya summoned a green dome that materialized and surrounded the men, trapping them inside. Frantically, they struck the perimeter with their weapons so hard, so fierce—over and over that their hands began to bleed; still, they could not break through. It looked as if they were encased within stone.

  In vain, one made eye contact with her, his pleading eyes begging for mercy.

  She walked up to the dome, her face just an inch away, seductively looking back at him, then she seemed to blow a puff of air toward the wall of the dome. Inside the dome, green gas began to rise from the ground, choking away the air with acidic fumes.

  Desperately did the men scream for help. No sound however, penetrated beyond the ‘walls’ and one by one, they collapsed to the floor lifelessly.

  “Rather amusing.” Talvenya whipped back her locks of raven hair.

  Then a monk, one who was yet alive and only suffered a broken arm and two ribs, grabbed the sword of a fallen soldier. Silently, he crept up behind her, raising the blade to strike.

  She unexpectedly turned around, grabbing his wrist and applying pressure, the bone crackling; he let go of the weapon and fell to his knees.

  “But—how?” he asked, bewildered by her flawless movements. For he’d been sure he hadn’t made a sound.

  “Did you really think I’d spare you? Foolish human.” Still clenching his wrist she picked up the sword, staring into his frightened eyes with a grin. Whether she purposely left him alive for this moment, to let him think he might have a chance of killing her, he didn’t know. Only she blew that mindset out of the water by sharply turning around, like a spider to a fly, catching his attempt, shattering the poor monk’s every hope of victory and escape. If she did make a mistake and truly thought him dead, allowing his attack would remain a mystery for him. Judging the reputation of the Dark Queen, however, it must be the former. Talvenya loved to play with her victims.

  That was why, after she had killed the guardsmen stationed by the front gate, she used their bodies as puppets, while the rest of them lay dead outside the city walls, with arrows logged into their lungs. Silently, and efficiently, she had taken them all out—one by one, under the cloak of darkness. Afterward, when revealing her puppets to the soldiers before the stone tower, the look on their faces was priceless. Talvenya loved it.

  “Have mercy on our King,” he pleaded, eyes filling with tears. “He already suffers dreadfully since the day you took away his bride. Let him live out the rest of his days in peace, however so.”

  “Mmm,” she purred, enjoying her dominance. “Like all of Zithel, Adeleric’s life shall be mine.” He meant to scream but before any noise left his mouth she decapitated him, blood splattering onto her face. Grabbing it by the hair, she picked up the bloody head and held it toward the body twitching at her feet. For it a belief known to most…a decapitated head could still continue to see a moment or two before the soul departed. Then, she brought the head to her face, hoping the soul was gazing back, helpless, dominated. “I did this to you.” She smiled, then tossed the bloody member away.

  Victorious she stood, glancing around at the destruction. There could be nothing more pleasing to the Dark Queen of Asgoth than lying to waste a host of victims, dominating them entirely. It is what aroused her the most, and at this moment she w
ished her lover King Tanarokai was beside her, that he might put out the fire burning between her thighs; lustful sex is what it was, what she craved, a most satisfying pleasure—all in the midst of the destruction. To add to her pleasure she raised a leg over the poor soldier she’d originally set aflame, his skeleton still smoking, and drove the heel of her boot through his skull, smashing it to pieces.

  “Adeleric, it is now your turn.” She proceeded up the long stairway, strolled down a little hall and then stood before the door to the King’s chambers. “Adeleric…” she called in a soft-soothing melody as if his name were a song.

  The notes drifted into his ears and awakened him. She continued calling out his name and Adeleric found himself drawn to this mysterious, seductive voice. Without a struggle, he walked to the door and opened it looking upon the woman’s face. “You…” He recognized the Queen. But it was too late, the spell already in effect; for when one willingly obeys the call of her melody, and gazes upon those beautiful hypnotic eyes, shining purple, the soul becomes powerless and flesh takes over. After a final flash of the eyes, shooting out violet lights, King Adeleric fell to his knees and bowed his head before her.

  “Excellent. You may stand my servant.”

  He obeyed. No longer was he the King; his eyes became the vastness of space, his conscious lost. A mere puppet—her puppet.

  “I have come to learn you know the location of the Wizard Crystals of the Elements, hidden by the Fire Wizard himself, Olchemy.”

  “I—do—” The tone of his voice sounded low and sluggish.

  “Are they far from here?”

  “Nay.”

  “Take me there at once.”

  “As you command, my Goddess.”

  They abandoned the tower and abducted two horses from a near-by stall, then made their way to the front gate. The city seemed dark and quiet, nothing stirred but a hollow wind—almost too unreal to believe a tragedy had taken place—tragedy for the Zithelians. Talvenya felt quite pleased with herself, and especially pleased with another. They passed through the gate and Adeleric took her down the mountain then headed south through a large heavy forest.