He found her lack of pretense and shyness with him infinitely attractive. As his eyes roamed her flushed features, he found more than her shyness attractive. She dressed like a beggar. When she had donned all her clothing that morning, her drab, practical garments had hung from her frame like a war-torn pennant on the end of a battered battle-lance, and yet…she pulled at him on a purely sexual level. He imagined her garbed in elegant, feminine clothes as befitted her sex and station in life, and a picture formed in his mind of the closets at Nyth Uchel. They brimmed with rich garments, untouched since the death of his family. A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. He added another reason to his growing urgency to get home.
“Why are we stopping?” Ram asked. He and Steffania drew even with them.
“I think I have solved one of our mysteries.”
Adonia looked as if she wished the ground would open to swallow her.
“Well?” Ram asked impatiently.
A strand of brown hair escaped her braid and whipped across Adonia’s face. Hel caught it and smoothed it behind her ear. “It is my belief Adonia descends from Queen Isolde DeCorvus on her father’s side and traces back to Ari DeTano’s lineage on her mother’s. Our raven is highborn.”
Steffania smiled. “I’m not even a little surprised.”
Ramsey snorted and started to walk off, jerking the pack pony behind him. “Fabulous, one more person to address as ‘my lady’.”
At his clipped comment, Adonia jerked upright. “No! No! Please don’t. I wouldn’t know to whom you were speaking. Lord Ramsey, please!”
Hel caught her fluttering hands. “Nia, it’s the appropriate form of address for you. And it won’t hurt that ill-begotten rogue to exhibit some manners.”
“But…” Adonia began.
Steffania laughed. “He needs practice behaving like a civilized person, Adonia.” She wrapped her arm around Adonia and gave her a hug. “Besides, Ram needs to remember he’s a nobleman, too.”
“Let’s get going,” Hel said. “We have a couple more hours of daylight.”
Hel chose a level, sheltered campsite tucked into the side of the mountain. For the first time since they started their trek, he directed Ramsey to help him make a fire. Steffania turned a portion of the chital on a makeshift spit over the flames, and the smell of roasting meat flooded his mouth with saliva. He’d left one of the creatures for A’rken. The meat would pay for the care and board for their horses. Adonia sat withdrawn, huddled into herself. Only her head emerged from her fabulous coat. From the look on her face, her thoughts wandered distant lands. He didn’t blame her. She had much to consider. For that matter, they all did.
“How much longer do we trudge up this mountain?” Ramsey sat against a rock in the fading light and methodically sharpened a wicked-looking blade. Fat from the chital hit the coals with a hiss. Ram’s blade made a repetitive swick, swick against a whetstone. He held it up and eyed the edge before slipping it into the sheath strapped to his thigh.
“Two more days of steady travel. Three if we are slowed,” Hel answered. No one asked him the obvious—slowed by what? From his seat against a boulder, Hel stared dourly into the darkness that lay outside the golden ring cast by the crystals. At least there the Mother had favored them. Those diaman stones from A’rken’s cottage held enough energy to last for the rest of the journey. His sword balanced on his knees. His bow lay at his right hand. What new menace prowled the blackness stalking them? Did he lead them to Nyth Uchel…or to their death?
Chapter Eight
Eight days ago, in an exuberant cacophony of sound, every tower bell in Sylvan Mintoth rang out the joyous news of the birth of another royal princess. Now, following her formal christening, crowds waited quietly for their first glimpse of the new babe. The huge, metal embossed doors of the Great Hall swung open and the ruling Tetriarch appeared on the flagstone terrace. Ari DeTano carefully took the nude baby from Fleur and held his daughter aloft for all eyes to see. He had performed the same presentation for his son, Patricio, and, as it had that first time, intense feelings of love and the desperate need to shelter his children and their mother from all threat, ambushed him. His throat clogged with suppressed emotion and he blinked rapidly, holding back unmanly tears.
A murmur of amusement swept the crowd as Her Royal Highness, Principessa Lissabetta Constante, flailed her arms and legs and exercised a powerful pair of lungs, loudly objecting to the entire procedure. Ari lowered her, snugged her tightly in her blankets and handed the now squalling infant back to Fleur.
“Lissa has inherited your dislike of fussy ceremony, my love.” Fleur laughed as she took her daughter back.
“Yes, well, I can’t fault her for that,” Ari said. His eyes lingered on Fleur and Lissa, absorbing the sight of his wife holding their daughter. He’d never wanted marriage or his high position. He had spent years running from the responsibilities and restrictions of the life he now happily embraced—though he’d not had a choice, he could not imagine sharing it with any other woman. I’ve gotten very lucky with her.
Doral, his lover and second in the Tetriarch, had expressed a similar sentiment when Fleur had given birth to Lilly, Doral’s daughter and Val, Doral’s son. Ari turned his head and examined the beautiful blond man standing at his side. I’ve gotten lucky with him, also. The object of his scrutiny raised an inquiring eyebrow. “Just counting my blessings,” Ari murmured.
The elegant male who all Verdantia knew only as a matchless assassin smiled gently. “We are both blessed. I thank the Great Goddess daily.” Doral’s mouth tightened. “We must keep them safe,” he said in an undertone.
Ari met Doral’s eyes in common understanding, then turned and wrapped a protective arm around his queen. She cooed and bounced their daughter into only occasional hiccups of protest. He hated the words he forced out of his mouth. “As soon as Lissa gets settled in with her nurse, we need to return to the topic of our dreams.”
Anxiety clouded Fleur’s blue eyes. “You and Doral were not the only ones beset with distressing images. Eric said Sophi woke sobbing hysterically in the night some days ago. He didn’t mention it until now because he didn’t want to upset me so soon after birth, but apparently her dreams returned last night.”
The three of them exchanged uneasy looks as they re-entered the Great Hall and the heavy doors closed behind them.
~~~
Doral threw a sheaf of papers on Ari’s lap and then slouched into a chair next to him and murmured, “These reports are increasing in number. This is the fifth account in the last few days of a town with people torn apart by warped beasts, and we have lost another sigil tower in the western quarter to the encroaching black affliction.”
Before Ari could respond, a sharp rap sounded on the antechamber door to their royal apartments. The captain of their royal guard appeared and announced, “The Ducca and Duchessa DeStroia, Your Majesty.” Ari looked at his lover and sighed heavily. “I suppose there is no putting this off.”
“Send them in, Edmond,” Fleur called over her shoulder.
Ari observed his wife as she stood before an ornate sideboard laden with food and chose an assortment of delicacies until the translucent china plate she held disappeared under a mound of tasty edibles. He suppressed his amusement at her hearty appetite. For such a tiny thing, she ate like a horse, but he knew better than to comment on it. He would love her if she resembled a barrel, but his adored wife seemed to think otherwise.
A sandy-haired man with broad shoulders and a military bearing entered with a stunningly beautiful blonde. Doral stood and gave his sister, Sophi, a hug and nodded to her husband, Eric. Ari relaxed further into “his” chair and smiled a welcome at the two joining them.
“I don’t think our little Lissa is fond of public engagements,” Eric teased as he crossed and bowed to his queen.
“You caught that, did you?” Fleur laughed and motioned to the bar and sideboard. “Thank you for being present for her christening. Help yourself and Sophi to s
omething to eat and drink and save me from the embarrassment of consuming it all. As for my sweet little daughter, Lissa merely did what I frequently wish to do and one of these days, when my counselors prove too tiresome, I probably will.” Fleur sat delicately in an enormous chair and placed her heavily burdened plate on the low table in front of her. Ari’s scoff of amusement joined that of the others.
“Just point out those who test your temper and I’ll remove them, kitten,” Doral offered with good humor.
“How will you remove them? By glaring until they flee in terror?” Fleur shook her head with a laugh. “Not on my account.”
Ari snorted. “I’ve rarely seen a man get such mileage out of a lethal reputation.”
“It’s because they know it’s true.” Sophi kissed her brother on the cheek while balancing a plate in one hand and a glass in the other. “My brother is a fierce champion of those he loves, and we would not have him any other way.”
Ari motioned to the others to sit. “Unfortunately, what we must discuss today won’t be dealt with as easily as irritating counselors.” He bridged his right hand, his thumb on his temple as his fingers rubbed his forehead. He had a premonition about the dream that had plagued him for the past few nights. He’d awakened in a sweat, his heart beating out of his chest—and Doral, Doral had had them too.
“The dreams,” stated Eric into the silent pause.
Ari dropped his hand and propped his forearms on his knees. “Yes…the dreams. Fleur tells me now you and Sophi are experiencing unsettling dreams. Describe them.”
Seated together on an overstuffed sofa, Eric and Sophi exchanged a long, silent gaze, fraught with meaning, before Sophi composed herself and began. “I had the first dream about four nights ago. I dreamt of golden orbs suspended in a star-filled space pulsing with joyous power. I was one of them.” Sophi’s eyes traveled to Eric, Fleur, Doral and finally, Ari. “Each of you was present, and multiple others whose life force I didn’t recognize. Gossamer strands of brilliant energy connected us and pulsed from our Mother, a vast central sphere.” Sophi spread her hands in a gesture of explanation. “Whenever Mother Verdantia chooses to interact with me these are the forms I see on the metaphysical plane.
“I became aware that threads of blackness infiltrated Her, formed a dark spider web across Her brilliance. The blackness ate away at Her as if the darkness was acid dissolving living tissue. Putrefaction crept down the strands of light that tethered us to Her. Talons of barren blackness raped my soul and spread a despair that ate all hope, all joy, all light. The dark corruption clawed each of us toward its ravenous maw.” Sophi shuddered and closed her eyes. “I awoke sobbing, feeling the death of everything bright and beautiful—of our Mother and all life that dwells on Her surface.” Her voice faltered, and Sophi opened aqua eyes awash with tears of heartbreak. Her gaze found Eric. “I know what it is to love beyond measure then suffer the desolation of its loss.”
Eric pulled her to him and rested his chin on the top of her head. His arms tightened about her fiercely and then released her to hold her gently to him. “You won’t lose me again, sweetling. We’ll find a way to prevent this dark future.”
Ari spoke to the small group. “Last night, Doral and I shared the dark omen of another dream. We beheld a vast, dark plane, dotted with the scattered remains of a once great city. The sky was void of stars and nothing alive walked the surface. Death and ruination blanketed a forsaken, desolate place of rotting trees and broken buildings.” Ari paused. “I recognized the ruins. It was Sylvan Mintoth. Our Great Mother is in peril—attacked by some malevolent darkness, and She shows us the future if we cannot overcome this evil. But how do we fight this?” Ari rose from his chair and began to pace, his arms crossed over his chest. “I wish She spoke clearly to me. All I have are fragments of instruction and cryptic allusions.” He stopped, planted his hands on his hips and gazed at the ceiling. Great Mother, must your meaning always be clouded? Can’t you, for once, speak to me plainly?”
He walked to a small writing desk and removed a sheet of paper. “I wrote down exactly what She said, When the raven takes flight, all must join with the first.” Ari tossed the paper back onto the desk in frustration. “Once again, the fate of our world hangs on deciphering some obscure, metaphysical shi—” Ari bit the word off then nodded toward Sophi. “Sorry.”
“We must trust that our Mother will make Her meaning clear.” Sophi smiled gently. “No matter how obscure.”
“I think we are meant to fight this plague on the psychic plane,” Doral murmured. “It would seem She tells us to come together in some rite…though I don’t understand the reference to ‘the first’. Perhaps the elders in the High Enclave could be of assistance.”
Ari paused for a moment and scrubbed his face. “The influx of people into Sylvan Mintoth has increased. They bring with them dire news of a black pestilence corrupting the soil, of newly dead rising from their graves and strange, warped creatures preying on them and their livestock. The dreams point us to an evil on the aetheric plane, but the effects are all too evident on our living, breathing world.”
Ari caught Eric and Sophi’s eyes. “It is early fall. I don’t know how much time we have to discover Her meaning. Eric, Sophi, I ask that you stay in Sylvan Mintoth. I think we are all bound together in this, and we must work together to answer the Mother’s calling.” They nodded. “In the past, She has spoken to us most clearly through the Great Rite, I suggest that we three and the two of you, plan a working of it as soon as Fleur is recovered…say a month from now?”
“Yes,” Eric agreed.
“Yes,” Sophi said softly. “As soon as possible.”
Chapter Nine
For the past two days, Adonia and the group had picked their arduous way across a white, frozen landscape of majestic, old-growth forests, picturesque dells with abandoned cottages and thundering waterfalls. Unseen menace snarled at them from deep in the undergrowth, making even the sturdy, impervious pack ponies skittish. Ramsey and Hel had shared duty keeping an uneasy guard throughout the nights, while the diaman crystal held the other demons at bay. Hel had not repeated the invitation to join him during his watch, so Adonia had shivered in her blankets, alone.
Adonia found herself in the unusual position of missing Lord Ramsey’s acerbic comments and Hel’s barbed retorts. Things were too quiet and the silence carried a strained, unnatural quality. As the group of four came closer and closer to the end of their journey, Hel retreated more and more into somber gravity. Adonia suspected he hid a deep grief over the state of his realm. Lord Ramsey also lapsed into taciturn remoteness, and Adonia caught him staring with severe intent at the frozen landscape they traversed. Not even Steffania could temper her husband’s dire mood.
The quartet had broken out of a heavily wooded stand of trees into a valley clearing where, for the first time, their destination’s up-thrust spires and rooftops rose distinctly out of the surrounding mountains. A broad stone-paved road marched straight toward a rise that blocked sight of all but the uppermost parts of Nyth Uchel and Torre Bianca. The width and composition of the road suggested a well-traveled throughway for commerce. The lack of a single soul on its immaculate stone-paved surface underscored Adonia’s rising sense of a place locked in isolation.
“Adonia.” Hel touched her arm and pointed toward an imposing spire swirling up through the clouds that wreathed the craggy, snow-capped peak where the tower perched. Hel stood and simply gazed at the gray tower for long moments, his face forbidding. She wondered what heavy thoughts weighed his mind. “There, Torre Bianca. Now you can see her.”
“Yes…I see her. The rooflines below are those of Nyth Uchel? By the Goddess, the shingles really are mother-of-pearl.”
Hel motioned with his arm in a sweeping gesture. “You see the rooftops of the outer city walls. The bulk of Nyth Uchel and the castle rests within.” Hel’s smile contained sadness. “And yes, the shingles are mother-of-pearl, but I’m afraid you are not seeing Nyth Uchel at her be
st.”
Adonia was unprepared for the awe that swamped her. She sheltered her eyes from the brilliant evening sun with her hand. She wished her father stood beside her. How he would have reveled in this experience. Had he known the significance of her heritage all along? Had he re-spun stories passed down from his father as a way of preserving some part of their illustrious lineage—even if only in oral tradition? She wished her parents were alive to ask.
“We join the main road here. We should be through the outer gates in a couple of hours,” said Hel.
Ramsey grunted. “Good. I’d like to sleep somewhere with a roof tonight.”
Hel threw Ramsey a measured sideways glance and marched off, dragging the pack pony onto the broad, well-paved thoroughfare. Ramsey followed. Steffania and Adonia watched as Ramsey and Hel marched off. The two men exchanged sharp words, bickering over something. Steffania shook her head. “Like two brothers—always poking at each other—but at least now they are speaking.”
Adonia fell into step beside Steffania as they followed the men. “I keep trying to imagine what this must look like when it’s not locked in ice. It’s incredible, now.”
“Ramsey said this used to be a utopia of lush greenery and abundant animal life.” Steffania’s eyes lit with amusement at Adonia’s arch of eyebrow.
“Somehow I can’t place those words in Lord Ramsey’s mouth.”
Steffania chuckled. “Okay. Ramsey’s actual words were, ‘There used to be good hunting here and you didn’t freeze your dick off when you took a piss.’” Steffania pulled her coat tighter about her. “This paradise fell when the Haarb invaded. I think both Hel and Ramsey mourn the loss.” Adonia privately agreed and snuggled further into her exotic coat.
Either the ponies knew a warm stable was near or Hel had increased their pace. She and Steffania had to hustle to keep up with the men. In spite of the women’s lengthened strides, Ramsey and Hel outpaced them and stood waiting atop of a rise. At least Adonia thought they waited. It could be they had stopped simply to absorb the splendor laid out before their eyes, although Hel must have seen this same sight when the picture was painted in far more glorious colors.
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