The valley dropped in a craggy vee. At the bottom, a tumultuous river created mayhem on wide banks of huge boulders. Spume splashing high onto the stony upthrusts froze in fabulous spikes of white ice. Spanning the valley, a vast stone bridge carried the road toward Nyth Uchel’s alabaster white walls. Ornate arched columns extended into the raging waters and supported the structure. Similar arched columns above carried small, windowed turrets that might have once held great lights to illuminate the bridge when night fell.
On the other side, the road continued until it met the scrolled iron gates of the city. The highly wrought metal portal stood closed and Adonia wondered if they had enough muscle, even with the four of them, to open just one of those vast gates. They certainly were not getting in any other way. From her vantage point, it seemed the eastern side of Nyth Uchel rose into the heavens from the precipice overlooking the river. The tower, Torre Bianca, appeared to rise directly out of an immense waterfall that sent a torrent of water thundering into the river far below.
Hel rummaged in a pannier on the pack pony and pulled out an embossed, red satchel. From within, he pulled a curved horn of highly polished yellow metal. Putting his mouth to the horn, he blew a long fanfare of liquid notes that hung reverberating in the air. He stopped and allowed the echoes to die then repeated the call. From within the city, a brother horn answered with the repeat of the last three notes he had blown.
“Good, the townsmen will have the man-gate open for us.” Hel strode forward, pulling his pony behind.
All three trailed him as he strode toward his city. As they crossed the extraordinary bridge, Adonia felt like the most raw of tourists gawking at marvels in a strange land. The silence and swiveling of Steffania’s head consoled her with the thought that she was not alone in her feeling of dumbstruck wonder. The setting rays of the sun gleamed off the quartz in the diaman crystal walls and the iridescent mother-of-pearl on the roofs. She could not take her eyes from the incredible sight of a Nyth Uchel displayed as if some eccentric god or goddess had placed a great jewel in the fanciful setting of heaven-splitting peaks. She almost ran into Steffania’s back when they stopped on the other side of the bridge.
Hel cleared his throat. “If you can stand to wait a few more minutes, I would like to say some words over the grave of my gamekeeper. Rolly died the day I left for Sylvan Mintoth, and I would show a loyal retainer my respect.” Hel motioned toward a graveyard just a short distance from the city walls. Adonia could see any number of fresh graves.
She took the lead of the pack pony from Hel. “Of course. We will wait.” The three drifted after Hel as his long strides took him to the field marked with gravestones. Their markings were difficult to read in the growing purple dusk. Hel wandered to several before stopping in front of one marker and kneeling with bowed head.
Adonia, Steffania and Ramsey stood in silence beside other freshly turned graves.
“Oh!” Steffania jerked her sword out of its sheath and slashed downward, close to her foot.
“What?” Adonia asked in alarm.
“I…I...” Steffania shook her head. “No it couldn’t have been. I must have imagined it.”
“Imagined what?”
“Something wrapped my ankle and jerked. When I swung at it, it disappeared into the fresh dirt of the grave. It looked like a clawed hand.” Steffania shrugged with a frown. “But that’s ridiculous.”
One of the ponies started kicking and jerked away from Adonia, snorting. The dirt on the top of the grave next to them roiled as if something alive dwelt just under the surface. When Adonia went to recapture the pony, the graves around them fountained dirt into the air and a foul stench assaulted the Verdantians. Gray snakes of putrid slime poured from two of the graves and attacked the women.
A tentacle of slime oozed around Adonia’s legs, coalescing into skeletal fingers, then clawed hands. Another tendril grew into a featureless face of needle teeth that snapped, sightlessly, writhing on the end of a stalk of gray slime. A slicing blade severed the snapping head and then the clawed hand that wrapped her leg. Lord Ramsey jerked her back, away from the grave. The severed pieces fell to the soil with a plop and returned to amorphous goo. The foul substance oozed back into the soil and disappeared without a trace.
“Healer, Steffania, get back to the road. Take the ponies,” Ram snapped and ran to assist Hel. Multiple stalks of slug-like slime wrapped both Hel’s legs where he knelt on the ground, trapping him. A third column of rotting flesh rose vertically before him, writhing away from his slashing blade. Atop the column, a human-like face with features more fully formed than that which had attacked Adonia snarled and snapped, attempting to get under Hel’s sword. Ramsey slashed at the tendrils binding Hel’s legs to the ground, and Hel lurched to his feet. In a clean motion, Hel severed the snapping head off the slug-like body and both men turned and sprinted toward the women. The graves on either side continued to erupt a foul gray slime that formed into humanoid shapes of nightmare-inducing appearance.
“Thanks,” Hel gasped.
“Fuck! What do we fight?” Ramsey snarled.
“Don’t know. Keep moving. Get to the gates.”
Hel grabbed Adonia’s arm and practically pulled her off her feet in his hurry toward the still closed gates of Nyth Uchel.
A villager stepped through a man-sized gate Adonia hadn’t realized was there and waved aloft a crystal-lit lantern.
“Hurry, my lord, get within, so we can place the perimeter. The crystals will keep it away from the gate. It will retreat to the graves come daylight.”
After the last pony struggled through the narrow gate, the villagers slammed it closed with an echoing ring of iron on iron. Men holding glowing diaman crystals lined the base of the immense portal. When the last flurry of activity died, Hel turned and barked at an old, bent figure. “Bernard, explain why I just decapitated some abomination wearing Rolly’s face.”
Chapter Ten
“Somehow, the soil of the graves has been corrupted. The black evil animates the flesh of our departed. The dead act as one entity, with one driving will—to destroy the living,” Bernard said.
“Start from the beginning. Give me the facts as you know them,” Hel demanded.
The sudden horror of the last few moments slammed home and a choked-off sob died in Adonia’s throat.
Hel paused and his angry eyes ranged Adonia’s body. She didn’t know what he saw but his next words to Bernard were, “First, the women need hot baths and some food. Prepare the family’s old apartments. Open and air Lady Athena’s rooms and notify the cook.”
Hel snapped more sharp orders, and Adonia watched in a state of numbness as townspeople hustled the ponies away. He turned to the trio and his voice held apology.
“I must speak with Bernard, my steward, immediately. Follow this thoroughfare. It leads straight to the castle. Someone will meet you and show you to your rooms. I’ll see you at dinner. Seven of-the-clock.”
Bernard and Hel strode briskly in the direction of the inner city, Hel’s head bent close to his steward’s but his concerned gaze returned to them several times. The agitated voice of the elder gentleman carried back to them but his words were undecipherable.
Adonia’s heart melted for Hel. It was obvious to her that his sense of duty to the people of Nyth Uchel and the need to care for his fellow travelers tore him in opposing directions. As always, this honorable man set the requirements of others in front of his own. Hel seemed driven to fix the broken and nurture those destitute. She wondered, not for the first time, who saw to his hurts? Who nurtured him? I want to do that for him. Unlikely. She closed her eyes against the ache in her heart.
Ramsey frowned at the backs of the two departing men, then turned to them. “Either of you hurt? Vixen? Healer?”
“I’m fine, Ram.” Steffania cast a reassuring glance toward her husband, and his gaze turned to Adonia.
“Thanks to your prompt reactions, I’m just shaken. Thank you, Lord Ramsey,” Adonia said.
Ram’s head jerked in a curt nod. “I suppose we are safe—but keep your eyes open.”
Adonia’s eyes roamed across the avenues of what, in some past life, had been a scene of prosperity. Wide display windows gaped with jagged teeth of dirty, broken glass in shops fronting wide boulevards. The sound of the company’s booted feet sent forlorn echoes into the deep shadows. Doors swung ajar or hung crooked on a single hinge—where a door existed at all. Tall, ornate street globes, now dark, marched in regimented single-file along the spacious streets. The black spears of their shadows crisscrossed the thoroughfares they were meant to illuminate. Here and there, smudged gray snow formed icy drifts against the buildings and a low wind moaned around the corners and past vacant windows that resembled so many sightless eyes.
And then Adonia saw the castle of Nyth Uchel. She tripped over her feet and stumbled to a halt. Steffania and Ramsey joined her, standing on either side.
“It is as if the Great Goddess fashioned a private abode and set it whole upon our planet,” whispered Adonia.
Crystal walls of inconceivable delicacy soared into the heavens. Even in the evening dusk, their white diaman slabs luminesced, creating a half-light, bathing the immediate surrounds in soft, otherworldly radiance. Impossibly graceful towers spiraled into the air—towers of such ornate tracery it defied logic they stood at all. As backdrop to this unimaginable splendor, Torre Bianca soared heavenward, the upraised scepter of the queen of cities, eclipsing those impudent, over-reaching spires beneath her.
“Magnificent,” Steffania breathed.
“Her walls still glow with the residue of ancient power. It must be what repels the ghouls and wraiths. Even in death, her brilliance defeats description,” responded her husband, his voice bleak.
“Why did we ever move the capital to Sylvan Mintoth?” Adonia wondered aloud.
“There was a rift among the royal houses. Envy and gods-be-damned politics,” snapped Ram. “Come.” His derisive bark shattered the spell woven by Nyth Uchel and Torre Bianca, and the women dragged their reluctant feet after him with Adonia the last to follow.
“I understand why your people stay,” Adonia whispered to the city—her heart breaking at the diminishment of Nyth Uchel’s transcendent glory. I, too, will do anything in my power to serve your prince and heal you.
~~~
Adonia lay back and luxuriated in a steaming hot tub in frigid chambers of unimaginable wealth. She’d thought her quarters in the palace in Sylvan Mintoth luxurious—until now. When shown to her rooms, she had stood speechless as a platoon of men and women feverishly removed linens draped over furniture and bedding. Dust clouds erupted with each tug of fabric, revealing furnishings she believed only existed in the illustrated volumes she’d pored over in the archives at Sylvan Mintoth. Clutching everything she owned to her chest, she turned a complete circle, taking in the thick carpets, ornate diaman lamps of priceless metal and an elegant arrangement of seating now emerging from under the storage coverings. The chairs’ upholstery was of such fine and costly material she doubted she’d be brave enough to sit in them. Sets of paneled doors led to a sophisticated bathroom and a spacious bedroom, set with several braziers of glowing diaman crystals that struggled to dispel the chill.
When the small army left her in the now immaculate suite of rooms, she’d carefully arranged her travel-worn belongings in a tidy pile nearest the door. She hoped her personal items, still bearing the dirt from her journey, didn’t soil anything in these elegant chambers. She had slipped out of her mynx coat and carefully draped it across a chair. This is the singular thing I own not out of place in these lodgings.
At the rap on the door of the bathroom, she snatched at a nearby towel.
“Healer?” The head of a young woman peeked around the door and Adonia relaxed.
“Yes?”
“My name is Maddie. Prince DeHelios asked me to attend you and help you settle in. I hope you don’t mind. I’ve taken your traveling clothes for cleaning and repair and hung up your coat. I’ve left you a gown and over-robe to wear until we can see to other clothing for you. I’ll stay and help you into it and show you to the family’s dining room.” The young woman picked up garments Adonia had discarded on the floor. “I’ll add these to the clean-and-mend pile.”
“Thank you, Maddie.” Adonia smiled. “It’s not necessary for you to stay. I have always taken care of myself. I wouldn’t know what to do with a maid.”
The young woman smiled back. “I’m afraid you are stuck with me, Healer. I am to serve you by Prince DeHelios’ command. It won’t go well with me if I disobey him. Besides, you will need me for the dress.”
Adonia grimaced, remembering a certain hat he’d instructed her to wear. “Yes. I understand. I’ll be out shortly. Oh, and, Maddie, may I have the items you took for cleaning first thing tomorrow?” The young woman looked at her quizzically. “Those weren’t just my traveling clothes. Those were all my clothes.”
“Oh!” Maddie straightened. “Of course, Healer. I’ll have them for you when you rise.”
Sometime later, Adonia stood in front of a full-length mirror and tried to find herself in its reflection. The refined creature who filled its frame bore no resemblance to the Adonia Corvus she knew. Maddie had brushed out Adonia’s dark brown hair until it dried and then pulled up the crown and sides in a neat, ornate braid twisted with a colored ribbon of pale lavender that complemented the gown and over-robe she wore. Jeweled barrettes secured the braid in the back where it joined the fall of the rest of her hair. A long-sleeved, violet gown with a high, flared collar at the nape of her neck and a low square neckline, hugged her upper torso and waist before flowing out into a full-length skirt. A belt with links of semi-precious purple jewels wrapped her waist with the excess hanging down onto her skirts. By some magick, her meager breasts appeared ample mounds above the deep neckline and her waist a mere hand span. The buff-colored toes of warm, soft boots peeked out from under the gown’s hem and a cap-sleeve over-robe of deeper purple, heavily embroidered with rampant white horses and trimmed in white fur, topped all.
“Prince DeHelios selected the gown and belt. He has a good eye. You look very fine in those colors, Healer.”
“Who is this woman and what have you done with Adonia Corvus?” Adonia could only shake her head.
Maddie laughed and clasped Adonia’s hand, turning her away from the mirror and toward the door. “Come, Healer, I’ll show you where the dining room is. I believe they are waiting for you.”
Adonia followed Maddie down several long corridors to a door partially opened. Adonia could see a small dining room through the gap.
“And this is where I will leave you, Healer. Prince DeHelios said he would escort you back to your rooms after dinner, so I will see you in the morning.” The young woman paused and smiled shyly. “Truly, my lady, it is an honor to serve you. All of Nyth Uchel are desperately glad you are here. Thank you for your courage in coming.” Maddie smiled and left while Adonia stood awkwardly, searching for words.
She could hear the hum of voices and the smell of food tantalized her nose. Suddenly, she was famished. Adonia slipped through the door and took a step into the cozy room. All of her traveling companions sat around a large oval table with several townsmen. A simple meal of some sort of roasted meat and potatoes steamed in a large serving platter centered on the table. Hel and the elderly gentleman he had addressed as Bernard had their heads together, still deep in conversation. Lord Ramsey saw her first. His head rose as if a predator scenting prey, and his eyes warmed as she walked further into the room. Ram pushed his chair away from the table and stood with old-fashioned courtesy.
“Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful,” Ramsey pronounced.
Steffania looked up from her conversation and met Adonia’s eyes. For a moment, the redhead looked taken aback, then she grinned broadly and clapped her hands with an admiring whistle. Adonia would have preferred Steffania not be so demonstrative. All conversation stopped and every
eye turned to rest on her.
She felt hideously self-conscious and out of place. She was not pretty. Klaran had told her so often enough. She willed thoughts of him away. The skin on her weather-roughened hands snagged the finely woven, delicate cloth as she clutched together the over-robe. Perhaps Lord Ramsey merely admired the gown? He had an unerring eye for costly things. That must be it. “Yes, this gown is unusually lovely—a tribute to the weavers, designers and seamstresses who created it.”
“He was not referring to the dress,” Hel snarled and then scowled at Ramsey. Hel rose, crossed the small space and took her hand to escort her to the empty chair next to him. “He described the woman inside it.”
She felt her face flame and for a moment, considered the idea they made fun of her—though it didn’t fit with what she knew of Ramsey. Irascible—yes. Cruel—no. “Perhaps Lord Ramsey’s eyes have suffered a strain,” she murmured.
Only she heard Hel’s snort. “You will cease to denigrate yourself. I forbid it. I will punish you if you demean yourself again. Consider this your second warning.”
She had no opportunity to reply for Hel stood and addressed the room. “Gentlemen, this is Lady Adonia DeCorvus. She volunteered to come and attend us as our healer. Lady DeCorvus has endured a tedious and dangerous journey to reach Nyth Uchel. She deserves your respect and every assistance.”
One by one, the men at the table stood and introduced themselves. The ancient man Hel addressed as Bernard spoke last. He examined her for long moments with a peculiar look then cast a glance toward Hel. “Has she seen? No, she couldn’t have…ah…”
Hel cleared his throat sharply.
“Yes, sorry. It’s just…” Bernard shook his head as if clearing his mind. “My Lady, I am Bernard Kelso, the Steward of Nyth Uchel. I serve Prince DeHelios, as I served his father. Please accept my profound thanks for agreeing to help us. As soon as you recover from your journey, I would ask you to look in on our sick. Your arrival has been highly anticipated, and it would cheer their spirits to see you in the flesh.”
Hers to Claim (Verdantia Book 4) Page 12