Servants of the Old Gods (Hartland Book 1)

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Servants of the Old Gods (Hartland Book 1) Page 7

by J. B. Jenn


  Janessa watched him sit before taking a seat across from him. There was a fireplace to her left, encased in a glossy black stone. A small fire was going. She looked to Maik, taking in his features. His sea green eyes were beautiful. Jet black hair glistened in the light of the fire. And his skin was olive colored, darker than her own, and smooth.

  “What’s this about?” she asked, distracting herself.

  “This is about Cascade’s future, my dear.” Janessa scowled. He only laughed. “Cascade doesn’t have a future at the moment. I’ve gotten some reports about your father. They aren’t good. There’s no way you can build a kingdom alone after what has happened. You need my help. Even your father knows he needs my help or he wouldn’t have sent everyone here.”

  Janessa arched her brow at the Desert King. “Yes. I do need help, but not necessarily yours.”

  Maik laughed. “Come now, Janessa. Who else will help Cascade? Once everything settles down, war will come. Maybe that was the intent of whoever attacked. Surely you can see it, too? Cascade is weak. With my help, Cascade could become strong again. Allow me to help your kingdom like your kingdom once helped mine.”

  She met his sea green eyes and leaned forward. “Let them fight over Cascade. It’d be better than marrying you.”

  Maik gave a hearty laugh. She sat there, staring at him, confused. “Whoever said anything about marrying me?”

  “I thought…”

  “Yes, apparently, thinking isn’t one of your strong points.” Maik gave another laugh.

  “I won’t sit here and allow you to insult me.” She rose.

  “Of course not.” Maik met her angry glare, offering her a small smile. “My offer still stands. I want to help.”

  She shook her head and walked to the door, feeling his eyes follow her. “I’ll think about it.”

  Maik

  He watched her leave. He had never expected her to react the way she had. As Maik sat there thinking about how Janessa had responded to him, he knew he had to change how she viewed him. He’d be lying if he claimed he didn’t want to marry him. He had three years ago. He still did today. She was beautiful and intelligent when she was thinking clearly.

  Right now, she was under a tremendous amount of pressure with her kingdom lying in ruins and her father dying. He reasoned it was why she had responded to him the way she had.

  Maik sighed and went to the balcony to stare out across the desert sand. There was too much to think about. Janessa. Cascade. King Delane Stone. His report was grim for the man. He knew he had said too much upon meeting Janessa, and, at the same time, not enough. He hadn’t had the chance to tell her about her father’s condition. She was probably worried sick. He shook his head. He had failed on so many levels.

  “Isol,” Maik called out when he heard his cousin enter the room.

  “Yes?”

  “When King Delane arrives, make certain he gets the attention he needs immediately.” Maik focused on the sand once again. The ever changing swirls in the landscape had always settled him. He needed King Delane alive when he reached the palace. He needed answers. It seemed everything was out of his hands. He had to have faith he’d get the answers he needed.

  “Of course.”

  Maik waited for his cousin to near the door before speaking again. “Did you say something to Princess Janessa about me?” Silence met him. He turned toward his cousin. Isol stood there, staring at him running his tongue over the top of his teeth. “What did you tell her?”

  Isol sighed, flaring his nostrils. “I told her you were a man who gets what he wants.”

  “And?”

  He sighed again. “And you wanted her.”

  Maik nodded, trying to hide his dismay. He should have known his cousin would say something to her. He should have never left the task to him. Isol was a bitter man. “Thank you. You may leave.”

  Isol bowed and left.

  Arem

  Arem watched Mercea crawl through the window. She landed in the snow below with a soft crunch. Someone was yelling in the inn. As much as he wanted to follow her out the window, he knew he couldn’t.

  Arem turned and left the room, planning to engage the king’s men himself as the others fled. Right before he stepped into the common room, fire sprang into the palm of his hands. One of the older men noticed and stumbled backwards, bringing everyone’s attention to him.

  At once, Arem knew he had made a mistake. There were superstitious people everywhere. The power he had seemed to make people believe he was evil. What concerned him though was now the king’s men were staring at him and their weapons were drawn. He should have waited.

  “He’s the wytch we’re looking for,” one of the soldiers stated. “He’s the one responsible for the lake.”

  “I suggest you all leave.”

  A tall, thin man laughed. “You’re in no position to make demands, even if you are a wytch.”

  Arem was surprised they didn’t recognize him. He knew Scrunder and two of the others. Before Arem could do anything, the innkeeper rushed the man, knocking him over.

  “Get out, you idiots!” the innkeeper yelled. “Save yourselves!”

  The patrons of the inn stood there, staring wide-eyed. Arem knew he had to do something. He looked about the inn, glanced at the old man, and saw a puddle of blood forming under him. The man couldn’t hold out much longer.

  With a sweep of his arm, he threw fire into the corner of the room. The fire had its desired effect as several guests screamed and ran. Everyone else ran for the door, too, toppling over one another in their desperate attempt to get away from the wytch and his magic.

  Arem turned toward the innkeeper. He was no longer moving. He gave the dead man an apologetic look. King Barend’s men ran at him. He threw another fireball, catching two of the seven on fire. The others dove to the side, landing in a heap. The path was clear. Everyone inside the inn had escaped. It was his turn.

  Arem darted through the open doors and turned. He brought more fire to the building ensuring King Barend’s men burned to death. He could hear their dying screams. He turned away from the inn, feeling the warmth of the fire on his back. It was unfortunate the innkeeper had died. He was a good man.

  All around the small mountain town, there were vast snow-covered trees. Snow still fell in a thick layer around him, filling in tracks as they were made. He could just make out indentations where Mercea had gone. He followed them, hoping he could catch up to her. As he stepped into the wooded area, everything seemed eerily quiet.

  He continued through, tripping on upturned roots, hidden by the snow. The fire left a soft glow about the land. Arem stopped. The tracks seemed to have disappeared. Raising his eyes, he scanned the trees.

  “How many died?” Arem continued to look about the dark land, trying to see past the trees. He couldn’t see a thing, but he knew she was poised to kill him. “How many?”

  “More than needed to be. There is more going on in Hartland than you realize. You need to listen to me and you need to understand what’s happening.”

  “What’s your plan?”

  “It doesn’t matter. We need your plan, but first you must see what’s going on. This is much bigger than you realize.”

  He cried out. As he looked down at the dagger in his shoulder, he was knocked into the snow. He stared up into Mercea’s angry, golden eyes.

  Mercea

  Blood poured down the wytch’s face. She stared down at him, jaw clenched. People had died tonight because of her. She had failed to see the wytch for who he was. A self-centered man with a goal she didn’t understand. At this point, she didn’t want to understand it. He kept saying she needed to see what was happening, but she couldn’t trust him. Not after everything.

  He should have told her about Kenokel, regardless of how he felt about Rosha. Yes, there was reason for concern with her. They could agree on that, but he still should have told her. He could have found a way to tell her in private. She could have handled the woman. She was a Servant, de
signed to protect Hartland and its people.

  The shrill wind blowing the snow in a diagonal direction was frigid. She had to move on. Rosha was still out there in the hands of the enemy. Maybe she was the enemy. Mercea wasn’t certain, but she planned to find out.

  As she walked away from Arem, she thought about leaving him there to let the snow bury him. She turned a fierce gaze on the unconscious man. Sighing, she turned around and hefted him over her shoulder. She needed answers. He seemed to have some at least. He seemed to know more than she did. And, she couldn’t allow him to just die.

  She paused to look back at the flickering light through the layer of trees. The familiar crunching of snow sounded behind her. Groaning, she released Arem, allowing him to fall to the ground.

  “Just turn away,” Mercea said. “Don’t throw yourself at me and die.”

  “I can’t do that,” one of the four answered.

  “I was afraid you’d say that.” She looked to them. “I’m a Servant of the true Gods. We can protect you in exchange for information.”

  They charged her. The first one to reach her stumbled back as she thrust her palm upwards, breaking his nose. As he stumbled back, she grabbed her sword. She wished she hadn’t lost hers as she had tumbled down the mountain. Without her purple blade, she felt incomplete. There wasn’t any time to search for it either.

  Mercea swung the sword wide, catching one of the men closest to her in the side. He screamed and fell to his knees. Two charged her at the same time. She slammed the palm of her hand upwards, catching one of them in the lower jaw, shoving it upward. It ended in a loud clack of teeth.

  The second man attempted to wrap his arms around her. She stomped down on his foot and elbowed him in the gut. She turned to the man whose side was bleeding. He was still holding his weapon, approaching her with caution.

  With a quick thrust, she caught his arm. Her grip was so tight, he dropped his weapon. As the man stared wide-eyed at her, she could see he wasn’t entirely certain how it had happened. She ran her dagger through his side and watched him collapse against the blank canvas of snow.

  The two who had charged her together were back on their feet. One man thrust at her with a dagger. She twirled to the side, ducking under the small blade. As she righted herself, she swung her sword and caught the man in the throat. Blood spilled from his mouth as he dropped, dead within moments. The other man who had attacked with the dagger stumbled, not expecting her to dodge. He dropped his dagger in the process. Mercea turned and kicked him. He landed face first in the snow. She stooped, picked up his dagger and threw it into his back. The man gave one final groan.

  She killed the other two who were lying in the snow, moaning. If she didn’t, they’d only keep coming after her. She knew what drove them, what made them so afraid. She’d seen it before. They didn’t want to share the same fate as some of the other men. They didn’t want to become those monsters. She didn’t blame them.

  Mercea looked to Arem laying in the snow with dismay. She kicked the side of his boot. No response. She knelt and shook him until he groaned.

  “Get up. We have to keep moving.”

  He blinked several times. As his eyes swept the snowy landscape, they landed on the dead men. “What happened?”

  “I said get up.”

  Scrunder

  The smell of burning bodies assaulted his nose, waking him. He could feel intense heat on his face. Everything burned around him. He scrambled to his feet. The shock of white hair, which hadn’t burned yet, was the only thing he recognized of the innkeeper. Two of his men were burnt corpses. Four were not accounted for. A large fire blocked the door.

  He rushed through the flames, hoping his clothes wouldn’t ignite. He used a half burnt chair to break the window to the left of the door. As he barreled through the window, his feet landed in the snow below him. A cold wind chilled him.

  In the glowing light, he could barely make out tracks. Scrunder looked about, knowing he was on his own now. He wasn’t certain how he was going to kill a Servant and a wytch. On their own, he couldn’t handle them. Together, it was impossible. He wondered if he should just go into hiding. No. He couldn’t. His wife and three small children would become those… those demons. Part of him believed they already were. There was no reason for King Barend to keep his word. The man hadn’t kept his word for a long time now. But he continued forward on hope.

  This was Queen De’Nae fault. She had left them when they needed her power the most. His men were dead because she had abandoned them. She wasn’t any better than her husband at keeping promises. The two only thought of themselves.

  Scrunder looked about. All he could see were trees and taller trees sitting on the mountainous land. With the low glow of the fire, it felt surreal.

  In the distance, he heard voices. Hurrying through the building snow, he came upon a group of men and women. Most of them were holding their children as they watched the inn burn. Their frightened faces were aglow from the flames.

  “I can’t believe something like this has happened in Sanctuary,” one of the women said. “It’s always been so peaceful here. It was one of the reasons we decided to move here from Lovic.”

  “This isn’t nearly as bad as what happened in Kenokel. I heard the entire city was attacked by a black monster who nearly killed everyone. The soldiers could do nothing against it. Wytches were powerless. All that power and they could do nothing. One inn? I’ll take that over the destruction of an entire city.”

  The woman glared. “That wasn’t my point! My point was Sanctuary used to be safe.”

  Scrunder snorted as he passed them, ignoring their watchful eyes. Once he was in the depths of the trees again, he stopped and listened to his surroundings. The villagers’ voices were dim. He thought he heard a crunching of snow ahead. Although he knew the sounds could belong to an animal, he turned toward it with hope.

  Going through the forest, he found the men, who had survived the fire, dead. Scrunder looked ahead with a fierce gaze, knowing the Servant had come this way.

  Ogden

  They had discovered the bodies of King Barend’s men. The patch on their right arms, a silver shield with a dark blue snake wrapped around a staff, confirmed who they were. The men were scattered throughout the Spindle Mountain Forest.

  Along a path of blood and tree limbs, one of his men had discovered a beautifully crafted sword. The metal was unknown, as was its origin. Ogden had never seen a purple blade before. It was an attractive sword with its black and purple hilt. It now sat at his hip where it would be analyzed once back in Lovic. They would return soon. King Zavad needed to know Yul had King Barend’s soldiers inside it.

  Ogden was still waiting for a report from his second in command, Casman Thalen. The man was out searching for whoever had screamed. He had hoped the man would have returned by now.

  Sighing, he knew they had to continue to Sanctuary. With how close this had happened to the town, he had to ensure King Barend’s men hadn’t made it there. Too few across Yul knew how to defend themselves. He wished more would carry weapons for situations like this.

  “Sorry, Hethera,” he whispered. “It doesn’t appear as if I’m coming home as soon as I thought I would. You were right.” He gave a soft smile. His wife had an annoying habit of telling him how things would happen. And then, they would come to pass. She had told him he would go into the mountains, and here he was. He looked to his men. “Let’s go.”

  All wore grim faces. None of them had thought it’d come to this. Yul had seen peace for so long, oblivious to the rest of Hartland’s troubles. They had all thought the peace would last. It was why so many people didn’t see the value in weaponry.

  A few miles from where they were, Ogden stopped. There was a massive amount of black smoke filling the sky. His heart stopped. Had Sanctuary burned to the ground? With the thought of most of the town dead, Ogden hurried forward. His men kept up, fearing the same.

  The moment they arrived, they discovered the inn o
n the outer edge of the town had burned down. A few of the pines near the building had burned as well. The snow falling around them helped put out the fire before it had spread too far. Ogden started toward the rest of town. It was quiet.

  The first door he came to, he gave a hesitant knock. When no one answered, he turned away. As he stepped off the wooden step, he heard the door open. Warm air roiled out. Ogden turned toward an elderly woman.

  “I’m sorry I took so long to answer. I thought it was one of them.”

  Ogden furrowed his brow. “One of who?”

  “I have no idea. Someone said they were King Barend’s men. Personally, I don’t know.” Her eyes landed on the burnt shell of the inn. “I just don’t understand.”

  Ogden studied her for a moment. “Unfortunately, I don’t understand it either. How many casualties were there?”

  “One. The innkeeper.” She fell silent again, remembering the old man for the kind soul he was. “There was… There was a woman who fled. The wytch who brought her here made certain only people of King Barend died. Not sure why those men were after them though.”

  “Have you seen any more of King Barend’s men?”

  “No. I think they were all killed.”

  Ogden nodded toward her. “Thank you.” He turned to a man he’d grown up with. “Return to Lovic and inform King Zavad what we’ve discovered here. I’ll wait here for Casman before deciding anything. It is imperative the king receives this information. He’ll want to know King Barend isn’t respecting his borders.”

  Rosha

 

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