by Cole Pain
- - -
Marva was seething. She was a blasted fool, accepting Ickba as just a lowly stable hand. How could she have been so blind!
Ickba was taking his time riding back. He was having too much fun during his frequent breaks. Marva was now ready to rip out his eyes and carve the rest of him up with slow precision. At first she had been worried about the queen, but Renee had surprised her. Renee hadn’t cried, called out or screamed as most women would. She did exactly what she should have done. She lay under the vile man like a sack of grain, not allowing his blows or his torture to break her. Marva was proud of her and had proceeded to put Renee on a higher level in her internal ranking of people.
Marva inched a little closer to the large boulder on her right, all the while keeping her eyes on Ickba, who was torturing Renee for the last time. His back was to her, and soon she left caution to the ten winds and began to roll, over and over, moving faster and faster. She was sure Ickba wouldn’t notice. The man was laughing in glee as he prodded Renee with a knife.
The boulder hit her back. It had a hooked protrusion that looked to be just the right size to pry the silver band off her head. Marva moved into position and forced the rock’s hooked edge under the band, allowing it to dig into her skin. She drew a deep breath, closed her eyes and flung her head forward. The edge tore into her skull, ripping her skin to the bone. She bit her tongue to keep from crying out. Blood seeped into her left eye, but the silver band was loose.
She leaned forward. The band slipped from her head and fell into her lap.
She didn’t know how to use the Quy, but she figured she was mad enough to learn. She peered at the ropes binding her ankles and concentrated on her rage. Ickba would be done with his torture soon, knowing that Renee would be valuable to Ista. Marva would be next. Marva’s torture always lasted far longer than the queen’s. Instead of panic claiming Marva, her resolve deepened. Marva leaned closer to her feet, eyes wide with conviction.
“Loosen, curse you.”
As if on their own accord, the ropes slackened and one of her feet dislodged. Marva jumped to her feet and ran toward Ickba. He never knew what hit him. Her foot impacted his backside so hard he rolled over Renee’s head. As soon as he hit the ground he looked up at her with malice so intense her temper flared even further. How dare the man look at her like she was the detestable one!
The force of her next kick flung him into a small tree. The impact slowed him, but only briefly. The trunk of the tree severed and he fell with it. His eyes registered surprise, and that spurred her even further. She reached for the sword Ickba had discarded before his games with the queen.
Before the rogue could stand the sword impaled him in the throat. He choked, face still in shock, and went limp. Marva went to Renee and cut the ropes on her hands and feet. No words were spoken. No words were needed. Each knew what she had to do.
Renee ripped a large piece of cloth from her gown. Marva turned to Ickba, but before she could raise the sword above her head Renee held out her hand. Marva handed her the blade and watched as the queen brought the weapon down on Ickba’s throat, severing his head.
Renee held out the cloth. Marva picked up Ickba’s head and placed it in the thin, white threads. Renee tied it closed. Blood seeped through the cloth, marring the white brilliance.
Marva looked up at the queen. Ickba’s blood was splattered on her face, but her blue eyes blazed with fire. She glanced toward Zier before turning back to Marva.
“Proof.”
Marva smiled. “Let’s go.”
- - -
Quinton woke during the night and stared into the eyes of a madman.
Michel stooped over him, face straining with tension, a dagger raised above his head. “Stop … me,” he said. Michel’s arm shook to control the dagger’s downward movement.
Quinton rolled to the side just as the dagger plummeted to the earth. Without a second thought, Quinton toppled Michel and knocked the dagger from his hand.
“Michel, what’s happening to you?” Quinton asked through gritted teeth.
Michel flailed back and forth, his strength uncanny. His eyes alternated between the man Quinton knew and a rabid animal.
“Something … Ista … kill the Chosen’s companions. I’m infected. Help me. Kill me, Quinton.”
The plea in Michel’s voice tore Quinton’s heart, but before he had time to respond Michel flipped him over and grabbed the dagger. Quinton cried out, dodging another blow, and darted away.
Michel crouched in an animalistic stance. His eyes became huge, the whites glowing in the night with mad intent. Holding the dagger in front of him, he grunted. His eyes suddenly cleared. He turned the dagger on himself, straining to plunge it into his heart.
“No, Michel!”
“Ren … Quinton. Don’t let him see me like this! Kill me!”
“Maker of Fates, Michel. I can’t. We’ll find help. Just put the dagger down.”
The fear in Michel’s eyes slowly turned to rage. Quinton backed up. If Michel lost control Quinton would be unable to stop him. The man was stronger than a dragon, and then some.
But as Quinton looked into Michel’s eyes they transformed into Ren’s own.
“Please, Quinton,” Michel said softly. “Before I can’t control it.”
“I can’t, Michel. I could never.”
And then Michel’s eyes began to glow a sickening green. He growled.
Quinton turned and ran. The last thing he knew was a sharp stabbing pain. He fell. Wolven howled in the distance. Quinton wondered if he would even be alive to feel them tearing his flesh.
Chapter 8
Alezza blinked in surprise as the heir of Crape fell to his knees before her. She had ordered her men to clean him up. She could barely touch him, he stunk so. His soiled pants were rank and he had lost so much weight his clothes seemed to be hanging on a skeleton. The man placed before her now was nowhere near the horrendous figure she had been with a short time ago. The release from the pain and the wash had done wonders.
Chris’ blond hair shone like spun gold and his skin gleamed a golden bronze. Bowing his head, he heaved a heavy sigh as if he cared little about what happened to him. Ever since Manda’s escape he hadn’t fought her at all, and she hadn’t been kind. She had punished him day in and day out. Where before Chris had tried to control his screams, now he did not. Where before Chris had tried to control his convulsions, now he did not. Where before Chris had managed to hold his bowels, now he did not. If it was because of the excruciating pain she was sending she would have been pleased, but it was not. Chris had finally broken because of Manda’s departure. He hadn’t wanted his sister to bear the misery of his suffering.
Alezza had been careful not to take Chris too far with the pain. She couldn’t allow his death. He was the key to her future. If she rode into Crape with Chris she would be revered. A prince, now the crown prince, thought dead, would be found, and he would declare his love for the princess who had saved him. It was too perfect.
Only after the wedding could she allow him to give up on life.
Alezza glanced briefly at the tent flap as if she could see beyond to where two of her men still searched for Manda. She silently wished them a swift kill. She grew weary of the girl’s games. Apparently Manda knew how to cover her trail. Manda had traveled through every stream, followed every rocky path and had somehow managed to evade her. Alezza was surprised Manda had the heart to leave. Manda knew Chris would suffer for her deception.
Alezza was still furious. If Manda managed to convince someone of her story, Alezza would be hung, unless Chris negated Manda’s claim.
A slow smile stole across Alezza’s face. Chris was hers to command. When those green eyes looked her way they weren’t only filled with hate they were also filled with insanity. Now all she had to do was send him opposing feelings and he would do anything she wanted. During Manda’s rape Alezza had tested her theory. If she could stimulate the needles to send anguish, why not ecstasy?
She had been right. It had worked. Now came the true test. The pain she had sent him over the past few days was so intense sometimes his skin seeped blood. Now, if the pleasure could match that intensity, Chris of Crape would be hers.
Her thoughts circled back to the man who had been found with Chris the morning of Manda’s escape. Who was he? His clothes were gone, his sword generic, and he was dead before she could ask any questions. Was it one of Chris’ guards? She doubted it. A guard would have come with more support. No one would send one lone scout to look for two heirs believed dead. No, it could only be a farmer or some traveler who had heard the screams and taken pity on the bonded. But he could fight. The man had killed nine of her men before he was brought down.
That left her with only eighteen guards. No, seventeen. Manda had killed Bort.
Alezza’s resolve deepened as she refocused on Chris. His head was down. From the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest she knew he was sleeping. She hadn’t granted him any sleep of late.
Tonight would be no exception.
She slowly lifted his head until his face came into view. Alezza licked her lips. Tonight would be perfect. Chris stared up at her, unblinking and without fear, but with the most intense animosity she had ever seen.
“Not appreciative of the bath?” He was handsome in a boyish kind of way. His huge green eyes, shaggy blond hair and thin build shouted of innocence, but his sunken jawline, broad shoulders and sheer height argued for a man worth the title of prince.
It would be a pleasure to break him.
She ran a finger down the side of his face. “My sweet.” He flinched, but she ignored him. He wouldn’t flinch long. Instead, he would be begging. “I won’t bring you any more pain, only pleasure, but you must do one thing for me.”
Alezza saw the hatred intensify in his eyes. It sent a tantalizing chill down her spine. She liked challenges, and this wasn’t only a challenge, it was fun.
“Now, now,” she whispered as she found the needles in his mind. She sent a powerful surge of the Quy. His face quickly registered surprise. He hadn’t known the assault was coming. But she had to be careful. She didn’t want him to break completely, at least not before he had given her the throne.
Instead of sending fire into him she sent a tantalizing breeze. At first she made it barely discernable, then she gusted it in short blasts. Chris set his jaw, brows furrowing. She chortled deep in her throat. Her own vitals felt what she was sending. No man could resist for long.
Kneeling, she stroked his cheek, forcing the breeze inside him to build in severity. She saw the effects of her frolic on his face. After the pain, the small erotic sensations caused his eyes to roll back into his head. She kept her sensations slow and easy, running her hand over his chest and shoulders.
“Don’t try to resist, my love. You can’t resist,” she teased, sending a small amount of pain down the needle’s shaft, reminding him she could revert to the pain if he didn’t give in to her demands.
His body began to convulse as if she had sent a quick, intense surge inside him. Alezza released the pain, surprised. She hadn’t sent enough for him to react so. She knew his limits. Curious, she tried again. He reacted the same way.
After the eroticism the pain was a shock. Alezza tittered. This would simplify things. He would be much easier to control.
She started the process again, then again. When the carnal sensations came Chris jerked and trembled with euphoria. During the pain he screamed as though she were sending a fiery wrath inside him.
Alezza knelt beside the prince and started to build the pleasure. She watched as his chest rose and fell as the feelings grew. Alezza whispered her love and promised no more pain. Her hand stroked his face. She wanted him to grow accustomed to her touch.
The emotions she was sending caused her to feel flush. She began to take off her outer garments, letting the heat-filled breeze wash over her thin frame. She wished she were willing to lay with a man before she wed. As soon as the thought was out, she looked at Chris. If Manda evaded the guards and told her story, Alezza would be hung unless there was an heir. Alezza released a throaty laugh and brushed Chris’ face. Chris was, after all, going to be her husband, and if he gave her a child before he died no one could condemn her to death. She would be allowed to live and raise the child.
And if she matched physical contact with inner sensation how much faster could she break him?
- - -
The fire had long since died. Ren shivered, but he welcomed the cold. It made him think about something other than Aidan and his mother. He touched his left shoulder, the only part of his body the silver dragon had burned. He felt the ridges of flesh underneath the pledget. It would scar, forever reminding him of his deception.
He was only supposed to stand watch for a moons’ click, but he hadn’t woken Galvin to take his place. He knew he would be unable to sleep. He honestly didn’t know if he would ever sleep again, at least without nightmares.
Ren sighed softly to the night, trying not to wake Galvin. Galvin had been so concerned over the past few days he woke at any movement. Galvin stirred, but only to bring his arm under his head. The previous night Galvin refused to sleep unless Ren did first. Needless to say, neither of them had slept.
Ren walked to the nearest tree. He rested against its trunk and stared into the dark forest. They had wasted precious time. Bentzen and Galvin insisted he rest his burnt shoulder for a day before moving. Now they were only a day’s ride closer to the Alcazar. Ren’s frustration was starting to overcome his reason. That night he had forced his men forward until most had fallen asleep on their horses.
He would have thought the urgency to find the One would abate after his encounter with the dragon. On the contrary, it had escalated. It was a constant buzzing in his mind, an imperative force that wouldn’t leave him alone.
The air turned colder. Ren tensed. A shiver of warning rippled down his spine. Overhead the nightbirds stilled their eerie song. Ren looked out into the night, sensing something moving his way.
It took every ounce of energy to remain still and search with his eyes. A rustle stirred but he couldn’t lock the sound’s position. It seemed to be coming from everywhere.
He didn’t know what to do. Some creatures of magic reacted negatively to movement; others reacted just as violently to stagnation. Ren tried to clear his mind of all else, concentrating on the danger but distancing himself so as not to lose his reason.
He sensed movement below him. Tiny black snakes slithered over his boots. His mind quickly connected the rustling sound to the snakes’ movement. Adders!
Ren drew in a breath and turned his head. The rest of the camp was already crawling with tiny snakes. He heard a shout and saw Markum standing as a black snake fell out of his tunic.
“Markum, freeze!” Ren yelled. But it was too late. Markum’s body tumbled to the ground in death.
The snakes bit at first movement. Their venom was immediate death. The Adderiss always sent her snakes ahead of her, making sure they stopped everything in her path. Once the target was covered in the vile creatures the Adderiss demanded things. If she didn’t get her wish she let her snakes feed on the victim. It was that simple.
Pain swept through him as he heard Galvin scream Markum’s name. Markum was dead. Curse the Fates! Markum was dead.
“Ren!”
Ren swiveled his upper body. He locked eyes with Bentzen. The swordsman, careful not to move the bottom portion of his body, now crawling with snakes, tried to reach for the Quy’s sword, but it was just out of reach. Bentzen’s muscles strained in effort, only to drop back in exhaustion. Looking into Bentzen’s eyes Ren felt his own fear reach a zenith.
Ren had never seen Bentzen afraid, but the look in Bentzen’s eyes betrayed his terror. The implication shook Ren more than his own apprehension.
Bentzen’s eyes widened as he looked past Ren. Ren tensed, feeling the warm venomous breath of the Adderiss on his neck. He reached toward his sword.
He felt its metal, its weight. In the next heartbeat the sword was in his hand.
Turning, he posed ready. He was unprepared for what he saw. Twin pools of moss-green sordidness marred by thin viperous slits of black pupil peered at him. The Adderiss threw her head back and hissed in laughter. Her eyes rolled back to reveal their red undercoat.
“You think you can kill me with a sword?” she hissed, narrow tongue flickering dangerously close to his face.
He grew taut as her moss eyes roved over his men with slow, hungry precision. Their red edges made her look like her insides were on fire.
As a human, she would have been beautiful. Her form was human, though if you looked closely her skin was an ivory reptilian. A raised ridge of scales crowned her head and trailed down the sides of her face and neck. Thick, coarse black hair fell in waves to her shoulders. Ren’s eyes dared to flicker down her body. What he saw sent waves of nausea through him. The only thing covering the rest of her tall, thin form were adders, slithering over her in waves. Two large ones, apparently the two that produced the countless others, slithered sensuously around her hips and shoulders.
The Adderiss smiled at his repulsion. Sharp incisors clasped over her bottom lip. She placed a hand on his shoulder and hissed. Her fetid tongue hit his cheek. Some of her adders glided over her hand and down his shirt.
“Stay put, Chosen.” She walked past him.
Sweat beaded on his forehead as he turned himself to stone. The thin snakes twirled over his chest, making sure he remained motionless.
The Adderiss’ laughter echoed through the night. He gritted his teeth, forcing the memory of Markum’s lifeless body from his mind. The Adderiss hissed as if she had found a prize.
Ren couldn’t see what was happening. She had already killed Markum. He refused let her kill anyone else.
“Adderiss!” In response to his shout the snakes moved over him with more speed. Although the Adderiss laughed at his demand, he sensed her moving closer.