Or even human.
And there was a second smell, fainter, but still distinct. Tainted, yet dark and strong, like a thunderstorm in a dead forest.
The woman who could vanish in a swirl of darkness.
She was here.
Romaria drew her sword and broke into a run.
###
Molly stepped out of the mistgate.
The only light was a distant red glow, but the darkness did not trouble Molly. She stood in a corridor built of crimson marble, the high ceiling arching overhead. Doors lined the hall, and in the distance she saw a massive pair of double doors, red light leaking from them.
A San-keth temple. The Skulls sometimes took contracts from the San-keth, or from human proselytes of the serpent god Sepharivaim. Molly had been to San-keth temples before, and she knew the layout.
She crossed to the double doors and pushed one open.
The large chamber beyond had once been the temple's sanctuary, though no doubt Mazael had destroyed the images of Sepharivaim. Now it was the workroom of a wizard. The pale red light came from nowhere, likely sustained by Lucan's spells. Long tables stood in the center of the sanctuary, laden with glass vials, jars of powder, and strange bronze instruments. A summoning circle, adorned with ornate symbols, had been painted upon the marble floor. A balcony ringed the sanctuary, perhaps twenty feet off the floor, and wooden shelves stood beneath the balcony.
Laden with books and scrolls.
Corvad had been right. Lucan had indeed saved the San-keth temple's library.
She crossed to the shelves and sorted through them. Several books written in the language of Old Dracaryl. A pair of scrolls written in the tongue of the San-keth. A manual of necromantic spells. Molly picked up the books and scrolls and dumped them on a table.
She could not read the tongue of Dracaryl, so she ignored those books. Corvad could read them later. She did, however, know something of the San-keth language, so she unrolled a scroll and looked it over. It was a map of the Grim Marches, created before the kingdom of Dracaryl had collapsed in its own dark magic. After moment Molly realized that the map showed the San-keth temples of the Grim Marches. No doubt many had been destroyed or abandoned in the centuries since, but perhaps some remained active. A list of notations had been written next to the location of each temple.
Molly gazed at the lists, and blinked in surprise.
Oh, this would please Corvad.
###
The smell led Romaria to Lucan Mandragon's room.
For a son of Richard Mandragon, Lucan had lived in stark simplicity. A narrow bed, a simple desk, and an empty wardrobe. Yet the stench of corruption was strongest in here. Had Lucan returned in the company of the Demonsouled woman?
Then Romaria felt the magical power in the air.
She stepped to the stone wall, sword raised in guard, and the wall began to crawl with gray mist. As she moved closer, the gray mist spread, until a door-sized patch shimmered before her.
A mistgate.
Romaria hesitated. Timothy had claimed that Lucan's wards were proof against mistgates, but Lucan might have betrayed them. Or Corvad's Malrag warlocks might have the power to force their way past the wards. Yet this mistgate was so small. If Corvad planned to attack Castle Cravenlock, why not have his warlocks open a massive mistgate in the great hall? His Malrags could flood out and kill half the garrison in a few moments. Why a small mistgate?
Not an attack, then. An infiltration. The Demonsouled woman had come to spy on Castle Cravenlock, and perhaps Lucan had accompanied her. If Romaria acted quickly, she could kill both the woman and Lucan before they caused any harm.
But if another mistgate opened within the castle, catching Mazael's men unprepared...
Romaria hurried to the room's narrow window.
“To arms!” she shouted at the top of her lungs. “To arms! Enemies in the castle! To arms!”
She heard the stirrings of alarm on the castle walls, and then the high wail as an armsman blew a horn.
Good enough. If Corvad and the Malrags attacked, the castle would be ready.
In the meantime, Romaria would deal with Lucan and the Demonsouled woman.
She strode through the mistgate.
###
Molly's eyes scanned the ancient map.
Part of it showed the rocky hills west of Castle Cravenlock. A San-keth temple lay there, hidden in the hills, or so the map claimed. Whether the temple had been abandoned or destroyed, Molly had no idea. Yet the temple or its ruins might still lie hidden beneath hills.
She read the list of notations next to the temple.
No doubt a village stood on the site. San-keth temples tended to attract villages of human proselytes, who labored to hide the homes of their serpent masters. Contemptible fools, the lot of them. The serpent people made no secret of their hatred for humans, yet human proselytes still served the San-keth eagerly. But if the San-keth remained in the temple, and if a community of proselytes served the serpent priests, they would not share their books with Corvad.
Not without a fight.
Well, Corvad could take the books once the San-keth were dead.
Molly reached to take the map.
Had something just moved in the darkness?
She lifted her sword. The sanctuary was empty, save for Lucan's books and magical equipment. The double doors stood half-open, just as she had left them. Her eyes swept the high balcony ringing the sanctuary, but saw nothing.
Still, the feeling of being watched would not go away, and Molly had long ago learned to trust her instincts.
Best to take the map and go.
###
Romaria emerged from the mistgate and found herself in a wide corridor built of crimson marble. The corridor ended in a pair of double doors standing half-open. A pale red light shone through those doors, like the glow from a dying fire.
Romaria recognized the place at once.
The San-keth temple below Castle Cravenlock.
A rush of dark memories filled her mind. Mazael's grim expression as he learned the truth about his brother and sister. Fighting the proselytes in the sanctuary. Chasing Skhath through the secret passage to the castle's chapel.
The Old Demon standing on the chapel's altar, killing fire in his hand...
No, she didn't want to remember that.
Why the devil had Corvad created a mistgate leading from Lucan's room to the San-keth temple? It made no sense.
Unless...
Romaria scowled.
Unless the mistgate had been here before Corvad's attacks.
Suddenly Lucan's austere room made a great deal of sense. No doubt the Dragon's Shadow had sought a sanctuary away from his father's prying eyes, a place where he could work dark magic in secret. And what place better than a San-keth temple, one already stocked with a library of necromantic works?
Damn it, but Mazael should never have trusted Lucan.
And the library...that was why the Demonsouled woman had come here. Corvad must have learned of the temple's library, and dispatched the Demonsouled woman to claim one of the books of dark magic. No doubt the Demonsouled woman had hoped to take the books and leave without anyone the wiser.
Romaria slid her bastard sword back into its scabbard and glided forward, her boots making no noise against the marble. She lifted her composite bow and strung it one silent motion. Romaria doubted a single arrow could kill the Demonsouled woman. But it would stun the woman, give Romaria enough time to cut off her head and cut out her heart.
Even Demonsouled healing would not recover from that.
Romaria reached the doors to the sanctuary, and spotted the woman.
She stood at a table covered in glass jars and vials, frowning down at a scroll. The Demonsouled woman wore dark leather and wool, a sword in her right hand, knives at her belt. She looked young. No more than twenty, certainly. Most men would have found her pretty, but her expression was grim.
Almost grieving.
Rom
aria didn't care.
She raised her bow and loosed an arrow just as the Demonsouled woman looked up.
###
Molly saw the flicker of motion in the double doors.
She threw herself into the shadows, and reappeared a few feet away from the table. An instant later a steel-tipped arrow shot through the space she had occupied. A tall woman stood in the double doors, her hand dipping into a belt quiver for a fresh arrow.
Romaria Greenshield.
Molly sprinted into the shadows, and reappeared a few feet in front of Romaria, sword darting for the other woman's heart. Romaria clubbed aside the thrust with her bow, stepped back, and drew her bastard sword with a steely hiss.
Molly paced back, keeping her eyes on Romaria.
It was the first good look Molly had gotten at Mazael Cravenlock's lover. She was in her early thirties, perhaps five or six years younger than Mazael himself. Long black hair bound in a braid, and eyes the blue of glacial ice. Romaria held her sword like she knew how to use it, and Molly had seen her plunge arrows into Corvad at a great distance. A strong woman, capable and dangerous.
Not the sort of woman Molly would have expected to fall under the sway of a monster like Mazael, but there was no accounting for taste.
Molly slipped into the shadows, reappearing a dozen feet away. Out of Romaria’s reach, but close enough to attack if she went for the bow.
For a moment they stared at each other.
“How did you know I was there?” said Romaria.
Molly grinned. “I know when someone's watching me. One of my special little talents, I suppose. Like at the mistgate. Though you had more fur, then.”
“It's occasionally useful,” said Romaria. She took a step forward, and Molly took a pace back. “Like that disappearing trick of yours.”
“It's occasionally useful,” agreed Molly. But not at the moment, alas. Walking the shadows through open air wasn't difficult. Walking the darkness through yards and yards of solid rock was much harder, and the temple was buried beneath Castle Cravenlock’s foundations. Molly needed to reach the mistgate before she could escape.
Which meant she had to get past Romaria.
Easier said than done, when the woman could put an arrow through Molly's throat in the blink of an eye. Not that Molly cared about death. But she could not kill Mazael if Romaria killed her first.
“Who are you?” said Romaria.
“You can call me Molly,” Molly answered.
“What do you want here?” said Romaria.
Molly almost gave her a flippant answer, yet something in Romaria's stern expression cut through her resolve.
“I'm going to kill Mazael Cravenlock,” she said.
Romaria only raised an eyebrow. “Any particular reason? Or have you just gone mad? Demonsouled do that.”
“I have two reasons, both of them particular. Has Mazael gone mad yet?” said Molly, smirking. “You share a bed, don't you? Has he tried to cut your throat as you sleep?”
Romaria frowned. “How...did you know that? Only a few people know he's Demonsouled.”
“One question at a time,” said Molly. “You wanted to know why I'm going to kill Mazael. You love him, don't you? Fool that you are. Well, I was a fool once, too. Nicholas Tormaud. Mazael killed him. Left him dying in his own blood.” Her voice turned cold, fingers tight around the hilt of her sword. “I'll kill him, for what he did to Nicholas. And if you get in my way, I'll kill you, too.”
Romaria stepped forward again, and Molly paced back. “You said you have two reasons.”
“Yes,” said Molly. “Want to know how I knew Mazael was Demonsouled?”
Romaria said nothing. Perhaps she had figured it out already.
“My mother died when I was five,” said Molly. “Elizabeth, a noblewoman of the city of Barellion. There was no money left, so my brother and I were put on the streets. The Skulls took us in. Have you heard of them?”
“Murderers for hire,” said Romaria. “I've dealt with them, once or twice.”
Molly laughed. “And you're still alive? Remarkable! The training was long and hard. I have been beaten more times than I can remember. But it worked. They turned me into a weapon. Yet I wonder. What would my life had been like, if my mother had lived? Would Nicholas still be alive? Would I have known so much pain?” Hot anger leaked into the ice of her voice. “But I'll never know, will I? Because Mazael Cravenlock seduced my mother and left two babies in her belly. Because Mazael slew the only man I ever loved. I will kill him for that. I will make him suffer for that.”
“Your brother?” said Romaria. “Corvad, I assume? You don't think he'll kill you, when he gets the chance?”
Molly laughed. “Of course he wants to kill me! And he can, for all I care. The fool wants to be the lord of the earth. Let him! I care not. Once I've killed Mazael, the world can burn.”
“Not unless I stop you first,” Said Romaria.
Molly raised her sword, expecting a thrust. But Romaria's left hand dipped to her belt, and came up holding a dagger. Molly snapped her sword up, deflecting the thrown blade. Which gave Romaria the opening she needed to spring forward, driving the bastard sword in a forward thrust. Molly beat aside the thrust, sidestepped, and riposted. Romaria twisted her sword, blocking the thrust, her blade blurring. Molly jumped back an instant before the bastard sword would have opened her stomach.
Molly was a faster than the older woman, and if she drew on her Demonsouled strength, stronger. But Romaria possessed greater skill with the sword. The sort of skill that only came from surviving numerous deadly fights.
Molly stepped back and fell into the shadows. She reappeared on the balcony, looking down at Romaria. The older woman turned in a slow circle, blade raised in guard, ready to attack. Molly took a deep breath, preparing herself, gathering all her strength.
Then she drew a throwing knife from her belt and flung it towards the ceiling.
It struck the stone and fell to the floor with a clatter. Romaria turned to look, giving Molly an instant of time. She walked the shadows, leaving the balcony and reappearing at the great doors. Romaria whirled, and her form shifted, her flesh flowing like water, and she swelled into the form of the great black wolf.
The wolf hurtled at Molly with terrifying speed.
Molly walked the shadows, reappearing at the end of the corridor, the mistgate shimmering before her. The wolf raced down the hallway, jaws yawning wide, and Molly jumped into the mistgate. A moment of disorientation, and she reappeared in Lucan's room. She heard the shouts of men, along with the clatter of armor. Romaria, damn her. She had been clever enough to sound the alarm before going after Molly.
Again Molly plunged into the shadows, reappearing atop the keep. A wave of dizziness shot through her, and she gripped the battlements to keep her balance. Drawing too much upon the Demonsouled power left her drained. She needed to rest. But she had to get out of here. The armsmen had been roused, and though Molly was Demonsouled, she could not fight a castle filled with armed men.
She heard a rattle as armsmen came up the ladder to the keep's roof, no doubt to watch for enemies. Molly had run out of time. She took a deep breath, drew on her power, and jumped off the edge of the battlements and into the shadows.
She reappeared in the field below the castle's hill, a few yards from the waiting mistgate. Molly fell to her knees, her head spinning, her stomach clenching. She wanted to fall into bed and sleep for a week. But she could not show any weakness before Corvad.
But why struggle? What did she have to live for, anyway? Nicholas was dead. Perhaps she ought to just lie here and wait for Mazael's men to slay her...
No. Mazael would pay for what he had done. No matter what it cost, she would make him pay.
So Molly rose, forced herself to stand straight, and entered the mistgate.
A moment later she stood in the abandoned village’s ruined manor house, the mistgate closing behind her. The Malrag warlocks lowered their clawed hands. Corvad paced back a
nd forth before his table, scowling.
His sharp gray eyes fell upon her.
“Well?” he said, his scowl deepening. “You returned with nothing?”
“I wouldn't say that,” said Molly, brushing some dust from her sleeve.
“Then you found the location of Arylkrad?” said Corvad.
“No,” said Molly, thinking about Romaria. To kill Romaria before Mazael...yes. Mazael loved Romaria. Let him know the pain that Molly had known, the pain she had felt when she found Nicholas dying.
The pain she carried still.
“Then why are you smiling?” snapped Corvad, stepping closer to her.
Molly met his eyes. “Because I know where you need to go to find Arylkrad.”
Chapter 12 – Blood Ties
“My lord!”
Mazael turned. Sir Hagen hurried across the great hall, hand resting on his sword hilt.
“We've found her, my lord,” said Hagen. “In top level of the keep. She wants to speak with you at once.”
Mazael nodded. “Bring her here, quickly.”
He had awakened to find Romaria gone and the alarm horns blowing. At once he thought of Malrag attack. Sir Hagen and Sir Nathan roused the garrison, the men rushing to the walls, while Kjalmir and his Arminiars equipped themselves for battle. Yet they saw no enemies. Riders came from the town, and reported no sign of any foes.
Yet with Corvad's ability to travel via mistgate, Mazael knew better than to lower his guard.
And Romaria was still missing.
Relief washed through him as she walked into the hall, trailed by a pair of Hagen's armsmen. He trusted her, more than he trusted anyone, and she knew how to take care of herself. Yet finding her gone had still filled him with fear.
Mazael did not want to see her die. Not again.
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