Dawning Ceremony (Sexcraft Chronicles Book 3)

by Edmund Hughes

  It all felt strangely familiar to him, even though he was still technically a foreigner in Krestia’s Cradle. The Upper Realm had been so different, almost to the point of being incomprehensible to him at times. He understood how the people in Krestia’s Cradle lived, and what they valued. It was comforting to be back.

  Karnas flew higher as they approached the mountains that cut the southern desert off from the fertile lands. They’d been flying for a couple of hours, and in that time, they’d covered a distance that would have easily taken Hal a week or two to traverse on foot. He grinned, feeling a sudden rush as he considered the possibilities. Karnas could take him just about anywhere in a day.

  I could go home, if I wanted to. Back to the Collected Provinces.

  Home. He considered it and felt a little turned off by the idea. What would he even find if he headed back to his family’s ruined estate? He couldn’t call that home. Not anymore.

  Hal’s heart began to pound as they circled over the homestead. It looked so small, nestled within the confines of Fool’s Valley, which was just a patch green amidst towering mountains and sprawling desert. He could the see the new fence around the farm. He could see the spot on the homestead’s roof where the tiles were a slightly different color. He’d helped Laurel with the repairs shortly after he’d first arrived.

  Karnas flew in slow circles as he descended. The sun was setting over the horizon, causing the shadow of the mountain directly to the west to slowly creep toward the homestead. The dragon set down on the front lawn, letting out a sigh and stretching slightly as though to shrug Hal off his back.

  The front door of the homestead opened, and Laurel stepped out. All Hal could do for a couple of seconds was stare at her. She wore a red sweater over a plain, grey dress. Her blonde hair was loose about her shoulders, the tips curling stubbornly inward. The scar across her cheek seemed less obvious than the last time Hal had seen it, though more likely, he’d just exaggerated its visibility when thinking of her in his head over the past few weeks.

  “…Halrin?” she said, the word sound almost wishful.

  He grinned and ran over to her. Laurel’s dimples popped to life on her face as she smiled back at him. He pulled her into a tight hug, and she squeezed back hard enough to remind him that one of his ribs was still injured.

  “Surprise,” he said. “I hope I didn’t make you worry.”

  Laurel lifted her head to meet his gaze. She was blinking fast, and her cheeks were already stained with tears.

  “No,” she said. “Of course not.”

  CHAPTER 45

  “Your brother is alive, Laurel,” said Hal.

  He sat in his familiar chair at the sitting room table, watching as she put the finishing touches on the stew she’d been preparing for dinner. Laurel gave the pot another stir, nodding as she turned to look at him.

  “I know,” she said. “Karnas told me.”

  “Ah.” Hal scratched his head, feeling slightly miffed at being cheated out of the reveal. “Well, he’s okay. He’s helping the resistance in the Upper Realm. Trying to make things better for the slaves there.”

  And working with the Ardstones, to do it. How do I feel about that?

  “He’s okay,” said Laurel, looking visibly relieved. “But what about you? Are you okay, Hal?”

  He hesitated before answering. His hands were resting on the table, and they were trembling slightly, as they so often had after his experience in the Dragongrounds. He couldn’t lie about it, not to her.

  “Not really,” said Hal. “But I’m getting better.”

  Laurel walked over to him. She rested a hand on his shoulder and stared at him, her sapphire blue eyes pensive and compassionate. Hal reached an arm around her and pulled her in closer to him, leaning his head against her side. She smelled of fresh flowers and apple cider.

  “Hal,” said Laurel. “Do you need anything?”

  She crouched down a little, almost leaning over him. Hal cupped her cheek in his hand and smiled. The trembling had stopped as soon as she’d come over to him. He gently leaned Laurel’s head forward and planted a kiss on the top of her head.

  “Just to be here, with you,” he said. “And maybe an extra-large helping of the stew.”

  Laurel returned to cooking, and Hal began retelling the parts of his ordeal that he felt ready to speak about. She poured them both big bowls of stew as soon as it was ready, and Hal surprised himself with how much he was able to put away.

  Karnas had slipped off to do some hunting up the mountain, and he announced his return as he landed in the yard. Hal watched Laurel spend some time petting the dragon’s head and examined his wounds. She started to chastise Hal for doing a poor job of cleaning them when Karnas spoke up.

  “Hally… save,” said Karnas. “Save him… save me…”

  Hal grinned at that.

  “I guess we each did each other a favor, in the end,” said Hal.

  Karnas sprawled out on the grass, enjoying the fair weather as night settled over the homestead. Hal and Laurel headed back inside.

  “Your room is just how you left it,” said Laurel. “I didn’t touch anything.”

  “My room?” Hal raised an eyebrow at her. The room had originally been Willum’s, but for the past several months, Hal had been treating it as his own. But still, it technically belonged to Laurel’s brother.

  “Your room,” repeated Laurel.

  She walked over to him, and again, Hal succumbed to the urge to pull her into a hug. Laurel nestled her head against his shoulder, and he felt comforted by the warmth and softness of her body.

  “This is your home, Halrin,” she said.

  CHAPTER 46

  Willum followed close behind Katara as she made her way up the spiral staircase, trying not to think about what awaited them at the top. He’d grown accustomed to a life of slavery and servitude, and he’d thought he’d accepted his own fear of being vulnerable, and powerless.

  Of course, this time what mattered wasn’t his status as a person, but the faction he’d pledged his loyalty to. Lady Katara, dressed in a fine dress of tight, golden cloth, was in the same, if not even worse predicament as was he.

  She noticed him glancing at her and returned a rueful smile. So much had happened in the past few days, and so fast. Willum had barely reached the point of acceptance over the tryst she’d had with Halrin. He’d had to remind himself that Katara was an elf, operating under different standards of fidelity, but even then, the fact had been like a barb in his heart.

  “I doubt she’d have called us here if she intended our deaths,” whispered Katara.

  “Neither do I, mistress,” said Willum.

  Lady Katara nodded, though Willum was unsure if she was trying to convince him or herself. His thoughts shifted back in the direction they’d been going in. He hadn’t liked Halrin much, not when he’d brought up how he knew Laurel on the surface, not when he’d caught the fancy of the woman he served, and especially not when he’d discovered his importance in matters to come.

  But certainly he could pretend to like him. Because the alternative might involve the deaths of far too many people.

  “It’s a game to her, Willum,” whispered Katara. “The Empress likes to keep everyone with any influence or power from getting too comfortable.”

  “Of course, mistress,” said Willum.

  Though, it was just as likely, in his mind, that the Empress had discovered their treason. Willum kept his mouth shut as they approached heavy wooden door, guarded by two unusually large elves, that led to the Empress’s tower audience chamber.

  The tower was old. Not as old as the Upper Realm itself, but it predated Empress Kay’s rule. Willum had heard the stories of Empress Altheyon, who’d ruled with wisdom for the first half of her reign, and lost her mind to paranoia for the last half. The tower was equipped with several telescoping lenses that peered down onto the streets of Zelnata, and it seemed tragically fitting that Empress Kay would choose it as the location for their audienc
e.

  The guards were apparently expecting them. They swung the wooden doors open and gestured for Willum and Lady Katara to pass. The chamber on the other side took up the entirety of the tower’s tip.

  Several openings had been cut into the walls, similar to the murder holes Willum remembered from Maxim Cedric’s castle back in Meldence. Except each of these had a massive, telescoping lens poking out of it, instead of crossbows or oil cauldrons. It was an unusual sight, but it wasn’t the thing that drew Willum’s attention.

  Empress Kay sat atop a throne in the center of the room. She wore a black robe, simpler than what Willum would have expected from her. Four pikes protruded from the floor on all sides of her. The one to her front right head a dismembered head skewered onto it. The head of someone Willum recognized.

  He drew in a breath as he stared into the dead eyes of Marnella Ardstone, their liaison to the human faction of the Upper Realm and co-conspirator. Empress Kay was watching both his and Lady Katara’s reactions. Willum feared that he’d already revealed too much.

  “I don’t like this,” said Empress Kay. “I don’t like this in the slightest. But I think it’s necessary to remind you of the balance of power, Katara.”

  Lady Katara stepped forward. She was, in all outward appearance, Empress Kay’s trusted friend and ally. It was her actions, in part, that had placed Empress Kay on the throne to begin with, over her falseblood sister.

  “Empress Kay,” said Lady Katara, her voice cautious and level. “I’m still not quite sure why I’ve been invited to this audience.”

  She spoke casually, and Willum felt a flare of pride. His mistress was one of the most powerful women in the Upper Realm. He felt his pride sink in the direction of despair as he examined the expression on the Empress’s face.

  “One of my Honored Valkyries was slain last night, along with three of her warriors,” said Empress Kay. “I found evidence of an Ardstone betrayal at the scene of the fight.”

  Willum kept his face still, even as his heart pounded against his chest. Just how had Halrin and Elyse blundered their escape? Or was this just a bluff on the part of the Empress, a way of drawing out a confession from Lady Katara on gut instinct?

  “Forgive me for being blunt, Empress, but that’s rather expected,” said Lady Katara. “The Ardstones have always had a reputation for intrigue and deception.”

  “You were married to one of them, as I recall,” said Empress Kay. “Glennard Ardstone. He was the one who seduced you, and first brought you over to my side in the war against my sister.”

  Lady Katara didn’t say anything. Willum could see the direction the conversation was going in. In the Empress’s mind, Katara would be guilty by association, even with her husband having passed away over a century earlier.

  “Much has happened since the war,” said Lady Katara.

  “But some inclinations have held true.” Empress Kay gave Willum a pointed look.

  A noise came from behind the Empress’s throne. Kay smiled and reached her hand out to the side, gesturing. A small girl stepped forward, no older than eleven or twelve years old, and small for her age, even then. She had jet black hair, hazel eyes, and was doing everything in her power to keep her gaze averted from the severed head on the spike next to her.

  “I hope you know how much I value your loyalty, Katara,” said Empress Kay. “And in times such as these, demonstrations of loyalty become the backbone of our hierarchies.”

  Lady Katara cleared her throat. “I… don’t quite understand your meaning, Empress.”

  “I know you have at least one sister in Zelnata,” said Empress Kay. “Lady Felice, isn’t it? And she has a few children. But you aren’t close to them, or any of your other blood family. You’re distant, Katara. Eccentric in both behavior and attachments.”

  Empress Kay licked her lips. Lady Katara reached a hand over and set it on Willum’s shoulder, digging her fingers in possessively.

  “How long have you had your current slave for?” asked Empress Kay, nodding to Willum.

  “I… have many slaves,” said Lady Katara. “I tend to not pay them that much mind.”

  “Of course not,” said Empress Kay. “I already know. You’ve had him for a little over a year. His name is Willum, and more often than not, he shares your bedchamber.”

  Lady Katara said nothing.

  “Willum,” said Empress Kay. “This is Sabrina Ardstone. She’s the younger sister of Marnella and Elyse, and as of now, the new head of her family line. Sabrina, this is Willum.”

  Empress Kay gestured for Willum to step forward. Lady Katara’s finger dug in tighter for an instant, and then she let him go.

  “He’ll be quite comfortable, Katara,” said Empress Kay. “And I promise you, he will come to no harm. Though of course, it will be up to my discretion how to put him to… good use.”

  Willum felt another surge of pride as he watched his mistress. Her expression never shifted. She gave a slow nod, and even managed a convincing smile.

  “Of course, my Empress,” said Lady Katara. “I understand completely.”

  He knew that smile. Lady Katara had already abandoned her Empress, but her efforts in aiding the resistance had been passive, at best. She would change tactics and employ every ounce of her cunning and wit to topple Kay from the throne.

  Lady Katara looked at Willum, and he knew that expression, too. She would have a role for him to play, as well. And we would play it gladly.

  THE END

  As you probably guessed, this isn’t the end of the series. The next book will be out on April 30th, and it will be the last in this arc of the series. For updates on future releases, special promotions, and beta reading opportunities, sign up for my newsletter. To leave a comment, complaint, or ask a question, shoot me an email edmundhughes@outlook.com.

  Thanks for reading.

  Edmund Hughes

  Wind Runner

  CHAPTER 1

  Malcolm still remembered it like it was yesterday. He’d been in Mr. Brannigan’s ninth grade history class. It had happened during the morning, between nine and ten, and like any fifteen-year-old who’d been up most of the night on their phone, he’d been having trouble staying awake.

  The announcement had come over the intercom. At the time, it had seemed like a joke. The principal had struggled to find the right words to describe the situation, settling on a “series of currently unexplainable anomalies”.

  Mr. Brannigan had rolled out the tiny TV he kept in his back room and turned it on. Malcolm had squinted and watched the first few hours of Day One of the Phenomenon alongside the rest of his class. Mr. Brannigan had told them all that it would be a generation defining event, and he’d been right.

  They’d watched the view from the news chopper, which would occasionally zoom in on a man running far faster than humanly possible, or a woman lifting trash cans and park benches through telekinesis. The footage came from the nearest big population center, Halter City, which left Malcolm and his class feeling insulated and safe in sleepy Vanderbrook.

  Some of the kids in the room made jokes. The news channel kept raising the death toll, tallying each one with an awkward kind of enthusiasm. The reporters made the differentiation between “the gifted”, as the people with superpowers were being called, and “the monsters”.

  Malcolm never saw them get a monster into frame, but even if they had managed to, he wasn’t sure he would have believed it. Watching it on the TV made it feel like watching anything on TV. Incredibly fake, or at least overblown, and part of a separate, carefully curated reality.

  School let out early and Malcolm took the bus home just after lunch. He got off at his stop, turned the corner onto his street, and saw a smoldering crater where his house had once been.

  Smelling the smoke and feeling the heat of the burning wood was finally enough to make it real for him. He was staring at what had very recently been his house. Danny still would have been asleep on the couch, probably hungover from a late night out drink
ing. His mother would be cleaning, or reading a book, or working on one of her gardening projects in the backyard.

  He’d wondered if maybe she’d been able to make it away safely. He’d hoped, even when it had gone against all logic, that she had. It had taken a couple of days, a couple of calls to the local hospitals, for him to know and accept the truth.

  The surprising thing about the aftermath of the destruction of Malcolm’s family and home was how little attention it received. It was just a footnote when placed into context against the government’s reaction to the “champions”, and the “sprytes” and “demons”, as the gifted and the monsters eventually became known.

  Malcolm stayed with a friend until the insurance company paid out the settlement for the house. He used the money to replace a couple of his possessions and rented a small apartment.

  He went on with his life. That was all he could do. But he never forgot.

  ***

  “Mr. Caldwell? Are you listening?”

  Malcolm blinked, and sat up a little straighter in his chair. He’d been thinking about Day One again, poking his most painful memories with a dirty stick. Ms. Dion was more active in her instruction than most college professors, and would often press them for answers as she lectured.

  “Sorry,” said Malcolm. “What was the question?”

  A few amused chuckles came from the other students around the room. He’d developed a bit of a reputation for zoning out during class.

  “Which governing body has control over the Champion Authority?” asked Ms. Dion.

  A question I know the answer to, for once. Time to spit the facts.

  “Worldwide?” said Malcolm. “The United Nations. But the CA has smaller chapters within many countries, including the USCA here in the United States. And they also coordinate with most major heads of state.”