Her Dangerous Visions (The Boy and the Beast Book 1)

by Brandon Barr

  Aven felt sick. He knew she was right, but what did that matter? She was the only person left whom he loved. He hated himself. Hated how weak he was. But he couldn’t change how he felt, no matter how much he searched for something to latch onto. Something strong.

  Winter was all he had.

  “Sit,” said Maizy, motioning to a wooden bench beneath the antlers of a large elk head. “Zamlah shouldn’t be long.”

  “What does Zamlah do for the Baron?” asked Aven.

  “Why, he’s the Baron’s ambassador to the Royals. You should know that. You work for the Baron, don’t you?”

  Aven stared at Maizy. Were they so sheltered in the confines of the fortress not to know what life outside was like?

  “We’re told nothing,” said Winter. “We’re farmers, little better than slaves.”

  Maizy and the other girls looked skeptically at them.

  “Why have we been dressed up?” asked Aven.

  A girl with dark curly hair shrugged. “You’re meeting with the Baron tonight. I assume he wants you looking presentable. We weren’t told anything else.”

  “Baron Rhaudius will fill you in,” said the deep, unmistakable voice of Zamlah. He stood in an archway and waved for them to come.

  Aven turned to follow, but when he did, a streak of movement caught the corner of his eye. The Baron’s girls screamed. Aven turned, but too late. A muscular body slammed him against the wall. Cold metal pressed into the side of his face, cutting into his skin. A contorted face drenched in sweat came nose to nose against his.

  Harvest’s brother, Pike.

  “Stop it, Pike!” shouted one of the girls.

  “Let him go!” screamed another.

  Zamlah’s voice boomed over the rest. “Pike, you imbecile! You’ll ruin everything!”

  Pike’s eyes bore deep into Aven’s. His hot, panting breath reeked of fermented drink. The blade’s bite lessened slightly, and Pike whispered, “I will kill you. One day. I swear on my family’s graves, I will watch your last painful breath.”

  Suddenly the chorus of girls screamed again. Pike turned his head, confused by the sound, just in time for a ceramic vase to explode against his face. The knife flew out of his hand and he staggered back, slamming into a table, sending pottery and glass sculptures crashing to the floor.

  Zamlah rushed over to Pike. A guard ran down the hall, sword drawn. Winter dropped the remnants of the vase in her hand. Aven stared at the scene in shock. His sister had just cracked the skull of the Baron’s son.

  “Let me see your face,” Winter said to Aven. She touched his cheek gingerly. “It’s bleeding, but it’s not deep. I thought Pike was going to kill you.”

  Aven glanced at Pike groaning on the floor beside Zamlah and the guard.

  “I hope I haven’t made things worse for us. I was scared. I didn’t have time to debate instinct.”

  “You did what you had to do. I would have done the same for you.”

  “Get your hands off of me!” shouted Pike, enraged. He stood, holding his head. Blood ran down his hands, soaking into the sleeve of his white shirt. “Aven,” he growled. “I’ll kill your ugly twig of a sister too. I swear, I’ll finish the job my father couldn’t do!”

  Four more guards arrived. One of them grabbed Aven from behind and locked his arms behind his back.

  “Let him go,” said Zamlah. “He’s the Baron’s guest tonight. Clean up his face, girls. Makeup, whatever you have to do. I want him ready in ten minutes.”

  He turned to the guards. “Accompany Pike to his room. No more drinks. We need him sober and cleaned up by morning.”

  Zamlah’s words confounded Aven’s fears. Whatever the reason he and Winter were there, they were being protected. Even from the Baron’s son.

  _____

  AVEN

  Baron Rhaudius was waiting for them in the same room where Aven had met him before. Aven stood, holding Winter’s hand with Zamlah beside them. Seeing the Baron again, in this same room, hearing his same droning voice, it brought surprising emotion along with it. A deep anger coursed under his skin, a hatred he’d stuffed deep down inside threatened to spill out onto his face. Aven exhaled slowly.

  “Aven,” said Baron Rhaudius, “we meet again, under different circumstances. Do you know Grey Bear and his mate?”

  A tremor shook Aven. He’d been right. There was no keeping secrets from the Baron.

  “Yes,” said Aven. “I know them.”

  “You were with them this morning, at the burned farm hovel, discussing matters related to the summons. Grey Bear’s mate was quite uncomfortable, so I’m told.” His eyes looked past Aven’s, to the door they had come through. “Tell us what you saw and heard, Captain.”

  Aven turned. Leaning against the door frame was Rose. Her eyes were on Aven, lit up with the glow of humor. She’d helped Rozmin smoke Harvest’s hovel. Somehow she’d been promoted to Captain while Rozmin rotted in the graveyard.

  Rose smirked. “Grey Bear’s mate is Rabbit. A fitting name. She kept poking her head up out of the hovel, like a vermin watching for predators. But I’m invisible when I want to be. And always closer than one thinks. And this morning, I was close enough to hear talk of rebellion. A familiar tune of late.”

  “We’ve heard the farmers talking for some time now,” said Rhaudius. “The Captain tells me you tried to persuade Grey Bear against the rebellion.”

  Aven nodded.

  “I judged you rightly the first time we met. If only the other farmers had your compliant spirit. As you know, I’ve summoned the farmers to gather together in the marketplace. Many are ready to go to war against me, so I’ve played along, giving a perfect opportunity for them to show their aggression. Tomorrow may very well be a day of bloodshed. Do you want that?”

  Aven squeezed his sister’s hand. He hid his disgust toward the Baron. “No. Winter and I want peace.”

  The Baron’s mouth formed a lifeless smile. “If oceans of blood are to be avoided, I expect you to cooperate with me. I don’t want to replace half my work force with unseasoned farmers unfamiliar with vineyard work.

  “Tomorrow, if I’ve played my game pieces right, I will pacify the farmers by amending some of the harsher portions of my contract.”

  Aven kept a calm facade. How could he make up for years of extortion and backbreaking labor? How could he replace a dead Mother and Father? Or Harvest?

  Winter pulled Aven’s hand behind her back. “He wants to use us,” tapped Winter.

  “Let him,” tapped Aven. “As long as we leave here in his favor, let him use us as he wants.”

  “But I want to go further than contract revisions,” continued Rhaudius. “I need them to take my generous offer. That’s where you and your sister can help your fellow farmers. Your parents were well liked, as was my son’s family who died in that most tragic incident.”

  Winter squeezed Aven’s hand. “Tragic!” she tapped. He could feel her fury through her fingers.

  Aven tapped, “Keep inside…try.”

  “Trying…hard.”

  “Your parents’ deaths spurred the sentiments leading to the farmers taking up arms tomorrow,” said the Baron, his voice rising in intensity. “I want to preempt retribution by honoring you before them, giving you both a spectacular gift. A gift a Royal’s son or daughter might envy.”

  Aven stared at the Baron’s hands, which were spread open in gesture, expressing how great his sensational, yet unspoken gift was. The Baron’s heart was as clear to see as the entrails of a rodent pinched in a trap. Black. Festering—full of greed. He couldn’t even pretend to be benevolent when speaking to a farmer. His motives seeped out in every word he spoke, and now he wanted Aven and his sister to do his bidding. To keep profits flowing smoothly through his gates without too big of a bump in the road.

  Despite this, Aven felt a subtle hope, something he hadn’t tasted for a long time. He sensed what he should feel. What he knew others would feel. What his sister surely felt. More disdain, more defia
nce. The Baron’s motives were out of self interest. But so what? Good was coming of it. He and his sister were being rewarded somehow. They were safe as long as they followed his plan.

  And if the farmers could have favorable amendments made to their contracts and be spared blood and tears, that was a great good. The only question Aven had was in regards to the Baron—could he be trusted? It was the question he couldn’t ask.

  “What is this gift?” asked Aven.

  A spark lit in the Baron’s dark gaze. “Tomorrow, a very special visitor will be arriving. Her name is Karience. She is the Empyrean of the Guardian order on Loam.”

  Aven stood in shock as the words sunk in.

  Karience. Empyrean. The name and title sounded strange and powerful. Everything he knew about the Guardians came through scraps of conversations in the marketplace, and half of what he heard there he knew was only speculation. A consensus stated they were the most powerful force among the known worlds. That on every planet they touched, peace sprouted, grew, and eventually flourished. Even though they’d been on Loam for only thirty years, the older farmers spoke of the change amongst the Royals. A few farmers who’d gained permission to travel to Anantium had witnessed the God’s Eye, their world’s ancient portal, and looked upon the Tower of the Guardians. They’d learned that every planet who welcomed the Guardians received protection from dark worlds ruled by Beasts, which were said to haunt many realms outside the Guardians’ reach. All of this had made Aven feel small at first hearing. So much mystery out in the vast deep of stars that he gazed at from boyhood. What was a dark world? What were the Beasts?

  These mysteries had never disturbed him before, for they had always felt far away. But now, the unknown pressed upon him.

  Who was this Karience? This person from another world. Why would she, the head of the Guardian order, come to the Baron’s lands? Had they made some business arrangement? Were the Guardian’s motives just as tainted by greed and power as the Baron’s?

  Winter squeezed his hand, “He may be lying.”

  “Maybe…we have no choice,” tapped Aven

  “So the gift is that Winter and I will meet a Guardian?”

  The Baron gave a wry smile. “You will meet her, yes. Better than that, tomorrow, before the assembled farmers, Karience will welcome you and your sister into the Guardian order.”

  Aven’s tongue stuck in his mouth. Welcomed into the Guardian order? What did that mean? Clearly the Baron felt he was giving them a great honor. Aven met his sister’s eyes for just a moment. He saw in them the same conflict he felt. Hope checked by a thousand questions.

  “No more farming,” continued the Baron. “No more living in a hole in the ground. All you have to do is stand silently beside me on the platform and remain obedient, and you will get your reward. Before sundown tomorrow, you will be traveling with Karience, to the God’s Eye in Anantium.”

  Aven bit down on his dry tongue. This seemed beyond comprehension.

  “Thoughts?” tapped Aven quickly.

  “I feel my destiny in this.”

  Aven took a deep breath, then said, “We’ll do everything you ask.”

  HEARTH

  Throughout eternity, there have been the Makers. They are the architects of all that exist. Would you trust a builder after the stairs he constructed collapse under your own meager weight?

  -Raith, to his human followers,

  Account of a Beast, recorded by Augurus

  CHAPTER 15

  MELUSCIA

  The pullcart’s metal wheels screeched in Meluscia’s ears as her small party traveled the long, lonely underpassage deep beneath the mountains. These dark and ancient stretches of tunnel had frightened her as a child. Those old fears surfaced only as memories now. The gleaming eyes formed of misshapen rock, the twisted forms made by the clefts and columns of black granite and white marble. Quartz interspersed with snaking veins of pyrite that seemed to slither like golden serpents along the walls.

  These vestiges of past fears had morphed and changed since becoming a woman. Men slinking in shadows holding knives. Assassins and thieves hiding in hollow fissures and crannies. But she knew these fears were unfounded, for this passage was closed at its two ends—at the Hold Peak, and at Heartbur, where Adulyyn ruled under her father as Regent. Both ends had a guard posted day and night. There were thirteen such passageways, each connecting the thirteen minor peaks of the Blue Mountains to the tallest one that comprised the Hold. In the middle of each lay a Gathering Tunnel, a place for urgent meetings where a party from the Hold and a distant peak could travel a straight line to the mid point.

  Heulan sat beside Meluscia as a team of four miniature horses trotted along, pulling them and three guards on a low cart. Time seemed impossible to keep in the monotony of the tunnel. She guessed they’d been traveling six hours at a decent rate of speed. No hills, no bends in the road, and no danger from man or animal.

  It was a relief when a faint light was seen in the tunnel ahead. As they neared it, Meluscia could see Adulyyn’s slender figure flanked by two large guards from Heartbur. If her meeting went well with Adulyyn…and if the Regent could secure her a majority amongst the council, she felt certain the scales would tip back to even between her and Valcere.

  But to make that scale dip in her favor, she had thought of one more thing she could do. A rather bold and treasonous thing. When she returned from her meeting with Adulyyn, she would write a letter to King Feaor. He, too, could put pressure on her father.

  The cart shook as it came to a halt.

  “I cannot get over your gorgeous red hair!” cried Adulyyn, her voice echoing off the rock walls. “It’s as bold as torchlight.”

  Meluscia hurried to the Regent and took her hand briefly in greeting. “I am in your debt, Regent Adulyyn.”

  “By the stars! You are in no such quagmire as being in my debt.” A sly smile crossed Adulyyn’s lips. She wore a loose purple cloak that slipped over the edges of her shoulders. A white corset shown under her cloak with a large amethyst gem hanging from a necklace. She was a beautiful, stately woman, and her style only accentuated that fact. Meluscia wasn’t sure her age, but she had to be at least fifty years, based solely on the fact that the Regent had served as Lord Mayor under her grandfather.

  “I am more than willing to help seat you on your father’s throne,” continued Adulyyn. “How I’d love to see that hair of yours in the glimmering light of that splendid room, with all those refracting gems.”

  Adulyyn turned and gestured to a wooden door cut in the side of the passage. “Let’s have some privacy.” She pushed on the old wood and a deafening squeal sounded from the hinges.

  Inside was a low-ceiling hall, large enough for a small army to hide in. The history books were replete with the use of such halls in dire times. The tunnels were secret and allowed the armies of the Blue Mountains to travel wherever they wished within the kingdom without being seen.

  In the light of a single torch, the shadowy hall was entirely empty but for hordes of old furniture and rolls of decaying tapestry strewn along the walls. In one corner, a dozen dusty old chairs were scattered about, and some tattered tapestries hung down the wall. There was a pile of dented armor and broken wood thrown in a large heap, as if it were trash that someone had forgotten to move.

  Adulyyn brushed off two chairs with her hand, placing the torch in a metal framed holder beside her.

  “I am in desperate need of your help,” said Meluscia, remembering Heulan’s words regarding Adulyyn’s penchant for flattery. Meluscia, too, could flatter when she wanted. She sat in the cleaned chair across from the woman. “Of all the Regent’s, you have my utmost respect. You are an example to me of how a woman can lead and rule. I have enjoyed our talks these past two years, yet I know I still have much to learn from you, from your wisdom and experience.”

  “Landslides! Wisdom and experience…you make me feel so old.” She smiled. “I’ll tell you my secrets to ruling, and I’ll hold nothing back…as lo
ng as you promise never to use my secrets against me.”

  “I swear it!” said Meluscia quickly.

  “First, let’s talk about gaining you the throne. From what I hear, your father is as smitten with Valcere as he was when we last met. True?”

  Just hearing the man’s name brought a heaviness to Meluscia’s heart. “Yes. I believe my father is attracted to Valcere because the man has ridden with him for twenty years and the two have always had a bond. Valcere shares in my father’s feud with the Verdlands, though this fact, I hope, is what can turn the other Regents to my side.”

  Adulyyn reclined in her chair and tapped the fingers of her left hand against the fair skin beneath her neck. “You are right. Most of the Regents disapprove of the skirmishes with the Verdlands. Only two, Ignomere and Coloran, are of your father’s same mind. The rest are mildly annoyed by the Luminar’s perpetual squabble. The food runs short even in the household of the Regents—and let that be a tip from me to you—the fastest way to turn a man against you is to put an obstacle between them and their meals. Our bellies and our hearts are closely aligned.”

  Meluscia laughed. “I shall try never to forget that nugget of wisdom.” She drew in her breath, focusing on the problem of gaining the majority of the Regents’ support. “So, then, if you and ten other Regents are opposed to my father’s handling of the Verdlands, why do I not have a majority?”

  “I’ll give you a hint.” Her hands moved below the cups of her white corset and she lightly jostled her breasts up and down. Her right eye brow shot up. “Is that clear enough?”

  “So they’d rather eat salted fish for three meals a day than have a Luminess on the throne?”

  “Not all. Three of the Regents, Wyon, Jasper, and Rhodochroyx, are in your favor. And with me, that makes four. Four out of thirteen with two opposed and seven floating like stale farts in the air, scared to choose you because of your youth and your lack of a twig and acorns. I joke, but it is true.”