Onyx of Darkness: An epic dragon fantasy (The Keeper Chronicles Book 2)

by Norma Hinkens

  No matter at what angle she held the dark dragon stone, it did not glow or emanate the peculiar hue that Varon had spoken of to his fellow goat herders. Weary of toying with it, she replaced it in the chest and closed the lid, Akolom’s words swirling inside her head.

  If the emperor insists on witnessing its power, he must be prepared for whatever comes of it.

  She only hoped she never had to find out what that might entail.

  She glanced across at Crag slumped against the wall, arms folded across his chest, nodding off. The soldier assigned to stay with them was sitting in a wooden chair by the window, occasionally bolting upright and peering into the darkness. Orlla wasn’t sure if he was randomly checking to make sure Davian’s soldiers were still guarding the inn, or if he had detected some movement in the shadows that struck him as irregular. Several times, she tried to strike up a conversation with him, but he remained taciturn. Eyes drooping, she crawled up onto the bed and curled up beneath her cloak.

  She woke to the sound of a cockerel crowing. Rubbing her eyes, she bolted up in bed and looked around. Crag lay prostrate on the floor, snoring loudly. The soldier still sat perched on the edge of the chair by the window, his knee bobbing up and down. When he sensed Orlla watching him, he vaulted to his feet. “Lord Davian will be here any minute.”

  Orlla arched a brow at him. “So it’s Lord and not General anymore?”

  The soldier scowled at her but gave no response. If he had slipped up, he wasn’t about to admit it. He walked over to Crag and kicked him in the ribs. Quicker than a cat, Crag was on his feet, hands circling the soldier’s neck. The man’s face reddened as he struggled for air, desperately trying to pry Crag’s fingers loose.

  The key creaked in the lock. In a flash, Crag shoved the soldier away from him and leaned back against the wall, one ankle crossed casually over the other.

  Lord Davian marched into the room, glinting eyes seeking out Orlla. “Emperor Narlius and his court await our visit with much anticipation. Pray tell me you have successfully deciphered the dark dragon rune.”

  She inclined her head. “I believe so.”

  Beaming at her answer, Lord Davian glanced around the room. He frowned at the red-faced soldier, heaving a breath. “What’s wrong with you?”

  The soldier jerked his head at Crag. “That ill-tempered cur attacked me when I woke him.”

  “You had an altercation with an unarmed man and yet he remains uninjured?” Lord Davian arched a brow, hard cords standing out on his neck. “Is such slovenly guard duty what I pay you for?”

  The soldier’s face flushed an even deeper shade of red.

  Lord Davian waved an arm dismissively. “Get out of my sight, you useless oaf!”

  Fear flickered in the soldier’s widened eyes. He departed the room in a hurry, just as three maids minced through the doorway, one carrying a scarlet gown of crushed velvet over her arms, the other two bearing breakfast trays. Orlla shot a questioning look Lord Davian’s way when the first maid laid the dress out on the bed. “Is that for me?”

  He laughed at her befuddled expression. “Who else would you have don it?” He stroked a long finger down the side of his nose. “You cannot demonstrate the power of the dark dragon stone to Emperor Narlius in the rags you are wearing. This will be a momentous occasion, of great pomp and ceremony, and you are the star performer. I intend for the stone to fetch the highest possible price.” He snapped his fingers impatiently at the maids. One of them bowed and handed a tray to Crag, while another placed the second tray down on the bed next to the velvet dress.

  Orlla assumed a mask of indifference when two of the maids held up a privacy sheet for her to change behind. Lord Davian stood watching, arms barred across his chest, enjoying her obvious discomfort. With trembling fingers, she picked up the luxurious gown and disappeared behind the sheet to change, aided by the maid who had carried the dress in. The gown had a square neckline with a tightly-laced bodice and wide, sweeping sleeves that covered her hands. The rich scarlet fabric was accentuated with golden thread and trimmed with lace. Davian must have paid a hefty price for such a gown, but it was a paltry investment in terms of what he stood to gain from this transaction.

  When she reemerged from behind the sheet, hair pinned high, Lord Davian ran a critical eye over her, a satisfied grin gracing his thin lips. “Much more pleasing to the eye, although one cannot entirely take the peasant out of you.”

  “How dare you!” Orlla took a step toward him, almost tripping on the gown, but a soldier blocked her path.

  “I have neither the time nor the patience for your tedious outbursts,” Lord Davian snarled. “Remember what is at stake, including your beloved sibling who languishes in prison, and play your role convincingly.” He strode over to her and held up a glittering gold and ruby choker necklace. “This will go a long way to countering your somewhat bucolic appearance. Consider it a partial payment of your share of the takings.”

  Orlla forced herself not to claw at his face as his calloused fingers fastened the necklace around her throat.

  “Excellent!” He clapped his hands. “Now eat, and we will be on our way.” He dismissed the maids with a curt nod, and they picked up their skirts and scurried out of the room without a backward glance.

  Orlla sat down on the bed, too hungry to argue. Crag was already digging into his food with gusto. She reached for a boiled egg and a bread roll. Lord Davian turned away and said something to one of the soldiers in hushed tones. Orlla strained to hear what they were saying, but it was impossible to make out anything.

  A strange gurgling sound caught her attention. She glanced across the room just as a purple-faced Crag toppled sideways, clutching at his throat.

  Chapter 20

  “Crag!” Orlla hurled her half-eaten breakfast to the floor and darted over to the writhing mercenary. She cradled his head in her arms as best she could and turned to the soldier nearest to her. “Run and fetch help! He needs a doctor!”

  Crag arched his back as if wracked with pain, and a moment later, his body went limp in Orlla’s arms, a trickle of foam escaping his parted lips.

  “Crag!” Orlla screamed again, shaking him. Despite calling his name repeatedly, he remained unresponsive. She put an ear to his chest but could detect no heartbeat. After a few tense minutes, she laid him down gently on the floor and got to her feet. She glared across the room at Lord Davian, her suspicions confirmed by the contemptuous look on his face. “You did this, didn’t you?”

  He gave a careless shrug. “If Shanks didn’t think his man worth rescuing, I have no further use for him. He was bait, nothing more.”

  “The bailiff warned what would happen if any more blood was shed,” Orlla said, her voice wavering with rage.

  Lord Davian templed his fingers in front of him, his lips curving into a cool smile. “How fortunate that no more blood has been shed. It appears the innkeeper’s unhygienic food preparation has caused this man’s … untimely demise.” He nodded to his soldiers. “Pack up the stone. We must be on our way to the palace. Our horses are saddled and waiting.”

  Despite her churning emotions over Crag’s death and her impending audience with the emperor, Orlla managed to keep a watchful eye out for Akolom and Khor as the party wound their way up the mountain toward Emperor Narlius’s palace. The thought of facing the emperor alone without anyone to back her up if things went wrong, terrified her. She had wanted to be mentally prepared for this meeting but inside she was reeling from how cold-bloodedly Lord Davian had disposed of Crag, and without a hint of remorse—just as easily as he had betrayed and butchered the other mercenaries. It was clear the man had no qualms about slaying anyone in his path to procure the dark dragon stone. She had to make sure Erdhan didn’t become his next victim.

  She chewed on her lip as she considered the possibility of striking a deal with the emperor directly. It would mean seeking a reception with him alone, without Lord Davian’s interference, a feat that would require a high degree of subterfu
ge. But, knowing how badly the emperor lusted after the dragon stones, it might be worth attempting.

  All too soon, they arrived at the heavily guarded palace under the watchful eye of the archers who patrolled the battlements. The sentries at the guard house were expecting them and wasted no time opening the gates and letting them through. After turning over their horses to the stable hands who met them inside the courtyard, they mounted the steps to the castle and were admitted into a staggering marble foyer.

  “Welcome to Llanmena,” a willowy porter said. “Emperor Narlius, and his son, Crown Prince Harionov, eagerly await your arrival.” He gestured with a wave of his fingers down the vaulted corridor lit by flickering iron sconces and hung with richly embroidered tapestries. “Follow me, please.”

  Orlla’s heart raced in her chest. Was Akolom already here, lurking close by under the guise of a veiling rune? Or perhaps he was waiting for her in the throne room, knowing his presence would go a long way toward calming her beating heart. She wiped her sweaty palms on the crushed velvet dress as her skirts swished along the echoey corridor. The attire constricted her movements and she found the drooping sleeves irritating, but she tried to focus her thoughts instead on the runes she would have to wield to unveil the Onyx, and how she would go about stealing the stone if Akolom didn’t surface to assist her.

  The porter paused briefly at the throne room doors before nodding to the two sentries on duty outside. They flung open the doors in unison and the long-legged porter strode through. “Your Imperial Majesty, Crown Prince Harionov, esteemed dignitaries of the lost kingdoms, I present to you General Davian and his associates from the mercenary outpost at Boar’s Fort.” He swept an arm across his chest and bowed low to the gleaming floor inlaid with mother-of-pearl.

  Orlla grimaced at the introduction. Unbeknownst to the court, most of the associates from the mercenary outpost had been slain.

  “You may approach the throne,” a deep-throated voice said.

  Orlla followed Lord Davian’s lead and crossed the marble threshold. She wavered for a moment at the imposing sight of a thick-set man with a bib of gnarled gray hair seated on a gilded throne, flanked by a younger man in royal robes, before dipping before them in a hasty curtsy.

  “Your Imperial Majesty,” the porter continued. “General Davian brings with him an ancient artifact that has eluded the rulers of the lost kingdoms for centuries. The mercenaries wish to auction off this remarkable treasure from the days of the dragons.” He rolled his wrist in a flamboyant gesture. “I give you the dark dragon stone itself, the infamous Onyx of Darkness.”

  Gasps rippled around the court, as dignitaries and courtiers turned to one another, whispering behind elaborately painted fans.

  The emperor interlaced his thick fingers in front of his expansive waistline, a satisfied smile breaking out across his face. “I admit, I was skeptical when Skinner’s rider first arrived with the news.” He motioned to the golden pedestals on either side of his throne as he surveyed the faces before him. “I have long anticipated the day when the dragon stones would come to reside in Ithaton, making it the most powerful of all the lost kingdoms.”

  “Nonetheless, Your Imperial Majesty, as per Skinner’s terms, the stone is to be auctioned off to the highest bidder,” Lord Davian said with an elaborate bow.

  “In which case I intend to bid generously,” the emperor replied with a bemused smile. He paused, allowing his words to echo around the expansive space. “With the aid of the Onyx of Darkness, my son, Crown Prince Harionov, will unite the lost kingdoms under one emperor. After which we will renew with fierce determination our quest to find the Onyx’s counterpart, the Opal of Light.” He rose and stepped down from the dais on which his throne sat. “Let me feast my aging eyes upon this glorious dragon stone.”

  Lord Davian snapped his fingers and one of his soldiers tripped forward holding a velvet sack. Lord Davian gestured to Orlla. “Unveil the Onyx, Keeper!”

  The room rocked and spun as Orlla walked over to the soldier. She reached inside the sack and lifted out the invisible stone, taking a moment to gather her thoughts as she held it in her hands. Was Akolom somewhere in the room, watching her? Now, more than ever, she needed his support. She couldn’t afford to fail in front of Emperor Narlius, not if she hoped to secure a private audience with him and thwart Lord Davian’s plans.

  Raising the stone high above her head, she willed her jangling nerves into submission as she silently revoked the veiling rune that gripped the Onyx.

  Exclamations of astonishment rang out when the stone materialized between her fingers. Orlla stared up at it, goosebumps prickling along her arms. It looked different than it had earlier—no longer plain and unassuming. Something flickered from deep within its core, pulsing red and malevolent, drawing her in. A greed clawed at her innards, pleading with her reason, seducing her emotions, begging her to take possession of the stone—to invoke the forbidden rune.

  “Bravo!” Emperor Narlius called out, clapping his hands. Bursts of applause followed from all around the throne room as courtiers and dignitaries echoed the emperor’s sentiments, brimming over with excitement.

  Emperor Narlius stood admiring the stone for a few minutes before fixing his gaze on Orlla. “You practice the ancient art of rune weaving. Where did you learn such a remarkable skill?”

  Orlla lowered her aching arms. The Onyx was much heavier than the Opal, or at least it seemed that way—draining the strength from her arms in a heartbeat. “Rune weaving was an oral tradition that was handed down in our family.”

  The emperor’s eyes glittered. “Our few remaining manuscripts in the palace vault alluding to the art do not contain any of the runes in their original long form. Even my wisest advisors are unable to piece the runes together.” He cast a covetous look at the stone. “Now that you have unveiled the Onyx of Darkness, show the court what it can do.”

  Orlla stared into the shifting center of the stone, cold dread congealing in her innards. Why had Akolom not shown up yet? She did not dare attempt to call up the power of the dark stone without him by her side. If anything untoward were to happen, he alone would know how to reverse the effects of the rune. Taking a steadying breath, she looked Emperor Narlius directly in the eye. “I am not trained in the runes that invoke the dragon stone’s power. I can only apply runes manipulating matter to it—veiling runes, weightlessness runes, and so forth. I can teach your advisors these runes so that they can better protect the stone, but that is as far as my abilities go.”

  Lord Davian held up a hand, his eyes flashing her a dire warning. “Your Imperial Majesty, the rune weaver is being modest. She is more than capable of demonstrating the stone’s power to the court.”

  The emperor raised a brow at Orlla. “Is this so?”

  Orlla hesitated, choosing her words with care. She did dare appear to be openly defying the emperor. “Your Imperial Majesty, with all due respect, no one has ever invoked the dark dragon stone before. I am merely a humble rune weaver of common runes. If I wield the forbidden rune inscribed upon the Onyx, I cannot predict what the stone will unleash.”

  The emperor fastened his gaze on the flickering core of the dark dragon stone. “Do it!” he ordered, clearly in its thrall. “I have not waited this long for a jewel to adorn my pedestal, I desire a weapon to rule my land, and I wish to know what the Onyx I am bidding on is capable of.”

  The stone throbbed in Orlla’s hands, urging her to partake of the power within it. She shook her head, desperately willing Akolom to make his presence known to her as she felt her will begin to bend to the stone. “I dare not undertake such a task,” she blurted out.

  “Dare not, or will not?” Emperor Narlius drew himself up to his full height and pulled his lips tight. “You are under my directive in my court and you will do what I command you to. If you defy me, I will have your life for your insolence.”

  Orlla’s throat felt torched. “Your Imperial Majesty, I mean no disrespect, but I must remind you that th
e dragon stones brought chaos and destruction to earth. They have remained buried ever since at the will of the High Dragon King. If we invoke their power, we risk rousing his ire once more.”

  “If I might interject something, Your Imperial Majesty,” Lord Davian said. “The rune weaver takes no thought for her own life, but she is exceedingly fond of her brother who was thrown into prison yesterday by the town bailiff. Perhaps if you were to rack her brother, or rip out his fingernails, the rune weaver might prove more cooperative.”

  “Indeed!” The Emperor fiddled with a large turquoise ring on his finger. “It is touching to know that such strong familial bonds exist in Macobin.”

  “I beg you, do not harm him,” Orlla said, fighting to keep the fear that had gripped her out of her voice.

  The emperor waved a dismissive hand, the jewels in his crown glittering under the candelabras that hung from the ceiling. “I have no taste for torture, isn’t that so, my son?”

  The Crown Prince smirked. “Only when all else fails, Father.”

  Emperor Narlius threw back his head and guffawed before fixing a forbidding gaze on Orlla. “Tell me, rune weaver, has all else failed?”

  She shook beneath the threat, casting one last desperate glance around for Akolom, or at least a sign that he was here. She was alone, bereft of her mentor, her Protector, her allies and her friends. Whatever she did next would be on her head. “Very well. I have advised you against calling upon the stone, but if you insist, I will do as you ask.”

  “I insist!” the emperor snapped. He leaned toward Orlla so he couldn’t be overheard. “The dignitaries assembled before us have come to see my power and the glory of the dark dragon stone. Don’t make me look like a fool in front of them.” He straightened up and beamed around the throne room, arms outstretched. “The rune weaver has graciously consented to demonstrate the power of the stone to the court.”