Caedmon’s Curse

by A. J. Nuest

  Knees weak, spine bowed, arms dangling like limp ropes down her sides, she closed her eyes as he made love to her mouth. Over and again, he drank from her lips, tipping his head as if the taste of her beheld some savory meal. His hard thigh eased between her legs. His hand slid down to cup and squeeze the curve of her bottom. Arousal coiled and heated in her lower belly. All thoughts of danger and evil wizards melted beneath the fiery licks of bliss.

  His kisses slowed and, with a slight nip to the corner of her lips, he withdrew, returning her properly to her feet. “Now we may leave.”

  “Y’okay.” She nodded, the unfocused walls of the cave casting rainbow sprites before her eyes.

  What key? If the man ever wanted to win an argument, all he had to do was kiss her like that. Her feet tangled and she stumbled into his unyielding shoulder as he turned for the entrance.

  “Sorry.” She cleared her throat, adjusting her satchel. “Sorta lost my bearings there for a second.”

  He smirked and clasped her hand, leading them from an idyllic dream into reality.

  Her dopey grin refused to be beaten into submission, even when they crossed the threshold and three large Dreggs fell to their knees, heads bowed.

  “Hey, guys.” She stepped around Caedmon, ignoring his insistent tug on her fingers. He finally released her and inched half his body in front of hers, as if hoping to defend her in case the Dreggs decided to do something rash. Then again, the last time he’d been conscious in their presence, they’d kidnapped and carted him off to Castle Seviere. He was bound to be a bit sketchy.

  But, wait. Hold on a second…

  She frowned, scanning the tops of the Dreggs’ heads, their hairy shoulders and necks. These were the same three that had flown her and Caedmon to the Cave of Tears. At least, based on the bone necklaces hanging down their chests, they were the same three. Had they been waiting outside the cave this entire time?

  Or maybe the length of their attendance wasn’t the question. Apprehension tingled her fingertips. “How long since we entered?”

  The leader lurched to his feet, gangly arms hanging open at his sides in a display of deference, pointed talons grazing the ground. “Heliosss isss not yet cccentered in the sssky, Caaandraah.”

  Yeah, so? Big deal. The sun had only just risen when they first got…here…

  Shock propelled her to grab Caedmon’s arm and step around him a second time. “You mean it’s the same morning?”

  The Dregg leader tipped his head back, nostrils quivering as he sniffed the moist breeze. “The goddesssessess blesss your purpossse, Ssscinlæce.”

  “Well that’s just…it’s just…”

  “Impossible,” Caedmon snapped. “Believe not one syllable whence festers on these vile creatures’ tongues. Devils and fiends, the whole lot of them.”

  Eerie shrieks splintered her eardrums and she winced against the needling drone vibrating her jaw. One of the Dreggs leapt to his feet, leathery wings expanding like an ominous black shroud. She glared at Caedmon, tightening her hold on his arm. Forget waging war against Gaelleod. If he didn’t get a grip on his anger, they wouldn’t even escape this forest alive. “Forgive him. A group of your kind attacked his garrison without provocation. Because of their actions, he endured two years within Seviere’s dungeons.”

  He wrenched his arm free from her grasp and aimed a thick finger at the Dregg leader. “And due their interference, Gaelleod is now in possession of the key.”

  A large paw streaked across her vision. The chittering shriek abruptly ceased as the Dregg leader loosed a snarl and backhanded his subordinate, sending the creature sprawling into the trees.

  His head slowly swung back to face Caedmon. “Defectorssss attack. Thossse who no longer ssserve the goddesssesss.”

  She squinted. What was he implying? A group of rogue Dreggs was out flying around somewhere? Well, that didn’t seem right. Based on the small interaction she’d shared with them, they seemed fiercely loyal to their religion, unwavering in their belief of prophecy. What could have possibly made a group break from the rest and go rogue? “If they no longer serve the goddesses, to whom have these defectors sworn their allegiance?”

  “The sssoverign of your Aussstiere realm. Princcce Braedric.”

  “Another foul lie!” The chime of deadly silver sang against the trees as Caedmon tore his sword from the scabbard and lunged.

  “Then prove it!” Flinging her arms wide, Rowena leapt into his path. Whether or not this Dregg spoke true remained to be seen, and the only way to confirm such an accusation was through the strength of his actions. Though the idea of Braedric instigating Caedmon’s abduction seemed fitting enough, this was the first evidence they’d received he was in league with Seviere. And while she would never force her prince to believe the worst of his half-brother, to outright dismiss the Dregg’s claims could be a mistake they would live to regret.

  They’d left her no choice.

  She searched the faces of the creatures before her, their obsidian eyes inscrutable as stone. No magic flowed in her veins. Spells and incantations fell mute on her false tongue. Yet if adversaries who could harm her prince were being called to arms, she would not be denied the chance to rage against them. And if fulfilling her role as their sorceress earned her this right then, by damn, that’s exactly who she would be.

  She pointed at the largest Dregg, feigning an imperial tone so often used by the king. “You there. What is your name?”

  The creature bowed low, his sinuous tail flicking and slicing the air. “I am Reddeck, your Radianccce.”

  She swung her hand wide to encompass the forest. “And you lead this clan?”

  “Yesss, Caaadrahhh.”

  “Well, then, lead them. Stand mighty against your defectors. If your kind still serves the goddesses, then prove your loyalty by swearing fealty to me, the Candra-scinlæce whom the nine have blessed.”

  The rustle of leathery wings, and a current of musty air buffeted her cheeks. The ground shook as Reddeck’s clawed hands tamped the soil. With an undulating roll of his spine, he lifted his pointy chin. His maw gaped open and she clamped her hands over her ears when his ghostly screech pealed skyward. A moment later, a rumble of otherworldly thunder echoed on the horizon. A swirling black screen shot straight up from the spiked branches of the barren trees.

  Her jaw dropped in shock. Helios wept, what had she done? Dreggs. Hundreds… Thousands of them. Like a massive black stain they bled into the sky. An army so vast it nearly blotted out the sun.

  Sweet tits, she’d been wrong. Reddeck wasn’t the largest. Not by a long shot.

  Caedmon cursed and seized her shoulder, wrenching her backward several steps toward the cave. “Stand prepared. They come.”

  The earth trembled in distress as they landed, death on veined wings arrowing down from above. The tinny bite of fear exploded on her tongue but she held firm, tossing her shoulders back and meeting them eye for soulless black eye. No good would come from running, and the idea of trying fight through their numbers was ludicrous.

  When the last of them pounded soil, the leader turned to her and bowed, his ears twitching at each fold of a leathery wing. “Darknessss yieldsss to light, Caaandrahhh. Our legionsss are yoursss to command.”

  Oh. Well shit, that was unexpected. Not to mention she had a hard time getting Gertie to listen to her instructions, much less an entire legion of feral Dreggs.

  Regardless, one thing, above all, had been made abundantly clear. These deadly creatures had just drawn a line in the sand.

  A quick glance at Caedmon and he lifted his brows, sword in hand, his muscles coiled and tight. “Do not bid my counsel. You invited them here.”

  Right. She smoothed her hands down the front of her chest plate, tossed her braid over her shoulder and cleared her throat. Refuting such a dramatic display of devotion would serve no purpose but to insult them. At the very least, she must acknowledge their commitment to the cause. “Thank you, Reddeck. Your faithfulness shall not go
unrewarded.” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder to the north. “Now, for starters, Prince Caedmon and I need a lift. We fly for the realm of Seviere.”

  Chapter Seven

  Slipping beneath the jagged spires of the portcullis had been easy…almost too easy given the alarming location of Castle Seviere.

  When two of the Dreggs first transported them close to the castle, Rowena’s hopes had plummeted over her and Caedmon’s chances of breaching the walls undetected. The entire fortress sat on a monolithic slab of granite, centered immediately on the lip of a wide rushing waterfall. Only two narrow roads led inside—one spanning from the east, the other from the west—their thick arched columns planted in the water like the expansive teeth of a god’s comb. No matter which direction an enemy attacked—by land, sea or air—Seviere’s army would see them coming for miles, and could make ready the appropriate defense.

  The Dreggs had been given no choice but to land in a nearby forest, near the location the rest of their army had agreed to meet them on foot. After a brief discussion, Reddeck consented to await the signal while she and Caedmon tried their luck at flagging down a local merchant, to see if they could bribe the unsuspecting traveler into smuggling them inside the king’s market with his wares.

  A tug on her braid, and she heeded Caedmon’s unspoken request, donning her cloak and settling the hood low on her forehead. Her white hair and leather pants were bound to raise questions, and keeping them covered would increase their chances at success. When he put a finger to his lips, she nodded. Nor would she speak. One word from her and anyone they met would immediately guess they were outsiders far, far from home.

  The moment they departed the cover of trees, she and Caedmon exchanged a confused frown. Not only did one merchant lead his horses along the well-worn road, but a long caravan trundled toward the castle proper, stretching over the crest of a nearby hill and disappearing into the distance. Some were lone riders, dressed in the plain brown garb of country folk, sitting astride plow horses or sway-backed nags. Others seemed to be entire families, a strange mish-mash of relatives—from the old and nearly decrepit to children scampering alongside the wagons while they laughed and romped in the sun.

  As she and Caedmon neared, a grizzled man in a tattered wool coat reined in his team and cranked back the brake, setting the hasp against the wheel. The bed of his wagon creaked under the shifting farm goods piled inside, baskets of squash and fall corn, onions, tomatoes and what appeared to be several hocks of salted pork.

  He removed his weathered hat and nodded in their direction, clearing the sweat from his brow with a wilted rag. “G’day, milord, milady. Ye’ll be needing a ride into the castle, then?”

  Alarm jolted her heart into overdrive. Had this man recognized Caedmon as an Austiere prince on sight? Or perhaps news of their arrival had proceeded them. Maybe even she and Caedmon were expected. But how could that be? Since they departed the cave, they’d had contact with no one but the Dreggs.

  Another furtive exchange of frowns and they faced the elderly gent, Rowena following Caedmon’s example when he donned a congenial smile. “We’d be happy to compensate you in exchange for your efforts, good sir. However, my lady and I prefer to enter the king’s marketplace…unobserved.”

  Deep wrinkles marred the corners of the older man’s eyes when he squinted, his exacting blue gaze assessing them from head to foot. Her nerves frayed under his scrutiny and, beneath the shroud of her cloak, she gently eased a silver throwing star into the center of her palm. This sympathetic stranger may be aged, but his faculties seemed sharp as a tack, and this unexpected turn of events prickled the hair on her arms.

  “No need fer such crafty business, young squire.” The man shrugged. “That is, not considrin’ King Seviere’s recent proclamation.”

  Her smile tightened, but she held firm against the spike of adrenaline in her stomach. What proclamation?

  A quiet laugh shook Caedmon’s shoulders and he inclined his head. “Perhaps therein lies our confusion. We’ve just now returned from a long pilgrimage which has kept us unawares. Pray, do tell. What is his majesty’s latest decree?”

  The man’s scowl deepened and he glanced over his shoulder at the continuous stream of wagons trailing past the horizon. “I’d thought near every man in the far reaches had heard. King Seviere has offered a wealth of unending riches to the first person what can unlock the chest.”

  A gasp seized in her throat and she snapped her gaze to Caedmon. Yet not one twitch of muscle belied his reaction to this shocking piece of news. “Excellent.” He nodded toward the caravan. “So our kinsfolk have come to try their hand with the key?”

  “Aye.” The man hitched his coat sleeve up his forearm, exposing a fresh, welted “S” branded on the inside of his wrist. “A square and fair chance given despite yer rank or station, but if ye fail to open the chest, ye receive the king’s mark so as not to cheat and come round again.”

  Understanding nailed her straight between the brows. That…crafty…bastard. Instead of burying the chest and key behind the castle walls, Gaelleod had thrown the gates wide open. And why not? What had a wizard of his means to fear? If one of these poor souls held the power to wield the key, they wouldn’t have a clue the danger they were in. Once inside the castle, they could easily be subdued, carted off someplace dank and dark, never to be seen or heard from again.

  Her jaw clenched as rage seared through the resentment in her belly. Seviere had no more intent to pay his king’s ransom than he did to join Helios in paradise. He was using his people, luring them like chattle to slaughter. Perhaps he even hoped his unwitting subjects would provide the perfect cover for anyone foolish enough to sneak inside the castle and try to steal the key.

  She and Caedmon would need to guard their every step. This whole proclamation business could be nothing more than an elaborate trap.

  Yet another, even more terrifying, realization tightened her shoulders until the tendons threatened to snap. Gaelleod was no closer to opening the chest than he’d been when the key first came into his possession. He’d grown desperate, and desperate men were prone to desperate measures.

  Two silver coins were bartered in exchange for seats amid the farmer’s vegetables, and she and Caedmon claimed spots at the end of the bed. The brake released and, with their hands firmly clasped, they rolled toward the gates of Castle Seviere.

  Rowena kept her eyes downcast, fear of the unknown like a heavy boulder crushing her chest. The road narrowed and they lumbered onto the bridge. Misty droplets clung to her lashes, the deafening fury of the water a perfect replica of the anxiety charging through her veins. If someone recognized them and decided to raise the alarm, she and Caedmon would be trapped. The bridge offered no place to hide. No escape was available except to dive for the river, and then be swept over the cliff to their deaths.

  Her breath grew faint and she fought the desperate urge to pull more air into her lungs. Her panicked trembling increased. Caedmon unwound his fingers from hers and tugged her close, sheltering her within the warm strength of his embrace. His lips met her brow in a tender kiss.

  He’d been right. Her insistence to go after the key was an undertaking of epic stupidity. And for what purpose? What did she stand to gain? Memories of a time she couldn’t return to? More heartache and loss? Caedmon was her life now. No matter what her past held, their future happiness should be foremost in her mind. He’d freely offered his undying love and in exchange she’d asked—no, demanded—he risk everything for her, head straight back to the hellish horrors he’d endured for two long years.

  If only there were some other way to unravel the mystery behind her connection to the key. The goddesses must have had a larger purpose in mind when they laid this task at her feet. She couldn’t turn her back on that. Not now. Not when every indication behind the reason she’d been delivered to this realm pointed in the same direction.

  Soon the gentle sway of the wheels and the roar of the water gave way to the soft caden
ce of horseshoes clacking cobblestones. Rowdy calls of street venders mingled with the melodious strums of stringed instruments. Wandering minstrels smiled and sang for the simple joy of a song. The charred aroma of roasted meats, a welcoming hint of freshly baked bread suffused the cool evening breeze. Colorful flags fluttered along shop windows, the outside tables filled with men swilling ale and throwing dice, the painted serving girls twirling their skirts to show a bit of ankle in exchange for a coin.

  The entire castle courtyard displayed an atmosphere of celebration, as if a grand fair were the cause for the bustling activity instead of an evil wizard’s reckless obsession to subjugate the world.

  As the wagon rumbled to a stop, she and Caedmon debarked, waved their thanks to the farmer and scurried for the nearest shadowed doorway.

  Caedmon’s troubled gaze darted around the crowded square, his hands resting on her waist, keeping her near. “To the bowels of hell with Gaelleod and his immoral fixation. These people have naught a clue what awaits them should he succeed in his plan.”

  “Agreed.” She blinked back a set of tears as a pair of young lovers leaned in for a stolen kiss. “My God, Caedmon, if we open the chest, who knows what could happen? Enemies of the Austiere realm or not, these people are innocent. Just look at them. If not for Seviere’s decree, they wouldn’t even be here.”

  “Hie there, young lad!” Caedmon beckoned to a boy chasing a battered leather ball through the street. The child retrieved his run-away toy and jogged to the doorway, cheeks ruddy and brown eyes sparkling with the promise of youth.

  She smiled at the child’s carefree enthusiasm. He couldn’t have been more than a season or two older than Vaighn.

  “The testing of the key.” Caedmon lowered to one knee and placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You know of the trials taking place at the castle?”

  “Certainly, milord. Tried meself just this very day.” He tugged back his frayed shirtsleeve and exposed the blistering red welt of his failure.