Unleashed Fury (BloodRunes: Book 1)

by Cole, Laura R

  She set the herbs for dinner next to the cooking pot and took a second bowl that they had been using for holding the water to wash dishes and she proceeded to mash up the berries that she had found into it.

  She added a bit of water and a few pinches of other ingredients, and took the bowl over next to the stream that they had camped by. Very carefully she spread the goop out onto her hair, running her fingers through the strands to make sure it evenly covered her whole head, and then washed her hands in the water. She let it set on her hair for some time before dipping her head backwards into the frigid water to wash away the paste. The cold water bit at her scalp and she shivered as it splashed onto her, but she held fast to wash away every last drop. When it was clean, she shook her hair to get rid of as much water as possible, so that it would dry faster, and bundled her clothes around her, jogging back to sit by the fire.

  When the two men returned, Gryffon stopped short in his conversation and tilted his head at her. “I could have sworn you used to be blond,” he told her.

  She giggled. “Well, I didn't want to cut it, and I remembered Mila telling me how certain ink recipes could be changed to use in your hair. I guess a lot of noble women do it to cover their gray. I thought it would be a good disguise.”

  “It certainly is different,” he said. He set down the rabbit he had caught and looked her over.

  “I think I prefer blond over brunette, but you're right, you certainly don't look so much like you anymore. Now we'll just have to think of something for me.”

  “Too bad you can't grow a beard in a few days,” Layna said smiling.

  Gryffon looked thoughtful. “Maybe I could. I could use a spell to speed growth. I would imagine that once I stop the speed growing the magic would fade and all that will be left is a suddenly much longer beard. If we could just reapply the principles of healing, it seems much the same.”

  They spent the rest of the evening working on Gryffon's beard, and they added a few finishing touches to both of them. In the end, even Charles gave a nod of approval that while they wouldn't fool anyone who knew them, they no longer resembled the pictures that were circulating the countryside.

  Despite these disguises, they still stuck to the game trails for their travel, only once stopping into a town to buy supplies. They had seen evidence of the posters plastered everywhere, and as they had bartered for grain they had seen a man, obviously one of the ones that Charles had warned them about, lurking the streets in search of them. His eyes had run them up and down, and Layna had held her breath in trepidation, waiting for a glint of recognition, but the gaze had quickly swept past them. Jezebel was certainly intent upon finding them. Layna fervently hoped that Gryffon's countrymen would be able to do something about the evil that was plainly spreading across her country.

  Weylyn, as she had named the hound, padded along happily with them, surprising them by keeping up with the horses' pace without even becoming winded. Layna found Weylyn's company to be enjoyable, and both he and Charles were invaluable in following the trails. Charles himself seemed to give her more respect now than he had previously, and though she enjoyed it, she found it strangely unnerving as well, as though he suddenly thought of her as a whole other person. She couldn't help but wonder what had made him think that she was one suddenly deserving of respect.

  CHAPTER 30

  Jezebel paused as she heard a snippet of a conversation ahead of her.

  “Have you heard about the back alley killings?” said a voice from around the corner.

  “No,” answered a second, “what are they?”

  “Well, apparently there's some crazy killer on the loose that keeps taking vagabonds and other scum, and they disappear never to be seen again. People would hardly notice except that you can suddenly walk around the streets at night without having to step over a drunken lout laying in the gutter.”

  “And they haven't found any bodies?”

  “Not a one,” the voice said soberly, “makes you wonder what he's doing to them...”

  “You know what else I've heard,” a third voice joined in. “I've heard that there are hordes of magical beasts being created and banded together to form armies that they're going to start marching across the countryside and start killing everyone in their path.”

  “Why would they do that in their own country?” asked one of the first. “That seems pretty pointless.”

  “Well, not if you're one of the lords who own the land, and you want your neighbor's lot as well.”

  “I think it's because of the war with Treymayne,” said another which produced a snort from the first.

  “There is no war with Treymayne, where have you been?”

  “Well,” the man backtracked, “there will be soon. Haven't you seen all the signs that they're preparing for an invasion? They want our land!”

  “I dunno about that, but my wife's uncle swears that he saw a wolf in the woods that was not natural. He says it was three times as big as a normal wolf would be and twice as fast. It was stalking him in the dark, and had him scared half to death. He can deal with a normal wolf, but he said this one was smart, tracking him all along even when he tried to lose it and backtrack around behind it. He swears it would have taken him out if he hadn't run into another hunting party and traveled with them back to town. He only caught glimpses of the thing, but swears it had bright red eyes, glowing in the dark watching him.”

  “Why would something have glowing eyes? That just makes no sense.”

  “I don't know,” the voice was irritated now, “but they're magical creations, who knows what's in the heads of those crazy magic types.”

  Jezebel listened to this conversation with amusement. It was a group of peasants speaking to her driver, who luckily for him was keeping quiet about the whole thing. Their talk moved on to more mundane matters and Jezebel grew bored with it, so she stepped out from around the corner where she had chosen to stand when she first heard the conversation.

  Her driver jumped at her sudden appearance, but managed to keep himself together enough to open the door for her. She gave him a sly little smile letting him know that she had heard the conversation and he paled.

  “To the country manor,” she told him, and she noted with even greater amusement that he realized the irony of this. Because, of course, that is where I keep my own pack of magical beasts.

  This business about there being one in the woods worried her, however. As far as she knew, she was the only one with hellhounds. And as far as she had been informed, they were all accounted for. Other than the four that had been sent after the renegades, of course, but those should not have been running around the woods here chasing after hunters. She may need to speak with the man she had put in charge of the pack, and make sure he was not keeping anything from her in order to try and save his own hide after an unfortunate mistake. Or else the hounds may be getting a treat tonight.

  They arrived at the manor shortly before sundown, and Jezebel treated herself to a stroll into the paddock where the hounds were kept. It gave her a sense of satisfaction to be able to walk amidst the raving beasts and have them quiver at her feet. They knew her as the one that caused them pain, but who also gave them life, and in a heartbeat she could take it away. They were only animals, but to them she was a god, and she reveled in that fact. She moved among them, watching their behavior. She gave one who had the audacity to meet her eyes and not move out of her way fast enough a sharp kick in the ribs. It yelped in pain, and scampered out from beneath her. She glared around at them. She was tempted to retrace the runes, but she didn't really have time. She had a whole volume of accounts still to sort through, and she intended to go over it in detail.

  She liked to play with numbers, move a number here, conveniently erase one there, and voila! You could come up with a whole new conclusion. The stipend that she had been receiving for being on the Council was quite a bit more substantial than the measly amount she was able to weasel out of her father. But she was sure that if she just rais
ed taxes a bit for the peasants who didn't know how to use money anyway, she could make herself quite a bit more.

  She moved through the beasts, carefully inspecting each one and then motioned to her overseer that he should come to the edge of the fence. He came timidly over and bowed to her, all the while keeping his eyes glued to the ground in front of him. “Yes, my lady?”

  “I think perhaps we should change their diet a bit, a few are looking a bit too lean. Let's try to increase the fat intake shall we?” The man nodded to her and she smiled.

  She really was God to these creatures, she chose when they ate, what they ate, where they could go, and really everything about their lives, and still they groveled before her. Such a wonderful feeling, and it will be so much more satisfying when I have the country at my feet as well. She exited the paddock, carefully closing the lock behind her, and she went to go search out the man in charge of the pack.

  She found him knee-deep in deer as he dressed out part of tonight's dinner for the hounds. “I heard some interesting rumors today,” she commented to the man, who looked up, startled at her voice.

  “My lady,” he greeted her and waited for her to continue.

  “I heard,” she said, “that there may be a hellhound on the loose. Might it be one of our little pack?”

  The man was visibly taken aback, and there was a quiver in his voice as he answered. “No, no, my lady. I have kept perfect track of them, and can give you my word that none have escaped here, other than the ones that you requested be sent to your other manor.”

  Jezebel watched him closely, weighing the chances of his honesty before deciding that he seemed sincere. “Alright,” she said finally, and the man relaxed. “But I want extra precautions in place to ensure that none do, understand?” The man nodded emphatically and Jezebel left him to his bloody work of preparing their dinner.

  She made her way into the house, and she was in the midst of wading through a particularly dense section of the financial overview when one of the servants knocked softly at the door and informed her that she had a caller. Upon inquiry, she found that it was her father.

  She carefully put on a controlled expression for him as she walked to the door, though underneath the fake smile she was seething. She was angry that he would presume to come and check on her here, as she had no doubt was his plan – no matter what excuse he gave her. She hated the need to keep quiet about knowing of his control until such time as he could be brought to task for it and didn’t care to come up with a lie about what she was doing out here.

  When he entered, he admirably gave her no excuses. As she greeted him, asking what the occasion was for his visit he answered bluntly, “I'm here checking up on you. I've heard some unsettling rumors that I hope you will put to rest.”

  “Why, whatever type of rumors?” she asked innocently, careful not to let her annoyance show. The servants better have had the wits to cover the evidence of the hellhounds here.

  “I heard that you are acting in league with the King to upset the balance of power in the government.”

  “I don't know what you're talking about,” she answered, relieved that it was not about the hellhounds, “the balance of power is exactly as it should be.” He looked sternly at her, obvious annoyance on his face at her reluctance to share her actions with him and she said grudgingly, “Just because the King has seen fit to make me his First Advisor, a position that I so rightly ought to have, I would think you'd be happy that your daughter is doing so well for herself.”

  Her father sat solemnly for a moment. “Be advised that I will not be able to get you out of this situation should it go awry. Upsetting the delicate balance of power is a dangerous thing to do, one that is likely to make you many powerful enemies. You can't just do as you please all the time. Do not underestimate the influence of those behind the scenes, who will not approve of your disruption to their plans. Eventually all your machinations will catch up to you and you will run out of luck. The real power in this country is outside of sight and things are going on that you can't possibly hope to comprehend. Thinking that you're important simply because you were given a title is just foolish. I don't know how I could have raised you to have turned out this way.”

  Jezebel was at a loss for words, and was silent for a moment before answering icily, “Well, shame on you then. I know far more than you think I do, Father, and that title that you so belittle is one that is directly bestowed upon me by the King so no matter what your feelings on it are I suggest you show a little respect before you find yourself in some trouble. And don't think you can control me with magic, Father, because it won't work anymore. I have it on the King's own authority that you will be coming to justice for the injustice you did to me. Maybe that's really why you're having this little temper tantrum; because you've finally realized that I've outgrown you and you can't use me like one of your little puppets anymore.” Jezebel knew she was rattling on, but couldn't help it.

  Her father gave her a long look before standing, and Jezebel felt a probe against her newly fortified shielding. His face paled a bit as he realized that his previously unbreakable bonds had indeed been broken and were now scattered in the wind. She mentally berated herself for her weakness in revealing this fact to him before she had meant to, but his reaction pleased her nonetheless.

  “Well, there is obviously nothing more to say on this matter,” he said dumbly, obviously shaken by this revelation and probably by her threat of the King's punishment as well. “But be forewarned that you are getting yourself in over your head.” He left her then, and she found it difficult to focus properly on her financials after being so worked up by the conversation. She took another stroll through the pens instead, happy to see that the servants had indeed covered the evidence, before she headed back to her regular manor for the night.

  CHAPTER 31

  Layna and Gryffon rode into Dunlop just as the sun was hitting its peak in the sky. Charles had opted to camp outside the settlement, saying that he preferred the great outdoors in addition to his earlier statement of staying away from the evil of the place. Weylyn seemed to agree with this sentiment. He had kept pace with them for some time, but as the smoke from the chimneys came into view, he vanished into the wilderness.

  The golden rays of afternoon sunshine beat down on the city, and Layna could see that at one point it must have been quite a sight during the Dark King's era. Massive buildings towered over the countryside around it, and up on a hill in the distance an even larger ruin sat – the remnants of the Dark King's castle in the Shadowlands. The fortress now lay in shambles, with no one wanting to set foot in the dreaded place. It lay crumbling, prone to the ravages of time with no one to care for it. It was a shame that such an incredible artifice of history should be so left to the mercy of the elements. But then again, who wants to set foot in a place that had literally been built with blood? It stood on the outskirts of town, casting its shadow over the land. It was an eerie presence, a stoic reminder of its dark past. The town itself was in similar state, though much better cared for.

  After the Dark King's overthrow, Dunlop had found itself an abandoned city save for the few loyal locals who refused to leave their land no matter the blood that had been spilled upon it. A new capital had been named in Naoham, leaving the Shadowlands so renamed as a reminder to its past. Dunlop had eventually regained some of its former glory and several of the buildings had been refurbished to their original splendor. Most buildings save for the Dark Fortress itself had been gone through and either left for ruin or had been at least half-heartedly redone.

  The inn that they came to was one of the nicer buildings; the walls had been neatly replaced where they had been crumbling. The only evidence of this having been done was the slightly different coloration in a few areas, and it looked like new wood and windows had been put in. The sign had been scratched out and redone to display the new name of “The Phoenix”, which Layna thought was rather fitting given the rebirth of the town.

  Gryffo
n had explained to her on the way that Dunlop in its prime had been a flourishing city. Though technically the capital had been Cheston, the city where the Shadowlands now occupied, Dunlop was close enough that it had benefited from the old capital's wealth – which the Dark King had made even more lavish by spending exorbitant amounts of money to make impressive.

  So far they hadn't yet seen any wanted posters, but they still kept their eyes peeled for militia men who may be looking for them. It seemed as though they had once again beaten the word here. Their new disguises gave Layna some piece of mind as well. If there was someone lurking in the shadows looking for them, at least they'd see a dark-haired woman and her bearded companion instead of the blond girl and clean-shaven man they were sent to look for.

  They made their way inside the inn, and went through the bartering routine with the inn-keep for their rooms. Once they had settled themselves in, they made their way down to the common room. There, they struck up conversations in hopes that they would find someone willing to talk to them about the fortress and the rumored secret tomb. Gryffon had told her that the castle that they could see up on the hill was the old palace where the Dark King had held court during his reign. While this seemed bad enough to Layna, apparently there was another, secret fortress somewhere hidden underground nearby where a lot of the nastier events had taken place. This secret locale was also rumored to be the Dark King's final resting place after the Bloodguard moved his remains.

  They had no luck the first few days, as the people in town seemed wary of them. They got quite a few nasty looks and criticizing comments at their guise as treasure-seekers. On the third day, an older man came into the tavern shortly after them. He slowly shuffled to the bar next to them, picking his way deliberately across the floor. He pulled himself up onto the stool with difficultly, but waved away Gryffon's offer of help.