“I . . . Did . . . Wait . . .” the mercenary stutters while he watches Mab slip out of the shadows and flip herself onto the table. He catches a clean rag that she tosses at his face and presses it to his neck wound. “What just happened?”
Mab pushes the plate of warm pork in front of the only standing chair and picks a few shards of glass out of the meat. “That is the second thing I want from you. Now we just need to figure out what you really are.”
*****
A sudden wave of dizziness causes Nyx to stop running through the forest and lean against the sticky bark of a pine. Gasping for air, she scans the area for the source of the energy wave that made her aura tremble. Once her head clears, the channeler continues running blindly into Pynofita Forest, a constant pressure on her chest making her feel like she will be yanked back to Stephen. Due to the strain on her power, Nyx finds every step more difficult than the last and has to stop several times to rest. She uses the lower branches to remain on her feet, but the trees are steadily getting thicker and taller as she plunges into the wilderness. After running for three hours, the champion finds herself in an area with immense pines that blot out the sky. The realization that she has no handholds makes the tugging on her aura worse and she fears that using magic will reveal her location.
“I have to keep going,” she gasps while rubbing her amethyst necklace. She abruptly drops the jewelry, worried that she might set off its enchantment. “I’d never forgive myself if they got involved and were killed. Come on, Nyx. You can walk some more.”
The snapping of a stick stops the champion in mid-step and her hand falls to where she once kept her crossbow. The weapon long since destroyed, she curses under her breath and searches the ground for anything she can use. A fallen branch is the best that she can find, her bruised hands clench the makeshift club while she slowly turns in a circle. The bouncing of a rock makes her think the danger is coming from a nearby incline, but she does not see anyone through the trees. The only sounds Nyx hears for several minutes are the bounding squirrels above her head, the branches creaking and swaying while the rodents play.
When the channeler relaxes, the canopy rustles and Weber drops from his perch. The enchanted girdle beneath his robes helps the mercenary land on his feet. He flips over Nyx as she whirls around, his magic clothing increasing his agility and making him weigh no more than fifty pounds. With the end of his staff hissing, the warrior jabs Nyx in the back and leaves a burn mark through her shirt. She stumbles away and ignores the jolt of pain, the fear of being taken back to Stephen helping her find strength. The half-elf swings the branch at Weber’s knee, but he blocks it and counters with a light blow to her shoulder.
“I’m surprised you didn’t drop your weapon,” the mercenary says while bouncing on his toes. He spins his staff and strikes at the woman’s head, missing when she awkwardly hops to the side. “Now come back with me. You’re not allowed to hurt me and I don’t want to do a lot of damage to you. Remember that Stephen can heal whatever injuries I cause.”
“I’d rather die than go back,” Nyx replies before throwing the branch. The sound of Weber deflecting the clumsy attack is still echoing as she kicks him in the knee. “Only the tip of your staff is hot and I know what’s making you so fast. Even without my magic, I can knock you out and keep running.”
“Too bad knocking me out won’t work.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I learned a lesson after fighting the Mercenary Prince,” Weber admits before rolling up his sleeves. A strange patch of black, shimmering fabric has been attached to the underside of his forearms, his flesh having grown over the edges. “They might not look like much, but these expensive implants prevent me from losing consciousness. I went for this kind because they’re easier to hide than the forehead version. You’re not going to win this, so come quietly.”
Nyx delivers a quick jab to the man’s jaw, his eyes fluttering as his brain is jarred. “I know what those are and you’re an idiot. Muscle jolters only work on the areas that they’re connected too. One would only keep you entirely conscious if you had it stimulate that acorn you call a brain. All this will do is make your arms flail about while the rest of you crumples to the ground.”
Face flushed red with anger, Weber charges at Nyx and swings for her head. She ducks the wild attack and steps in to deliver a few punches to his large gut. He throws her to the side, but she holds onto his hand and yanks him off his feet. With the warrior’s enchanted girdle making him lighter, the channeler finds it surprisingly easy to flip him over her shoulder and slam him into a tree. A tightness in her chest causes Nyx to stop and scan the area, the sensation making her fear that Stephen is nearby. The distraction is enough to give Weber an opening and he sweeps her feet out from under her. The startled half-elf is unable to get back up before the mercenary jumps on her and undoes his girdle to let his full weight pin her to the ground.
“Now I’ve got you, champion,” Weber says with a grin.
“Get off me! Don’t touch me!”
Still refusing to use her magic, Nyx gropes with both hands and finds two rocks that are bigger than her fists. Gripping them tightly, she slams the stones into Weber’s temples and rolls him onto his back. Her breathing is heavy and ragged as she tries to escape, but he grabs her shirt and the fabric tears around the collar. All Nyx wants is to get away from the mercenary and wash away the filthy feeling that is crawling over her skin. No longer thinking clearly, Nyx uses the heavier of the rocks to beat on Weber’s face and chest, stopping only when his fingers uncoil from her clothing. She watches his arm fall lifelessly to the ground and backs away while her mind catches up to the brutality she just inflicted on another person. Staring at the rock, Nyx heats her hand to melt it and then turns her magic on making the earth swallow Weber’s body whole. All she can do is stare at the corpse sinking into the pit, her eyes barely aware of the blood on her face and clothes.
The young woman turns to run away when the tether attached to her aura becomes taut and a dull pain envelopes her heart. Nyx is launched into the sky as if she is attached to a stretched spring that is finally allowed to retract. Pynofita is a dark green blur beneath her, but she barely pays attention to her surroundings. Her mind is locked on the image of Stephen, who she can sense through their connection. Birds squawk as the half-elf rockets by them, molted feathers drifting to the needle-covered canopy. Coating her body with a thick layer of aura, Nyx twists when she begins to descend toward the narrow clearing she escaped a few hours ago. All she sees is the tent and Trinity sitting next to the small fire, so she is surprised when she gets within several feet of the ground. The punch to her stomach is felt before a grinning Stephen materializes, the impact shattering Nyx’s shield and puncturing her intestines.
“There are no words to describe how proud I am of you,” the immortal says as he enjoys the writhing woman at his feet. A tap to the head heal all of her injuries and he picks the half-elf up by the hair. “I was wondering how I would dispose of that fool and you did it for me. Such beautiful savagery. It makes me happy that I did not pull you back immediately. On the other hand, you did try to escape and must be punished. Are you going to get in my way this time, your highness?”
“I warned her not to run away and she ignored me,” Trinity replies while she heads for the tent. She stops when an uncomfortable squirming strikes her gut and she has to grab the canvas structure for support. “The champion is on her own, but I do have a suggestion. Beat her within an inch of her life and let her stay that way until midnight. That should teach her a lesson better than having your way with her like you’re planning. Besides, you said you were going to wait until we reached Crysvale.”
“Yes, but I’m changing the plan,” Stephen claims as he snaps one of Nyx’s arms. He licks his lips when she chokes back a scream and laughs as a bolt of lightning skims his nose. “I truly want to break her spirit. My mistake in the past has been holding people hostage to control you, my dear champio
n. It never seems to work in my favor and torturing you alone is making such slow progress. Maybe I’ve had things wrong this entire time. How can I break a woman like you? Use you as bait to get your loved ones to the north and butcher them before your eyes. That will damage your soul to the point where you will be nothing more than enticing putty for me to mold into the perfect being.”
Nyx spits in the immortal’s face and kicks him in the side, cringing when her foot is twisted backwards. “You better kill me now because my friends will destroy you. They’re healed by now and Delvin will be with them. You can’t fight the champions and keep me tethered like this, Stephen. Besides, you won’t be able to sneak attack us like you always do. This is a fight that you can’t win, so kill me or let me go.”
“I’m tired of your defiance.”
Stephen hurls Nyx into a nearby tree and rushes forward to knock her head against the sticky wood. Not wanting to watch the beating, Trinity crawls into the tent and curls into the nearest bedroll. She tries her best to ignore the breaking of bones and eventual cries of pain that erupt when her old rival has finally had enough. The chaos elf smiles at the sound of a few bursts of magic along with Stephen cursing about Nyx not knowing her place.
“As if she wouldn’t fight to the very end, little warlord,” Trinity whispers, yawning and stretching her back. She cringes at the sound of tearing flesh, but she is not sure who is receiving the injury. All the chaos elf can do is pleasantly dream of what is happening outside as she falls into a deep slumber.
12
Samara remains alert as she bends down to get a drink, her eyes searching for signs of enemies and predators. Several red, wingless birds wander the far side of the watering hole, their sieve-like beaks helping them sift through the mud for food. The girl takes some comfort in the animals’ presence and decides that she will use their behavior to tell her if danger is nearby. It is a short-lived plan when she hears the grunt of a creature that erupts from the bottom of the lake and swallows one of the birds. The others show no sign of retreating and continue going about their feeding as if nothing happened. Groping for anything to use as a weapon, Samara backs away from the water as the scaly predator swims towards her and awkwardly climbs onto the shore. With a sigh of relief, she sees that it is no bigger than a dog and has two tails that splash in the lake.
“You don’t have any teeth, do you?” whispers the girl as the beast yawns. All she sees are solid gums similar to her newborn brother’s mouth. “I guess you hunt easy prey and have no interest in me. I’m still going to keep my distance. I’ll ask the other tribespeople what you are when I reach the haven. Shouldn’t be more than a few days of traveling if I follow the correct path. Why am I talking to an animal?”
“I’m guessing you’re lonely and scared,” Delvin replies as he steps out from behind a boulder to Samara’s right. Unarmored and his sword sheathed, he puts his hands up to make sure she does not consider him a threat. “I know I promised to let you leave, but I need your help. My friend and I have been searching for you since yesterday morning. Please hear me out.”
“You set me free and I don’t want to get caught up in your problems,” the girl says, leaning down to get some water in her cupped hands. She scrubs at her dirt-covered face and uses her large shirt as a towel. “I’m sorry, Delvin Cunningham, but I won’t help you fight. You and your friends will have to find another guide. Wait. Why did you say friend instead of friends? Did something happen to the others?”
“We went into the encampment and I found my parents,” Delvin explains while taking a few steps forward. He runs his hands through his brown hair, his fingers getting stuck in the thick collection of knots. “It turns out that I know the new Path Lords. They were bullies that I grew up with and I was their favorite victim. There was a time when our tribe went beyond Pynofita and into the tundra. Yeldar and the others took me to the coast to beat me up, but there was a quake. I floated out to sea on an ice floe and they returned to the tribe. Seems their crime was discovered and they were exiled even though they were no older than me. I’m not sure when they became Dawn Fangs, but they blame me for what happened and did this as an act of revenge. So I led my friends to their deaths. My current friend pulled me out before I was killed, but the damage has been done.”
Samara moves closer to the warrior, making sure to give the lounging predator a wide berth as it sticks a long tongue into the mud. “I’m sorry for your loss, but I can’t help you. Revenge will get you killed, which is why the other tribes have gone into hiding. They’ll find another way to survive while waiting for the Dawn Fangs to leave. It’s the best way since those monsters are too powerful. Please go back to Serab and forget about your homeland.”
“My parents are still alive.”
“And you will always believe that as long as you don’t see them die.”
“What kind of attitude is that? You’re giving up.”
“I’m surviving.”
“Those things will kill everyone if nobody fights back.”
“Only if they find us.”
With a pat on Delvin’s cheek, Samara walks back to the water and prepares to finish washing her face. The scaly creature yawns again as she passes and an arm lances out of its shadowy throat. Mab drags herself out of the predator’s widening mouth as the brown-haired girl screams in terror. Unharmed and startled, the beast retreats into the water while the Dawn Fang holds Samara upside down. Due to the cold-eyed woman being rather short, the struggling girl’s head is in the mud and her neck is being pushed at an uncomfortable angle. Desperate to escape, she kicks at Mab and leaves a muddy boot print on the vampire’s face. All thoughts of fighting back disappear when the newcomer flashes a fang-baring smile and licks her lips.
“You’re with them now?” Samara asks, her body shuddering with fear. She is casually tossed into the shallow water where she sits and stares at the vampire. “How could you let your friends get killed and then work with these monsters? Are the others even dead or are they off with their new allies to cause more massacres? What makes you think I’m going to help you track my own people down with this creature?”
“I thought you were going to let me handle this,” Delvin whispers as he pushes by Mab. He extends a hand for the girl to take, but she drifts toward the center of the pond. “This is going to waste time that we don’t have. We need to find the other tribes and rally them to war because that’s the only way to stop the Dawn Fangs. I’m guessing we don’t have long before the Osprey Tribe goes on the march. Trust me, Samara, when I say that the others can win this battle and retake the plains. Our people have never been true warriors, so we can build an experienced force from the survivors. They wouldn’t even have to be trained for anything beyond how to kill a Dawn Fang. I’m telling you that I can help fix this. All I need is for you to guide me to where the tribes are hiding.”
“You only want to help your new friends corrupt the rest of the tribes’ warriors,” Samara states before slipping underwater. She has trouble swimming due to the baggy clothes, so it takes half a minute for her to get back to the surface. “You two aren’t tricking me. I know I can’t get away from you, so either go away or kill me.”
“Let me handle this, champion. She isn’t listening to you and she’d have to meet me eventually, so it’s best to get this obstacle out of the way,” Mab states before reaching into the warrior’s shadow. After a few seconds of feeling around, she catches the girl’s ankle and yanks her through the portal. The gasping mortal squirms until she is unceremoniously tossed into the mud. “I’m not with those children. They’re causing trouble for my people and I’ve been sent to permanently put an end to it. Seems these vengeful brats have been busier than we expected, so I require a little help. That’s why I’m working with the champion here, who believes we need an army to win. He thinks you know where the other tribes are hiding and you’ve proven him right. Take us there.”
Samara spits at Mab, who easily steps out of the foamy glob’s path. “I don
’t trust vampires! I hate your kind and hope you get wiped out by the gods. As for you, Delvin Cunningham, I refuse to bring an outsider to our haven. You may have been born on the plains, but you’re not one of us. Don’t start thinking otherwise, vampire friend.”
“Then I’m an outsider, but I’m still involved,” Delvin answers, putting a hand on Mab’s shoulder to gently move her back. Growing her claws, his companion gestures for him to continue while she walks a few feet away. “As far as being a vampire friend, I am and I seem to have been for a long time. Gerdo was a Dawn Fang and I never knew until Mab, who is this woman here, outed him during this adventure. So don’t believe that all of their kind are evil monsters. If they were then this battle would be happening across Windemere and it would have started centuries ago. To be honest, I’m not sure our side would win that fight. I get the feeling that while Dawn Fangs are fewer in number than us, they’re a lot stronger than anything we could throw at them. Then again, I mentioned one of my other friends wiped the floor with a bunch of them. Still, I’ve learned that not all of them are evil and most are more human than some of the mortals I’ve dealt with.”
“He’s right, girl,” Mab interrupts, ignoring the warrior’s glare. “My people are everywhere, but we have no interest in conquest. Most of us just want to live in peace. By the gods, Clyde would have been bored in this world.”
Never looking away from the woman, Samara lets her anger and fear diminish by thinking of her loved ones who might still be alive. She has spent much of her time assuming everyone she knows is dead or a monster, but hearing that Delvin’s parents are alive gives her a glint of hope. Taking a more open-minded look at Mab, Samara realizes that she would never be able to tell that the scowling figure is really a blood-drinking monster. After months of seeing the Dawn Fangs bare their fangs and rip into living creatures without a second thought, it is rather confusing for her to see one that appears entirely human. It is only when the vampire moves that the girl notices a difference, yet she is sure that it is only because she is unwittingly searching for the faint twitches of restrained muscles.
The Mercenary Prince (Legends of Windemere Book 9) Page 27