Age of Valor: Awakening

by D. E. Morris

  Badru took a step closer to Kenayde. “And the other man, her father? What of him? Did he interact with the child at all?”

  Kenayde paused to think before slowly shaking her head. “No.” She looked up at the two men with worry. “What about Ashlynn?”

  “What did he look like?” Cavalon asked.

  Again Kenayde had to think, the questions being thrown at her becoming increasingly demanding. “I do not really know. My father and Elas spoke with him while I took Jessiah to where Rowan slept.”

  Neither of the men wasted another second. In one fluid movement they both turned together and ran inside, moving against the slow but steady current of people leaving the castle. Badru directed Cavalon toward the great hall where the biggest gathering was. There they found both Wessely and Jaryn crouched over a man who looked as though he didn't have much time left.

  “Kenayde said you spoke with the man who claimed to be Rowan's father,” Badru said quickly. “Where was he taking her? What did he look like?”

  “I am not certain where he planned to take her,” said Wessely. He stood with a grim look down at the man on the floor. “But you can ask him that yourself. Best do it quickly. By the look of him he will not be with us much longer.”

  Cavalon recognized the man immediately as the one found on the very outskirts of Nivar. He'd thought it strange at the time that a man so mortally wounded by a sword would be so far away from the heart of the battle, but didn't have time to question it. Even now he hardly cared what it could mean and stooped to grab him roughly by his collar, demanding, “Where is Rowan?”

  “Easy!” Badru hissed. “He will not live to give us answers if you shake him like that.” He motioned to the bleeding hole in his chest, the wound of someone injured by a man who sought to pierce the heart but missed.

  “Where is Rowan?” Cavalon demanded again, his voice a feral growl. “Tell me now or that wound is not the only one you will suffer before you die.”

  “I don't know!” he gasped, terrified of the man on top of him and in obvious pain. “He took her!”

  “Where?” asked Badru. “Where did he take her?”

  “I don't know,” the man repeated. “He waited until we were away from the castle...headed to Nivar for a ship...then he told me...I wasn't needed...” He coughed, thick and liquid. “He stabbed me...and she woke...”

  “She must have realized something was wrong,” said Badru evenly, looking at Cavalon. “That was when she tried to shift. That was when I felt it.” He turned back to the dying man. “What of the black demons? Did he summon them? Are they under his control?”

  The man nodded weakly. “They came...when he called.”

  “That's impossible.” Cavalon let go of the man so quickly that his head banged against the floor. Rising, the Badarin looked at Jaryn. “I thought only Merrik could control them like that.”

  “So did I. When he died they all went with him.”

  Cavalon ran a hand over his head and paced a few steps away. “This doesn't make sense. None of this makes sense.” He glowered at the man across the space between them. “Where would he go? What did he say to you?”

  The man's breathing was becoming labored and he winced, clutching his chest.

  “Tell me!” Cavalon bellowed. He would have pounced on the man had Jaryn not blocked his way. “Tell me and die with honor!”

  “He said...he said...his time had come...that he would...destroy them all.” The man coughed again as blood began to pool in the back of this throat. “He laughed and said...there would be...no...contest.” He coughed a final time, blood flying from his lips and making everyone jump back. His ragged breathing hitched and his hands tore with desperation at his tunic. Then he went still. He last breath left and his chest deflated as he slipped away.

  “No contest,” Cavalon repeated, pacing. “What does that mean?”

  “That he is not our only enemy,” Jaryn offered. He covered the dead man with a sheet before standing and crossing his arms. “Ashlynn always said she believed Merrik was still out there. Perhaps he is and the two have been in alignment with one another.”

  “She also said she has been seeing Tadhg and saw a dark presence over Donnchadh,” Badru reminded.

  Jaryn looked at him harshly. “That doesn't make her crazy.”

  “I did not mean to imply-”

  “It was the tone you used.”

  “Gentlemen.” Wessely gave them both a stern look. “Cavalon, Jaryn told me my daughter has been missing for several days now. Do you think Jessiah has both Rowan and Ashlynn?”

  “I don't know. Like I said, it doesn't make sense. He's a bumbling, talkative, annoying kid.”

  “She had her suspicions he was anything but,” said Jaryn quietly. “Right from the beginning. I should have listened.” He shook his head, clearly upset with himself for not believing her.

  Cavalon didn't understand. “If she didn't trust him then why save him from Donnchadh? Why let him propose marriage to Lilia? Why welcome him into Altaine at all?”

  “I couldn't tell you,” Jaryn confessed. “But I'm sure she had her reasons.”

  Squeezing his head between his hands, Cavalon walked away from everyone so he could think without their voices interrupting any train of thought that might come. He tried to think back on every interaction he'd had with Jessiah to look for duplicitous signs that would pin him as an enemy. There had been moments here and there, his questions about the Elementals, his immediate enamor with Ashlynn and when he found he couldn't sway her eye his way, his sudden affection for Lilia. But those were things any normal man would do to elevate his own position. He was clearly not a man of integrity for seducing Lilia for his own gain but other than that, what was there so different about him?

  The last time they'd been together he showed genuine concern for Ashlynn and then Mairead, and the time before that they'd been sharing a meal together. He and Lilia even announced their plans to wed and where they were thinking of making their vows to one another. He'd looked on her with such love then.

  “No contest,” Cavalon muttered. That was when it hit him. The connection was made and his reaction so strong that he didn't even take a moment to tell the others what he'd realized.

  A cry of alarm went up as fyre suddenly sprang up around the Badarian, leaving only charred stone behind.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  A burst of flame shot from the sand on the tiny beach of the Isle of Contest. Cavalon looked about him as the fyre faded and turned his back to the treeline to peer across the waters at the capital of Braemar. No sound came to him on the late night breezes and there was no movement to be seen from so far away, but sporadically through the thick covering of branches that kept them hidden he could see lights blazing. In a very thin line on the horizon he could see a lightening of the sky; dawn was approaching.

  Behind him a baby cried.

  “Lucien?”

  Cavalon turned on his heel and raced into the dense forest. He followed the thin path he'd traveled on his previous visit to the Isle and kept his head down to avoid getting caught on any low hanging branches or brambles.

  “Lucien!”

  He tore through the treeline and out into the topmost seating area around the stadium. As was the circumstance several weeks ago, torches blazed brightly and surrounded the entire arena. The pit below where he'd witnessed a woman’s wings severed from her back was clear of everything but the natural forest floor, all grass, roots, stones, and broken branches. All but the small space in the very center where a door to the hidden spaces below the arena was undisturbed. There it looked as though something or someone had tried to pry the door open, for the area around it was dug into and clumps of earth were clawed and torn. Cavalon shifted nothing but his eyes as he looked to the balcony on which he'd seen Nuala enact her justice that fateful night; at that time it was full of her fiery heat, but tonight it was dark and cold.

  After the initial baby's cry there had been no other sound - that alone wa
s enough to make the hairs on his arms stand up. Nuala and Lucien were supposed to be somewhere on the island. She'd promised him she would hide there until it was safe or unless she was needed back in the capital. There had been no sign of attack or disturbance, yet she was nowhere to be seen.

  “Nuala?”

  He took the steps down one at a time, alternating between watching his footing on the steep decline and looking around for any signs of movement. “Nuala, are you here?” No answer came and all remained silent. When he reached the bottom he hopped over the wall and landed, despite his size, with almost no sound in the grassy pit. On slow feet, with eyes open and ready for a possible attack, he made his way to the cutout of earth for the way down below and crouched to examine it. Whoever wanted to get in had fought hard, though it looked as if they'd only used their hands. A sword slipped underneath could have easily pried it open it only they'd tried.

  He stood and let go of a sigh, looking around once more. “Jessiah?” Several long moments passed with no answer and Cavalon was beginning to second guess himself. It had been a hasty connection to make, he could admit that now, but it seemed so logical. As he walked away from the door and closer to the balcony he still couldn't shake the feeling that something just wasn't right. Where were Nuala and Lucien?

  A noise behind him made him jump, and he turned in time to see the door sliding open. Something from below was being elevated. It brought back the vision of the terrified woman before, the one who wept and pleaded to be spared judgment, and then the inevitable wet crack of the axe against the spines of her wings. His stomach turned at the memory and he was frozen in fear of what would be revealed this time. The process was slow but as soon as he saw the mass of tangled blonde hair he knew.

  Ashlynn was strapped to a chair by her wrists, ankles, waist and shoulders, her head drooped down so far that her chin nearly touched her chest. She was still in the same gown she'd been wearing the day she left, the day everyone thought she had left, though it was now wrinkled and dirty and both sleeves had been torn off so savagely that shreds of fabric and thread hung in rags around her shoulders. With her arms as exposed as they were Cavalon could see the translucent flower-stem tubing that had been carefully inserted into the veins of the most tender spots where her arms bent. One of the tubes was unmistakably filled with blood while the other was filled with a sickly looking yellow liquid. Both tubes connected to a contraption the likes of which Cavalon had never seen before with wheels that spun at different speeds, all powered by steam created below the entire thing from a small fire and a deep basin of water.

  As soon as his brain registered what he was seeing, Cavalon bolted across the stadium floor and slid to a crouch before her, taking her chin in his hand. “Ashlynn? Ashlynn, can you hear me?” Her eyes opened to slivers for a few seconds, but she couldn't focus on him and her lids drooped again. “Hang on, okay?” Cavalon was gentle as he let go of her, making sure her neck was stable enough to support her head. “I'm going to get you out of here.” There was so much surrounding her, he didn't know where to start. The most logical place was the tube that was either pumping blood into her or taking it out. His fingers barely touched her arm when he heard his name.

  A cold rush of anger ran through him and Cavalon stood, face lifted to the balcony. He could see Jessiah's silhouette high above though something wasn't quite right about it. It looked as if he was holding something.

  “You traitor,” Cavalon growled, hands balling into fists. “You lied to me!”

  “Oh come now. You act as though no one has ever told a fib about who they were before. I am telling the truth when I say your lovely bride and her boy aren't here. I have no quarrel with either of them.” Jessiah stepped farther out onto the balcony so that the torchlight could hit him. He held Rowan like a sleeping child, though the way her head fell back suggested her sleep was anything but natural. Careful not to drop her, Jessiah glanced down at the little girl and asked, “Missing something?”

  “Let her go!”

  His bellow was loud enough to rouse Ashlynn, even if only for a second. It reminded Cavalon she was there and he turned back to her to work at the tubes in her arms.

  “I wouldn't do that if I were you,” Jessiah yelled quickly. “It's a rather precise science and even one mistake will kill her. Not that she has much time left as it is, but...” He trailed off with a shrug. “On second thought, you're clearly an exceedingly intelligent man. Maybe you'll be able to figure it out on your own.” He took another step closer to the balcony railing, then another until his arms were hovering over the open expanse below. “I can't very well let you have both of them. You have to decide which one is more important to you. Try to save Ashlynn and I drop the girl. Save the girl and you can watch as the last of Ashlynn's blood is drained from her body and the rest of my special potion flows through her veins, boiling her from the inside out until her very body rips itself apart only to be rid of the pain. It's a rather gruesome sight. You should have seen Nealie. Even without any blood she managed to make quite a mess of herself before she died.”

  Cavalon could feel the tremors in his body. Every cell within him wanted to shift and tear Jessiah apart, to destroy the entire place. He looked at Rowan's limp body and thought of her mother, unable to stop himself from picturing the vision Jessiah painted for him. She was all that was left now. If she died they would lose the Water Elemental forever. Regret and deep sorrow flooded him as his gaze then slid to Ashlynn. She had become so dear to him. Though they fought and suffered moments when they didn't see eye to eye, he loved her as though she were truly his kin - his sister. Her death, however, would not end the Earth Elemental line. She had Lochlainn. He would carry the power for the next generation. The choice was painful, but it was clear. Cavalon knew what he had to do.

  “Give me Rowan.”

  Jessiah inclined his head as though he hadn't heard Cavalon correctly. “Come again?”

  “I said give me Rowan!”

  “As you wish!” Without any warning he opened his arms and let the little girl tumble from his grip and out into the open air before him. As Cavalon raced across the grass to catch her, Jessiah leaped over the balcony himself and, with impossible speed, shifted his form into that of a small black dragon. He flung his wings wide to catch the current of the air and soared upward as Cavalon caught Rowan. Holding her to him he whipped around. “You're a Gael?”

  The black dragon spiraled downward in a flourish and landed next to Ashlynn's chair. He looked at Cavalon with bright red eyes and screeched at him.

  “You're a demon,” Cavalon breathed, completely awestruck at the realization. “You're not real!”

  The dragon shifted easily back into a human and as he stood tall, Jessiah ran a hand through his short brown hair, a charming smile on his face. “I'm as real as you are, Cavalon. Real as that little girl you hold. Real...” He paused to look down at the contraption Ashlynn was hooked up to. “...as her pain.” There was a switch Cavalon had failed to see until now and Jessiah gripped it, throwing it back with such savagery that it seemed it would break. The fire below spat and hissed as something unseen made it burn brighter, heating the water rapidly and creating more steam. The wheels began turning faster and Cavalon watched with a mixture of curiosity and horror as the yellow liquid being pumped into Ashlynn's vein slowly paled until it was pure white.

  “I know what you're thinking,” said Jessiah, taking a few slow steps away from Ashlynn. “Just a thought and the flames will go out, everything will stop. But you have to ask yourself: what will happen if you do that? She's been hooked up to this thing for a few hours now. This tube over here is her blood. I'm going to add it to what I have from Nealie. This yellow tube...whoops!...white tube I suppose I should say now, is a special potion made just for me. But forgive me, I'm getting ahead of myself. I didn't even tell you what the yellow stuff was!”

  “I don't care what it was!” Cavalon was careful as he lowered Rowan to the ground, making sure Jessiah didn't leav
e his sight for even a moment. As he rose he pulled the mace from the ring on his belt. “What I care about is smashing your face in.”

  “So violent!” tuttered Jessiah. “Well all right. If you feel you must try. But remember who outlasted who in our battle against the ferals in Ibays.” Jessiah drew his sword and spun it in his grasp, taking slow, nearly sideways steps toward Cavalon. It was impossible to tell who made the first move because they seemed to move at once, both of them throwing their full weight behind their weapons. Cavalon swung his arm around and raised his mace up high, jumping and aiming to bring the deadly weapon down on Jessiah's skull. The younger man spun easily and avoided the blow, slicing his sword through the air in an effort to take Cavalon's head. Luckily Cavalon was quick enough to block and kick out, making contact with Jessiah's stomach and driving him back across the open area.

  Jessiah growled, wrapped both hands around the hilt of his sword, and charged once more. He drove the blade forward as Cavalon swung up and knocked it aside just enough to avoid being stabbed. His free hand balled into a fist and struck Jessiah in the face. There was a satisfying crunch under his knuckles and he knew he'd broken Jessiah's nose. The blood that poured out was cheerful confirmation.

  The younger man stumbled away and pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes narrowed. “You fight like a wild beast.”

  “I'm just getting warmed up.”

  With no warning Jessiah launched himself forward again, head down, and grabbed Cavalon around the waist with such force that it made him drop his mace and drove the bigger man backward. He didn't stop until his back slammed into the wall. Cavalon grunted as the air was pushed from his body. He struggled to recover and Jessiah sneered at him, taking the moment of advantage to catch his breath.

  Across the stadium Ashlynn began to whimper.

  “I spared Nuala and the boy. You should at least thank me for that.” Jessiah sniffled and touched the back of his wrist to his nose. “I told them you were slain at Oceana when the black knights surprised everyone with their attack. She wept. It was heartbreaking. Truly.”