The Crystal Wood (Half-Breed Book 2)

by Brittany Comeaux

  THE

  CRYSTAL WOOD

  HALF-BREED

  BOOK II

  by

  Brittany Comeaux

  This book may not be produced, copied, or edited without permission from the author. The world and characters of Half-Breed are fiction. Any resemblance to real world people, places, or other works of fiction are purely coincidence.

  Copyright (c) 2019 Brittany Comeaux

  All rights reserved

  Cover Art (c) 2019 Brittany Comeaux

  Kindle Edition

  CHAPTER 1

  As the second most wanted man in all of Fellen, Edric Greenwood had little choice but blend in with the common folk. Spending his nights in a lowly tavern was normally beneath the former Count of Rivershire, but he didn't dare step within a mile of one of his wanted posters.

  As Edric finished the last of his drink, he took notice of the group of men at the large table in the center of the room. Though the tavern was full of men getting off of work, the moment these men mentioned the Shadow Hand, he purposefully sat nearby to listen in.

  One of the men, a well-dressed merchant, was particularly vocal about the subject. “Not only has the Shadow Hand stopped raiding my shipments, but their attack on Whitspire has stirred up so much panic that every able-bodied citizen is flocking to buy weapons to protect their families. My profits are better than ever!”

  That was when one of his friends said, “Careful what you say there; rumor has it that the Serpent is still alive, and I'm sure he wouldn't like you saying such things.”

  A lump formed in Edric's throat. The last thing he needed to hear was that he was still around.

  The merchant bellowed, which practically made the whole table tremble, and said, “That bastard is dead. The White Wolf saw to that.”

  Everyone else at the table nodded, and then another man said, “It's true, I was there during the attack. It all came out of no where in the middle of the night, when half the city was asleep. The Wolf and his comrades, even Count Rowan of Ironbarrow, defended the city. We would have all perished without them.”

  The White Wolf was another man that Edric would have preferred to never cross paths with again, and he was sure that the oaf hadn't forgiven or forgotten the fact that Edric had framed him and his elf friend for murder.

  “I thought the Wolf's involvement in the Battle for Whitspire was just a rumor,” someone had said. “He really was there?”

  “Oh yes, I saw him myself. They say he chopped the Serpent's head clean off with his big axe.”

  “As long as my profits are rising,” the merchant said, “I don't care if the Serpent chopped his own head off.”

  The other men cheered and offered up their mugs in a toast, then they collectively downed their pints. Edric knew that this celebration was bittersweet, for he wasn't foolish enough to presume that the Serpent was gone forever.

  As Edric placed his wine back on the table, and was soon met by a lovely woman with dark hair and a dress that left little to the imagination. She produced a wine bottle from her tray and asked, “Another drink, my good sir?”

  Startled by the intrusion, Edric composed himself and answered, “Yes of course, thank you, Miss...?”

  “Zita,” the woman said as she poured the drink into his goblet.

  Edric couldn't deny her beauty, especially the way she dipped when pouring the wine. If he didn't know any better, he would have guessed that she intentionally bent so that he could see down the top of her dress, where her breasts were barely being held in place by the thin white cloth.

  Zita straightened up and replaced the bottle back on her tray, then as Edric took a drink, he noticed that she hadn't left yet. He tried not to meet her gaze, as he began to fear being recognized by anyone who gave him a second glance, but her violet eyes begged his to lock with them. The dress she wore had a low-cut collar that left most of her deep, russet brown skin exposed, and it draped just over her shoulder to form white sleeves that covered her arms until just below the elbow. Her skirt had slits on the sides to reveal long, beautiful legs tucked into knee-high black leather boots. The way she stood with her weight on one leg allowed her skirt to fall away from the other one, and exposed that leg all the way up to the base of her hip.

  A cold shiver snaked up Edric's back as the woman continued to stare at him. He worried for a moment that she recognized him, for she stared at him with definite purpose in her eyes.

  In an attempt to hide his anxiety, Edric breathed in through his nose and allowed the air to leave through his mouth. He looked at the bridge of the woman's nose and sat up straight.

  “You know,” Zita said, “I don't think I've seen you around here before. Are you knew in town?”

  Edric wiped the cold sweat from his brow and said, “I'm a traveling merchant. I just arrived this morning.”

  “Oh, that must be an exciting life. What kind of wares do you sell?”

  “General things: tools, clothing, sometimes weapons if I can get my hands on them, but that isn't often.”

  “I bet you make a good living regardless. Most merchants I've met do.”

  “I make enough to get by, I suppose,” Edric said, trying to hint with his tone that he didn't wish to talk anymore.

  Zita took the hint. “Well, I'll leave you to your business so I can get back to work. Just let me know if you need another drink.”

  Edric heaved a sigh of relief as Zita left him alone to tend to the other guests. He downed the rest of his wine, paid his tab, and headed out the door into the chilly night air.

  Edric pulled his cloak around him to warm his aging bones and tread off towards the town inn, but he stopped when he saw a figure in the corner of his eye. He had been seeing them quite often since he fled Fellen months before, but he always blamed it on paranoia. He then heard footsteps behind him and turned to see the still empty street. When he didn't see so much as a drunk wandering about, he couldn't help but worry that whoever he heard didn't want to be seen.

  Edric's heart thumped in his chest as he slowly quickened his pace until he saw the sign to the inn. He heaved a sigh of relief as he walked inside and saw the innkeeper getting ready to lock up. The old woman looked up when she heard the chime of the door and upon seeing him, she said, “Ah good, I thought I'd have to lock you out. At least you already paid.”

  Edric offered a nervous chuckle as the old woman cackled at her own joke, then he hurried upstairs to the guest rooms. Once he reached his room on the second floor, he fumbled through his pockets to retrieve the key, unlocked the door, and stumbled inside.

  Once he shut the door and locked it again, Edric leaned against the door and allowed himself to breathe. He stood there for several minutes with his eyes closed and ignored his surroundings. When he finally opened his eyes, however, he realized this could very well have been a fatal mistake.

  Across the room, seated in the chair next to the window with one leg crossed over the other, was Zita. Her enthralling smile was gone and replaced with a neutral stare. What's more, she replaced her revealing tavern dress with black leather armor that had purple trim and a snake-like symbol on her chest.

  Shadow Hand armor.

  Edric tried to speak, but couldn't get so much as a gasp out. Zita picked up on this and said, “Why Edric, surely you didn't expect the Serpent to let you vanish from his watchful eyes?”

  Before he even realized what had happened, Edric dropped to his knees. He still couldn't find the words to speak, but tried desperately to plead for his life nonetheless.

  As though she could read his mind, Zita reclined slightly and allowed her body to slack a bit. “Relax,” she cooed, “if I were here to kill you, it woul
d be done by now.”

  Only then did Edric allow a small, meek cry to escape his lips. That was when all the words came out. “P-please! I didn't mean to betray the Serpent! It was the mage, Oliva. Lionel's granddaughter. She used her magic to force me to tell the truth. I-”

  “Enough.”

  Edric was certain she didn't believe him. He though his own excuse was pretty pathetic, so he could only imagine how it came across to her.

  Zita shifted her position, then continued, “The Serpent had every intention for you to lure the Wolf to Whitspire.”

  “He...used me?” Edric uttered, though he wasn't certain why this even came as a shock.

  “You're fortunate to even be useful to him at all.”

  Edric gulped and asked, “How did you even find me? I thought I was so careful...”

  Zita laughed, sending shivers down Edric's spine, and said, “Why Edric, we never lost you. We've been following you every single day since you fled Whitspire, waiting for the Serpent's order to approach you. Now that he has recovered from this recent setback, he has a task for you.”

  Edric gulped. “What does he want from me?”

  Zita smiled. “First you must promise your loyalty to him, and then if I believe you are sincere, I will deliver word to the Serpent that you are prepared to cooperate once more. Should you comply, you will be given your title and property back.”

  Edric stared at her. “How can he do that when I'm a wanted man?”

  “The Serpent has a new plan to ensure that he has free reign over the kingdom of Fellen,” Zita said.

  “Yes, that certainly went well last time,” Edric remarked. Once he realized he said it, a feeling of dread washed over him and he expected a dagger in his throat at any moment.

  “The Serpent underestimated the Wolf, a mistake that will not be repeated,” Zita replied. “Our Lord works as we speak to get the Wolf out of the way so that he will not interfere again. Of course, this all depends on your decision. If you agree to follow the Serpent's command once more, you will no longer need to flee from justice. If you refuse, however...” she trailed off and shrugged, then continued, “...the Shadow Hand cannot guarantee your safety.”

  Edric tried to speak, but his voice was trapped by the lump in his throat. Only after several deep breaths and shutting his eyes in an attempt to escape the outside world was he finally able to give his answer.

  “All right,” he said with his eyes still closed, “I'll cooperate.”

  He opened his eyes and Zita stood up. He flinched, much to his shame, at her sudden movement.

  “Excellent. The Serpent will be in touch soon with your assignment,” she said.

  “What does he want me to do?” Edric pressed.

  “You'll find out soon enough. In the meantime, keep up your position here. Someone will be along soon enough to tell you where to go next. Oh and Edric...”

  Zita stooped down and stared Edric in the eyes. Her violet irises were a hauntingly beautiful shade. “If you betray the Serpent again, it will be the last mistake you ever make.”

  With that, Zita smiled and planted a kiss on Edric's cheek. He quivered under her touch, but she either didn't notice or didn't care. She turned to the window, which Edric then noticed was slightly ajar, opened it all the way, and leaped outside. Edric ran to the window to see that she landed gracefully onto the street below and darted into the shadows and vanished as though Edric had seen her in a dream.

  Satisfied that she'd gotten the message across, Zita darted down an alley and turned a corner towards the stables. Once she was out of sight from the inn, she slowed to a casual walk and covered her trademark armor with her cloak to avoid the attention of the prying guards patrolling the dark street.

  Zita kept her head focused forward and her strides steady until she reached the end of the street, where the archway that led out of town lay. The stable was right next to it just on the other side. As she passed the gate guards, she nodded in their direction. They tipped their helmets her way and then she made a bee line to the stable to get her mare, Nyx.

  As she approached the stable, however, Zita discovered that her horse was gone.

  “What the-” she gasped. She was about to wake the stable hand and give him an earful for allowing her beloved mare to be stolen, when someone came out of the shadows and caught her attention.

  “Don't worry, Zita,” the man, who was dressed all in black like her, said, “Your horse is safe.”

  The woman, Zita, recognized the man as a fellow Shadow Hand operative and spat, “I would appreciate it if you didn't take my things, Xilas.”

  The man removed his hood. His dark, ashen hair fell over his eyes and around his face, which hadn't been shaved in nearly a week. He was in his mid thirties with tan skin, but gaunt and sickly features. His black eyes peered at Zita as he said, “Apologies, but the Serpent gave me an urgent message to give to you, and I wanted to make sure you didn't leave before you received it.”

  Zita raised an eyebrow. “Oh, and what might that be?”

  Xilas shrugged. “The Serpent didn't say specifically, but he did say to tell you, 'It's time.' He said you would know what it means.”

  Zita's heart nearly stopped. Then she smiled and said, “I do know, and thank you. Tell the Serpent I will be in touch soon to discuss the details.”

  “Very well. As for your horse, you can find her tied to a tree next to the lake down the path,” Xilas replied. He then turned, ran off to the cover of the forest, and vanished.

  When she could no longer see Xilas, Zita fell to her knees. She bit her lip to contain her excitement at the news he had just delivered, the same news she had been waiting on since the day the Serpent returned from Whitspire.

  She could only hope that the assassination of the White Wolf would secure her place in the Dawn.

  CHAPTER 2

  “Another mission absolutely wasted,” Varg grumbled as he and Milea stepped through the front gates of Ironbarrow.

  Milea trotted to keep up with him and patted his shoulder. “I hardly think leading Ironbarrow soldiers into a Shadow Hand base and arresting more than a dozen cultists is a wasted mission.”

  Varg allowed her to catch up to him, then he met her gaze and said, “It wouldn't be if it weren't for the fact that we're still no closer to finding out what the Shadow Hand is after or where Jin is.”

  Milea shrugged and said, “How are you certain he even survived? You wounded him pretty badly when you fought him in Whitspire.”

  “He survived all right,” Varg said. “We're still hearing about activity from the Shadow Hand, and I have no doubt that Jin is pulling the strings. Also, do you remember what he said after I wounded him? 'This conflict didn't start with me, and it won't end with me.'”

  “I wouldn't dwell on that too much,” Milea said. “We all know that Jin lies, manipulates, and kills to get what he wants.”

  “Maybe, but my gut tells me there's more to this than meets the eye. I want to find out exactly what Jin is after, because I know it can't be anything good,” Varg said. “I just hope we can do it before any more innocents get hurt.”

  Milea must have sensed his unease, because she stopped and tugged his shoulder. When he stopped and turned around, she jerked her head towards the tavern and said, “How about a drink before heading back to the castle?”

  Varg glanced at the tavern, then back at Milea, and said, “What about Conley? He'll be expecting to hear from us?”

  “We don't have to stay long,” Milea said with a tug of his arm.

  Varg hesitated, but a trip to the tavern did always cheer him up.“All right, let's go.”

  Milea took Varg by the hand and after a reassuring squeeze, she led him through the door to the tavern, which was already filling up with workers ending their shifts for the day. Several men glanced up when the fading daylight flooded the dank tavern, and it didn't take long for everyone to recognize who had arrived.

  “Varg, Milea! I was worried this would be a slow day,�
� the portly, middle-aged lady behind the counter said, which was followed by raised mugs and shouts of praise from the nearest patrons.

  “You two come back from another mission?” one of the men asked, whom Varg recognized as the miller.

  “Sure did,” Varg answered. “We just cleaned out a small hideout a few miles west of town.”

  “Catch any more of them Shadow men?” another asked.

  “A few, actually,” Milea chimed in, “but there are still more out there.”

  “Well at least you don't have to worry about the Serpent anymore now that the Wolf himself took care of him,” the blacksmith said with a raised mug.

  Varg suppressed a frown. “Right...”

  Milea sensed his apprehension, turned to the barkeep and said, “Greta, could we get our usual?”

  The barkeep produced two mugs out from under the counter and said, “Coming right up, Miss Milea.”

  Varg thought for a moment as Greta filled the flagons with mead, then he nodded towards her and said, “Actually, Greta, go ahead and fill up one for everyone here on me.”

  The patrons of the bar raised their mugs and roared with such vigor that the floor shook. Varg laughed and retrieved his coin pouch from his belt.

  After paying Greta for the round of drinks, Varg made himself at home at a nearby table with Milea seated right next to him. The men who received their drinks gathered around their generous patron and watched in awe as he and Milea recounted the details of their latest mission.

  “We first heard of this hideout a few days ago,” Varg explained. “We received an anonymous tip about Shadow Hand cultists seen in the area. We did a little digging around and we eventually came across a cave where a small pack of cultists were hiding out. We took them by surprise and the soldiers arrested every cultist there.”

  “That's less that we honest folk of Fellen have to worry about,” the miller said. A series of nods and agreeing mutters from the other patrons followed.