Once his story was done and the other patrons had gone about their own business again, Varg and Milea watched the growing crowd in the tavern to pass the time.
The sun had set outside and the tavern was bustling with the usual night traffic. Varg couldn't help but watch with an amused grin as the booze sang and danced in the form of Ironbarrow townsmen. It didn't take long, of course, for his smile to fade into a blank stare. He didn't notice his expression change until Milea pointed it out.
She leaned her side against his as they stood from the corner of the room and asked, “You're still thinking about Jin, aren't you?”
“Is it that obvious?”
“Varg, I know you're upset that he got away and even more by the fact that you have to keep up the lie that he's dead, but the more you sulk over it, the more of a victory he can celebrate,” she said.
Varg shrugged, but said, “I know the king doesn't want to spread panic, but I just can't keep up this lie. I have to find him and finish him before he does any more harm.”
“I know, and don't worry, as long as he's living and leading the Shadow Hand, we'll find him an make him pay for all he's done,” Milea assured.
Varg faced her and took her hands. “I just ask that you're by my side when we bring him to justice.”
Milea leaned in closer and rested her head against his shoulder. “You know I will be.”
Varg and Milea left the tavern after saying their goodbyes to the grateful patrons and the barkeep, then made their way north down the main road of Ironbarrow, which led to Ironstone Keep.
Crossing the drawbridge led into an enormous stone courtyard, where the Count's personal stable lay off to the left of the entrance. The guard led them past that and up a set of stone stairs, which led to the great double doors of the keep. The guards stationed at the doors reached to open each a door without being asked, then Varg and Milea stepped inside.
The double doors opened to the Great Hall, where two long tables sat parallel to each other on either side of the room with a great, glowing fire pit in the middle. Another long table sat with the long end parallel with the back wall on the other side of the room, just below the raised platform that held Conley's throne.
Varg spotted Erril on the right table. She waved them over with a mouth full of turkey and gulped it down just as they reached her.
She had her hood pulled down to reveal her muddy brown hair that had grown out enough to be tied back at the base of her skull. She wore her usual leather armor and had her multiple throwing knifes and daggers strapped to her body. Varg could also see the explosives she always had on her belt.
“You're finally back,” Erril said.
“We only left this morning,” Milea said.
Erril swallowed. “Sure, but the hideout wasn't that far away from here. What kept you?”
“I don't know if you recall just how rough a fight with a Shadow Hand cultist is,” Varg said, “but let's just say we had our work cut out for us.”
“Find anything interesting?” Erril asked just before taking a sip from her goblet.
“Not much, unfortunately,” Milea said.
“So...nothing at all?” Erril repeated.
It didn't take long for Varg to realize what she was asking. Milea sense it too, for she then said, “I'm sorry Erril, I didn't find anything that could tell us about your power or any clue as to why Jin had you abducted.”
Erril bowed her head in disappointment. “I see...”
Milea placed a hand on her shoulder and said, “Don't worry, if we find anything, you'll be the first to know.”
“Thanks Milea,” the girl muttered. “You would think that with the power to heal almost instantly, I'd have a better idea of why Jin was after me. I haven't exactly met anyone else with such a power.”
“Well if you do,” Varg said, “I'm certain they'd be able to tell you more.”
“Thanks for the patronizing remarks,” Erril retorted. Before Varg could respond, she then added, “Now then, I believe I heard that Conley was looking for the two of you.”
Varg had almost forgotten why they were there. “Oh, that's right. Better go see what he has to tell us.”
Milea nodded and the two left Erril to her meal to go into the corridor behind her, which led to Conley's study. They walked down the stone corridor until they came to Conley's door and entered without knocking.
Conley hovered over his desk with a map rolled out flat on top of it. One of his commanders from his army stood nearby and a small group of soldiers behind him. His wife, Catrina, stood next to him and seemed to be offering support with just her presence.
Conley looked up from his work when he heard the door open and straightened up to greet the guests. “Good, you've both returned. I trust the raid went well?”
“Yes, but we didn't find much besides the cultists,” Varg admitted.
“That's to be expected,” Conley said as he walked around his desk to meet them. “They previously worked in the shadows out of sight from the law, and now that they've been exposed, they have to be much more careful.”
“Naturally,” Varg said. “Isn't there something you needed to tell us?”
“Yes,” Conley said as he leaned against the front of his desk. “It would seem that there may be some trouble in Eastwold.”
“What do you mean there may be trouble?” Milea asked.
Conley stood up straight and began to pace back and forth in front of his desk. Then he explained, “A few days ago, my men at the fort east of here received a smoke signal from an Eastwold tower that meant they were in distress. The commander in charge sent a few men to see what the problem was, but they never returned. The commander then sent a messenger to alert me, and I received the message only a few hours ago. I was naturally concerned, and so I sent the messenger back to the fort with the order to watch the border while I set up a team to go to the Eastwold Tower.”
“And by 'set up a team,' you mean send Milea and me,” Varg said.
Conley stopped and faced them. “Correct. I trust no one else to reach the tower, take care of the problem, and return to Ironbarrow safely.”
“What could be going on at the tower that would cause them to lose contact?” Milea wondered aloud with her hand resting on her chin.
“Could it be the Shadow Hand?” Varg asked.
“Possibly, though I doubt that's the case,” Conley said.
“Why do you say that?” Varg asked.
“Well as I said before, I don't believe that the Shadow Hand would take any major risks now that the entire kingdom of Fellen knows of their existence and we've been working to root them out and destroy them. Any attack they conduct would be quiet and deliberate. If this is an attack from the Shadow Hand, they've become sloppy.”
“Well they did attack Whitspire,” Milea pointed out. “That was awfully risky.”
“True, but that was to get our attention as much as it was to actually take over Fellen,” Varg replied.
“Not to mention it was to take any suspicion off of Alastor,” Conley said.
Milea shrugged. “Well regardless, we should get ready to go to the tower immediately. Perhaps we could find evidence of what occurred there.”
“That's exactly what I was thinking,” Conley said. “I'll have supplies ready for you to leave first thing in the morning.”
Varg and Milea emerged from the study and returned to the Great Hall to eat dinner. Erril was still in her same spot, but instead of eating, she was now visiting with Tain and Oliva, who now sat with their own plates.
When Oliva saw Varg and Milea enter the Great Hall, she looked up and said, “Oh good, Erril was just telling us you were back. How did the talk with Uncle Conley go?”
Varg and Milea took a seat at the table and they both explained what Conley had told them about the Eastwold tower.
“I must admit,” Oliva said, “it does sound like there might be trouble. Do you think the Shadow Hand is involved?”
“Conley doesn't th
ink so,” Varg said, “but I'm not so sure.”
“I am,” Tain suddenly said. “Remember, I worked with the Shadow Hand for a while. I know their methods enough to know that they wouldn't attack a random tower like this. Even if they did, they would attack so suddenly and quietly that there would be no one left to send a signal.”
“Either way, it can't be good news,” Milea said. She then turned back to Oliva and asked, “By the way, I heard you were returning from Ordale today. How did your research go?”
Oliva shifted in her seat and said, “Unfortunately, even the vast library at the academy doesn't have much information on Elvish artifacts or history. The new headmaster even allowed me to browse through his exclusive collection of texts, but I still came up empty.”
“New headmaster?” Varg asked. “I take it that old hag who sold you out to Jin was finally arrested?”
“That's right,” Oliva said. “It seems that the word of the heroes of Fellen carried enough weight to have the King take action against her for her part in the Shadow Hand's plans.”
Varg felt a sense of pride at this thought, then shook his head and continued, “It also seems that no matter where we look, we are still no closer to finding any clues about what Jin is after.”
“We'll find something eventually,” Milea said. “Jin can't hide everything, especially now that we're looking in every corner of the kingdom for him. I just hope that we can find him before he can bring his next plan into motion.”
Varg took a gulp of wine from his goblet and silently agreed with her.
Zita fought back a tear when she remembered the dusty room that smelled of old blood, urine, and tears. It was the very room where she once lay naked and chained to a bed, fearful of the next man to walk in and hurt her. When the door opened one final time, she didn't even look up to see who it was. The less she saw, the more she could pretend that the world around her didn't exist.
As she wept and lost all hope of being free again, a voice whispered in the dark room.
“Don't be afraid,” he'd said, “I am not here to defile you.”
When she'd looked up, she tried to scream, but no sound emerged. The first thing she saw was eyes that glowed yellow in the dark, and before she saw the figure of a man, she thought she was staring at a snake.
The fear subsided when this mysterious man, or whatever he was, knelt beside the old iron bed and said softly, “I am here to take you home, where you will be part of a family that will never persecute you or profane your body and soul. Your tormentors are being punished for their unspeakable crimes as I speak to you, and the rest of the women trapped here will be rescued as well.”
He then stood up and produced a key from his white robe, then unlocked her chains. He then stood, smiled, and said, “Come with me. I will take you to the Dawn.”
Ever since the moment she put her weak, trembling hand in his, Zita's unwavering loyalty to the Serpent was matched by no other. He gave her hope when she'd never known any, he gave her dignity when it had been stripped from her, and he gave her a purpose to replace the one forced upon her.
Ever since a group of the escaping Shadow Hand operatives discovered the Serpent near death on the outskirts of Whitspire, Zita wasn't the only one who wanted vengeance for his suffering. It took the healers weeks to fix his wound, and he very nearly died from the frostbite. A lesser person would have, they had been sure, but thanks to the Serpent's strong body and resolve, he endured.
Zita finally made it to the door that led to the Serpent's quarters. Their location gave little to work with, considering all the old stonework and dirt and mud, so the door was little more than a series of planks tied together with twine that was guarded by a single Shadow Hand operative. He recognized Zita as she came closer, and offered no resistance to her entry, but instead opened the door for her as she passed.
“The Serpent expects you,” he said. “Go on in.”
“Thank you,” Zita replied as she stepped through the door.
The operative closed the door behind her and left her in the dark save for the bit of light that came through the cracks in between the planks. She now found herself in an old tunnel that was only about ten feet long, which led to another door similar to the last one. Zita could see the soft orange glow of a flame in the cracks of this door and opened it and stepped inside.
Though this room was once sleeping quarters for miners, it had been fixed up to be more cozy and fine. A simple, yet soft bed sat directly to Zita's left, and it was joined by a desk with scrolls, maps and potions, some bookshelves, and a wardrobe. The fire that provided the glow was situated in the middle of the chamber in the form of an old pit that one would normally use for cooking purposes. A chair faced the fire pit away from the door, and the person who sat in the chair stared at the flames as though it were having a conversation with him.
“Zita, you've arrived,” the Serpent said without looking away from the fire.
Though he couldn't see her doing it, Zita dropped to one knee and bowed before her master. With her head still facing the ground, she then said, “I will always come when you call for me, Lord Jin.”
Zita was one of the few people who knew the Serpent's name, and even fewer were allowed to use it. She was one of those select few, and it was something the Serpent took great delight in.
“Please, Zita,” Jin said. “There is no need for such formalities from you. Rise.”
Zita obeyed and looked towards Jin, who was now standing and facing her. He wore the white pristine, white robe he always wore with everything underneath from his neck to his feet in black. Violet scales framed his yellow, snake-like eyes, the sides of his neck, and the base of the dark, curved horns at the top of his head. His violet hair, which was straight and long, also framed his horns and fell down his back to his waist. His eyes met hers and for a moment she shivered not out of fear, but delight.
“My Lord,” she began, “is it true that you wish for me to eliminate the White Wolf?”
“I do,” Jin answered, “but understand that this will be no easy task.
“I understand, my Lord,” she said. “I will not let you down.”
Jin held up his hand, then continued, “I do not say this lightly, Zita. Varg will be difficult to fool, harder to persuade, and impossible to fight on your own. I should know...”
“You would have beaten him had you been more prepared,” Zita suddenly blurted out. “He took you by surprise.”
“It matters not,” Jin said, “all I care about now is getting him out of the way. I would take him on again myself, but Varg is the kind of man who is always prepared for battle. You must set his mind at ease and put him in a situation where his guard will be lowered and his instincts will fail him.”
Zita smiled. “I know exactly how to get a man to do just that.”
“I know, and that's why I chose you for this task,” Jin said as he paced in front of the fire. He then stopped and stared at her again before he continued, “But Zita, should you be placed in any danger, should your mission be compromised in any way, you are to get out of the situation, whether you've completed this task or not. I cannot afford to lose you, my most faithful follower, to the likes of Varg.”
Zita smiled again, then said, “I will not fail you, Lord Jin. The White Wolf will bend to my will and die by my hand. I swear it.”
Jin lifted his head with pride, then said, “Then go, my dear, and continue to make me proud.”
Zita edged closer, locked eyes with him, and pressed her lips against his.
His kiss tasted sickly sweet, but Zita refrained from moving further for fear of his still weak body being unable to endure with hers. She sensed his hesitation as his tongue parted her lips and entered her mouth, his longing to be hers again.
Zita pulled away, smiled, and said, “To be continued...”
“I'm well enough now,” Jin muttered.
“Wait until you're back to your full strength. It won't be fun unless you can give it your all.”
“I'll take my chances.”
“Until then, I'll be thinking of you.”
“Just don't start without me.”
“Very funny. Now get out.”
Zita smiled, kissed him again, and retreated into the shadows.
CHAPTER 3
It was the middle of the night in Ironstone Keep when Varg crept down the corridor that led to Milea's bedroom door. He took one last look around to make sure no one was watching and gently knocked. He heard her light footsteps approaching, followed by her door swinging open and Varg being swiftly yanked inside.
Varg was met with Milea's kiss and loving embrace. He kicked the door closed behind him, paying no heed to how loud it was, and spun her around so that her back faced it. He pressed his body to hers and pinned her against the door, his hands running through her loose hair and his tongue rolling around with hers. The traction between the two kept her suspended in the air as he then pulled her legs up to his waist.
Varg moved his lips down Milea's neck and when his lips would lift off of her trembling skin, he would say, “I really...wish...we didn't...have to...sneak around...like this.”
Milea sighed, then said, “Me neither, but we both agreed it was for the best. We don't want the Shadow Hand to use us against each other.”
Varg's lips brushed down her chest just above where her shirt was tied, in between her breasts. He allowed his breath to form a heat in the small space, then whispered, “Then let's get rid of them so I can tell everyone.”
Milea chuckled. “That shouldn't be the only reason.”
Varg's hand brushed from her knee to her hip, then traveled under her shirt and continued upward until his hand was cupping her breast. “That's reason enough.”
Milea let out a small gasp as his hand explored more of her body, and then she answered, “I don't care if stays a secret, I just want you with me.”
“I'm yours, Love,” Varg said.
Milea unfastened his trousers. He in turn lifted her shirt over her head as she began to work on his. Then he pulled off her boots as he kicked off his, then pulled her pants off.
The Crystal Wood (Half-Breed Book 2) Page 2