Once Erril got a good look around, she could see that she was in a basement, presumably the one of someone fairly wealthy considering the stock pile of wine, mean barrels, and food. The man who opened the trap door was dressed plainly, but Erril figured he was probably a servant.
This was confirmed when Tollack looked at the man and said, “Dear Sir, would you inform your master that I've returned with the girl?”
“Yes, Chief Tollack,” the servant said with a bow. He then turned and exited the basement through a set of stairs in the corner of the room.
Tollack turned to Erril and said, “Follow me, child.”
Erril obeyed and trailed behind Tollack as he went up the stairs and into the corridor of a mansion. They entered the foyer, where a grand staircase sat directly across from two big doors, and then Tollack waited. A few moments later, the servant arrived with a gentlemen dressed in a fine black doublet.
“Tollack,” the nobleman said, “thank goodness you've returned.” He then turned to Erril and said, “I presume this is the famous Erril, the girl who fought in the battle for Whitspire?”
“The very same, Darius,” Tollack said, and Erril soon realized that he said it with a sense of pride in his voice.
“Good, we need to fill her in on everything that's happening here in Whitspire,” the noble said. He then approached Erril and said, “Welcome, young Erril. I am Lord Darius, second cousin to Queen Aria of Fellen.”
“Nice to meet you,” Erril said with a nod of her head. “So what's going on here? Why is Edric Greenwood running Whitspire? And how did he take over in the first place?”
“Come with me,” Darius said. “There's someone you need to speak to before we discuss anything further.”
Frustrating with not knowing anything, Erril huffed under her breath and followed the noble up the stair case to the second floor. There he led both Erril and Tollack to a small library, and when they entered Erril could see that someone was sitting in one of the chairs. The person rose and turned around when they entered, and Erril received the surprise of her life.
“King Reman!” Erril exclaimed.
Though he now wore simpler clothing that his usual attire—Erril presumed by the style that it had been borrowed from Lord Darius—and he no longer wore a crown, Erril would recognize him anywhere. His red hair and beard and green eyes were etched into her memory.
“But,” Erril began, “I thought you were dead!”
“That's what we wanted Greenwood to believe,” Tollack said. “Now that he and the rest of the royal family are believed to be dead, we can strategize on how to take back the city without the soldiers beating down doors trying to find him.”
Erril shook her head in a mess of confusion. “How did he even take the city in the first place? And why are the king's men listening to him?”
Reman met her gaze with a soft smile and said, “You should sit down. This may take a while.”
Once Erril was seated in a cushioned chair and fed with a hot meal and cool, clean water, the King began his story.
“It all started about a week ago,” Reman began. “Tollack and I were conducting business in the throne room concerning strange activity near the mountains. We believed it to be the Shadow Hand, naturally, and he was requesting aid on behalf of the dwarves to deal with the threat. I was actually discussing possibly sending Varg and the rest of you to investigate when lo and behold, Edric Greenwood entered my throne room without so much as a knock at the door.
“Before my guards could arrest him, several members of the Shadow Hand appeared and murdered them. Tollack and I were left alone against at least twenty cultists, and even a warrior such as he was no match for so many foes.
“We were ordered to surrender, and once the cultists brought my family into the throne room, I conceded without hesitation. The Shadow Hand locked us in the dungeon while they ran out into the city and rounded up all the citizens and placed them under house arrest. Now every single home has at least one Shadow Hand member keeping watch over the family inside, many of which are families of my royal guards and soldiers. This of course gave Greenwood leverage over them to get them to do exactly what he said.”
“So that's why the guards are obeying him,” Erril said. “He basically has their families held hostage.”
“Correct,” Reman replied, “and even those who don't have families do not wish harm on the innocent citizens of Whitspire, so they also obey without question.”
“So how did you and Tollack escape? And what about your family?” Erril pressed.
“My wife and daughters are asleep down the hall, safe and sound just as I am,” Reman explained. “As for our escape, well, let's just say that the royal guards are loyal without fault. They could not directly disobey Greenwood, obviously, but they were presented with an opportunity to make it look like we were dead. You see, once the city was taken, Greenwood ordered that we be executed. They set it up as a hanging rather than a traditional beheading, and they secured us with hidden harnesses so that when we fell, we would be suspended in the air, but still unharmed. They placed bags over our heads and instructed us to lay perfectly still when we fell, and it was enough to fool Greenwood.
“The guards then 'disposed' of our bodies in the graveyard, which is coincidentally right next door to this mansion. Lord Darius was kind enough to give us shelter, so we sneaked into his manor and now we remain hidden as we plan our retaliation.”
“And the trap door in my cell?” Erril asked.
“Was originally meant to be an escape route for royals back in the day,” Reman explained. “Once I found out that's where they had placed you, I sent word to our men on the inside to inform you of it. You know the rest.”
Erril nodded, taking in all the information she was just loaded with. Once she'd absorbed the situation, she began to speak again. “So do you have a plan, then?”
“We're working on it,” the king said. “Unfortunately, we still don't know why this is happening or what the Shadow Hand and Greenwood have in store for Fellen.”
“Actually, Greenwood himself told me,” Erril said. “Conley sent me here to request aid for Ironbarrow after he found out that Alastor took over Eastwold and is planning a full-scale invasion of Fellen after he takes Ironbarrow.”
“Alastor?” Tollack spat. “That damned traitor!”
“And now that Conley is distracted by the threat from the east, Greenwood and the Shadow Hand are going to attack from the north and take Ironbarrow, then the rest of Fellen,” Erril explained.
Reman's face blanched. “What of the Duke...my brother?”
Erril wished she didn't have to be the one to deliver the news. “I'm sorry, Your Majesty. The Duke is dead.”
Reman bowed his head. Though he was visibly shaken, he didn't seem surprised by the news. “I see.”
“Sorry,” Erril muttered.
The king lifted his head and took a deep breath. “What matters now is that we bring him justice as well as everyone who has suffered at Alastor's hands.”
“And the Shadow Hand,” Erril added.
“Of course,” the king said. “But first thing's first, we need to get someone to Ironbarrow to warn Conley before Greenwood carries out the siege.”
“I can do it,” Erril said. “I owe it to Conley and the others to help them.”
“Very well then,” Tollack said, “but how do we get her out of the city? The Shadow Hand is watching the streets and anyone who is caught outside will be arrested.”
“For now, let us allow the poor girl to rest,” Darius said. “I presume that all those days in a prison cell took its toll on her, after all.”
Erril wanted to protest at being treated like a child, but she silently admitted that he was right. If she had been placed in a jail cell months before, she would have considered it an improvement to her living situation. But all those months living in Ironstone Keep spoiled her to soft beds and regular, warm meals, and now her body ached for them.
“I am tir
ed,” Erril admitted.
“Fair enough,” Reman said. “It would be wrong of us to make you work under such circumstances. Why don't you get some rest while the rest of us discuss various options. We will tell you about them in the morning and then we can all make a decision.”
“All right,” Erril said.
After bidding them good night, one of Darius' servants led Erril down the hallway to one of the guest bedrooms. There, the female servant helped Erril bathe, then she provided a clean night gown and took Erril's leather armor and the rest of her clothes to be cleaned. Erril lay down in the warm bed and before long, she drifted off to sleep.
CHAPTER 11
Zita made the daring move to approach her quarry after his companion stepped outside. She figured if she could get him alone for just a few minutes, she could lure him away and she wouldn't be the least bit suspicious.
Now that he was all alone, Zita sat next to him at the bar and sat up straight. The Wolf eyed her curiously, but he didn't seem annoyed by her presence.
“Can I help you?” Varg asked.
Zita smiled, then said, “My apologies for being so direct, but you see, I've heard many tales of the legendary White Wolf, and I assume that he is the only man with white hair who wears a fur cloak?”
Varg smiled, then said, “Last time I checked, at least.”
“I've heard many tales about your work,” Zita said. “Is it true you once took down an entire bandit camp with a broken rib?”
Varg shrugged. “My rib was only bruised, and the 'camp' was actually a shack with only three bandits inside.”
Zita smiled. “Strong and modest. My, that's an attractive combination.”
Apparently the Wolf knew where she was going, because he then said, “Listen, I think you seem nice, but—”
“And is it true,” Zita interrupted, “that you once bedded six women in one night?”
Varg leaned back in shock at this tale, and then said, “I've never had more than one woman in a night...all right two, but I'm still not as much of a philanderer as people say. At least not anymore.”
“Regardless,” Zita said, “I would like to see for myself the very extent of your bedroom prowess.”
Varg chuckled and shook his head. “If you had asked me fifty years ago, I probably would have taken you up on that offer in a heartbeat, but I'll have to pass on your offer. I'm sorry.”
While rejection was certainly not unheard of for Zita, she still had ways around it. She leaned closer to Varg and placed a hand on his. “I understand. You are not a man to sleep with just anyone, and that's admirable,” she said. “However, should you change your mind...” Zita brushed her hand across Varg's cheek and emitted a subtle mist from her palm. She saw the unmistakable red glow in his silver eyes and knew she was successful. “...I'll be upstairs in the third room to the left.”
Zita caught a glimpse of his eyes as she slowly walked away from him and saw the glow leaving and his expression becoming blank, which was confirmation that her spell had worked. She winked at him as he stared blankly into her eyes. The moment she took the first step upstairs, the charmed Varg left his place at the bar and followed her. When she was at the top, Zita felt for the third door, opened it, and beckoned her thrall inside.
Once Varg was in the room, Zita brushed a hand on her shoulder to allow her sleeve to fall, and then said softly, “Shut the door.”
Her slave did as ordered and never broke his gaze from hers.
“Good,” Zita said, “now lie down on the bed.”
The enthralled Varg did as ordered, and then he lay down on the bed with his back propped up against the pillow and headboard, and Zita climbed on top of him.
She then unfastened his vest and placed a hand on his bare chest. “I see now just why so many women find you so irresistible, Varg.”
With his eyes still locked with hers, Varg muttered, “None of them...compare...to you.”
Zita smiled. She had been waiting for this moment, the moment she could have him all to herself, but given the circumstances she knew she couldn't. It pained her to go through with the elimination before she had her fun, but it had to be done.
Zita leaned in closer to him and, without breaking eye contact, she brushed her lips over his. Then with her free hand, she subtly removed the poison needle from her hairpin, and slowly moved it into position. Though he was under her spell, if she moved to quickly his mind could break through the fog and realize what she was doing.
The needle hovered just a fingertip length away, and Zita smiled and said, “You truly are a legend.”
She then closed her eyes and kissed him, but in the split second before she could stab him with the needle, she was interrupted when the door flew open. Zita broke away from her kiss with Varg to investigate the source of the interruption, and was shocked to see Varg's half-elf companion standing in the doorway.
Zita quickly hid the needle from view, praying the elf didn't see it, and she prepared herself to fight off the woman. She was relieved however, when the elf spat, “The innkeeper told me you'd come in here with another woman, but I refused to believe it. It looks like I was sadly mistaken.”
Now that Varg was no longer under Zita's control, he pushed her off and stood to face the elf. “Milea, please...I-”
Before he could finished, the half-elf, Milea, slapped him hard across the face as a tear streaked down hers. Zita couldn't believe her own luck that she was only caught mid-affair, but still swallowed hard at the thought of failing her assassination. Nevertheless, she relaxed her posture and walked up to Milea.
The half-elf stared daggers at her, at which point Zita calmly said, “I'm sorry, dear. He told me you were only a friend.”
Her last words didn't seem to phase the elf, but she didn't stop Zita as she left the room. She ignored the laughs and taunts of the other patrons and instead walked outside and found the spot where she'd hidden her gear. She clad herself in her Shadow Hand armor, then replaced all of her weapons and poisons in their rightful place on her belt and in her satchel.
Zita then fled into the night. Though she wasn't fond of facing Lord Jin after failing to kill one of his greatest enemies, she knew he'd be very interested in this weakness that she'd just discovered.
Very interested indeed, she thought.
Varg followed Milea as she marched outside of the inn. He tried desperately to try and get her to listen to him, but she was far too angry and hurt.
“Milea, please...” Varg said as they walked outside.
Milea finally turned to him and spat, “Is that what you said to her before you stuck your tongue in her mouth?”
“No, it's not like that,” Varg pleaded.
“Then what is it like? What was it I saw in there?” Milea cried.
“I...I don't know what I was doing...”
“Don't insult me, Varg. You knew exactly what you were doing.”
“That's not what I meant. I mean I don't understand why I was doing that. Only moments before I refused her proposition,” Varg said.
“Don't give me that,” Milea barked, “I'm not a fool.”
Varg tried to approach her, but she stepped back and yelled, “Get away from me.”
A familiar pain in his heart erupted again, and he tried desperately to fight back tears. “Please, let's just talk about this.”
Milea stopped fighting her tears, a sight that could have killed Varg, and then she said, “I'm not talking to you now, or ever again after this journey. Feel free to spend the night with your new friend.”
Milea then marched back to the inn, and Varg didn't bother to even turn to face her. He heard the door slam behind him, and stood for a few minutes trying to wrap his thoughts around everything.
He sat down next to an old tree, at which point he realized his vest was still undone. He fastened it back, and then tried desperately to understand why he nearly slept with Zita. Sure, she was attractive, but that alone would only have hooked him in his younger years, back when he woul
d bed nearly any woman just to try and get over Treasa.
It didn't matter now. Milea caught him, and now she never wanted to see him again. Varg placed his head in his hands and mentally kicked himself for being so stupid.
CHAPTER 12
After Erril had awoken the next morning, she found her armor neatly placed on the chair near her bed. Though she was impressed by the fact that someone was able to get past her without rousing her from her sleep, she silently changed into her leather armor and exited the room to go and find the library from the night before.
Reman, Tollack, and Darius were in there, and the only evidence Erril had that they hadn't been there all night was that they were all wearing different clothes.
When Reman saw Erril enter the room, he said, “Oh good, we were just talking about you. I think we have a plan.”
“What is it?” Erril asked.
The girl was soon seated and listening to everything they had to say.
“We just received word that Greenwood plans to move out this morning and make his move towards Ironbarrow,” Reman said.
Erril leaned forward. “That's not a good thing, is it?”
“No, but it might present us with an opportunity to get you out of the city,” Tollack said. “The soldiers will be leading wagons full of weapons and supplies along with them, and the ones who are secretly helping the king might be able to sneak you on board.”
“But don't I need to get out of the city before Greenwood begins to lead the men out?” Erril pressed.
“That would have been ideal, but with the tightened security I'm afraid that this is the only way,” Darius said. “But from what I've heard about your reputation, it should be no trouble at all for you to break away from the troops and get to Ironbarrow first and warn everyone.”
Erril knew this to be true, but then said, “But that still wouldn't give them much time to prepare.”
“It's better than being caught completely off guard,” Reman said, “and it's the only chance Ironbarrow has.”
The Crystal Wood (Half-Breed Book 2) Page 11