From The Shadows : Book 2 in the Mortisalian Saga

by L. J. Stock

  I nodded in the affirmative, my training settling in around me once again. This was the most serious I'd ever seen Rasmus and it scared me. I was so used to his jovial nature and our constant banter that this warrior side of him hit me like a ton of bricks and sobered me enough to see just how much trouble we were in. Not that I hadn't realized that on my own.

  Aric joined us behind the wall of our infantry, his sword twisting in his grip as he assessed the situation with his own eyes. The four of us only had one option, and we knew it: we needed to move with the group in an effort to get out at the first break in the line of enemy we could find. The four of us took a breath at the same time and pressed our backs together as we moved as one. It would only take one hole in our defensive line and Ramsus, Aric, Melody and I would be the focus of the assault. I knew the enemy soldiers would make a beeline for me, but as a small crack appeared in our infantry, their pull toward the weakness in our defenses was like a moth to a flame. The converging of the latros was immediate and fast; even Rasmus seemed stunned at their organization.

  We fought with everything we were, our swords smashing against theirs, sending sparks through the air as the sound of the battle became deafening. It was impossible for us to stay together, but Rasmus made sure I was always at arm’s length, his body twisting and turning at almost impossible angles as he moved closer with every attempt to lessen the distance between us. The chime of metal cutting through the air rang like church bells around us. I made the mistake of looking down only once, and I regretted it instantly. I was covered in blood, and standing in a pool of the crimson liquid I’d drained from more than a dozen attackers. I ignored the sudden lurch the sight gave my stomach as yet another latros came at me with his sword high and swinging true.

  Head in the game, Cass.

  The latros were like lemmings, coming at us one after the other with barely enough room between them to breathe. As soon as one fell, another man took his place. The soldiers were faceless and anonymous in their onslaught, their masks making it seem as though I were fighting training dummies rather than men made of blood, flesh, and bone. The visualization made it easier not to think about the lives I was taking with my sword as I pushed the weapon through bodies and armor before kicking them off my blade and moving on.

  If I'd spent any length of time thinking about what I was doing, I knew I would have balked, giving the opposition another opportunity to gain the upper hand. One mistake could shift the way the sword fell. I couldn't take that chance so I kept my mind on the training I'd had with Damon.

  The latros were fast and fresh compared to our exhausted masses, replenishing themselves at an alarming rate. I had no clue who was who as I stepped into dance after dance with the faceless soldiers who surrounded us.

  There was no escape for me. They were focused on Rasmus and me. He and I both knew it. The enemy were a battering ram coming at the doors with relentless precision and depleting our numbers with every strike. I wasn't getting out of here. I would be a prisoner or they would kill me. Melody, who'd been standing by me only seconds earlier, was drifting into a sea of grey uniforms as they divided and conquered, and I knew I had only a moment to say what I needed to her. She would be an afterthought, and she was also the only one that could do as I asked and get a message out.

  “Mel, listen to me,” I screamed above the din of the keening wail of the metal.

  She continued fighting the wave of men that came at her. The sword she was holding was glistening with the blood she'd shed, and she wasn't the only one. We gravitated toward one another, never taking our eyes off our opponents. The men we were fighting were skilled with their swords, but we'd been trained by the best.

  “Yes?” she panted once she was within hearing range, deflecting one of the broadswords that came from the surging strike of the latros’ long reaching arms.

  “They're not after you. If you can get free, do it. Take Dunamis and ride back to the palace. He's the fastest horse here, so they can’t catch you on him. Tell Damon what happened here. Tell him that I love him and I will fight to stay alive. I’ll always fight,” I shouted over the clang of swords.

  “I'm not to leave your side, Cass,” she cried, pushing her sword through a masked figure as I battled another.

  “Screw that. I am going to fight to stay alive, but you have to get out of here. Let them know what happened. You tell Damon I will come back to him.”

  “Cass...”

  “Please, Mel.” My voice was filled with desperation as I pushed another uniformed soldier aside to give me space to swing my sword.

  “I'll do what I can.”

  “You're not the target. Go. Now,” I yelled.

  I didn't hear her reply before the latros doubled their attack on me and I had to put all of my concentration into dodging the business ends of their swords. Rasmus appeared at my side, taking the blow of the second latros, as I concentrated on the first. My lungs screamed as I dragged in heated, blood-flecked breaths. My sides ached from cramps and my arms felt like jelly as I pushed them to lift the heavy sword over and over again.

  The attack seemed never-ending, but Ras and I fought side by side with the rest of our soldiers. Our ranks thinned quickly. We had to be outnumbered by at least three to one, but Rasmus and I barely paid attention to anything but what was going on around us, and what we were doing. We continued standing back-to-back defending all four sides of us as best we could.

  I knew we were losing when the only sounds of fighting came from the two of us. The battle cries had died down to the haunting sound of moans and groans of the dying men around us. Rasmus' roar of rage filled my mind as another wave of latros came at the two of us, their boots not caring about the men who had died before them. The two of us were heavily outnumbered now but we refused to quit, neither one of us ready to give up. I’d made a promise and I would fight until there was nothing left to fight.

  “Enough. Stand down,” a voice bellowed sharply from amidst the enemy’s ranks.

  Without hesitation, the men we'd been fighting stumbled away, tending to their injuries as they glared at us and held us prisoner within a two-man-deep circular prison. While I had a second to breathe, I catalogued myself for injuries and found only minor scratches and bruises where tips of swords had struck out and missed. I hoped the same could be said for Rasmus.

  The army of latros parted before me, and it took only a second to realize why. The red uniform and white mask that singled him out as a veneficus couldn't be missed in the sea of monochrome. His regimented steps held an authority that the other men immediately recognized. From close up, he was taller than I'd imagined. His black hair fell over the forehead of his mask, and his brown eyes shone with victory through the only openings in the blank face. The men around him pulsed with excitement as he took pronounced steps toward us.

  I knew Rasmus felt helpless. He wanted to hide me behind a line of men and fight to the death to protect me from what was coming, but he was the only one I could see from our entourage who was still breathing. His death wouldn’t serve a purpose now. His only choice was to stand down and try to protect me in any way he could. I prayed that Melody had managed to get away on Dunamis. If the palace and my family knew we’d walked into a trap, they could work toward recovering what they could—if they could.

  Rasmus was still panting when he spun to take his place beside me, his body half covering mine from the veneficus. He didn't say a word to me, or the man standing like an impenetrable force opposite us. He just stood next to me like a protective barrier of muscle, challenging someone to break the invisible line he’d built around us.

  “You two are quite the team,” the veneficus said, amused as he kicked one of the dead at his feet. His accented voice was slightly muffled by the cover he was wearing but his words were clear enough to hear every syllable. “You killed quite a few of my men.”

  I held my tongue, my chest rising and falling with replenishing oxygen as I finally started getting my breath back. I glared
at the man with all the hatred that resided inside of me. I was determined not to show my fear but it was impossible not to feel unsettled with only his eyes staring back at me. The shell was well fitted to his face, and hadn't become dislodged during the fight, assuming he had fought. Letting my eyes scan the veneficus’ men, I realized none of the masks had budged an inch. It was eerie. Some of the soldiers had dark spots from the blood they’d shed yet their red masks were sturdy, still covering their faces. Unmoving and equally as disturbing.

  “I'm impressed, Princess. I never imagined you would be trained,” he said in his deep, accented baritone. He paused as another masked soldier approached him and nodded only once in response, never taking his eyes from me.

  “I believe you're mistaken. I am not the Princess.”

  “No need to partake in this folly.” He barked a laugh with a sinister edge. “I don't need you to confirm what I already know.”

  I shrugged, hoping that being passive would create a small amount of doubt in his mind. I could feel Rasmus fighting the urge to engage in verbal combat with him on my behalf, but he refused to put my life in danger by pissing them off further.

  “My men are nothing but eager to extract payment for the loss of their kinsmen,” the man said, gesturing at the myriad of bodies in the dual uniform colors that surrounded us. “Unfortunately, we’re under order that you are to be kept alive.”

  “Why?”

  Throwing his head back, the veneficus laughed. It was a deep commanding sound, full of authority and genuine humor at my flippant remark. Whoever was hiding behind that mask was a man of power, and he reveled in it.

  “Do you truly believe I would give anything to you? You must think me quite naïve.”

  With a flick of his hand, a small contingent of his soldiers converged on us. They attempted to separate Rasmus and me but we once again met them with our swords, our last bursts of energy taking down a few more of their numbers before we were overwhelmed. There were just too many to fight with anything but conviction, and they succeeded in overthrowing us.

  The five guards it took to subdue Rasmus walked him to the veneficus and what seemed to be a higher officer in the latros’ ranks. It required all five of them to push him to his knees, and while I had two men holding me back, I wasn't fighting as hard as I could. I knew that at any moment I would be needed to do something drastic because they would use Rasmus against me.

  “You are an honorable man,” the veneficus said slowly. “You fight like a valiant warrior, with your heart and mind in the fight, but in your battle you murdered my general's brother, and he seeks vengeance. I have granted him his request. What do you say to this?”

  Rasmus didn't utter a word. He knelt with perfect posture, his eyes focused on a spot ahead of him. He was showing no fear, no emotion, while I seemed to feel enough for the two of us, and the army we’d lost in battle.

  “I say no!” I spat from behind him, vehemence lacing my tone as I seethed and struggled against the soldiers restraining me. Rasmus flexed his muscles once but it was the only indication that he'd heard me.

  “And what, pray tell, do you plan to do to stop me, woman?”

  In one swift move, I stomped on the instep of the latros to my right. His grip loosened enough for me to remove the dagger from the scabbard on his belt and hold it to my carotid artery. One slight movement and I would bleed out quickly. I knew it was the only card I had left to play because they sure as hell didn’t respect the lives of their own men.

  A line of guards rushed toward me at the glint and flash of steel, but a circle of fire came up around me. Before I could even move to utilize the escape, it was gone. It was a warning for the guard to stop. The veneficus had acted quickly enough to stop the onslaught, but took away my chance at escape before I’d attempted to use it.

  When I heard movement behind me, I pushed the dagger further until it pinched and broke the skin. I wasn’t afraid to die. I’d prefer not to, but my life was all I had to barter with.

  “One more movement and I will do it anyway.”

  “I would think you were simply using this as a distraction, but I believe you are dedicated enough to do it simply to prove your point. It's such a shame you would risk the future all of these people for just one man.”

  I didn't say a word. I just pressed the dagger further into the flesh of my neck, hoping my determination would shine through. I knew Damon would kill me for pulling something like this, and I was certain that if Rasmus lived through this attack he wouldn't be far behind. I just hoped he’d understand this was about more than just his life. I was testing the waters, reading just how important my life was to them and getting a read on the situation while keeping my only protection breathing. If I was going to be kept alive, I needed him. I selfishly needed him.

  I also refused to lose anyone else today. I didn't know who was dead and who was alive, or even whether Melody and Dunamis had made it out of the valley. The only thing I was certain of in this one moment was that I didn’t want to watch Rasmus die.

  “Grigori, you cannot allow this,” the general said, hatred coursing through his tone. “You would let a prisoner dictate how you handle a situation?”

  “Do you forget who this is, Anton? Do you want to be the one to explain to our king why she’s dead at her own hand?”

  “Grigori...”

  Grigori put up his hand to stop the discussion from going any further. Unfortunately, Anton didn't seem to be the type to take no for an answer. He unsheathed his sword and swung it in an arch, aiming directly for Rasmus' neck.

  I wasn't sure what made me react the way I did. I wasn't even sure I was capable of making it, but I found myself flipping the blade in my hand and sending it toward the General mid swing. Without even checking to see if I'd hit my mark, I punched the closest guard in the throat and took off toward Rasmus as fast as I could, my blood thundering through my ears.

  I never made it to him.

  My body hit the ground hard, the wind knocked from me as two guards landed on me before I'd even managed to move four steps.

  I couldn't see anything and the taste of dirt in my mouth only seemed to make my anger all the more feral as I struggled under the weight of the men piled on top of me. My greatest fear was that I had failed and the general had swung true, or that I hadn't managed to change the course of the general's sword at all. The callous laughter from the man called Grigori only had me fearing the worst.

  “Markov,” he said, the amusement in his voice easy to read as his laughter died. “It seems you have been promoted.”

  I struggled against the guards to twist my body so I could see what was going on, almost crying in relief as Rasmus stared at me with wide, shocked eyes. The body of his attacker was strewn across his legs, a small pool of red trickling from the wound in his neck, staining the uniform trousers Rasmus was wearing.

  The weight of the men on my back made it hard to breathe, but I couldn't stop the happiness swelling in my chest at seeing my friend alive and sucking in shocked and angry breaths. He was very obviously furious with me for breaking protocol to save his life and for risking mine to begin with, but I could handle his anger. Right now, he was gloriously alive which gave him the opportunity to be infuriated with me.

  “Enough of these games,” Grigori barked in a sober tone as he pointed to some of his men. “You four, take her into the fire and go straight to the dungeons. You five do the same with her guard.”

  I was hoisted from the ground with two men at each arm, giving me no opportunity to fight any further, but it didn't mean I was going to go willingly. While I felt no pain with the adrenaline surging through my veins, I had to take the opportunity to at least attempt to escape. I would feel every cut and bruise I’d acquired soon enough, but I wasn’t finished fighting yet. I twisted in their grasps, my feet kicking out and landing against their shins, making them mumble behind their masks as my arms twisted and turned, the flesh burning under their grips. This organized offensive was diffe
rent to the attack on the palace. There they'd been silent and stealthy, but here they were taking pleasure in goading us. Hearing them talk with their unusual accents and inflections was unnerving.

  Fires sprang up around us from nowhere, and I longed for just one loose grip so I could grab Rasmus and translocate us back to the palace, but no matter how much I struggled, it was useless. Their hands were like manacles on my arms, and they lifted me easily, leaving my feet kicking loosely, unable to gain traction while the muscles in my arms locked.

  Before I had time to pull in another breath, the men surrounding me stepped into the fire and straight into a dark cell. The bars were thick steel, the walls were made of stone, and the floor was covered in straw. There were no windows, no water or light. There was nothing to aid my escape, nothing. The only illumination was dull and came from lanterns on the far wall outside of the cells, leaching dim light into the space I was occupying.

  As the guards released me and stepped out from the door being held open by a soldier in black, I managed to get one more hit to one of the men's retreating backs. His legs buckled under him and he stumbled, almost falling into the guard ahead of him. Before he could reciprocate, the five guards holding Rasmus appeared in a sudden burst of flames.

  They pushed him to the floor and exited as quickly as they could. The moment the door clanged shut, Rasmus was on his feet, rushing to get one last hit in just as I had. It seemed my training was similar to that of the Regius Custos. Either that or I had the same mentality as they did. With a rattle of the door, the guards appointed to us by Grigori took off down the hall in silence, leaving the two of us alone in the dark cell that might as well have been in the center of the earth for all the sky I could see. Rasmus paced the floor in front of the entrance like a caged animal, his footsteps falling heavy and echoing around the stone walls as his energy returned with full force.

  It took him about ten minutes to finally turn on me with his eyes narrowed in anger.