The man bowed. “Indeed you are.” He swept his arm to the left. “Shall we?”
Alderan nodded and followed the man into the castle, his mind set on finding a way to save Aria and the world, even if it meant sacrificing his own life.
† † †
Pravus stood in the middle of the corridor, blood dripping from his chin. Raw power coursed through his veins, a strength he hadn’t felt in weeks. A broken body lay at his feet, suspended in a pool of blood. Male. Young. Perhaps a year or two older than Aria, but no more. Little more than skin and bones remained of him.
The boy certainly had a name, but Pravus didn’t know it. He never had, nor did he care to know it now. It wouldn’t bring the boy back to life. Oddly, the boy hadn’t resisted or struggled, even as his life slipped away.
True bravery.
Pravus wiped his chin with the sleeve of his robes. The blood soaked into the dark fabric and left no trace behind. The boy’s body would prove more difficult to dispose of, but he’d leave that job for the person who stumbled upon it.
He turned and teleported out of the corridor and into the war room on the other side of the castle. Aria remained at the table, still studying the maps. She looked up briefly, hardly acknowledging his return.
She’s still upset with me.
He couldn’t blame her for being cross with him after his blatant loss of control and near-fatal episode earlier, but it didn’t matter. He had things to do that didn’t require her assistance. At the table, he refocused his mind on the myriad of tasks that needed to be completed before the morning sun rose in the west.
His thoughts returned to the issue of Cinolth and what must be done. Once they arrived outside of Duos Flumen, he’d notify Murtag to send Käíeƨ his way. Using her power, he’d find a way to take the dragon out.
Thinking of Murtag reminded Pravus of his failure to kill Aria’s wretched brother. He’d deal with that issue once they’d secured the throne. Right now, he needed to send a message to all those bound to him by blood. Because of that bond, he could speak directly to them. However, in order for the message to reach such great distances, it would take an offering of blood and a special map to spread it upon. Both items were right there in the war room.
Pravus leaned over the table, his arms spread wide to prop himself up. “Take your leave, my love.”
Aria looked up, her eyes red and her eyelids drooping. “I’ve yet to finish studying all the maps and diagrams.”
Pravus shook his head. “There’s no need to commit them to memory. We will take them with us.”
She yawned and nodded. “Then I will retire.” She headed straight for the door without a backward glance.
No kiss good night.
He straightened and cracked his knuckles. “Close the door on your way out.” She did.
Nearly everything had been set for the morning, but one task remained. “Time to gather my army.”
Pravus shuffled through several tubes of rolled parchment before locating the one he sought. He spread the four-foot-by-three-foot map out on the table and used several lead stones to keep the map from curling back on itself. This particular map of the Ancient Realm was unlike any other map he’d ever seen. The cartographic relief depictions matched those of other maps, but this one gained its uniqueness by the intricate runes drawn at the center of each of its four edges, one for each of the four directions of the compass.
An unadorned, ivory-handled dagger lay at the end of the table in a tan leather sheath. He retrieved the dagger and unsheathed it. Its thin, narrow blade glinted in the candlelight. In one swift motion, he drew the blade across his left palm. He winced, but only slightly as the blade proved extremely sharp.
Blood ran around the side of his hand and dripped from his fingers. The map hissed with each droplet of blood that spattered it, and the blood soaked into the yellowed parchment, leaving no trace behind. Pravus squeezed his hand over each of the four runes, applying six drops of blood to each. When the final drop touched the fourth rune, all four runes lifted from the map and glowed bright-red. Then they circled and converged over the map’s center, forming an altogether different rune. The rune’s red glow turned orangish-yellow, bright as the sun, and then it lowered back down to the map. As it touched the parchment, the rune shattered into a thousand shards of light, creating a concussive wave of light and energy that swept outward from the center of the map. Parchment rustled, his robes billowed, and every candle in the room flickered and blew out, casting the room into total darkness. But then a green pinpoint of light pierced the darkness. The pinpoint of light grew into lines, waves, and other shapes as the cartographic details of the map came to life.
With the rune spell activated, Pravus could see those bound to him by blood on the map. He located Kaja, king of the zhebəllin, and mindspoke to him in the native zhebəllin tongue. “The time for war is at hand. By your sworn oath and the blood that binds you to me, I command you to gather up your warriors and march toward the human city of Duos Flumen.”
Kaja’s voice filled Pravus’s mind. “As you command, my lord.” The last two words dripped with venom.
Insolent little bastard. I’ll deal with him after the war.
“Stay out of sight, and await my arrival outside of the city,” said Pravus.
“We will travel by night and seek cover in the daylight,” said Kaja.
“Perfect. Make sure you control your warriors with an iron fist and put down any who fail to comply.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Pravus withdrew his mind and focused on the map again.
Several more times, he located others bound by blood and delivered similar messages. By the time they arrived outside Duos Flumen, a formidable army would be gathered. Zhebəllin from the Daltura Hills and the Profugus Desert, mountain and forest giants from the Oblivio Forest and Sol Deus Mountains, scores of gnolls from across the realm, and even a few ogres and trolls.
Murtag and his band of orcs would continue to hide in the valley north of the Orbis Mountains. They would serve a different purpose.
Pravus nodded to himself, pleased with how everything had fallen into place. He’d spent decades preparing for this moment, manipulating events and rolling with setbacks and changes as best he could.
He folded his arms across his chest and grinned. “Everything will be as it should. I will rule the world as a god.”
† † †
Aria sat straight up in bed, wide awake. Pravus lay next to her, his chest slowly rising and falling. A light snore rumbled from his lips. She didn’t know when he’d come to bed.
A sliver of moonlight filtered in through the crack between the lengths of heavy drapes. She rose from the bed, careful not to disturb Pravus, and snuck out onto the balcony. Frost covered the stone floor and railing and froze her bare feet and hands.
Aria recalled the look in Pravus’s eyes earlier in the war room and the way it had left her heart cold. She hugged herself, but it did little to ease her troubled mind.
What kind of madness lurks within him?
If for no other reason, she thanked the stars for the bond they shared. As mad as he might be at times, he’d never do anything that would harm himself. So she should be safe.
Unless it can be undone.
Pravus had assured her otherwise, but he’d been wrong about other things that he’d been certain of.
Like the stone.
For now, she could do nothing about it, so she need not waste her thoughts on it. Instead, she returned to her conversation with Cinolth the morning before. Pravus took the news of Cinolth’s army joining theirs in stride and played it off as something of insignificance, but she’d detected a hint of elation in his eyes. He’d never fool her.
He must be pleased with what I’ve accomplished.
Aria reached into the night with her mind and located Cinolth. He hunted in the mountains to the west. Close enough that she could mindspeak with him.
> “Direct your followers to head north and gather outside of Duos Flumen,” said Aria. “Our armies will meet them there.”
Cinolth responded, “Any of my followers north of Cuspis will head that way. The rest will gather at the castle.”
“As you say. Thank you.” Aria released her link to Cinolth.
The Three Kingdoms won’t know what hit them until it’s too late.
Gooseflesh covered her from head to toe, and her feet grew cold and numb. She returned to the room and to the large bed. Under the covers, she pressed her cold body against Pravus’s warm, naked flesh. She would never trust him again, but it didn’t mean she couldn’t use him for warmth and pleasure. She roused him from his slumber with a single touch.
He pulled her into his arms, and soon the quiet night erupted with sounds of passion.
Chapter Seventeen
Zerenity trudged through the sand, her mind set on one single goal: getting to Galondu Castle. Whatever her dark master commanded of her she’d do. Nothing else mattered. The world ceased to exist beyond her desire to please him.
Sounds ceased and sights blurred beyond what lay right in front of her.
She rested only when the others did.
She ate only when the others did.
Happiness overwhelmed her when her master’s presence filled her and he mindspoke to her. He didn’t speak to her specifically but to all of his chosen, but it made no difference. In her mind, he only spoke to her. She was his chosen one.
“Head toward The Plains,” said her master. “Between Duos Flumen and Elatos.” An image of a map with an “X” marking the spot filled her mind, replacing the one she’d been heading to over Galondu Castle.
“Yes, my dark master,” she said in her mind, her voice nearly panting.
As one, Zerenity and the other chosen switched direction and headed east.
“Use every resource at your disposal and do not delay in getting there. If anyone tries to stop you or slow you down, spill their blood.”
“Yes, my dark master,” she said.
“Good. I will meet you there.” His presence faded.
Pleasure coursed through Zerenity’s veins at the prospect of meeting her master face-to-face.
I am coming, my dark master.
Chapter Eighteen
Many hours had passed since Calen freed himself from the cage, and he’d spent a good portion of it trying to find a way out of the maze of tunnels. He knew there must be some sort of pattern or markings that led to an exit, but he’d failed to find any thus far. No matter which tunnel he took, it eventually led to a hub of more tunnels or came to a dead-end. Strangely, he’d come across no zhebəllin, no living quarters, or any other functional room. That frightened him almost as much as the zhebəllin themselves.
The zhebəllin took all of Calen’s possessions when they’d captured him, including his money, food, water, and knife. Now, thirst dried his mouth and throat, and his stomach quaked with hunger. He looked down at his stomach. It bulged several inches beyond the belt at his waist. Missing several meals would do him little harm, but he needed to find something to drink before he dehydrated. He imagined the other children were hungry and thirsty as well.
He pushed onward through the tunnels for another hour, more out of obligation than self-preservation. The Dalturan children needed him to succeed in order to survive, and he’d assured them that he’d come back for them once he found a way out, but he’d begun to lose hope and questioned his ability to do so.
His heart raced, and he wheezed with each breath. Stopping wasn’t an option, but each step took him closer to failure. How many deaths would be on his head if he failed?
Too many to count.
Calen marked the walls with a white stone as he traversed what felt like miles of tunnels, but he never crossed any of his markings again. Either the tunnels ran throughout the entire length of the Daltura Hills or someone followed behind him and erased his marks as quickly as he made them.
You’re alone, Calen. Don’t be afraid.
Those words repeated in his head every few minutes, but he knew them to be a lie. A dozen times, the pitter-patter of bare feet spun him around, but he never found anyone or anything following him when he backtracked. He chalked the occurrences up to nerves, but his heart knew better.
Scrape!
Metal on stone. Calen whirled around so quickly that he nearly threw the torch he held. Rusted steel glinted in the flickering torchlight as the zhebəllin spun the blade in its fingers. Beady red eyes, filled with hate, stared up at Calen.
“Stay back, or I’ll hurt you!” yelled Calen. He poked his torch at the creature.
The zhebəllin’s snarl morphed into a wicked grin, revealing a mouth full of pointy, yellow teeth. It made a series of noises and grunts as it stocked closer. Calen wasn’t sure if it had spoken to him or not. Either way, Calen didn’t speak its language.
Calen swung his torch wildly, but the zhebəllin wouldn’t be deterred. It didn’t seem to be afraid of fire. Calen retreated several steps but quickly found his back against a wall and nowhere else to go. The zhebəllin closed the distance to just three feet.
Now or never, Calen.
Calen screamed as loud as he could and lunged forward, catching the zhebəllin off guard. The zhebəllin dropped its blade and raised its arms to protect its head but not quick enough. The torch thudded in Calen’s hand when it struck the side of the zhebəllin’s head, reverberating all the way up his arm. The blow dropped the zhebəllin straight to the ground, out cold.
Calen dropped to his knees, stunned at his accomplishment. Thank you, Ƨäʈūr.
Using the zhebəllin’s blade, Calen cut strips of fabric from his trousers and used them to tie the zhebəllin’s hands behind its back. He bound its ankles as well but left enough slack so that the creature could still walk. There’s no way he could carry the creature no matter how little it might’ve weighed. Once it woke up, he’d find a way to communicate with it in order to find the children again and then the exit. He pocketed the blade.
It didn’t take long for the zhebəllin to come to, and when it did, it struggled against its restraints for several minutes before realizing it stood no chance of escape. Calen had taken several classes in school on tying knots and was better at it than most of the other kids in his class. It was the one thing he had confidence in.
“Can you understand me?” asked Calen.
The zhebəllin glared at him for several moments but then nodded.
“Good.” Calen chewed on his lower lip. “I’m Calen. What do they call you?”
“Lupaak.” Its voice shrieked with a high pitch.
Calen looked around. They were still alone as far as he could tell. “Where are all the other zhebəllin?”
“Gone,” said Lupaak.
“Gone? Why didn’t you go with them?”
Lupaak grinned wickedly. “Stay behind. Kill children. Eat them.” He licked his lips and sneered, “Tasty.”
Calen wanted to smack Lupaak, but he needed his help. “You will take me back to the children so that I can free them, and then you’ll lead us back to the surface.”
“No,” said Lupaak.
“I don’t want to hurt you, but I will,” said Calen. “Do what I ask, and I’ll let you go.”
“Enemy lies. I show. You kill me.”
Calen had no intention of killing Lupaak, but he needed the zhebəllin to think so. He took the blade from his pocket and pushed its point against Lupaak’s throat until it pierced Lupaak’s thick skin. A line of black blood ran down Lupaak’s chest.
Calen gritted his teeth and glared into Lupaak’s beady red eyes. “You don’t show me, and I’ll kill you right now.” His voice shook. He hoped it conveyed malice and not the terror running through his veins and trembling his hands.
Lupaak swallowed hard and eyed the blade. “Trust enemy.”
Calen lowered the blade. “I’m not your enemy.”
“All humans are enemies. Drive us into the ground. Eat from the scraps left behind.”
Despite the situation, Calen found himself feeling sorry for Lupaak. Had the humans driven them underground? He didn’t recall history telling of such a story, but history often lied to cover up atrocities. Perhaps this was one of them. Either way, it didn’t matter right then. He had dozens of children to rescue.
“You have my word. Show us the way, and you’ll be free to go.”
Lupaak nodded. “Follow me.”
Calen had a hard time keeping up with Lupaak even with Lupaak’s ankles bound. By the time they reached the cavern with all of the suspended cages, Calen sucked wind hard. His lungs burned with fire, and he fought to catch his breath. He bent over and placed his hands on his knees and waited until he could breathe evenly again.
He tied Lupaak to one of the twine ropes and then set about freeing the children from their cages. He had to rest several times before freeing all of them. Fifty-four children in total.
About an hour later, they surfaced through a tunnel hidden amongst the trees and hills. The sky overhead shown in hues of blues, purples, yellows, reds, and oranges as the new day sun peeked up from the west. He guessed they were about six miles north of Daltura, but he’d never really ventured outside the town gates more than a few dozen paces, so nothing looked familiar.
Lupaak pointed them in the direction of Daltura and Calen ordered Glenn, the oldest of the bunch after himself, to start leading the children that way. Once the children were out of sight, Calen cut Lupaak’s restraints.
“If I ever see you again, I will kill you. Understood?” asked Calen.
Lupaak grunted, nodded, and disappeared into the tunnel they’d come out of.
Calen took a deep breath. He wanted to celebrate his victory, but first he needed to get the children back to the safety of Daltura. No telling what other creatures or threats lurked in the shadows. He took off through the tall, yellow aspen trees and quickly caught up with the children.
Rended Souls Page 18