Rise of the Blood Masters (Book 5) (4 page)

“This is painful for you,” Chua sympathized, placing his hand on her shoulder. There was no hidden reproach in his words. “Do you wish to stop?”

She bit her lip and twisted her hands. “No. I can’t stop now. We’ve come this far already. I’ve got to know what happened to that baby.”

Chua nodded and raised his hands again. The vision returned, but the location had changed. The scene shifted and blurred. Now it was later in the year. The ground shimmered with a thin blanket of snow. It was nighttime, and the same gypsy wagon had stopped to make camp. The family prepared their campfires, huddling together for warmth, heating their hands next to the crackling flames. They were talking and laughing together, and everyone seemed happy. Then the whole group turned around suddenly, with frightened expressions on their faces.

Now, men on horseback were galloping through the camp, knocking over crates and supplies, rounding up the hapless travelers and corralling them into one spot. Dozens of armed men with blue tattoos circling their necks and wrists screamed for the gypsies to surrender.

These were outlanders, ruthless bounty hunters that were paid to gather slaves and hunt down runaways.

The gypsies fought back with picks and shovels, but they were vastly outnumbered. It didn’t take long for the outlanders to subdue the entire group. The caravan was pillaged, and all the gypsies were taken prisoner.

The scene changed again. Now there was more snow on the ground, and the sky was winter-clear. The unfortunate captives were standing on the coastline, trembling against the freezing wind. The male prisoners were bound and gagged. Women and children huddled nearby, shivering against the cliffs.

Many wept openly, tears trickling down their cheeks. There, in the center of the group, was Mugla’s niece, now several months old. A weeping young girl clutched the baby with one arm and stroked her head with her other hand. The notorious northern slaver, Druknor Theoric, walked up and down the line, examining the captives like animals ready for slaughter.

With jet-black hair and muscled forearms, Druknor was ruggedly handsome. He stopped in front of a teen boy with a bruised face. The boy dared to spit at him. Druknor wiped the spittle away and laughed. He raised a meaty fist and swung it at the boy’s head. The teen crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

Druknor barked an order while waving to his guardsmen. The guards jumped off their horses and gathered the captives into a huddled mass before pushing them onto a waiting slave ship. The prisoners were shoved into the ship’s hold and sealed inside. Then the ship sailed away, disappearing into the horizon.

Chua gasped and fell back. The vision wavered, and the smoke dissipated. It was over.  “That’s all there is... the spell has run its course.” His voice cracked. Eventually, his breathing slowed, and he sat up again. He looked incredibly tired.

“Did you discover everything you needed to know? I know it is difficult for you to accept, but it is the truth nonetheless.”

Mugla couldn’t speak. It was all too terrible to believe.
How could this have happened?
Shaking her head, she fought to hold back the river of tears welling up behind her eyes.

Chua placed his hand on her shoulder. “Why don’t you tell me about it? Talking will help you feel better.”

Mugla rubbed her eyes and sighed. The sun streamed down on her from above, casting dappled shadows on her back. Despite the warm temperatures, she felt chilled inside. An emotional coldness. Finally she spoke. “The truth is worse than I
ever
could have imagined.”

“That is often the case with these things,” he said sympathetically. “Nobody wants to believe what hurts them.”

Mugla hung her head in shame. “That poor baby—my niece—was the result of an assault that happened during the war. Mount Velik came under attack, and the elves offered to help us fight.”

The old seer gravely shook his head. “Ah, I see where this is going. It’s a common story, isn’t it? When elves involve themselves with mortals, there’s usually a problem.”

“Yes… that’s how it happened. An elf fathered the baby. My sister was deceived by an elvish glamour. As I said, the elves came to Mount Velik to help us fight. They did fight valiantly during the war—and saved many lives. We would have lost the mountain if not for their presence. But as ye know, the help of the elves always comes at a price, and a steep one at that. Whenever there was a lull in the fighting, the elves grew bored. And a bored elf is a dangerous elf. They love to manipulate mortal folk, and Tildara suffered greatly for it.”

Chua nodded. “It’s a common problem. Elves engage in all manner of trickery, and not just when a mortal catches their fancy. I’ve had my own problems with them in the past. The tree sprites that guard the Elder Willow report back to the elf queen, Xiiltharra. At first, I was furious about it. I have very little privacy here. In time, I learned to accept the situation. There’s really nothing to be done about it or any other situation that involves their kind. Elves aren’t bound by mortal laws; they do whatever they please.”

Mugla cast her eyes on the ground. “It’s a lesson that my family learned too late. Back then, I warned my sister to be cautious, but I never expected something like that could happen. Tildara was a married woman! But even that didn’t deter them. The elves harassed her constantly. My sister was beautiful and small, with fiery red curls and pretty blue eyes. Her beauty was a curse!” Mugla paused, overcome with emotion. She pressed a handkerchief to her face and wiped away tears.

She continued, “Tildara wasn’t like me—she was very shy, so her appearance brought her nothing but misery. Tildara’s rejection of the elves only enticed them more. It was a challenge for them—one they were determined to overcome. Our king, Hergung, knew about the problem. Several women had complained about similar harassment, but he let it slide. Hergung needed the elves to fight. We desperately needed their archers and healers. So the problem was ignored. A few months later, one of the elves used a glamour to trick his way into my sister’s bed. The enchantment was very convincing. She never suspected that it wasn’t her husband lying next to her. It wasn’t until the next morning when she went into the pantry that she discovered the elf’s deception. There on the floor, drugged and unconscious, was her real husband. Tildara screamed for help. The elf was in her bed, still cloaked in his disguise. He never dropped his faerie glamour, not even as he ran away. No one knew the elf’s true identity.”

“What happened after the rape was discovered? Did your sister report it to the king?”

“Of course she did! Our entire clan protested. But of course none of the elves stepped forward to confess. Why would they? They acted like it was some big joke! They refused to name the elf responsible for the assault. After this final incident, Hergung expelled all the elves from the mountain, but the damage had already been done. My sister was pregnant. Hergung lodged a formal complaint with the elf queen, but nothing came of it, not even an apology.”

“So your sister decided to keep the child?”

“Yes and no. She was traumatized—unsure of what to do. I offered her a potion to terminate the pregnancy, but she decided to have the baby. There was a chance that the child was her husband’s, and she didn’t want to risk losing the baby if it was his.” Mugla sighed and shut her eyes. “Unfortunately… ye could see from the vision… the baby wasn’t his.”

“Did you know for sure? Were you absolutely certain?” His voice showed curiosity and concern.

Mugla drew a shuddering breath, knuckling fresh tears from her eyes. “Yes, I knew. It was obvious. The baby was a
dwarfling
. There was an otherworldly beauty in her face. It’s a rare coupling—a dwarf with an elf—but I’ve seen enough babies in my lifetime to know the difference.”

“It’s an infrequent combination,” Chua said. “I’ve only met one in my life.
Dwarfling faeries
have a unique appearance, but it’s difficult to place their ancestry unless you know what you’re looking for. They look almost human.” Chua touched the ground with his hand. “Dwarflings are usually quite handsome. Elves are tall and thin, while dwarves are short and stocky—those physical traits cancel each other out and make for a beautiful child.”

“I know,” Mugla replied, a wistful smile tugging at her lips. “My great-grandmother was a dwarfling herself, and she was a real beauty in her youth. Her elvish blood is the reason why I’ve got mageborn powers, and it’s probably the reason I’m still pottering about at my age.”

“Let’s get back to the story,” Chua said, patting her hand. “Once your sister discovered the baby was half elf, she decided to give the child up for adoption, correct?”

Mugla nodded. “Aye. Tildara refused to touch the baby. She wouldn’t even look at it. It happened so long ago, but it still pains me to think about it. My sister remained in denial durin’ the whole pregnancy. She never dealt with the tragedy of what happened to her. She just kept believing that the child was her husband’s, and he wanted to believe it too. Neither of them was good at facing reality or at making the effort to heal. My people knew a family of gypsy traders—the matriarch was a sterile woman who adopted lots of children. She was a good mother, one I could trust. When the travelers camped by the mountain on the day of the birth, I told myself that it was fate. I gave the baby to them. I guess what happened afterwards wasn’t really their fault.”

“What happened to your sister after you gave away the baby?”

“She hated herself,” Mugla replied, bitterness dripping from her words. “Tildara became so depressed. She cried for months, partly because of the child, partly because her husband was enraged over what had happened. He couldn’t blame her. Of course it wasn’t her fault, but he was furious about what the elf had done to her and even angrier at the king’s lukewarm response. Audun wanted to declare war on the elves—wanted to fight every one of them. Hergung knew that was impossible, so everyone just tried to go on with their lives. But Audun just wouldn’t let it go. He was too angry. He talked about vengeance constantly. Audun and Tildara started fighting, and their relationship began to unravel.  The stress became too much for Tildara to bear.” Mugla hesitated. “Then… one day, after another quarrel with her husband, my sister took her own life.”

Chua shook his head. “I’m so sorry to hear that. And Tallin’s father? Your sister’s husband? What happened to him?”

“He went stark, raving
mad.
He was utterly consumed by rage. He already despised the elves—he blamed them for what had happened. But now it became even worse. He wanted to kill them all. The war was winding down, but there were still skirmishes here and there. He threw himself into the fighting and placed himself in constant danger. He wanted to die. Oddly enough, it wasn’t even a dangerous mission that killed him. One day, a few months after my sister’s suicide, he traveled to the city of Ironport and started a brawl with an elf in the streets. He stabbed the elf in broad daylight and was killed. The elf claimed self-defense, so the matter was dropped. Since Audun fought during the war, he had earned the right to be buried at Mount Velik. Our clan buried him right next to my sister, and that was the end of that. Everybody in the family just wanted to forget it had ever happened.”

“Did you ever find out who the father was?”

There was a pause. Mugla’s voice grew husky. “No, we never found out. Tildara was dead, and so was her husband, so the whole incident was just swept under the rug. Nobody wanted to press the issue with the elf queen.”

Chua settled back a moment. “Does Tallin know the truth?”

Mugla shook her head and cried a little. “No,” she finally admitted. “Tallin was only a boy. He doesn’t remember. I told him that his parents died during the war, but that’s all. I spared him the worst of it. Only a few people know the whole story. After everything that happened, I could barely deal with my own grief. Losing my sister was so difficult for me…” A single tear trickled down her wrinkled cheek.

Chua was silent and seemed to be lost in thought. When he spoke again, his voice was soft and carried no judgment. “So Skera-Kina is of mixed blood, and she is your niece.”

“Aye, but I believed she was human, I swear it! The possibility that Skera-Kina was my kin simply never occurred to me, especially not while we were fighting for our lives. But now that I know the truth, I realize that she does look a bit like my sister. There’s a similarity in the eyes and the jawline. But I never would’ve guessed the connection before.”

Chua said, “Skera-Kina attacked Mount Velik several years ago. Did anyone ever mention anything, for instance, that she looked like she was related to your family? Sometimes a stranger will see a resemblance where a family member will not.”

“Nay, never a word, not even in passing,” Mugla replied. “If anyone did see a resemblance, they never mentioned it to me. The elves even tussled with her a few times, but they never said anything to me either.”

Chua frowned. “Yes… the elves certainly would have known. They can always spot one of their own, even those with mixed blood. It’s probably the reason they didn’t kill her when they had the chance. Elves are reluctant to kill anyone that shares their blood, even halflings, no matter what the reason.”

“Well, they shouldn’t have kept it a secret. They should have said something to us,” Mugla cried. “If they knew who she was, they should have told us the truth!”

“You’re right, the elves should have told you something,” he said softly, “but that information was potentially dangerous to the elves. You’re a competent spellcaster, and you’re curious about things. If you discovered that Skera-Kina was your niece, with a few extra steps you could have discovered the real father of the baby… and your sister’s attacker. There are plenty of spells that are useful for revealing parentage. You know this to be true.”

Mugla could only nod. She was too overcome with emotion to trust her voice. In the distance, a wolf howled. Mugla shivered. It was a dark omen, one she wished she hadn’t heard. She looked into the sky. It was growing darker, and the afternoon shadows were growing longer.