“Milord,” the guard said, not daring to look Arawn in
the eye.
“Keys!” Arawn demanded arm outstretched, palm
upward.
The guard fumbled with the ring of heavy iron keys
that hung from his belt, trying to get it unattached from the
leather.
Arawn tapped his foot impatiently.
“Sorry, Milord. I cannot get the ring open. I will
have them to you in just a moment.” A flush crept up the guard's
neck and onto his face.
Arawn huffed an exasperated sigh. He glared daggers
at the guard and drew out a knife from his own belt. He stepped
towards the guard with the stealth of a panther. The guard's eyes
widened in fear when he looked up to see Arawn approaching with the
knife trained on him. He swallowed hard.
“My Lord?” he squeaked.
Arawn leaned in, the knife pointing at the guard's
stomach. The guard closed his eyes and whimpered, ready to meet his
maker. A smug smile crept across the sorcerer's lips as he slid the
knife under the leather of the guard's belt and pulled up. He
enjoyed the feeling of power he got when people cowered before him.
The leather sliced as easily as if it were a hot knife through
butter and the belt fell to the floor. The buckle hit the stone
with a chink.
“I have not got all day,” Arawn said giving the guard
an icy glare when the guard, realizing he was still alive, opened
his eyes. He held the ring of keys in one hand and slid the knife
back in its sheath with the other.
“Sorry, Milord,” the guard mumbled.
Arawn turned on his heel and headed down to the end
of the dungeons. As he disappeared down the dark, dank corridor,
the guard slumped on to his stool, pulled a grubby piece of
material out of his pocket, and with a shaky hand, wiped his brow
with it.
Arawn strode towards the last cell in the dungeon;
the one he reserved for very special guests. This one, in
particular, had some very precious occupants indeed. When he
reached the cell door, he looked through the bars. The wary eyes of
a woman, and those of a frightened child, dared to look back at
him. The little girl inched behind her mother who was sitting on a
rough straw-filled mattress that lay on top of a rickety bench, the
only furniture in the room. The floor was covered in more straw and
a bucket sat in the corner. Even the rats scarpered when they
caught sight of Arawn standing in front of the bars. They scurried
into little holes where the wall met the floor.
The woman swallowed hard and tried to hide the fear
in her eyes by lifting her chin and squaring her shoulders.
“To what pleasure do we owe a visit from the great
and powerful Arawn this day?” she asked, a hint of insolence
touching her voice.
“Mama, do not provoke him,” the little girl whispered
behind her mother's back.
“You would do well to heed your daughter's advice,
Allora,” Arawn said, voice devoid of any emotion. “After all these
years, I have finally discovered a use for you. I knew it would be
worth my while keeping you alive. As for the brat...”
Allora stood up, puffing up her petite four foot
frame to its full height, not that it ever did any good. She was a
dwarf, just like her husband. Dwarfs were rare in Drofoz, and
before Arawn besieged the realm, they were revered by the rest of
the inhabitants.
“It's Lady Allora to you, and you leave Skylar
alone,” Allora warned. Her motherly instincts taking over. All fear
from her eyes now replaced with fierce protectiveness.
Arawn raised a jet black eyebrow. “Well, aren't we
the fierce little erchyll today?” he mocked.
“Don't dare compare me to one of your disgusting
creatures.” Allora said.
“Or you'll do what, exactly?”
Allora glared at him. He was right, what could she do
locked in a cell? She and her daughter were completely at Arawn's
mercy. She always seemed to know just how far she could push him,
though. And she didn't hesitate to try.
Arawn unlocked the cell door and opened it.
“Come.”
“What do you want with me?”
“You'll find out soon enough.”
Allora hesitated.
“Or maybe you wish for me to come in there and drag
you out by your hair. The choice is yours.” The sorcerer's voice
was calm, deadly.
Allora flinched just a fraction but kept her chin up
and shoulders back. She gave him a considering look. She had no
doubt he would act on his words, having done so on more than one
occasion since their incarceration. She recalled the first few
times she tried to defy her captor. It wasn't pretty, and the
bruises lasted for weeks. But over the years, she learned that he
was much more forgiving if she cooperated.
Thankfully, after the first year in captivity, he had
pretty much left her and Skylar alone, after she managed to
convince him that she had no idea where her husband was, or even if
he was still alive. Surely, if he was still alive, he would have
tried to rescue her and their daughter by now. Slowly, over the
years, this fact alone was making her lose hope that her beloved
may still be out there. And if that were the case, she and Skylar
were totally at the mercy of this tyrant sorcerer. She had to admit
to wondering why he had kept them for so long. He wasn't the sort
of person to be merciful to anyone, least of all to the family of
his adversary. So the fact that he was feeding them and allowing
them to live, gave Allora just a sliver of hope that she may, one
day, see her husband again.
Allora took a step forward but felt resistance. She
looked behind her. Skylar had grabbed hold of her wrist and was
hanging on tight, her eyes wide with fear. The poor thing. For most
of her life, all she had known was the inside of this dungeon cell
and the fear that came with living there.
“Don't leave me, Mama,” Skylar whispered, eyes
pleading.
Allora's heart cracked a little, just as it did every
time Arawn had taken her out of the cell.
“I have to, my sweet. You know what will happen if I
do not do as he says. I will be back soon, I promise.”
“Please, Mama!”
Allora closed her eyes as she pried the little girl’s
fingers from around her wrist. She moved swiftly to the door and
gave Arawn a piercing glare. “Let us get this over with, shall
we?”
Arawn returned her glare with a conceited grin. It
took every ounce of willpower Allora possessed not to slap it from
his face. Though, there were two problems with that way of
thinking. One, she couldn't reach, he was easily six feet tall, and
two, he would beat her black and blue, if he didn't kill her in the
process. Survival instincts kicked in. She had to stay alive for
her daughter. Skylar would never survive without her.
The door slammed behind her and she couldn't bear to
look back. Skylar ran to the bars and took hold of them. “Mama,
don't leave me here! Mama! Please, I'm frightened!”
Allora choked back a tear as she climbed the stairs
behind Arawn, the frantic screams of her daughter fading with each
step she took. One day, she would see Arawn pay for this...one
day.
***
Vivianna was preening her wings in front of the gilt
edged, full length mirror that hung from the wall of her cell. She
may be the most hated person in all of Azran and incarcerated for
her crimes against the crown, and most of the seven realms, but she
was still the king's daughter. Because of this fact, the king
allowed her to have a few creature comforts to accompany her behind
the iron bars.
A plush rug lay on the cold stone floor in front of
her sumptuous bed. A dressing table complete with brushes and combs
completed the ensemble.
Vivianna turned and admired her reflection from over
her shoulder, humming to herself as she pulled a wing forward and
dusted it off.
She smiled. “Hmm, that's better.”
She turned again to look at herself from a different
angle. Her brows furrowed when she noticed a ripple in the mirror's
surface. She leaned in for a closer look when she noticed another,
then another. Just as she was raising her hand to touch the
surface, a face appeared.
Vivianna straightened, slightly perturbed, but
determined not to let it show. She placed both hands on her
hips.
“Who are you?” she demanded.
“Arawn, ruler of Drofoz.”
“Never heard of you,” she stated with as much
nonchalance as she could muster.
She had, of course, heard of the tyrant sorcerer, but
she wasn't about to let him think she considered him of any
importance.
Arawn raised an eyebrow.
“What do you want?” Vivianna said, trying to sound as
bored as possible.
“Nice place you have there,” Arawn said, moving his
head to one side so he could see past her.
Vivianna gave a fleeting glance around the cell
before returning her attention to the face in the mirror. She
narrowed her eyes at him, folded her arms across her chest and
moved a step closer, cutting off any further view he may have of
her less than desirable accommodations.
Arawn gave her an insolent grin.
“You try my patience. Either tell me what you want or
be gone. I have no time for this,” Vivianna hissed.
“Yes, I can see you must lead a very busy life,”
Arawn returned, voice laced with sarcasm.
Vivianna bristled and dragged in a long breath before
her temper got the better of her.
“I believe we can be of service to each other,” Arawn
continued.
Vivianna raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
“I need you to help me dispose of a little problem
that has arisen. In return, I will free you from your dungeon.”
Vivianna gave him a considering look for a moment.
“I'm listening.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“So, what is it exactly that you want me to do?”
Faedra asked.
“Kill Arawn, of course,” Carina answered, so
matter-of-fact she could have been asking Faedra to nip out and get
a bottle of milk.
“What? No!” Faedra snapped. “What do you think I am?
I don't go around killing people.”
“You killed Savu,” Anwynn interjected.
Faen stood up sharply, knocking his chair to the
ground as his did. “This is preposterous. You dare to bring us here
for this.”
“Savu was different,” Faedra started.
“Faedra, you do not have to explain yourselves to
these people. You do not have to explain yourself to anyone. The
ones who matter know what happened,” Faen defended.
“My brother is right, Faedra. We know what happened,
and that is all that matters,” Jocelyn joined in.
Faen held his hand out to his charge. “Come, we are
leaving.”
Faedra looked up at her Guardian. His features were
only barely masking his anger, but his energy he couldn't hide from
her. He was furious.
“Now, Faedra!”
Faedra flinched slightly. Wow, did he just shout?
Faen rarely shouts. Pure instinct had Faedra putting her hand in
his. He held it tight and pulled her up from her chair.
“Jocelyn, Etyran, we are leaving,” he stated, defying
anyone to argue with him.
Faedra gave her two friends a 'What's got into him?'
look as he pulled her towards the entrance to the room. Carina and
Anwynn were still seated at the table. Calm energy still
surrounding them.
Faedra heard a couple of chairs scrape the floor and
assumed Jocelyn and Etyran were now joining them.
Just as the four were walking out, Carina spoke up.
“He has Todmus's wife and daughter.”
Faedra stopped dead, which jerked Faen to a stop,
also. She turned to face Carina, scanning her energy. She was
telling the truth. Arawn had Todmus's wife and daughter. He must
have held them prisoner for years. What kind of horror must they
have endured at his hand? She couldn't leave them there if there
was anything she could do to help them.
As for killing Arawn, she couldn't do it, that much
was for sure. This was not her fight, and she most definitely was
not a mercenary. When she absorbed Savu's power, she didn't think
it would kill him. Her plan was to make him weak so he could be
overpowered and locked away in a dungeon. The last thing she would
ever do would be to purposely kill someone. She wasn't a murderer,
and she certainly wasn't about to become one. Savu had had her
father; she was protecting her family. It was self-defense.
“Faedra?” Faen asked.
“We can't just leave them there, Faen. Todmus helped
me when Vivianna had me under a spell, remember? We have to do
something.”
Faen eased his grip on Faedra's hand, his features
softened. “What do you suggest?”
“I don't know, but between the four of us we should
be able to come up with a plan to rescue them, don't you
think?”
“Ooh, I am ready for a bit of adventure,” Jocelyn
said, unable to hide her excitement.
Faedra gave her friend a knowing smile. Faen rolled
his eyes. “Why do I get the feeling I am not going to like
this?”
“Jocelyn's got a point, mate. I'm up for a bit of
rescuing, if you're game,” Etyran put in his two pennies worth.
“I have a feeling I am outnumbered,” Faen said with a
smile. He could see the determination on his charge's face. “Okay,
I am in, as you would say, my friend. But, can we please try to not
get killed in the process.”
“We'll try,” said Faedra and Jocelyn.
“Can't make any promises, though.” Etyran piped up,
flashing his signature roguish grin.
Faedra led Faen back into the room, Jocelyn and
Etyran followed. They seated themselves back around the table
again.
“Right, let's get one thing straight,” Faedra said
pointedly to Carina. “I am not killing anyone, understand? I am not
a murderer. But there may be another way to rid you of Arawn. First
things first, though. If you help us rescue Todmus's wife and
daughter, then I believe we know of someone who can make Arawn less
of a problem.”
“Who?” Carina and Anwynn asked together.