Betrayal's Price (In Deception's Shadow Book 1) (14 page)

“Sacrilege,”
Sorntar choked out the word. “It cannot be true.”

Marsolwyn
rushed into the tunnel, saving Ashayna from having to find words of comfort.
Words she did not have.

“Oh, young ones,
you should not have had to witness those for many, many years. I am so sorry.”
Marsolwyn looked down the length of the tunnel with a stony expression. “Magic
should have hidden these from your sight.”

“It’s a
falsehood placed here to test ones faith, isn’t it?” Sorntar, perhaps thinking
what they saw was some trick, no longer stood hunched over, but had fallen back
on his deep-seated discipline to stand straight, undaunted in the face of
horror. “No one can break our most sacred law. To kill one’s bondmate…I can’t
fathom...the pain of such would destroy a person.”

“It would do
more than destroy a person,” Marsolwyn confirmed. She took a deep breath as if
to fortify herself. “The one called the Destroyer did kill her bondmate. By
such an act, she destroyed herself, body and soul. She had no choice. She could
not match powers with him; to touch her vast magic at all would open her up to
his darkness, to be remade like him. Nor could she take her own life. He would
only heal whatever damage she inflicted on herself. So she stopped him the only
way she knew how. The act destroyed them utterly. Never again will those
ancient two be reborn to lead the Twelve. It happened long ago and is best not
dwelled upon. Besides, most of the council believes two new leaders will be
created, should there ever be need.”

Marsolwyn led
them up higher into the city before continuing. The bright sunshine helped to
dispel some of the despair that had followed them from the lower reaches. “Some
councilors speculated Sorntar was the next leader and when we first noted your
likeness to the Destroyer…but fear not, you are not they. It isn’t so strange
that you should bear a resemblance to those two—power is a trait passed down
through bloodlines. While we don’t know the Destroyer’s bloodline, Sorntar’s is
no mystery. Those ill-fated Leaders of the Twelve did bear children, a girl and
a boy of the same birth. Sorntar and all his siblings are direct descendants of
their line. Sorntar is not the first to bear a close resemblance to the Judge.”
The lupwyn urged them into a brisk walk, like she was trying to guide them away
from their memories of the appalling paintings. Ashayna doubted the ploy would
work on Sorntar.

“Priestess
Halnora, and we of the council, are able to recognize power.” Seeing Sorntar’s
doubtful look Marsolwyn added, “Besides, you lack the Mark of the Twelve.”

“The mark,
Sorntar mentioned that.” Ashayna slowly released the breath she had been
holding, and then glowered at the lupwyn when Marsolwyn laughed at her obvious
sigh of relief.

“I wouldn’t
want to be related, no matter how distantly, to the Destroyer.” Even as she
said it, a small part of her soul respected the Destroyer. For that long-ago
woman had done what was needed to preserve her people. Though respect wasn’t
enough to prevent a shiver running up her spine at what those images told.

* * * *

Queen Marsolwyn
kept them company on their way back to the Great Hall, claiming she didn’t want
Sorntar to challenge anyone else to combat. Ashayna expected the truth was more
complex. Sorntar was like a son to Marsolwyn, and she was unwilling to leave
him so obviously distressed.

Sorntar walked
with his eyes down, shoulders hunched, wings clamped tight to his back. Even
Marsolwyn’s attempts to draw him into conversation had no effect. The lupwyn’s
ears pitched forward and back.

“Sorntar.”
Ashayna said his name gently. “This whole situation could be much, much worse….”

“How so?”

“We could hate
each other.”

He laughed, a
harsh, clipped sound, devoid of humor. “Honestly, how much do you resent me for
bringing you here?”

“I don’t resent
what had to be done. I’m coming to accept, for now, this is where I need to be.
Besides, I’m starting to think of you as a friend.”

“Friends…that
doesn’t sound so terrible.” A faint smile touched his lips, but he returned to
studying the ground.

“What? That’s
the best you could do?”
Marsolwyn spoke in Ashayna’s
mind.
“I see I’ll have to intercede.”

Marsolwyn
arched her neck in Sorntar’s direction and made a show of sniffing the air. “Ah,
newly-born camaraderie. Embellish that a little and maybe the persistent one
will leave you alone—unless you actually enjoy her courtship.”

“What?” Sorntar
halted, his face twisting with fury. “I…how could you think…Lylantra and
I…..never.”

His appalled
denial made Ashayna grin. While he might not be back to normal, he did sound
less like an old man. Ashayna hesitated a moment before joining in. “See, there
you go. You knew who she meant.”

“This isn’t...she’s
not,” Sorntar stammered. “You were there. You saw.”

“Well, she was
rather persistent—kind of like someone trying to rekindle an old flame.”

Sorntar
inhaled, his nostrils flaring. Ashayna cut him off. “Oh, don’t try to protect
my delicate sensibilities, I grew up living among rows of camp tents and have
heard and seen just about everything. I’ll not be shocked in the least to hear
you’ve got a few lovers stashed around this huge city. Not that it’s any of my
business.”

“I assure you,
I have never suffered such a lapse in judgment as would be required to court
Lylantra. Phoenixes are not like humans…”

“Hmm, ‘courting’
is it?” Ashayna rolled the word in her mouth, pretending to think about its
meaning. Then she laughed and said, “Oh. You’re just shy.”

Over on Sorntar’s
opposite side, Marsolwyn laughed, her entire body shaking with merriment. She
composed herself after a brief struggle. “Oh, he’s not shy, likely just
confused. When Sorntar said a phoenix isn’t like a human, he wasn’t being
evasive. They are not particularly fertile and ritual courtship can last years.
Personally, I think the problem is too much manipulation of their bloodlines by
the Larnkin. For what other creature can actually choose to either lay a clutch
of eggs or give birth and suckle their young?”

“Thank you,
Marsolwyn, for letting me know I’m not shy…just odd. I’m sure Ashayna found
that fascinating.”

While he might
not be back to his normal lilting tones, he sounded less fragile. She was about
to thank Marsolwyn when the smell of food reached her nose. They rounded a
corner and the Great Hall’s doors stood open and welcoming. As far as Ashayna
was concerned, they’d arrived just in time. She didn’t want the conversation to
dive into her own lack of relationships.

“Some scout I
am.” Ashayna stopped at another branch in the tunnel and frowned down first one
corridor and then the other. After six damn days, including two with Sorntar
acting as guide, she’d felt confident enough to venture around on her own.
Everything had been going well enough, until now, when she’d somehow gotten
turned around in these older tunnels. They all looked identical.

She could have
done without the embarrassment of needing rescuing. With a sigh, Ashayna
squinted down another length of corridor as she debated whether or not to
swallow her pride and just send out the much needed mind-call to Sorntar to
come and rescue her.

There was a
rustle of fabric and the rattle of a sword coming out of its scabbard just
behind her. She spun around in time to see a cloaked and hooded figure step
from an alcove on her left. Battle readiness flooded her body as she sized up
the newcomer. “Don’t suppose you’re my rescuer?”

In answer, the
stranger saluted her with a bare sword.

Ashayna drew
her own while looking around for escape. The stranger was advancing upon her
with obvious menace when the scuff of talons on stone betrayed a second
opponent coming up behind. She whirled right, catching a blow from the broad
side of a sword against her shoulder. Off balance, Ashayna tumbled across the
corridor to collide with the opposite wall. She turned her shoulder into the
hit, but breath still exploded from her lungs, and her vision greyed out.

She cried out,
though not much more than a yelp escaped. Someone grasped her arms, wrenching
them behind her back and shoved her into the shadows. A fist in her stomach
earned them a grunt, but she wouldn’t give them more.

While she was
still bent over, a set of incredibly strong hands grabbed her and held her
captive, effectively subduing her while her other attacker wrapped rope around
her wrists. A mage cloak landed on her shoulders. Its hood was pulled over her
head, and the wards activated before she could think to send Sorntar a mental
warning. A third figure joined the first two and grasped her jaw, nearly
breaking it as he pried it apart and shoved in a gag.

In the
struggle, her hood slipped back. The lupwyn king stood looking down at her with
a deep sorrowful expression, and next to him, Councilor Tav, was a steady
unemotional presence. A punch of dread mixed with betrayal to sour her stomach.

A slight breeze
betrayed the third one coming up beside her. Ashayna twisted to see who else
had judged her to be untrustworthy. A blur of a fist, with talons curled inward
to save her from serious damage, took up her field of vision. Pain exploded in
her head. She knew nothing else.

* * * *

Cold stone,
thick with dust, pressed against her cheek. The coolness soothed the burning
ache of a bruise. Ignoring the urge to sneeze, she blinked, trying to focus but
with little success. The cloak’s hood fell forward over her face, blocking her
line of vision, leaving only a very small sliver of light. She moved, wincing
at the stabbing pain in her skull and rolling waves of nausea in her stomach.
While she lay there willing pain away, the murmur of voices drew closer. A pair
of long-toed feet adorned with finger-length talons stopped a hand span from
her face.

“She’s awake.”
A woman’s voice, which sounded distorted to Ashayna’s ears, increased the
throbbing agony. She knew she was in a bad way if even her ears didn’t want to
function correctly.

Points of pain
burned at each shoulder as talons dug into her flesh. Ashayna was lifted to her
feet. The warmth of her blood soaked into her shirt, but the pain of a few
punctures was nothing compared to the agony pounding in her head. She swallowed
a moan.

“Be gentle.”
The voice sound suspiciously like one she recalled from the night before. After
a moment his name came to her—Councilor Tav. “It is not for us to judge her.
The Oracle will reveal what she hides.”

Tav laid his
hands on either side of Ashayna’s face. She didn’t fight him. It was all she
could do to stand straight and not get sick on his feet.

Heat from his
magic engulfed her, taking away all pain and soothing her churning stomach. “There,”
he said. “That will help.”

The lupwyn king
nodded his head. “Good. At least she’ll be in decent condition to face the
Oracle. Still, I don’t like it. The council has never been divided.”

“You agreed to
this; we all did,” Tav said, his voice softer as if he was moving farther away.
“Bring her.”

A door pushed
open with a scraping hiss, and Ashayna was dragged forward into another room by
the unknown female. Her captor dumped her on the floor. Before Ashayna could
straighten fully, the door closed with a leaden thud. The sound of a lock
sliding home caused a shiver of worry to crawl up her spine.

The hood was
pulled down and Ashayna jerked in surprise, for she thought she was alone, but
both Tav and Ryanth were present. There was no sign of the woman in the dimly
lit room. The only illumination came from a single mage globe hanging at Tav’s
shoulder. Its light chased the shadows back a ways, just far enough so she
could see the wooden bones of an ancient stairwell spiraling up into darkness
above her head. Dust, cobwebs, and the damp stench of mildew and rotted wood
spoke of long abandonment. Any hope of someone stumbling upon them vanished.
Sorntar might not find her body for years. The thought of Sorntar spurred her
Stonemantle stubbornness into action. Straightening her shoulders, she tilted
her chin up. She would not bring shame to Sorntar. Let them see a human could
be equally fearless as any elemental.

The lupwyn
removed her gag and tossed it away with a dark look. “I’m sorry for what we
must do next. As you can guess, we have reason to believe you are something
other than you appear. Talnarra is normally an excellent judge of character,
but in this she has been compromised by her wish to have her son bond to one
who is an equal in power to him. You are exactly what she has hoped for. I fear
she is too willing to trust Halnora’s word in this.”

“Are we talking
about the same Talnarra?” Ashayna’s voice was rough. She wondered how long she
had been unconscious. Hopefully long enough for Sorntar to realize she was
missing. “And you don’t trust the priestess?”

“Let me say I
trust Priestess Halnora to see to the Mother’s concerns first and all other
mortal concerns much later.”

“So you don’t
trust your Goddess, is that not sacrilege?”

“I serve the
Gods to the best of my ability. While I would sacrifice myself for the greater
good, I will not allow danger to come to my family if I can prevent it. And you
have fast become one my mate views like a daughter.”

Ashayna only
grunted in answer, and then glowered at Tav. “What is your noble reason for
dragging me here?” As she waited for his answer, she took in her surroundings,
looking for a route of escape or any places the other woman could hide.

“Tav’s reasons
are the same as mine. The Dead King advised the council to test both you and
Sorntar.”

“The who?”

“The Rulers of
the Dead wield a power both older and greater than any council member. They
guard the gateway between life and the afterlife. Only rarely do they involve
themselves in the living world. Yet they’ve shown an interest in you…” He let
the sentence die.

Ashayna wished
she hadn’t asked.

Tav cleared his
throat and took up where King Ryanth left off. “Some councilors wished for you
and Sorntar to undergo the trial of the Oracle Stone from the start.”

Ashayna would
bet her favorite dagger that Tav was the opposition’s voice.

“Halnora and
the queen persuaded the rest against it, saying the risk of using the Oracle is
too great. However, it is the only way to find out, with absolute certainty, if
you are untainted by darkness.”

Ashayna leveled
her glare at Tav. “Because I’m human, you assume I must be the tainted one?”

The lupwyn
laughed, answering her when Tav remained silent. “No. You’re simply easier to
capture. Had Lylantra been successful in seducing Sorntar, we would’ve used
him, but Sorntar’s instincts and training make him too difficult to capture
when he has his wits about him. We can’t hide this from Queen Talnarra, but
once it’s done…”

“Yes, it can’t
be undone—I figured that out on my own. So, I have Lylantra to thank for that
mother of all headaches.”

King Ryanth’s
ears flicked forward. “She had nothing to do with your capture. She’s presently
away from Grey Spires, running an errand for the council.”

“Fine, I get
it. You have loads of underlings to do your work. What do you expect to learn?”
She glanced between them. “Or do you already have me marked as unclean, and
this way you can prove your superiority over such a weak species. Be done with
it then; I’ve no desire to give you sport.”

“This has
nothing to do with your human blood. The Oracle Stone shows truth to those who
look upon it. It is used to judge the worthiness of a candidate for the throne
or as punishment for a crime. If they hold a dark secret, the revealing of that
truth is plain for others to see.” When Ashayna arched a brow at him, he
clarified. “The Stone carves out clear warning on the flesh of any who carries
even a hint of darkness. It also reveals a person’s greater qualities if they
are qualified to rule.” As he spoke, he tilted his wrist so she could see a
small furless area where a knotted symbol had been branded into his skin. “Should
you, for some reason unknown to us, be able to hide the mark of the Twelve, it
too will be revealed. Then the Rulers of the Dead shall deal with you.”

He cut the rope
binding her wrists, then turned her until she faced a dark stairwell. The sound
of a sword being drawn echoed loud in her ears.

Dark, narrow,
and dank, those stairs did not inspire her to climb, but she took the first
step anyway. The deep groan of old wood stopped her from taking another.
Undecided, she looked over her shoulder at them and took a half step back. A
burning agony seared her feet. Gasping in pain, she jumped up two steps.
Thinking some weaving had been triggered and the steps would burn, she quickly
glanced over her shoulder. Her hunch proved wrong. The stairs were as they had
been before, no signs of flame or scorching sullied the ancient grain.

“Wonderful. How
do I get myself into these situations?”

The stairs had
held when she’d thrown her weight against them, so she supposed they would hold
the rest of the way up. She took the stairs two at a time, hoping to increase
her chances of missing any more nasty surprises. She climbed another couple
dozen steps and nothing happened.

Perhaps the
weavings only activated if one tried to retreat?

The narrow
stairwell grew darker, but not completely black. Some light filtered down from
an immeasurable distance above, and the grey walls glowed faintly. Running a
cautious fingertip against the surface, she felt a gentle wave of power wafting
through the air, like a predator taking her scent. Thoughts of the tower as a
living creature did nothing to ease her nervousness. She continued climbing
until her thigh muscles knotted and sweat ran along her back. She didn’t slow
her pace. Every few steps she would bark out an oath concerning overly obsessed
councilors.

“I hate magic…I
hate Larnkins…I hate…,” she was going to say bondmates, but admitted to herself
she didn’t hate Sorntar.

She leaned
against one wall to rest. Power hummed along her back and she jerked away from
it. Another swirl of power, stronger than the last, drew her attention to the
wall opposite. A shadow began to coalesce in the stone. She bolted up the
stairs, trying to outrun it. The shadow kept pace with her for another dozen
steps, and she finally looked at it. It was a falcon.

“Failure.
Betrayal.” Words echoed softly against the surrounding walls, a haunted sound
sufficient to chill the sweat on her back.

“I think
failure would be bad.” She choked out her reply.

“Failure. You
failed us, all of us.”

Before Ashayna
could reply to the accusation, she glimpsed an object on the next step. She
tripped, nearly falling back down the stairs. “Thrice cursed place!”

Two daggers,
their blood-stained blades crossed, rested on the next step. She made to kick
both daggers down the stairs, only to have the blood pooled underneath them
vanish into the grain of the wood. The daggers misted away moments later.

She took the
next few steps at a run, leaping up stairs until she left that area well
behind. The visions didn’t allow her peace for long. Another shadow formed on
the wall next to her. She didn’t run this time, instead waiting with taut
nerves to see what shape it would take.

A figure
similar in build and height to Ashayna materialized at arm’s reach. She could
have been looking into a mirror. Ashayna stared at her other self. “What do you
want?”

The figure
cradled a sword in her arms as if it were a child, but paid Ashayna’s question
no mind, instead whispering in a broken voice. “Failure. Betrayal. Death.”