Dark One Rising (18 page)

“There’s nowhere for you to go, Princess. If you fight us, you will end up going over the side just as he did. We don’t want that and neither do you. Come up, and I promise we won’t hurt you.”

“Then what?” she answered back, not for once believing anything he said, just trying to buy some time in order to decide what to do.

“Then we will take you back to your fiancé who is waiting for your return. He’s worried about you.”

She peeked over the side again. It was steep, but there was another landing quite a few feet below, and from there, she’d be closer to the water. She could jump without hurting herself. She looked down at the raging, cold water. She was an excellent swimmer, but the water was fast and strong, and the cold would probably stiffen her joints so much she wouldn’t be able to move them. She didn’t care. She’d rather take her chances with the river than with Fallon, or that guy. When she looked at him, she felt like he was looking straight through her. She felt violated. She shook away the fear and swallowed it back. Courage.

“I’ll bet he is. Why don’t you tell him that you lost me over the cliff and be done with it.”

“I have been enlisted to find you and bring you home safely. I cannot go back empty handed.”

“Well, sorry to disappoint you, but he’ll have to keep waiting and worrying.”

She started to clamber down the side of the cliff, this one much steeper and more treacherous than the one above. She slid on her bottom again, trying not to build up too much speed where she wouldn’t be able to stop. The dust was flying, and the loose scree was sliding down the cliff face and falling over the edge to the water below. She was close enough now that she could hear the roar of the water making it’s way southward. She finally reached the landing and grabbed a hold of another root, stopping herself in mid-fall. She let go and slowly fell to the level spot. The other two men were sliding down behind her and soon would be upon her. She looked over the edge and took a deep breath, preparing herself for the long fall. She removed her cloak; the loose material would surely wrap her up, and she would drown. She looked up at the remaining two men again and smiled.

“There’s nowhere for you to go, Princess. Come back up here; my promise still stands,” the man with the red eyes said.

His voice was the same but the tone was different. It had a lisp to it now, almost as if he were hissing out his words.

“I’d rather take my chances with the water.”

“The cold of it will kill you. You’ll die before you could ever swim to shore.”

“But at least I died on my own terms, by my own choice, not by his.”

She was still building up her courage, when the man-at-arms fell from above and landed behind her on the perch. She turned quickly and looked at him. He smiled at her.

“There’s nowhere to go but over. It’s a long drop.”

She backed up and felt her heel reach the edge of the landing. She peered quickly over her shoulder and looked down. She had to make sure she jumped out far enough or she’d kill herself on the rocks below. She smiled back at him and turned from him, jumping out and over the cliff. He tried to grab her as she went, but could not get a hold of her. She braced herself for the impact, took a deep breath in, and hit the water, hard.

The man looked down as she fell into the water, making a splash that reached high in the air. He turned and looked over at Jaron, who was frowning at him.

“Are you going to go after her?” the man asked Jaron.

Jaron stared at the other man, and the eyes behind the hood grew brighter. He lifted his arm and held his scaly black hand palm side out to the man. “No, but you are.”

A surge of energy emitted from out of his hand and struck the man on the chest. His body flew backward and over the side of the cliff, falling to the rocks below. Jaron looked out over the river then turned and climbed up the cliff, back to his horse waiting at the top.

***

Melenthia felt her body racing down the river and tried getting air into her lungs, but the water was pulling on her. Her head bobbed up and down as she struggled to keep her face above the water. Her limbs were cold, almost numb, and she was getting stiff fast. She moved her arms as best she could, trying to make progress toward the shore. She kicked her feet when she could, but the powerful water made moving fluidly almost impossible. She gasped again when her head rose above the rapids and brought air into her aching lungs. She had to get to shore or she’d travel so far down river she’d never figure out where she was. She looked up to the cliff behind her; the men were gone. Somewhere in the raging swirling water, a body was floating. She hoped she didn’t see it. She flapped her arms some more, trying to move, trying to keep the feeling from leaving them completely. If her limbs froze up totally, she’d become a human log in this large, long river. She went under again, and the water swirled around her, choking her and flipping her over. She struggled to right herself but hit her head on a rock. The sharp pain seared through her head, and she wanted to cry, but if she opened her mouth even a little bit, she would take in too much water. She felt dizzy and nauseous, but she refused to pass out. She kicked her legs, and her head popped up out of the water. She gasped for air. A trickle of something thick ran in her eye, and she looked at the water, now red with her blood.

She spotted a sandy expanse of shoreline and fought to get close enough to reach it. She kicked her feet and moved her arms, every move hurting her aching limbs. She inched closer until she was able to grab a hold of a branch that was broken on a small tree hanging over the water. She snagged it with her left hand, the rest of her body moving with the water downstream. She held on tight trying to pull her legs back enough to move herself to the edge of the water. She grabbed the branch with her other hand now and heaved. She swung around and got one foot on the sandy berm, then dragged the rest of her body, willing it to do the same. She had both feet on the sand, and, with one hand still holding the branch, she swung as hard as she could and flopped her numb body onto the sandy shore. When she was sure she was secure, she let go of the branch, lying back on the sand panting, her heart racing, head throbbing with every beat.

She reached a shaky hand to her head and touched the tender spot, her hand coming away with blood which ran down her fingers. She tried to sit up, but she reeled and dry heaved. She had to move into the woods and keep hidden. She didn’t know what happened to the men, but if they were still looking for her, staying out in the open would not be a good idea. She crawled into the brush, just enough to keep her hidden from the other side of the bank, or from the cliff, and lay back down to stop her head from spinning. She breathed in and out and did her best to keep from shaking. She was cold, and her head needed attention. If she bled too much she would surely pass out from loss of it. She needed to get somewhere and deal with her head, get fresh supplies and sleep.

She rose slowly to her feet and trudged into the woods, her body shaking so hard her teeth were chattering. She felt another trail of blood run down her head and drip into her eyes. She had to try and stanch the bleeding somehow. She tried to tear a strip of fabric from her shirt, but, because it was wet, it was too springy to tear. She realized then that her sword was still strapped under her horse, and her knife had been in her pack, which was now lost to the river.

“Damn it!”

She had been too busy trying to get away, she never went back for the sword. She had to go back for it. She would, but one thing at a time; the bleeding wound was the first priority. She would have to improvise. She hoped the men didn’t bother with her horse and leave her to walk across the leagues of desert sands on foot.

She looked around for a rock. She found a medium sized one and leaned over and picked it up. When she rose again, she reeled and fell over. She sat up and hit the rock on another larger one. The rock broke in half, leaving a jagged edge on it. She took off her shirt and laid it out on the large rock, using the rough edge of the other one to saw away at the material. It took a long time to get a long enough piece, but eventually she had a strip long enough to tie around her head to keep the bleeding contained. She hoped it would clot after a bit, long enough to at least get somewhere safer to give it a good cleaning and a proper dressing. She tied it around her head, tight so it wouldn’t come loose, then put what was left of her shirt back on, shivering as she did so. She plodded along through the woods, the feeling starting to come into her limbs again, and now they ached. She felt as if she had been beaten to a pulp, every inch of her was sore, and, probably in a day, would be one big bruise. She continued on, wishing she hadn’t left her horse behind, or her sword. Wishing she had her bag with clean clothes at least. Wishing for a lot of things that might never again be was a waste of energy. She was out here alone, bleeding and hungry, because her father chose Fallon over his only daughter. She started to cry. She knew it was the pain and cold and the fact that she was so very tired, but it maddened her to be doing so anyway. She slapped the tears away. She was not weak, but she was human. She looked up to the sky, her cheeks wet, although with her hair still dripping, she couldn’t be sure if the wetness on her face was tears or river water. The sun was three quarters of the way across the sky now, making it late afternoon. Had she really been gone from Garreth’s that long? She shivered again. Even though the skies had cleared for the time being and the sun was out, it was still cold. She wrapped her arms around herself and rubbed them, trying to warm herself. She came to a trail in the woods, a definite cleared away path that wound through the trees. She hoped that it led to a town, or a village, or even a house. She was thirsty, too. She cursed herself for not drinking some water from the river before she headed out. She had had so much water get into her lungs that drinking was not on the agenda at the time. Now she felt parched all of a sudden. She would’ve squeezed some water out of her shirt if it wasn’t filthy, so, doing her best to make saliva in her mouth to at least wet it, she continued on.

CHAPTER 11

D
ain rode his horse into town. The sun had set, and the merchants had already closed up their carts for the night; the store keepers had locked their doors. The only noise was coming from the taverns and inns on the south side. The ruffians and cutthroats were known to frequent the businesses on this side, and if he wanted seedy information, he had to go into the seedy part of town.

He dismounted and tied his horse to the post. He pulled his cloak’s hood up and adjusted his sword on his hip. He opened the door to the tavern, and the sights and sounds hit him head on. The noise of boisterous patrons was deafening, and the light from the lamps and the raging fire in the hearth hurt his eyes after riding with nothing but the fading sun for light. He sidled up to the bar and waved to the barkeep. The barman walked over and leaned on the bar, to hear better over the din of the room.

“What can I get you?”

Dain pulled two gold coins from the purse under his cloak and set them on the counter.

“I’m looking for Brogan.”

The barkeep glared at him for a few minutes, not touching the coins. He eyed Dain, then scowled at him.

“What makes you think anyone here knows where he is?”

“I’ve been around the block a few times friend, and I listen to talk, and pay attention to details. I would bet there is someone in this room that knows where I can find him.”

“Maybe you should tell me who’s asking and maybe I could find someone to help you.”

Dain sighed. “I was hoping I didn’t have to use my face as a bargaining tool, but if that will move this along, then I will play it your way.”

He pulled his hood off his head, and the barman stood up straight, surprised.

“Your Majesty,” he bowed. “I didn’t realize it was you who was asking. What would Your Majesty want with someone like Brogan?”

“I need some information. He gets around more than I do, and I would bet he has traveled into Xenos lately.”

He frowned. “He will not willingly give you any information that has to do with the duke willingly, without adequate compensation.”

“I will pay what is necessary, but time is not on my side, so if we could hurry this up, I’d appreciate it.”

The barman tossed the towel he had been holding over his shoulder, pocketed the coins and yelled over the noise.

“Anyone seen Brogan tonight?”

There was an eerie pause of noise, all eyes looking toward him. No one came forward at first, then a man approached. He was average height and very thin, with yellowed teeth and greasy hair. His left retina was covered in a milky film and a scar ran from his eyebrow down to his cheek. He was dressed in what looked like clothes made from animal skins, and he had a small knife on his hip. He slithered up to the bar and squinted at Dain. Then he spoke, his voice low and gravelly.“Maybe, maybe not. What do you want with Brogan?”

“Information. And my payment is money, not answers to questions that are not your concern.”

He rubbed a dirty hand across his chin. He looked over at the barman, then back at Dain.

“You take a risk coming into this part of town, Sire. Seeking information about certain things could be detrimental to your well being.”

Dain put a hand on his sword and glowered at the greasy haired man. The barkeep snapped his head around and glared at the slimy man.