Gods Of Blood And Fire (Book 1) (60 page)

Raygan sat and wept, could what the masked man said be true? What must Isabella think of her, the girl had been her only friend when she had no one else? What kind of person was she not to have helped the girl; she should have tried harder to find her when she went missing.

Cain and William Blackthorn would pay if she ever got out of here. They were monsters. First, her father, now poor Isabella, what else had they done?

The door opened back up and the Dark One came back in alone. He pushed her down on the table hard and put the manacles back around her wrists. She tried to struggle but the pain in her abdomen was too much.

He finished chaining her back down to the table. Then the wizard leaned on the table, his face right over top of hers. “I should kill you now or at least flay you alive but even that would be too good for you, I was once like Isabella, Majesty, but no one ever came for me. I want you to know I lied before, I’m not beautiful on the inside, Highness. I am dark and empty. I will not hesitate to make you scream for death. Your cries will be like sweet music to me and I will dance to that music, Majesty, and when the music stops, I will cry for more.

He cackled and did a little spin. The Dark One started for the door then stopped. He spoke but didn’t face her. “What happened to her should never happen to any child, death would have been a much kinder fate.” He walked out and shut the door, Raygan could only whimper in fear.

Rhys and Endra were making good time, considering the snow, the weather was warmer, and the sun had decided to show itself. “Endra, I think we should press on while the weather is mild.”

“I agree, we might make the Adorn in a couple of days if we just keep going, we can eat in the saddle, can you make it?”

The healer raised his eyebrows. “I’m so sore, now it won’t matter if we stop or not.”

Endra smiled at him. “You are a harder man than I thought, Rhys Morgan. Have you ever thought of changing professions? I’m sure Kian or K’xarr would train you.”

“Oh no, all that fighting and death, it’s not for me, if I wanted that I could have stayed in Tara. No, keeping people alive, taking away their pain is what I have always enjoyed doing.”

Endra nodded her approval “A noble pursuit.” She turned in her saddle and saw a column of men. Close to a hundred she guessed, riding towards them from the south west. They flew three banners, the first was a pair of open hands with golden light between them on a silver field, the second a pair of golden eyes on a red field, the third she had seen before, a three-tined crown with a golden sunburst behind it on a banner of white. She turned to Rhys with fear in her eyes. “It’s the Church.”

Rhys knew there was no point in trying to run and in the snow-covered pasture land there was nowhere to hide. “Let me talk to them. I have had to deal with a lot of priests when I lived in Tara.”

Endra didn’t argue, she pulled up the hood of her cloak and wrapped a scarf around the bottom half of her face.

When the column of men got closer, two of them broke away from the others and rode forward. The first was in full armor, a knight of one of the holy orders, Rhys guessed. The visor on his helmet was raised so all Rhys could see was the man’s face. He looked to be in his thirties and was clean shaven and had hard dark eyes. The other man had dark neatly trimmed hair and a waxed goatee. The healer could tell he was powerfully built under his heavy cloak. He wore a red robe with a chain of gold around his neck, on the end of the chain was a golden eye. Rhys knew the symbol the priest was with the inquisition, the investigators for the Church the Eyes of God. He had to stay calm. Rhys knew he wasn’t a very good liar, but he would have to do his best.

The man in the robes spoke first. “Good day, travelers. I’m Lord Justice Dracen Milara, and this is Sir Oliver Deverall Commander of the Knights of Deliverance.”

Rhys knew there were many members in the order, but only one Lord Justice and one grand inquisitor, the two true Eyes of God, and one of them sat on a horse right in front of him. This Lord Milara was one of the most powerful men in the Church and his job was getting the truth out of people. Rhys could feel his palms beginning to sweat inside his gloves. “May I ask who you are?” the Lord Justice asked.

Rhys answered quickly. “Rhys Morgan, a healer from Turill, and this is my sister Rachel, we are checking on some of my patients that live outside the city. Now that the storm has passed, I was trying to make my rounds.”

The Lord Justice raised his right hand. “You must have patients all over Bandara, my good man. You’re a very long way from Turill.”

Rhys swallowed hard and tried to answer. “Yes … well I treated them in the city and they moved out here. I just wanted to make sure they were still doing well.”

“Bless you, Physician Morgan, for all the good you do. This world needs more men like you and of course women like your sister, I take it she helps with the sick?”

Rhys shifted in his saddle, he didn’t want to say too much. “Yes, Lord Milara, she is of great help to me.” The holy man’s eyes looked Endra over. “Odd that a healer’s assistant should be so well armed.”

“Well, my lord, she also protects me on our journeys. She is far more skilled than I with a sword.” That was at least the truth Rhys thought.

The Justice gestured with his finger. “Pull you scarf down good woman, and let me see you.”

Endra glanced at Rhys and pull the scarf down but not her hood. Rhys saw the desire flash into the Lord Justice’s eyes when she revealed her face. Sometimes Endra’s looks were a disadvantage to her. “My God, man, your sister has been blessed by God, now the hood, please,” the holy man requested.

Endra slowly pulled her hood down and shook her wavy black hair free. The Eye of God said nothing, he only stared like so many men did at the woman from Sorrack. Rhys had seen it before, the Eye of God just fell in love with the young huntress.

“My lord, we should be going, the light is fading,” the knight commander said without taking his eyes off Endra.

“You’re right, Commander, we have pressing business.” He looked at Rhys. “Be assured, Physician Morgan, that I will look in on you and your sister when I come to Turill.”

Rhys bowed his head slightly. “You honor us, my lord.”

The Lord Justice rode his horse over close to Endra’s mare and grasped her gloved hand. “Till we meet again, my dear Rachel.” He bent and kissed the back of her glove.

The Commander of the Knights motioned his hand forward and the column moved on, the Lord Justice lingered a moment then followed.

Rhys looked at Endra as she pulled her cloak back up. “I mean no offence, but sometimes I wish you were ugly.” Endra guiltily nodded back.

“Did you see that woman, Deverall? She was divine. I must find out who she really is.”

Oliver looked at the Lord Justice. “I thought her name was Rachel Morgan?”

Milara snickered. “They were both lying through their teeth. We will ride ahead and then turn and follow them, perhaps they are the ones who will lead us to where God wants us to be.”

The Commander shrugged. “As you wish Lord, and you are right the woman was beautiful, but I thought priests could not partake of a woman’s flesh?”

The inquisitor looked at Oliver with the eyes that had ordered the torture and death of hundreds of men and women. The holy man’s gaze was unsettling. “Sometime God rewards the devout.”

***

Night was falling when Kian first glimpsed the tower. He had arrived cold, tired, and more than a little battered. He still ached from the fight with the dragon. He decided to rest for a while before heading to the tower. Besides after night fell, he would have the advantage of seeing in the dark. At least he hoped he had that advantage, he had no idea what the wizard’s magic could do. He propped himself against a tree and closed his eyes and waited for the night.

He opened his eyes the sky was bright and clear the wood was alive with birds and animals. The forest itself was green and beautiful and the snow was gone.

Several Elven men and women approached, they all were of different heights and hair coloring but each beautiful beyond words. They were dressed in the style of his mother’s ancestors and they held their heads high with a look of pride on their faces.

Kian knew that he was seeing the Elven race as it once existed. He must be dreaming or perhaps he had died in his sleep and this was heaven.

A tall blonde Elven man walked forward, he wore the armor of an ancient warrior. Kian had seen drawings of it in Gildor’s old books.

“Kian Cardan, we have brought you here because of your mother’s blood and to honor that part of you. We reject your human side and you must also while you are in this realm.”

Kian nodded his agreement. The blonde Elf continued. “We are the ghosts of the Adorn. This is what our forest looked like before the humans came. The world of Saree was a place of harmony and balance. Then the Reaper came. He and his human army defiled the forest and slew us all. Our spirits still reside inside the trees where we were crucified. The tree your body is sleeping against now is where my sprit rests.”

The swordsman’s eyes took in the scenic forest. It was truly beautiful. Why would anyone wish to destroy it? “Why have you brought me here?” Kian asked.

“We have brought you here to warn you,” the fair-haired Elf said.

Kian’s vision blurred and the scene changed. The forest was on fire, men, women, and children—all Elven—ran to and fro, screaming in confusion, terror written across their faces.

Men in black armor with sword and torch stalked through the forest, slaughtering the Elves and burning their homes. Some of the Elven warriors tried to fight back, only to be cut down where they stood. The human’s swords spared no one.

In the midst of the massacre, a giant of a man sat astride a black stallion. The man himself was encased in black armor from head to toe, his black helmet was unmistakably crested with Elven hair. There were only two eye slits in the helmet and both issued a faint dark glow. Kian took a step back.

It was the Reaper. Kian knew without having to be told. The horse he rode reared up on its back legs and flames burst from the unholy creature’s mouth. The God of Death drew a huge black sword and pointed it at Kian as if he could see him.

The Elven man who had brought him to this place of death grabbed him by the shoulders and said, “You have been marked.” Kian looked at him and felt the cold fingers of fear touch his heart.

“Do not go to the tower, Kian, I tell you this for the sake of Kia, your mother. If you do your life will be cursed with blood and death. The Reaper will ride in your shadow and you will never know peace.” A spear punched through the man’s back and blood seeped from the corners of his mouth. “I have fulfilled my promise,” he uttered as his body collapsed to the ground.

Kian awoke sweating, his back side was wet. He had slept in the snow all night. The sun was up and a cool breeze stirred the air. It had been a dream, hadn’t it?

He looked around and saw that the snow was melted in huge circle around him, now he knew why he was wet. He smelled the air with his sensitive nose, smoke.

It was more than a dream, somehow he had been there. He considered the warning he had been given for a moment, then the swordsman headed for the tower.

“He approaches, Master, he’s here.”

The wizard finished pouring the tiny vile of dark liquid he had taken from the Phoenix Queen’s tomb into the poison ring he now wore.

He closed the ring’s tiny reservoir and stood up. He was stiff and his wounds ached. He would have to loosen up before the Half Elf arrived.

He wore black leather armor in place of his robes and a dark cape. Buckling his two short swords around his waist and adjusting his mask, the Dark One came around his desk. “Get the Queen and meet me on top of the tower, and, Siro, remember what we talked about.” The ugly little man nodded and went to get their hostage.

The Dark One climbed the steps to the top of his tower, he peered over the battlements and saw his creation coming towards the tower through the deep snow. He knew the fool would eventually come for the little whore. And he had come alone, it couldn’t be more perfect. “I will wait for you up here,” he called out.

He saw the swordsman look up at him then quicken his pace toward the ancient structure.

He hoped his plan would work or he would most likely be dead by the end of the day. He wanted to laugh out loud, he was nervous and tingling all over. He barely felt the pain of his scars. It had been a long time since he had been this excited.