Redeemed by Rubies (A Dance with Destiny Book 6) (38 page)

“Come on,” Jester finally said, pushing the other Goblin’s shoulder. “We’ll get her soon enough… teach her a lesson she will wish she had never learned.”

Glendor smiled as he sheathed his broadsword. “My mouth’s watering just thinking about it.”

Jenevier didn’t speak, only smiled and wiggled her fingers, waving at the two fuming creatures’ slow departure.

When the Goblins had finally made their way up to the waiting arena, the Imp looked from Jenevier to the silent Drowl.

“Ardune.”

“Terral,” Ardune said, inclining his head toward the Imp.

“You’ve never been one to start stirring mischief.” The Imp glanced back to Jenevier. “Perhaps you should mind the company you keep.”

“Terral,” Ardune said softly. “This is my Lady, Jenevier. Empress, this is Terral Gavane—High Elder of the Scroll Society, Master Wizard of the First Order, and one of the very first Sheol dwellers.”

Jenevier bowed in her Dragon manner. “Namaste, Mr. Gavane. My name is Jenevier Oles—”

“Yeah.” The tiny man snorted sardonically. “I know who you are. What, with a splashy entrance like the one
you
made, even water-dwellers have heard about you by now.”

“But I didn’t make—”

“Prancing around on the podium for all to see,” Gavane said, in a high-pitched, mocking tone. “Hi, I’m a human. I think I’m special. Everybody fight over me. Bah! What nonsense.”

Jenevier quickly clamped her hand over her mouth, but the giggles pushed through her fingers anyway. The Imp raised a single brow and eyed her curiously.

“You are a strange one, to be sure,” he mumbled, mostly to himself. “What’s so funny?”

“Oh, nothing really.” She plopped back down on the bench and sighed. “I was just thinking… in a different time, in a much different place, I would have named you Brother and sought your counsel.” She glanced at the Imp and smiled. “We would have been friends. At least, I would have liked to have been. Alas, those days are now past.”

“Is that so?” Terral Gavane quietly studied Jenevier for a moment longer. “Tell me, human girl. Why are you picking fights with Goblins? Why did you even come down here?”

“That wasn’t my intent—fighting. But, they were rude to Ardune. No… beyond rude. Those two…” Jenevier glanced back toward the hallway the two Globins had disappeared down. “…they are vile creatures—hideous to their core.” She once again met the Imp’s steady gaze. “I couldn’t let their despicable actions slide… such isn’t in me.”

“I see,” Gavane mumbled. “Well, it can’t be helped, I suppose. You popped out of nowhere only yesterday. But you’ll learn… soon enough. Now, if you wish to steer clear of any more trouble, you best leave this place.” He glanced toward Ardune. “A Drowl should have known better than to lead his Lady into the bowels of the arena.”

“Don’t look at me.” Ardune held up his hands. “This one goes where she pleases. I tag along to ensure her safety… back her play.”

“Back her play, eh?” The Imp snorted. “And just what
play
were you planning on making, little lady? Did you come down here intent on stirring up a ruckus?”

“Quite the opposite,” Jenevier said. “I came down here to
finish
all this nonsense. I have no intention of waiting around like a proper
Lady
.”

“Yes…” Gavane mused. “Being proper wouldn’t suit you, would it?”

Jenevier shrugged her shoulders. “Not in Sheol, no. If there is an established etiquette in this place, I have yet to see it.”

“The Troll brothers have dropped out,” Ardune said.

The Imp narrowed his gaze. “That doesn’t sound like Raegar and Guntra to me.”

“She talked them out of fighting.” Ardune motioned toward Jenevier. “But that’s pretty much where her luck ran out. These other creatures haven’t been nearly as receptive.”

“So…” The Imp eyed her again. “You’re trying to halt the tournament, are you?”

“No. I’m trying to bring it to an end. Not just halt it.”

“I see… Well, you may somehow get
these
bottom dwellers to stop fighting over you.” Gavane glanced at the passing Banshees. “But you’ll not divert the Angel so easily.”

“I’m not worried about Ahriman,” Jenevier said. “
He’s
the one who put this idea in my head in the first place. He said, they had agreed to give me the opportunity to redeem myself back from the victor.” She shrugged her shoulders again. “I thought… Heck, I’ll just go down there and
be
the victor. Kill two birds with one stone, ya know?”

“…Yes.” Gavane continued eyeing her over. “Alas, Ahriman isn’t the Angel I was speaking of.”

A rather large Gargoyle approached from the darkened end of the hallway and sat down on the same bench as her, nearly tipping Jenevier’s end up in the process. She looked his way, but didn’t speak.

“Why are you in this place, tiny one?” the giant creature whispered, not making eye contact with her. “Do you need assistance?” He looked then from the Drowl to the Imp. “Come with me. I will see you safely back outside.”

Jenevier furrowed her brow, but didn’t answer him. He held his hand out, palm up, toward her.

“I won’t hurt you,” he whispered. “Come with me now.”

Jenevier sent Ardune a questioning look. The Drowl smiled with only one corner of his mouth.

“If you tell him to go, he will.” The Gargoyle glanced at Ardune, then quickly over to her. “They listen to Ladies.”

At that, Jenevier had to smile. “What’s your name?”

The Gargoyle looked troubled, then turned his head.

“They call him Hunter,” Ardune said. “He is a formidable one, to be sure. Most creatures steer clear of him.”

“Although…” the Imp mused. “I
am
surprised by the fact he is shy…”

“My thoughts match yours, Gavane,” Ardune said. “I had no idea.”

“I’m not shy,” the Gargoyle snapped, yet did not turn back to face them. “If the human girl needed help, I only wished her to know I was here to assist her. I heard those Goblins up there in the arena—Jester and Glendor. They mean her grievous harm. I just came down to check on her. That’s all.”

“What are you saying?” The Imp moved closer. “Are you offering to be her fighter?”

When Hunter didn’t answer, Jenevier lightly touched his arm.

“Gratitude, Brother,” she said softly. “I am honored. But… I can take care of myself. Well, most times.”

“How can you even say something like that?” He turned to look her in the eye. “You either don’t understand what’s going on here, or you’re simply blind to the danger. Come with me. Please.”

Jenevier gently took his still proffered hand. “I didn’t realize I would meet someone in Sheol with such a noble soul.”

When she smiled again, Hunter blushed a deep crimson.

“You offer me kindness I have not earned,” she softly said. “I am in awe of you, my friend. Alas, if I find myself in a tight spot, Ardune has vowed to come to my aid.”

The Gargoyle then looked to the smiling Drowl. “You mean… a Drowl is joining the tournament?”

“I have placed my name in the box, yes,” Ardune said. “I will fight for my Lady.”

“Your… Lady?”

Ardune gave the Gargoyle a gracious nod. “She has honored me thusly, yes.”

“I see…” Hunter swallowed hard, lightly squeezing Jenevier’s hand. “Do the rest of them know?” He glanced at Gavane. “Have you informed the others, concerning Ardune?”

“I have not,” the Imp said.

Hunter sort of snorted. “Of course you haven’t. Too curious to see how it might play out, huh, Imp?” He slowly stood then, reluctantly releasing her tiny hand. “Very well, then… I shall keep my silence as well. Withdraw my name from the roster, old man.”

“You’re going to sit this one out?” Gavane asked.

“I am no fool.” Hunter looked back to Jenevier. “Good luck to you, human girl. I will be in the stands… rooting for you.”

And with that, he left.

“How very curious,” she mumbled. “I didn’t even
try
to talk him out of it.”

“You didn’t have to,” Gavane said, glancing at Ardune before winking. “Now, tell me.” He moved closer to Jenevier. “How is it you plan on redeeming yourself? Hmm?”

“I plan on winning the tournament.”

“And how’s that? Hmm? With this enchanting bobble upon your hand?” He reached for her fingers while still talking.

“No,” she said. “With this blade upon my back.”

“A single blade won’t do,” Gavane said, his attention still upon her giant ruby ring.

“I carry two.”

“Yes… is that so?” Gavane said absently.

“Yes, it is.” Jenevier tried to politely withdraw her hand.

“Where did you get such a treasure?” Gavane asked. “I
know
your Dragon didn’t gift you with it… greedy monsters,” he mumbled, mostly to himself.

“Dragons are
not
greedy. They are loyal and beautiful and perfect.” She jerked her hand free. “How did you even know about Nilakanta?”

“Ahh, Nilakanta, is it?” Gavane smiled. “The biggest hoarder of them all.” He ignored Jenevier’s growls. “And, I knew you were Master of Dragons because you greeted me thusly.”

“I am not their Master. I am their Guardian.”

“Not so with the old blue one, eh?” Gavane smiled knowingly. “Your fire burns hotter with him, does it not?”

“He is
my
Dragon. We are bonded.”

“Yes, and I bet nothing made him happier… a sparkling, shiny little thing like you riding about upon his back.”

“We are mutually enamored with each other. Nilakanta cannot possibly love me more than I love him.”

“Oh, to be sure, Guardian… to be sure.” Gavane narrowed his gaze. “So… did
he
gift you with this ruby?”

“No.” She glanced down at the ring. “Father did… a long time ago. It was my angelic mask. Michael withdrew it… formed it thusly and fastened it to my wrist.”

“Michael? Hmpft.” Terral Gavane stood up straight then, huffing as he adjusted his cloak. “Well now, sparkly little human girl, with friends the likes of the ones you name so easily, how is it you find yourself
here
?”

“That damn soul-eater,” she grumbled.

“Ah, yes. The one who gave you the idea to
redeem
yourself.” Gavane chuckled. “Rely not upon that Prisalyn strapped across your back, tiny Dragon-girl. Seek your redemption via the ruby adorning your dainty little hand.”

Jenevier furrowed her brow. “How can a ring redeem me?”

“By releasing the power within.”

The Imp turned to go.

“Wait,” Jenevier said. “How am I supposed to do
that
?”

Gavane didn’t answer, just hobbled away… mumbling to himself and occasionally chuckling.

Jenevier rolled her eyes and then looked to Ardune. “So what’s the deal with you and the Gargoyle?”

“We both hail from ancient races.” He casually shrugged his shoulders. “We go way back.”

“Don’t be vague with me, Drowl. This is my
soul
we’re talking about here. I shouldn’t like to play games with it.”

“I would never play games with you, my Lady. Remember when I told you… that a Drowl had to
prove
himself worthy of a Lady? That a Drowl was not only her caretaker, but her protector as well?”

Jenevier only nodded.

Ardune smiled. “I know how to fight, my Lady. I would never have been given charge over one of King Thacius’s daughters, were that not the case.”

“So then… you’ve fought with the Gargoyle before? With Hunter?”

Ardune shook his head. “No, my Lady. I didn’t have to. No Drowl has to prove their might thusly. Not among the ancient races.”

Jenevier tilted her head to the side. “Sooo… you’re handy in a scrap, huh?”

He smiled softly. “I can be, yes.”

“Good.” Jenevier stood up. “Then, let’s finish this.”

Ardune suddenly grabbed her wrist as she turned to go, pulling her against him, staring directly into her eyes.

“Listen to me, my Lady.”

When Jenevier met the Drowl’s intense gaze, her breath caught. An unsettling chill ran through her.

“Make no mistake about this,” Ardune said. “You are not walking into
just
another battle.
This
is not a summons. You are no longer the Reaper.”

Jenevier swallowed hard, her heart beating loudly within her ears.

“When you step into that arena.” He glanced up with a nod, then back down to her. “You will do so as Jenevier… as a human. This battle, my most beautiful Lady, is exactly as you say—a battle for your very soul. Yet… you are master of your destiny. If you will truly be redeemed… then you must make ready.”

“Make ready how?” She held out her arms. “As you see me is as I am.”