The Dragon God (Book 2) (38 page)

“You are indeed an enigma. I like this game. Give me her name.”

“Kiratta Green.”

“Oh, yes, a beautiful human, and one who stole the heart of my true love. It is good to hear from you Romann de Beaux. How are you?”

“Release her, Ravana. Centuries have passed and you know my heart still belongs to her. She is innocent.”

“Innocent, you say? Not likely. I was merciful to her and to you, my love.”

“I am always watching you, and I will live forever until I see your damned heart crushed with my own hand.”

“Romann, Romann, you are so dramatic. I am the ruler here and I will rule as I please. Your sweet Pirate’s Belly is only allowed to operate because of me. Come home, my darling, and let us rule together.”

“Never. My revenge will come someday. The four Horn Kings will fall—one has already. The realm has begun to change, I can sense it. You should be mindful of the recent events. You can’t hide inside your tower forever.”

“I am not hiding, my dear, I am waiting.”

“For what?”

“For you. It breaks my blackened heart that you toss my feelings for you like the waves upon your ship.”

“You have cursed us both, Ravana, but I have not turned one soul to a foul being you converted me to be.”

“Not surprising, Romann. You were always the hero, never the villain.”

“I won’t stop until you release Kiratta from the curse of Oculus.”

“I wouldn’t assume otherwise. Who is your messenger boy? He is cute, can I have him?”

Daysho’s heart quickened, but he refused to make eye contact with the medusa-like vampire. He stood his ground, hands at his side. Ravana slid past him slowly and he gulped. Romann did not answer her.

Ravana’s voice trailed in the distance behind him, “You may leave, Daysho. Give my best to your master, but be mindful, Assassin. I know where you live.”

Daysho did not hesitate and turned to walk out, eyes looking at the ground. His heart stopped when she appeared suddenly before him, blocking his exit.

“Are you forgetting something?”

He floundered in his response, “My apologies, I am uncertain as to what you mean.”

“Take what you brought out of my chamber, Human.”

“Of course.”

“Look at me, Daysho,” she commanded.

He paused and shook his head slightly.

She said, “I will not turn you to stone, trust me. After a while, statues become so droll and boring. I want to see your eyes and I want you to see mine. Now look at me!”

Daysho raised his head and his eyelids opened wider, until finally seeing her glowing sapphire orbs.

“Good,” she said. “Now we understand each other. I have seen your soul and you have seen mine. You may leave.”

He bowed his head, backed himself to the metal chest, closed the lid, and carried it out the way he came in. The doors to her chamber thumped closed.

Daysho stood before Romann de Beaux, aboard his ship,
The Rose
.

“You have done well, Daysho”

“Then you will give me what you promised?”

“Yes, you will be the first that I have ever turned. There is no going back, Daysho. I pray you heed my words and recant your decision.”

“No, this is what I want.”

“So be it. The rules of a vampire are different than anything you can imagine. Those turned unknowingly, become Vamplings, the weaker of the species, but those turned by their choice retain all of their past skills and become stronger each passing year.”

“I understand, my master.”

“Once you transform, you know what needs to happen next.”

Daysho looked directly into Romann’s swirling red and blue eyes, an evil grin on the assassins face, “Yes, you will have your army, that is certain.” Daysho tilted his head, revealing his ripe veined neck. Romann stared at the assassin, hesitant to alter the pure life before him. He had strategized year upon year, decade upon decade, century upon century, but no thought of ever transforming a living soul to a foul and lost spirit like himself had ever crossed his mind. He hated what he was, but even more, he longed to be united with his true love.
“There is no other way,”
he thought to himself,
“but to fight evil with evil.”
He splayed his fangs and sunk them deep into the human’s flesh.

A
bawken and Raina strolled arm in arm through a remote section of King Morthkin’s kingdom. They were given privilege to enter a sacred hall the frost dwarves called Klusheed.

“We are almost there,” Raina said softly.

Raina smiled and Abawken asked, “Are you going to tell me where we are going?”

“Not yet. You will see shortly.”

Abawken noticed the lighting in this particular area of the dwarven construction had a faint hue of orange within the blue-iced walls. He wondered what their destination could be as they passed through numerous guards stationed at strategic intervals leading to this section of the mountain castle, but didn’t notice much else, other than Raina. They were together, and his world was right.

They rounded a bend on their walk and came to a brilliant gold door, the apparent source of the orange hue reflecting off the ice.

Abawken waited as Raina walked to the door, which magically opened on its own. The human fighter staggered forward as the majesty of the chamber beyond captured his breath.

“Welcome to the Garden of the Gods,” Raina said as Abawken, mouth open, eyes-wide, stopped at the doorway next to her.

Numerous trails split off into the immense, cavern-like room, weaving between the brilliant crystals shimmering in colors they had only seen in
Heaven. The floor sparkled like a polished glass mosaic embedded into the ground. The crystalline forest grew in clusters from every surface and in every direction. Reflective images of the couple refracted throughout the chamber, capturing the colors of their clothing and absorbing them into the natural phenomenon.

“It’s beautiful,” Abawken finally said. Raina grabbed his hand and tugged him inside, letting the gold door close.

Raina’s voice glided smoothly, “The wedding is in just a few days. Soon we will be leading a great quest together, you and I. Before the other power-hungry Horn Kings advance on the territories, we will begin to set up leadership in the West. We will defend the freedom we won at such high costs there. My hope is that we will see a new kingdom of freedom born. But before we do all that, we have time for a small trip.”

“A trip?”

“Yes. I will summon Zeffeera and take you to a place I’d like to show you,” she smiled.

“Are you going to tell me where?” Abawken wasn’t too keen for surprises, but wasn’t sure if he would explain that to Raina. She seemed so fond of them.

“I will bring you to a place where the flowers sing in joy over the colors they wield. Birds chirp in chorus with the land, and cool breezes that roll over your body heighten your senses and lull you to rest.”

Abawken stopped their stroll and looked into Raina’s eyes, “Can there be such a place as you describe?”

She lovingly smiled and said softly, “I am taking you to Teras di Kimil; the Lily of the Valley. My home.”

“I thought the elven kingdom of the Sheldeens fell in the wars.”

“It did, but not my home. Zeffeera is the protector of the hidden valley, along with Neph.

“Neph?”

Raina grabbed hold of his arm and they began to walk again. She smiled as she continued, “Yes, Neph. She was a gift to me and I long to see her again.”

“Another secret, my Raina,” Abawken toyed.

“Nay, Neph is a dear friend and one that you will need to experience, as any description I offer will not do her justice. Now, tell me about your family and where you come from.”

“I come from the province of Zoar in the far east, beyond the borders of the Horn King. The desert folk isolate from the outer lands and live by the rules of the Serriff.”

“The Serriff?” she questioned.

“Serriff Shellahk rules Zoar.” He waited for Raina to respond, and she did, as quickly as he expected.

“Your father?”

Abawken nodded.

“Then I’m marrying a prince.”

“No, you are marrying me, and that is how I wanted it. No titles, just a man, in search of meaning. Offering love.”

“What other mysteries do you hold, my prince?” she mocked playfully.

A distinct scent caused Abawken to freeze in place, catching Raina off guard.

“Abawken, what is it?”

“Impossible,” he muttered.

“What is impossible?”

“She found me,” a stunned expression on his face.

“Who found you?”

“She lets me know she is near when I smell the Lilac.”

Raina laughed and walked a few steps away. She reached down between a cluster of purple and red crystals sprouting out from the ground and pulled out a bouquet of wild flowers, pale toned violet petals adorned the white candelions, and she deeply breathed in the smell as she brought it back to show him.

“You mean this? I wanted to surprise you, but it appears my surprise is not working too well.”

He sighed, “My apologies. That smell has been a nightmare to me recently.”

“Abawken, you are mine and I am yours. I brought us here so we can share our lives, past and present. Our union must begin with honesty.”

“My customs teach reservation, and that being outspoken can lead to misunderstanding, so silence and patience is better. We,” he paused, “we rarely like surprises, for example.”

Raina smiled with understanding. “I see. Then you may count on fewer surprises from me in the future, and certainly from whomever has concerned
you so. Remember, we are together. Your friends are now my friends, and your enemies are now my enemies.”

“I have a lot to tell you,” he resigned.

Devana walked the halls of the Shield, disguising herself as a lost refugee. She passed the sad, but hopeful faces, that slept along the corridor walls. It has been a long journey ever since the Serriff hired her services to bring back his son, but the complications of the matter have developed even further. She would be patient and study these heroes of Ruauck-El, in order not to get herself caught inside their long reaching grasp. The god summoning halfling had fallen, as evidenced by the grand funeral of state, but now Abawken prepared to marry the Sheldeen mystic, which brought another challenge.

She tired of the peasant folk she milled around with in hiding and longed for the posh lifestyle she had become accustomed to. Tomorrow she would start establishing her presence among these adventuring friends of the sheik prince, and garner the information needed to push the stubborn fighter back to the desert of Zoar with the Sword of the Elements. Her reputation was on the line, and failure in her line of business showed others weakness.

Devana crouched onto her meager bedding in the corner of a heavily populated refugee chamber, and turned, laid flat on her back, her hand draped over her forehead, eyes closed. The reek of body odor and unwashed clothes caused her to wrinkle her nose, but the heavy desire to sleep took over.