The Shadow Games: The Chronicles of Arianthem VI (14 page)

“She was successful in rallying many of our kind.”

Volva snatched the pitcher from her nightstand and threw it across the room with such force it sent shards of glass throughout the room. Her breasts heaved with anger, a sight Drakar enjoyed despite its incitement as Volva fought to regain control.

“How many?” she demanded.

“I would guess a mere handful held back.”

Another glass flew across the room and joined the fate of the first. A speck of blood appeared on the messenger’s cheek as one of the shards did damage. He was not so bold as to reach up to wipe away the blood.

“Get out,” Volva said, fuming, and the messenger eagerly complied.

“I told you she was persuasive,” Drakar said mildly, once the lesser dragon was gone.

Volva started to turn her anger upon him but controlled herself. He was a boy, but a necessary pawn. Drakar watched in fascination as the Ancient Dragon’s fury turned into an oily, undulating scheming. At that moment, he did not really want to know what she was thinking.

“Jörmung has completely failed in finding allies amongst our kind,” she seethed.

“I can’t imagine why.”

Her eyes flicked to him at his sarcastic tone and Drakar marveled at how some of his kind resembled a reptile not at all and then others epitomized the snake. Even Volva’s tongue took on a life of its own as it flicked outward to moisten her lips. Admittedly, he enjoyed that tongue when it was feathering his nether regions, but not so much in a conversation. As much as he wished for Volva’s alliance, he was not willing to grovel before her.

“Jörmung’s campaign to rape our kind into loyalty seems to be failing,” Drakar said, his sarcastic tone hardening.

Volva felt her anger begin to spike once more, but then deflate as the truth of his words sunk in.

“Yes,” Volva said, prolonging the “s” so it came out a hiss. “We must change our tactics. We’re going to have to go after Talan directly.”

“I like the sound of that,” Drakar said with approval.

“But we’re going to have to slow down her recruitment of our kind.”

“Perhaps you should involve yourself more in the conscription process,” Drakar said, admiring one pink nipple that had slipped out from the sheet.

“And why would I do that?” she demanded imperiously, as if such a thing were far beneath her.

“Because you have a weapon my mother cannot use.”

“And what is that?”

Drakar moved to the bed, urged by the growing stiffness between his legs. He took the nipple in his mouth as Volva arched beneath the onslaught.

“You can seduce our kind. Talan cannot.”

Volva writhed beneath him, more snakelike than ever, thinking the observation a compliment. But Drakar’s next words disabused her of that notion.

“My mother is faithful to her Arlanian,” Drakar murmured through a mouthful of breast, “while you are faithful to no one.”

Chapter 18

D
allan and Rika entered the town of Trygg and found a familiar tavern. Idonea had stayed with the wood elves to spend a few days with Isleif and Y’arren, promising to meet up with them when finished. Dallan was anxious to renew their quest since the search had narrowed, even if it still encompassed half the known world.

The tavern was empty when they entered. The owner looked up at the cloaked figures, then blanched when they removed their hoods.

“Not you two again,” he groaned.

“Did you get tired of all our gold?” Rika asked him.

“It was Raine’s gold,” Dallan reminded her.

“Don’t get me wrong,” the barkeep said, “I like gold. But your group was nothing but trouble.”

“We’ll try and behave ourselves this time,” Dallan said, taking a seat where she could sit with her back to the wall and watch the entrance.

The barkeep sighed. “Something to drink?”

“I’ll have mead,” Rika called out, and Dallan signaled to make it two. She enjoyed how deliciously casual they were allowed to be, no royal protocol, no expectations of behavior. Rika seemed to parallel her thoughts.

“’Tis strange how low the bar is set for us in this place. He’s just hoping we don’t wreck the building.”

Dallan grinned, although really, she and Rika had done very little damage before. Raine had rented out this tavern to stage a quest for a series of enchanted stones she wanted “acquired.” The thief she had hired needed some help on the final stage of the task, and Raine had asked for Skye to accompany her. Dallan and Rika would not let Skye go anywhere on her own, and followed along. They had spent many hours in this tavern preparing for their journey.

The timing of their arrival was either perfect or had been monitored because within minutes, two other women entered the bar. One was a lovely noblewoman dressed in a low-cut aquamarine gown that set off a luscious pair of breasts and stunning blue-green eyes. The other was a good-looking woman, lanky in build but graceful in movement, with a roguish smile that predestined all sorts of trouble.

“Oh no,” the barkeep said, holding his head in his hands. These two were the worst of the lot. That noblewoman had showed up at the end and nearly destroyed the place in some sort of lover’s spat. Fortunately that striking one, the one who wasn’t here, had thrown copious amounts of gold in his direction. And more fortunately, the one with the silver hair and amber eyes, the one that had terrified him, wasn’t here at all.

The Lady Jorden dismissed the man with a flowing motion of her hand. “Go take care of him, will you my dear?”

Syn approached the bar and placed a card on the gleaming wooden surface.

“What is this?”

“Turn it over,” Syn instructed, and the man did so. She had to admit, as much as she had fought joining the Guild, as much as she had dreaded chafing beneath their demands, as much as she had disparaged their methods and organization, she got a little thrill at the man’s change of demeanor, the expression of fear and respect the card always generated.

“The Guild of Thieves,” the man said, a muscle in his cheek jumping as his jaw clenched. “And what can I do for you?”

“Nothing. Just leave us alone. And some wine for the lady and an ale for me.”

“Of course,” the man said, reaching for the glasses. He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “You tell Lagmann he has a friend in Trygg.”

“No one speaks to Lagmann,” Syn said, “but I will forward your message to Fafnir in Grenjad.”

“Thank you,” he said. “I’ll bring your drinks right out.”

Syn rejoined the group, hugging the two Ha’kan and taking a seat next to Jorden.

“The bartender says you have a friend in Trygg,” she said casually to her lover.

“Did he, now?” Jorden said, smoothing her skirt. Very few knew that the cool and beautiful Lady Jorden was also Lagmann, the allegedly male head of the Guild of Thieves. “We’ll have to take advantage of that.”

The drinks came and true to his word, the barkeep left them alone and disappeared.

“Have you heard anything of Skye?” Dallan asked Jorden, hoping the extensive network of spies at Jorden’s disposal had turned up something.

“No, unfortunately not. We followed up on several leads, all which proved to be false. And you?”

“A small clue, nothing more. Idonea, Isleif, and Y’arren all felt a tremor from her, something from the west. It eliminates Ha’kan and Tavinter territory, but—“

“That doesn’t narrow it down, much,” Jorden finished for her.

Syn was disappointed, and she glanced to the locket the lay nestled between Jorden’s breasts. It was her locket, the only thing she had left of her mother, and Skye had identified it as Tavinter, suggesting that perhaps Syn had been a Tavinter when her parents had been killed when she was so young. Syn had never had friends or a people, but the Tavinter had welcomed her with open arms, an unexpected welcome that Syn only later understood. She had not known the youngster she befriended was actually the cherished leader of the nomadic people.

Rika glanced up. She thought she had seen a figure in the doorway, or perhaps it was just the change of light as someone walked by outside. She put her hand on her sword, and Dallan did the same. Jorden touched the jeweled dagger she kept hidden at her waist, and Syn prepared to just get out of the way. Her skills were of the decidedly non-lethal kind, those involving deception, thievery, and stealth, but it was those skills that were needed in this situation.

“’Tis only Torsten,” Syn said, identifying the near invisible figure hidden in the shadow the stairs. He was undetectable to all but a master thief. He stepped forward.

“I beg your pardon,” he said. “It’s habit to enter every room like a ghost.”

“No apologies needed, my friend,” Dallan said. “If it had been any but a Tavinter, I’m sure your brethren outside would have sounded the alarm.”

Torsten grinned. “Yes, Flynt saw me, as did Aeric. They are well-positioned for your safety, your Highness.”

“Thank you again for your accompaniment. I don’t think Senta would have let us out of the castle without them.”

“The Ha’kan and Tavinter complement one another in ways I never would have imagined,” Torsten said, and that was certainly true. The Ranger Scouts acted as surveillance and support for the Ha’kan military, which was brutally efficient in battle.

“Have a seat, my friend,” Syn said, patting him on the shoulder as she rose. Torsten had been particularly welcoming to her once he realized her friendship with Skye. “Let me get you a drink since I fired the bartender.”

Syn returned with a mug of ale and Torsten took a swig with appreciation.

“So how goes Raine’s battle with the undead?” Rika asked enviously.

“She is astonishing,” Torsten said. “Every time I see her fight, it is a wonder to behold.”

“I am jealous you get to fight with her,” Rika admitted.

“She wanted to take the both of you to Hestr,” Torsten said, “but she could not risk you to the vampyr’s bite. The Tavinter have a degree of immunity to the disease….”

“And the Ha’kan have none,” Rika said.

“Yes. And the battles are fierce and ugly, and even Feyden was bitten this last time.”

“Is he all right?” Dallan exclaimed.

“Yes. Elyara’s potions and enchantments held, but again, the Alfar are far more resistant to magic than the Ha’kan. And then the dragon showed up, in human form, wielding a massive sword that was six feet or more, one so heavy that Lorifal couldn’t even lift it. It was an amazing sight.”

“Now I am even more jealous,” Rika said.

“And where is Raine now?” Jorden asked.

“She has headed off on another quest, this one even more dangerous than those before. She is the only person I know who lessens the number of comrades she takes with her the more treacherous the fight.”

“That sounds like her,” Dallan said. “Have your scouts heard any news of Skye?”

“No,” Torsten said sadly, “We are searching as much of the forest as possible, but imperial lands are vast. “We haven’t found anything unusual, except—“

“What?” Rika prompted, sensing his reluctance.

“It’s probably nothing,” Torsten said, “but one of our scouts disappeared in an uninhabited part of the Deep Woods.”

“Did you find him?” Dallan asked, knowing the Tavinter would not rest until they did.

“Parts of him,” Torsten said grimly, “he was attacked by Hyr’rok’kin and killed.”

“I’m sorry,” Dallan said, knowing how the loss of even one of their own affected the Tavinter. “But why is that unusual? The Hyr’rok’kin roam the forests, and he would have little chance against a pack of them.”

“Yes,” Torsten agreed, “but there were things about the scene that didn’t make sense.”

“Such as?”

“He was running recklessly and full-speed, as if in a panic, when he came upon the Hyr’rok’kin.”

“So you think he was running from something else?” Dallan asked.

“Perhaps,” Torsten said, “it’s hard to say. But his trail disappeared within a stone’s throw, as if wiped clean.”

It didn’t seem like much, Dallan thought. He could have been running from anything “I still don’t see why this is unusual.”

“When I say his trail was ‘wiped clean,’ I mean it just stopped. The trackers moved outward in a circle and could find nothing. Everything leaves a trace.”

“So you think his trail was removed on purpose,” Rika said.

“Exactly,” Torsten replied. “If the scout had simply disappeared, the Tavinter would never stop looking for him. Giving us his body and the means of his death might satisfy us, but we would still have followed his path. But the path was removed.”

“Darling, do you have those maps?” Jorden asked Syn.

Syn bent down to the knapsack she had tucked under the table. She pulled out several parchments and unrolled them on the table.

“These are well-made,” Dallan commented.

“The local regent is a collector and has—,” Syn corrected herself, “
had
a nice selection.”

Jorden examined the offerings and moved two off to the side. The largest of the three she pushed in front of Torsten.

“Can you show where the dead scout was found?”

Torsten examined the map, found several landmarks, then pointed to the center of a dark green clump representing the Deep Woods. “He was here, southwest of this rock formation and to the east of this stream.”

Jorden examined the map. “The nearest town is here,” she said, tapping on the icon representing a village. “It is some ten leagues away from where the scout was killed.”

“If they are somewhere in this wilderness, they are probably self-sufficient,” Rika said, “crops, livestock, that sort of thing.”

“Yes,” Jorden agreed, “but supplies have to be replenished sometimes. And Kalfax would be the nearest place to do so.”

Dallan was undecided. This seemed a reach based on a very few clues. She did not want to waste time chasing a false trail.

“We don’t really have anything else to go on,” Rika reminded her.

“That’s true,” Dallan admitted. “Torsten, would you send word to Idonea that we are going to Kalfax?”

“Of course.”

“I’ll go with you,” Syn said. “I’ll blend in to a village far better than any of you.”

“This isn’t one of your towns where you’ve left behind some woman, is it?” Jorden asked.