Dark Hope of the Dragons Read online

  “You’re late for practice again.”

  He was taken back by his den-fathers words. Late for practice? That was a considerable understatement of the situation. When Mythan leaned forward into the candlelight, Dephithus was caught by surprise again. The proud ruler looked haggard and there were dark circles under his unfocused brown eyes. Kneeling before him, Dephithus took hold of Mythan’s hands and bowed his head, afraid to meet that haunted gaze.

  Mythan pulled a hand free and mussed his hair affectionately.

  Swallowing down the lump in his throat, Dephithus forced himself to look into those eyes. “Where is Mother?”

  Mythan looked puzzled by the question. “In the garden with her ladies undoubtedly.”

  Dephithus dropped his head again, fighting back tears. Mythan was speaking madness. What had done this to his den-father? How much of this was his fault?

  The scar ached in protest of his inner turmoil and he started to feel nauseated. With a deep breath he squeezed Mythan’s hand and searched for the strength to walk away, as he knew he must. His hesitation was apparently too long, for it was not strength, but the icy touch of a steel point against his neck that forced him to rise.

  Standing, Dephithus turned to face his aggressor. Kaydina, Myara’s aunt, stood at the controlling end of the sword touching his neck. She did not quite stand, actually, for a heavy crutch supported most of her weight. One leg was bandaged from the knee down to the ankle where the leg ended prematurely. Dephithus cringed with the pain of her injury. Was nothing he had known left unmarred by this misery? Still, her arm was steady as she scrutinized him down the length of the ornate blade that was waiting on her command.

  “Kayd,” he breathed, pleading with his eyes for her to lower the sword.

  She hesitated and he brought his hand up, taking a chance and slowly pushing the blade away from his throat. Conceding, Kayd lowered the weapon until the point came to rest on the marble floor.

  “Your mother was taken down in one of the earliest battles against the daemon army.”

  “What do you mean? Mother left the Legion long before I was born. She fought no battles.”

  With frustratingly slow movements, Kayd made her way to the closest chair and sat. Mythan had leaned back in his chair and was facing them, but his eyes were empty. Dephithus was much too distressed to sit and time was slipping away from him. He had to get a mount and get out of Elysium within the hour Darkin had given him, or he was on his own.

  “Avaline had herself reinstated into the Legion not long after you disappeared. Everyone in her troop was killed, even Area Commander Parthak.”

  The tightness in his throat made it hard to get words out, but he forced them through. “And Lord Mythan, what has happened to him?”

  Kayd shook her head, sorrow lowering her gaze. “This is how he copes with his losses. After Avaline died, he stepped down and raised Allondis to the throne so that he might be free to recede into himself without taking his kingdom with him. I have assigned myself the duty of keeping him presentable and happy since this injury took me out of the Legion, but he does not care much for impressing anyone these days. All he ever wants to do is talk about you and Avaline. That is the only reason I didn’t kill you, that and one other thing.”

  Dephithus tried to appear interested in her reason, but the loss of his mother weighed on him, making him feel suffocated and trapped. He had to get out of this place, if for no other reason than to escape the memories bombarding him.

  “Where is Myara?”

  “She was taken by someone allied with the daenox. I’m going after her.”

  Kayd nodded as though she had expected this, which Dephithus found vaguely puzzling. “I don’t understand what is happening. I don’t know why you come here now, after so many years, but I know she would not have loved you so dearly if you were not worthy of it in some way. This sword,” she tilted the ornate weapon so that the candle reflected brilliantly on the polished blade, “was given to Myara on her sixteenth birthday. I want you to take it to her.”

  Speechless, Dephithus took the sword belt she handed him and fastened it around his waist. He was reluctant to accept the blade as she turned it over and offered him the hilt. Kayd’s expression waned towards impatience so he finally took it. The weight was divinely balanced, and he let the beauty of the jewels inlaid in the pommel and crossguard of the hilt entrap him for a moment.

  “You might wish to make a cover for the hilt or you could find yourself fighting bandits for it at every turn.”

  Dephithus nodded, sheathing the sword. “I need a horse.”

  “Hydra is yours.” Both Dephithus and Kayd turned toward Mythan, each mirroring the others surprise at the sudden focus in his eyes. Mythan’s gaze blazed through Dephithus with determination. “You will take Hydra. Allondis can have any other horse in the kingdom.”

  Dephithus stepped over to Mythan and squeezed his hand again. “Thank you, Father.”

  “I can lure the stable guards out of the way as long as you don’t rush over there too fast.” She scowled at him when he glanced at her bandaged leg. “I move fine without that sword unbalancing me.”

  “I hope I can repay you for your help, Kayd.”

  Kayd gave a rough shake of her head. “Just get that sword to Myara and bring her back to us.”

  “I will.”

  Without another word she left the library. Dephithus waited behind a moment and lit fresh candles for Mythan before heading out toward the kitchen. He shook his head after Kayd as she disappeared down another hall. She had always been one to question the judgements of society and he was glad she was staying true to form in this. Or perhaps she was merely desperate enough to take a chance on him. Either way, he was grateful.

  Keeping in the shadows, he slipped carefully from hall to hall. Once he bumped the sword on a marble column and the sound, though muffled by the sheath, was enough to send his heart pounding into his throat. When no one came he moved the weapon on to the other hip and hurried to the kitchen.

  It was easy to slip back into the cold storage room, which seemed colder now than it had before despite the humid warmth outside. He climbed the far stairs and slipped quickly though the hole he had made in the door. A twig snapped behind him as he was crouching down to press the boards back into place. Standing, he turned to face whatever or whoever had found him.

  Kathan stood there dressed in the attire of the palace guard. An accomplishment he might have congratulated the innkeepers’ son on under different circumstances, but there was something different about his once-friend that Dephithus could not quite place. The grin itself was almost sinister, which was not at all like the Kathan he had known in training. It was not the grim look of a guard doing his duty, it was the look of crazed man.

  “I could sense you a mile away,” Kathan drew his blade and cocked his head to the side in a very dog-like fashion.

  Dephithus raised his hands and smiled, hoping to win over his old friend, then he realized what was changed about him. Kathan had blue eyes, but the hostile eyes looking at him now were unmistakably gray. Regretting having moved his hands away from his weapons, Dephithus leapt to the side as Kathan’s sword whistled through the air. The point of the blade nicked his back when Dephithus dropped to the ground and slipped under one of the bushes. As rain began to pour down on them Dephithus leapt to his feet and bolted toward the stables.

  The daemon gave chase. Despite his dragon-enhanced strength, Dephithus was still weak and he could hear the daemon gaining on him. Each stride sent pain through the scar in his back. When they neared the stable Dephithus spotted Kayd and the stable watch off to the side. They appeared to be arguing, but he could make out very little of what was being said over the sudden downpour.

  “Daemon!” Dephithus screamed the word then dove to one side.

  The daemon continued several strides past him and the stable watch was charging it before it could correct itself. Another soldier appeared out of the dark and ran into the f
ight while Dephithus bolted for the stable under the cover of the confusion. Kayd had already gone into the stable and was pulling out a bridle for Dephithus. Grabbing the item as he passed, Dephithus ran down to the familiar stall. He would pick up a Legion saddle in the lower stable.

  Hydra greeted him with ears back and teeth bared. Without hesitation Dephithus stepped into the stall and raised the bit to the stallion’s lips. His intimidation attempt failing, Hydra put his ears back up and took the bit. With a small sense of satisfaction, he swung up on the big animal’s back. Hydra tensed and Dephithus held him back, feeling as if he needed to say something more to Kayd.

  “Go,” she snapped.

  He let Hydra go, and they charged out the smaller rear door of the barn into the pouring rain. At the lower stable they met with Darkin who scowled his disapproval at his choice of mounts, but he said nothing as they saddled him and headed out for the gates. Dephithus donned a cloak, the rain giving him an excellent excuse for keeping the hood up. With his eyes and scaling hidden from view, they passed the gate guard easily enough. It helped that the guards were more concerned with keeping dry in the gate tower than with delaying a couple of uniformed soldiers on their way to fill a post that had stood empty for too long already.

  Once they were out of sight of the gate Darkin pulled up his mount and Dephithus stopped Hydra with a subtle leg cue, finding satisfaction in the stallion’s quick response. The briefest of smiles touched his lips thinking of how furious Allondis would be when he discovered that Hydra was gone. The good feeling vanished when he noticed Darkin regarding him soberly.

  “Why did you help me?”

  Darkin turned his face to the sky for a moment and closed his eyes to the warm rain. The downpour began to ease off some, but they were both already too soaked for it to matter much.

  He lowered his gaze then and regarded the horizon thoughtfully. “We are losing more soldiers every day since the daenox priests gave our enemy a sense of organization. I go out with a troop in three days. What did I have to lose? Anyhow, in spite of the things you’ve done, I think there is a part of you that is better than most of us. Though I can’t say much good about the other parts,” he added with a tired grin. “Maybe I’m just trying to win favor with some higher power.”

  “I think you feel guilty for trying to blackmail me before,” Dephithus offered, finding it easier to smile now that he was reunited with his trusted mount.

  Darkin rolled his eyes. “Don’t insult me. If I were a nicer sort, I might offer to go with you. Lucky for me, I’m not. As it is, I think you’re crazy for even trying after this much time.”

  That passage of time was like a vice closing on his spirit. “I have to try.” He drew a shaky breath. “She was pregnant.”

  Darkin nodded and had the tact not to ask any of the questions that passed behind his eyes. “Good luck to you then.”

  “The same to you.”

  With nothing left to say, they parted and Dephithus resumed his quest, but this time he did not have to continue alone.

  CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

  Amahna waited with Theruses for the daenox priest, Kyouin.

  Once his messenger had located the priest again, Theruses channeled a surge of daenox through the messenger, destroying a plethora of lesser daemons and the messenger himself in a chaotic wave of power. The show of power apparently impressed the ambitious young man, who had now drawn in thousands of daemons and human fighters to his army. A high-level daemon served as Kyouin’s messenger to precede his arrival. A counter show of power. The simple act of luring such a daemon into service was impressive enough to put Amahna on edge.

  Kyouin, whoever he had been before, had risen to power quickly amidst the chaos the daemons were creating. Amahna had not expected him to last, but, as if born to it, he had taken hold of the daemon powers now coursing through the land and begun turning them to his purpose. That was one of the many things that still had her mystified. What was his purpose? Driving across the land fighting the legions of Imperious and other kingdoms that dared to try and stop this wave of changes. Why was he doing all this?

  Theruses looked up, his gaze moving to the entrance suddenly. His eyes narrowed and his lip curled in a snarl that revealed slightly pointed teeth. He appeared, for that moment, like a predator waiting to ambush its prey.

  “He is here, and there are other priests with him.”

  Amahna wished he would not sneer so at the title they had chosen. How much untapped power might Kyouin and his followers possess? “How many?”

  “Two, and one other. A servant probably.”

  Amahna assumed a calm and confident exterior, which was far from genuine. Having Raine around was beginning to leave her feeling constantly strung out and exhausted. The child’s intelligence and beauty captivated Theruses, though he still had not tried to act upon his fascination in any way. For now, he channeled much of his desire into his couplings with Amahna, something she did not mind, but he would not always be satisfied with that. When he watched Raine with eyes full of curiosity and passion, Raine returned the scrutiny with eyes full of hate. The child had learned little about human emotions from them, but hate was born very naturally out of her imprisonment.

  It was hard to maintain her serene facade when Kyouin and the other three entered the room. Kyouin still looked so very young. Not more than eighteen, maybe twenty at most, but certainly not three years older than last time she had seen him. He was definitely much younger than the two grizzled men flanking him and still more childishly pretty than handsome. The fourth, a boy no older than nine or ten, flanked the three with his head bowed in apparent subservience.

  All three men wore cloaks of a dusty gray, but that was the extent of their similarities. The two men flanking Kyouin were near opposites. On his right was a tall, slender man with pale skin and long gray hair. This man wore black pants, shirt, and high boots under his cloak. On his left, nearer the young boy, was a stocky, muscular man with sun-darkened skin and short, graying red hair and beard. He was obviously a warrior of sorts, with the hilts of a few daggers peeking out from under his cloak, but his tan and brown clothes and leather armor suggested the discretion of a thief. Kyouin wore a silver shirt with a dark charcoal vest, pants, and boots. The shirt was of a silk-like material and there was minimal, but elegant silver embroidery done along the border of the vest. Just a touch fancier than what he had been wearing the first time she saw him.

  Both men flanking Kyouin tensed and glanced around them uneasily once they saw Theruses, perhaps cataloging escape opportunities. The small boy darted up to stand near Kyouin who placed a hand on his head absently as one might do to a child they cared for. She logged that information for later. Kyouin kept any reaction to Theruses well-hidden. He glanced once at Amahna with a flash of recognition in his eyes and offered a quick nod of acknowledgement. Then he inclined his head towards Theruses in the slightest semblance of a bow. A hint of inadequate respect.

  “I found your second request for a meeting much more intriguing than the first.” He glanced at Amahna again and a hint of a smile touched his lips before he looked away.

  Theruses regarded the group for a moment in silence, which Kyouin bore patiently despite the shifting of his companions. He was probably cooling his temper and using the time to see how easily they could be unnerved.

  “I suspected you might. You have given me good reason to dislike you, primarily by directing my minions about as if you were born to the right.” Kyouin met this accusation with a slight nod of acceptance, which Theruses either did not notice or chose to ignore. “Most of your actions otherwise have been entertaining, even pleasing, but you push my patience with your arrogance. I would have destroyed you if you had dared refuse me a second time.”

  “Undoubtedly, Lord Theruses, but I will dare to be bold and skip to the ultimate point. You want something of me and I believe you have a fair trade in mind.”

  Amahna watched curiously as Kyouin removed his hand from the younger
boy’s head only to have the child snatch hold of it with both of his small hands, preventing whatever gesture the daenox priest intended to make. Again, Kyouin appeared undisturbed by this behavior and allowed the young boy to keep his hand without ever losing his intense focus on Theruses. He was an ambitious individual for certain, but one with a potentially devastating weakness in this youth beside him. Perhaps reading the boy’s manner as subservience initially was an error. She was beginning to suspect their relationship was more familial.

  Theruses was silent again and Amahna had no doubt that he was soothing his temper this time. The lord of the daenox did not like having to ask for assistance from this self-proclaimed daenox priest, and she suspected he liked it even less after meeting Kyouin. Still, daemon power coursed through Kyouin as if it had found a haven within him. She wondered if that power had made him sick at all as it did to so many people. If so, he did not show it.

  Kyouin glanced at Amahna as if he had heard her thoughts. It was then that she noticed the ring hanging on a fine silver chain around his neck. Any hesitation at approaching him vanished and she stepped up next to Theruses.

  “Where did you get that ring?”

  Kyouin looked surprised for a moment then he fingered the ring and smiled. “One of the daemons brought it to me off a woman I killed. I believe you where there. She turned out to be the Lady Avaline of Imperious. It was almost a shame to kill her. She was rather lovely and remarkably courageous.”

  Theruses grinned, but Amahna stumbled over a confusing swell of emotions. There had never been any real sadness in her for her sister’s death, yet a powerful resentment filled her toward this man who had killed her. She hated that he wore Avaline’s ring. Still, demanding it and causing an unnecessary scene would make Theruses question her loyalty.

  “I knew I recognized it. Pardon my interruption.” Amahna stepped back again, though her eyes lingered on the ring a moment longer.