Crown of Gold and Ruin, page 49
The sight of the human form mutating into a beast and the raw primality of it nearly made her knees buckle. Diana felt a barrier of pulsing magic forming between her and Cintran as Taliesin extended his own mage-gift between them, moving slowly around the table, utter shock and trepidation on his sharp features.
But her attention was transfixed by the snarling Cintran. His fangs ripped free and fur sprouted all over his body as his slender, elegantly clothed frame thickened and distorted, his purple eyes losing anything that had been remotely human in them to become totally animal. Blinding light streaked across the hall. And then, a snow-leopard stood before her, his elegant feline head almost to her shoulder. A majestic animal, freakish huge, with lush white-gold fur and the cruelest purple eyes she had ever seen, crueler even than the Malakim that had danced over Elenon as her people burned.
You fucking bitch. The masculine voice rippled through her mind, and she glanced at Taliesin, who stood frozen beside her. It was Cintran, communicating only as he could in this form. The leopard’s jaws snapped. You fucking bitch, who do you think you are? I will rip you apart like the dead gross human rag-bag you are, you presumptuous—
If she had ever doubted that she had perhaps lost her sanity somewhere in the Whisperwood’s recesses, Di did not doubt it now. One could not be truly sane to attempt the argument she was about to. All while staring into the terrifying visage of a huge beast not two hands-breadth away from her.
“You won’t do that, Lord Cintran. You won’t, because you need me,” Diana said quietly. She swallowed. “You are at dire risk of being exterminated by your own father for daring to evade his commands to kill the Scrimtor, Tamaranthe, by any means necessary. You need me, this puny rag-bag of a human girl, to do the task for you. We have struck a bargain, wrought in the name of magic. And you cannot free yourself from its importance simply because your inflated, awful pride, and pure cruelty cannot bear the fact I am walking through your halls, unmauled and free. You tried to hurt me this morning. I have no doubt you will try again, for that is who and what you are. That is why I am making this point. Because behind your primal instincts to maim whatever wanders across your path, you, as all others, must listen to reason for your survival.”
The chamber was utterly silent, and Di heard her staccato heart walloping away.
“Diana,” Taliesin spoke softly behind her, “you are making a mistake. One that could end very, very badly. Don’t taunt him.”
The wildcat snarled at his brother. The sight of that gaping red maw and huge white fangs so near her face nearly undid all Diana’s shockingly concrete resolve, but she shoved through it. She swallowed again, past the huge lump in her throat.
“No, I am not,” Di said steadily. “I am not, because what I am saying is true. You need me, both of you, because your time is running out to hunt down and kill Tamaranthe. I am your last chance before your father’s legions barrel their way south and wipe out Teralen and your territories. But if you ever lift a finger to me again, Cintran, I will break off this bargain. Then you can kill me, hunt me down, and torture me for as long as I can bear it before death. But then you will still have no one to help you before Narbarai.”
She could have sworn the leopard’s slitted eyes widened.
“How do you know?” Taliesin behind her demanded. “How do you know that we need to hunt down that Scrimtor bitch before Narbarai’s eve?”
“Because I went through your brother’s desk earlier and found a letter from your father, the king of Frenalin.”
Another slash of light, the final remaining candles in the room fading until naught but moonlight illumined the dining hall, and Cintran had transformed back into human form.
The terrifying truth of his being had failed to make her crumple into a puddle at his feet, and it was that, Di could tell, that had truly enhanced the crazed, irate volatility in him. He snarled, and all the beauty from his face vanished at the pure monstrosity lingering there.
“You fucking bitch.” His voice had turned gravelly.
“I just want what’s best for both our purposes, Lord Cintran,” Diana said coolly. “Trying to maul and torture me will not achieve that goal.” She heard Taliesin breathing loudly behind her, still shocked. “Thank you for breaking part of the blight. I am certain it will come in handy when I defeat your sister for you. Let us maintain our bargain in mutual peace until that moment comes.”
And then Diana turned her back on the incredulous, narrow-eyed, snarling Frenalin brothers and stalked quickly through the door. Weaving through the beautiful, plush corridors unseeing, cold sweat beading her brow, she stumbled out to a rose-studded balcony overlooking the spread of the Hornvale Mountains, blue-black in the light of two radiant moons.
She fell to her knees, and buried her face in her hands. Every fiber of her shook as the few freed tendrils of the inner entity danced through her veins, comforting her, protecting her in this home of monsters.
* * *
“Durran Lionsbane secured the allegiance of river-wraiths through the giving of a few meaningful gifts to their kind. Well, Sarikin, I can offer you treasure beyond imagining.”
Jaden trawled through his words again as the rock door of the naga hollow ground shut behind them, making sure he had assessed all he had in the contract he had put forward to the beautiful, vicious nagini who had lingered in his arms long after their negotiations were complete. Not that he could walk back inside that rose-tainted serpent nest again to add more detail to the mad plan he had made with the most unlikely ally on the face of the continent. He somehow doubted Sarikin would keep him free of her beasts’ venomous fangs the second time around.
“You make ordinary gamblers look like complete and utter cowards, king-ling.” Agrenost’s gruff voice interrupted Jaden’s musings. “So next time you have a crazed plan, you better tell me before I gape like an idiot the next time you tell Erian secrets to the monster with her naked thighs in your lap.” He paused, looking utterly incredulous. “And the next time you ensign the protection of what remains of our sacred capital to the bloody naga.”
“Naga will do anything for gold. One thing Elenon has in unending fathoms and droves is gold,” Jaden answered. “Their loyalty is already won, and what better weapon to use against the Lionsbane’s prize soldiers than a legion of vicious, flesh-eating serpents?”
“What makes you think those serpents will not sink their fangs into our own surviving people back in Elenon? People whose lives have already been destroyed?”
Jaden exhaled. “Because that nagini in there,” he jerked a thumb backwards, “promised me it would not happen. She said they would kill every single Blackcloak infesting my city and leave my people alone to put together what strength they have and rally themselves for the war that will follow. In return, Sarikin and her kind will have access to the Bendela Mine below Elenon.”
Agrenost clenched his jaw. “And when they ransack every bit of gold from that ancient, secret mine? And take gold that will be useful to us when securing alliances to defeat Durran?”
Jaden started off into the dark woods, the chill winds biting through his jerkin. “We have no allies, General. They all lie rotting in the ground, hundreds of good, loyal Erian warriors, lords and ladies, all slain like so much riffraff by your once-beloved co-general.” He ignored the growl Agrenost threw at his back. “Their blood waters the earth of my country. And so few of them remain, hidden in Elenon, or enslaved,” he spat out, whirling back to face Agrenost, his throat clogged with an anger he had not anticipated. His boots sank deep into the muddy earth. “Enslaved, beaten, and tormented. I saw what those mongrels did to my people, Agrenost. And I want them dead. Unleashing naga on the Blackcloaks is a kindness compared to what I witnessed that horrible night my father was killed. Perhaps Sarikin’s kind will deplete the gold in Elenon.” He shrugged. “Drast told me the Bendela Mine runs thousands of miles deep into the bedrock of earth and sea. I am sure we can find more if the need ever arises.”
Agrenost opened his mouth, perhaps to disagree, perhaps to point out some other factor hindering Jaden’s unstable scheme. But it is all I have bloody left, he thought. An unstable scheme. Gambling the fate of Eria to snakes and hoping the odds favor us.
Jaden plowed on, raising a finger to silence him, “But what is important to me is giving the remnants of my people a fighting chance. We need a barrier between them and total destruction. Monsters the naga may be, but at least the legends run true that their promises are solid as diamond once wrought. So, we will continue on to Carthage, with our backs as protected as we can guarantee when we have lost everything. Everything, General.”
After a few moments of quiet, daring Agrenost to say something, Jaden again began the trek down the sloping, forested hillside swathed in darkness and starlight. Silence brooded around them as Jaden’s words sank in, the two moons slipped gently across the skies, and the first flare of red brush-stroked across the eastern horizon over the peak of a distant mountain.
After nearly quarter of an hour, Agrenost growled, although his tone was now much lighter, “The next time you have a plan as mad as this, please fill us in first before you tell the bloody naga or whatever else we may meet on our journey.”
Jaden responded, “Maybe not right away, General. After all, what if the plan doesn’t work? Then I will be terribly embarrassed.”
In response, the grizzled warrior grumbled under his breath all the way back to the little rundown cabin, to Jaden’s wry amusement. But at least he had ceased to voice his suspicions to Jaden, which was not an easy feat. Eria’s deposed king knew this was hard for a man like the Halfhand. At least, thought Jaden, something had made Agrenost decide to trust the king he had bent his knee to for no other reason than that he was the Crownbreaker’s last remaining descendant. And when Agrenost jerked a wine-skin towards Jaden when they stopped to rest for a few moments beside a tumble of ancient, wind-worn rocks, there again flashed in the warrior’s eyes that grudging respect.
When they finally reached the cabin, dawn had broken through into the world, and the naga-wood had turned into a meander of dew-studded trees and soft orange light simmering on black bark. Trystan stepped out, his face pale and strained. Scythe behind him looked just as worried, and Jaden realized with a stab of worry, shellshocked. It was as if something had occurred that she had never believed would.
Wordlessly, Trystan thrust out his hand at them. In it was a beautiful, masculine platinum ring, stamped with a sigil Jaden vaguely recognized.
“What is this? Did something happen?” he demanded.
Crossing his arms across his chest, Trystan said, “Blasted shit-pile we keep landing in is the conclusion that I came to.”
* * *
It was the hour of the wolf. Diana, forsaking all better judgement, stole out of her bedchamber in Teralen again, heart pounding as the door clicked shut behind her. Wreathed in the cool shadow of the corridor, she began mincing deeper into the house, her bare feet making no noise at all on the lush carpets.
The Malakim had drawn her out of bed, where she had lain, sleepless and taut, a cold sweat on her skin. Some inner voice in her had screamed at her to follow the path it made, the purple mist flickering around her door and underneath it, its command transparent. She had obeyed. It glowed ahead of her now, having coalesced into a single ball, translucent with hazy light, like someone had lain a candle under an amethyst. Floating through the air like a faerie-lamp or willow-the-wisp, it lit the way for her, evidently ferrying her somewhere deeper into this Frenalin home. For what purpose? she wondered. She had commanded Cintran never to lift a finger to her again, but she knew how fragile her words, her flimsy bargain, were against the ancient spite of a Frenalin prince.
Perhaps I will find something; perhaps the Malakim is leading me to something that will give me an edge against the brothers. Cintran at least. She did not think Taliesin would kill or harm her out of spite or sport, or for any reason, really.
A deep groan sounded from beyond a twist in the tapestry-lined corridor. And then moaning and soft growls. The Malakim continued on its way, flickering brighter, more livid, as if to say, “Don’t worry, he is occupied. Come.”
Di swallowed and tread even quieter on the carpet as she began sliding forward, a hood hiding the distinctive red of her hair so she blended into the shadows. A huge arched door ahead was cracked open, and it was from behind it the sounds emanated. Small female cries and gasps, Diana realized, heat rising to her face, coupled with the louder, more animal moans and grunts of males—two of them, she realized. Two distinct voices. Was it Cintran and Taliesin, together, with a woman? Her eyes widened in shock and embarrassment, and she hurried past, but the door opened yet wider, as if a wind brushed it, and her one fleeting glance within showed her it was not in fact Taliesin, but Cintran. He lay prone and nude on a red-silk bed whilst the two twin dancers from lunch, the elegant female and the sinuous male, hovered over him, the female kissing his full mouth while the male straddled him, also utterly bare and aroused.
Diana flushed and sprinted past, darting up a flight of steep, marble-veined stairs. Well, he is indeed occupied. The Malakim flickered rapidly as if it twittered with laughter in response to her blush. Her mouth quirked upwards in relief, and Di followed as the mist led her further, passing a landing crowned with a huge bronze statue of a Frenalin woman in battle armor.
Another door loomed ahead, and the Malakim slipped under the handle of it, urging her to open it; she tried it and the door swung open, creaking. A large hall lay ahead, turning out to be a library, shelves packed full of leather-bound tomes soaring to the domed ceiling, lit by glowing reddish lamps. Di stepped in, the Malakim curling around her fingers, though it did not bite pain into her skin the way it first did so long ago in Elenon. Instead, it was now a tingle, ever-present as it coiled and fluttered around her, a single tendril stranding forward into the library, beckoning her on. With one last dubious look backward at the door that had clicked shut behind her, Di ventured deeper into the library. It was not just thousands of books on display, but artifacts and art as well: elegant alabaster sculptures, jade pendants hung from gold-embroidered book jackets, silver goblets filled with coins that were not Rhonan but had runes in some foreign, unhuman language inscribed on them, and a black velvet casing in which lay a ruby the size of a duck’s egg. Above this was a vast painting of a palace with walls like starlight, surrounded by a dark, misty rainforest. Di didn’t need to read the inscription below to know that this last one was a captured memory of the ancient home of all Frenalin: Ferengore Forest, and its many secret palaces and dwellings that no humans ever saw.
She wandered for a while, the Malakim dancing over manuscripts and statues as she did so, drawing her deeper into the tunnels of the hall. And then she found it. Her inner entity or magic flared and sizzled as if it had sensed a beacon, calling its name. Diana gasped as golden light eked across her skin, and the Malakim thickened in a corner of the hall, towards the north.
She darted to it, flinging past a heavy tapestry hanging in front of the books. The magic in her fluttered with excitement, anticipation, as she beheld it. Nestled in a cushion of dark silk was a very simple chain of gold, its pendant a small rectangle glowing with power as the Malakim coiled around it like a purple halo.
What is it that makes my power dance so in response to this little chain? And how had the Malakim known? Diana laughed at herself then, giggling as the situation played in her mind: her communication with a mist that told her this chain was an important part in her quest, and her utter seriousness about this ludicrous turn her life had taken. If Jaden could see me now, he would think me mad beyond all reason. Though perhaps he already thought that, seeing as how she had left their group to linger among bloodthirsty Frenalin princes.
She sighed, gingerly lifting the chain from its cushion, watching as it caught the red-yellow light of the lamps. She lifted an eyebrow at the Malakim, and it thickened in response to her unasked question. Yes, apparently the haunting purple mist wished her to filch this little golden chain. Is it wise to steal from a Frenalin household? The answer was obvious, but the Malakim had begun ringing her head like a crown, clamoring at her to take the chain by tingling her skin.
“Diana?”
Di flinched, and on instinct shoved the chain into the pocket of her simple black shift-dress. She turned to face Taliesin.
“What are you doing in here, sweet human?” He approached her, wearing a deep burgundy robe that bared him from neck to naval, exposing his muscled chest, the ends of his platinum hair brushing his elbows. He did not seem to have witnessed her act of theft.
“I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I would explore your lovely home.”
His lips quirked. “Lovely is a nicely crafted veneer for a lot of unlovely things, I’m afraid. As I’m sure you’ve realized.” His eyes were fastened on her, unblinking.
“When I first met you in Elenon, I heard people in the ballroom whispering that you were the worst of your kind,” she said, ruminative. “But I don’t think that’s true. Except for—” She paused, edging slightly backwards as he came closer, his height daunting, dominating her vision.
His blond brows arched. “Except for?”
She swallowed. “That scene at the Grosveri, of course. That was—”
“A necessary demonstration. And self-defense, for the satyr did try to stab me.” Di opened her mouth to argue, but he continued, “However, if that is the only thing you can recall me doing that aligns with the worst of my kind, then perhaps I am not being nasty enough, hmm? What should I do to remedy this, Princess?”
She huffed. “Stop teasing, for one. It doesn’t quite add up to the whole immortal, dark and brooding attitude one needs to cultivate for true evil.”
