The Reckoning, page 13
****
She jumped when he spoke from behind her.
“I thought I might speak to Erik, see if he wishes me to scout the perimeter of the town while we wait for the others.” Etan’s lips curved in a cynical smile. Did she think because she was not facing him, he could not see right through that flimsy rag she wore? The sight of her small, rounded bottom was making him so hard he could barely think.
Her voice was even. “As you see, Erik is not here. He is still in the bar with Ohma.”
He stepped closer, encircled her waist, and drew her back against him.
****
She stiffened but did not move away. The thick rug had muffled his footsteps. She felt the warmth of his skin through the fine linen of his shirt and the silk of her gown. She wanted him; by the gods, she wanted him.
And she knew she should not.
“If I had a woman like you,” he whispered in her ear, “I would not make her wait while I enjoyed an ale with an old man.”
Skylah’s breath labored. His scent was all around her, his warmth enveloping her. She was trapped by her own weakness. This was Etan, the man she loved, the man she would always love.
She breathed deeply trying to hold onto her composure, but when she spoke her voice sounded husky and fragile. “What is it you really want, Etan?” She held her breath again. Longing for the answer she wanted but knowing it would come too late. She was committed to Erik.
He pushed her long hair to the side and ran his lips along her nape, sending tingles down her spine. He slid his mouth to the curve of her ear and rested his lips there, breathing hot words that left her pliant with need.
“What do I want? Let me see…I want these.” His hands slid up her sides to cup her heavy breasts.
Her breath filled her lungs and caught in her throat.
“And this.” His hands slid down and lingered over her flat stomach. “To fill and swell with my child.”
A rush of warmth radiated out to heat her skin from beneath his fingers.
“Ah yes, and this.” One large hand trailed lower still to cover the mound between her thighs. “To melt into my fingers and cradle my aching body.”
He spun her abruptly and caught her in his arms. His lips claimed her mouth, bruising, mind-bending, emotion-filled. He conquered her completely, searching, seeking, and finding the desperate response he sought.
A frenzy of mixed emotions raced through her mind. This was Etan…Etan whom she had loved for so long with such intense longing—holding her, kissing her, wanting her. He touched her where she longed to be touched, where she needed him to touch her. Her breath came in short sharp bursts as his lips sought her eyes, throat, and cheeks, then savaged her mouth again.
His arm hooked under her thigh, drawing her leg up around his hip, giving him better access to her body. She groaned into the heat of his mouth as his fingers found her sweet, hot core.
Then they were falling.
She hit the bed at a sickening rate, sinking into the soft depths of the mattress. Etan sprawled across her, crushing the air from her lungs. He rolled onto his elbow and came up laughing.
The sound was enough to sober her, and she smiled hesitantly. Never could she remember a time when she heard Etan laugh. The sound made him appear softer, younger, carefree, and it filled her heart with sorrow for she knew he could never be hers.
****
He noted her frown and his laughter died. He reached to touch her, but she pulled away. He gave her a long, pain-filled look. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he bowed his head to rest his face in his hands. “Have you any idea what you are doing to me?”
Skylah remained silent.
“I cannot sleep because all I see is your face. I cannot eat because I imagine the taste of your skin on my tongue. Every breath of air I breathe fills my head with your scent.” He pushed his long fair fringe impatiently from his eyes and spun to touch her, but she scampered to the far side of the bed.
He circled the bed and dropped to his knees, taking her hands in his. “Leave Erik; come with me. Now. Tonight! There are tall ships to carry us to the Far Islands. We can leave this land—its wars, its turmoil. We can start over.” There was a desperate plea in his voice. “Say you will come…I love you. I have always loved you. I know that now.”
Skylah pushed him away and scrambled to her feet, glaring at him with brilliant green eyes. Her red-gold hair crackling and writhing around her face.
Noting her expression, he knew before she spoke, he had lost her. He came to his feet. “Go on, say it, I am a fool.”
He was surprised when her words came on a whisper.
“How could you? You told me you did not love me. You told me with every action, with every word you ever spoke to me. How many times had I longed for some small kindness?”
“I—”
“No!” She slashed with her hand. “Let me finish. I was not the dullard you believed me to be. I knew for us there could be no future. Yet deep down, I believed something would happen to make it possible. But you would not believe, would you, Etan? You would not give us a chance.” She glanced away. “It was Erik who helped me accept if you wished hard enough, all things were possible. He loved me even when I was tiny, and him a tiger.” She swung back. “Now I have betrayed him—his love—his trust. May the Gods be merciful and forgive me.” She swiped at her eyes. “Yes, I love you. I have always loved you, and perhaps always will.”
“Then why—”
She cut him off. “Because never again will I betray Erik or his faith in me. I have made my choice, Etanandril Jarrisendel, and I will stand by it.”
****
He took a step toward her, his hands outstretched. “Let me explain—I—”
“No!” She stepped back. “There is nothing you can say to change my mind. I want you to leave.” She pointed to the door. “Now, or I shall scream loud enough to bring everyone in this establishment hastening to my aid.”
Etan opened his mouth to try again, but the brittle light in her eyes stopped him. He turned and moved for the door.
“And Etan?”
He stilled but did not turn. He was afraid should he do so, he would never be able to leave her. He straightened his back. “Yes?”
“Do not come here again while I am alone.”
He reached for the door, stood for a moment, then opened it, stepped through, and closed it softly behind him.
The sound of finality rang loud in her ears.
****
Erik stared into his ale long after Ohma departed for his room. He had watched Etan storm down the stairs and rush out of the tavern. It was still curfew, yet he did not care. He knew the Elisian loved Skylah, he had known since their meeting with the Dragon, yet he had been selfish and taken her for his own.
But she was beautiful, in that Etan was correct. He noticed it the first time he watched her across the clearing on that day long ago. In miniature, she was a vision of loveliness he could not dismiss from his mind, even in sleep. He wondered if she realized how much he loved her and longed to make her his queen. He knew he should tell her, unburden himself, but he could not. He was afraid of her reaction. What if she rejected him?
If he lost her now, after loving her—after feeling her body wrapped around his, he would surely die a myriad of deaths. Never would he find another with the rare gift to give everything she had and still more. Those she loved would always come first with Skylah.
He thumped his fist onto the table. He could not let her go. He would not. She was his. He would kill anyone who tried to take her from him whether the man was friend or foe. He had to find a way to bind her to him, a way she could never leave him. With his mind set, he drained the dregs from his tankard and placed it deliberately on the oak table.
****
Skylah heard the key rattle in the lock, the sound ominous in the dark room. Lying quiet, barely breathing, she watched through narrowed eyes as Erik entered, made his way to the dresser, and lit the candle lamp. The smell of tallow was strong in the air, and she forced herself not to cough as he lowered the lamp to peer into her face. The flame was warm on her cheek.
Satisfied she was sleeping, he extinguished the lamp and placed it on the blackwood dresser. She heard the rustle of fine silk, the sound of his breeches dropping to the floor, and regulated her breathing. Lying still, she prayed he would not reach for her. The mattress sagged as he slowly eased in beside her.
He pulled her back gently into his arms, holding her spoon-fashion against his hard body.
Guilt paralyzed her and she lay unmoving, willing him not to speak, not to touch her. How could she give herself to him now after what had happened with Etan?
His hands cupped her breasts through her sheer gown and her nipples hardened. One hand slid down over her thigh to bunch her gown in a fist and draw it up over her hip. She tried not to move. If she feigned sleep long enough, perhaps he would cease.
His fingers began their familiar magick, and she was unable to contain the moan of pure pleasure issuing from her lips or the traitorous shivers raking her body. His hot mouth, the touch of his hands, the smell of pine on his skin all blended to weave their spell about her body, driving her senseless of any thought but finding release to the intolerable need building between her legs.
Erik moved over her. “Say it,” he demanded.
She could feel the ends of his golden hair trailing across her breasts, his sweet breath laced with lager, hot on her face, his amber gaze boring down at her in the dim light. She knew the traitorous feeling of a body in need and heard herself utter the words that would bring her torment to an end. “Anything. Take me—fill me—do what you will.” The words slipped from her tongue on a sigh.
Were they really her words, so passionately uttered? Disgust warred with lust. Was she so weak she could go from one man’s arms to another, and not only enjoy it—beg for it?
All thought ceased as he fit his body against hers and her breath fled as he sank into her. He moved and swelled and filled her completely. He took her with hard, fast thrusts as if trying to stamp his brand upon her soul. She held him tight and met each stroke with compelling hunger, longing for the pleasure never to end.
When she thought she would surely die from the rapture he aroused, a great swelling of pure forbidden lust washed over her. Nails raked his sweat slicked back, and she rocked side-to-side, riding out the tide of ecstasy. His name splintered from her lips. He surged and drove deeper, lifted her thighs, dragging them higher up and around his waist, then shuddering, spilled into her, wave upon wave, flooding her womb with his seed.
Slowly their bodies grew still.
Sated, Erik rolled to his side and gently lifted a strand of her hair to his face. He tasted, sniffed, and tested its fragrance as she lay staring at the darkened ceiling. He leaned over to light the candle on the nightstand, then looked down into her face, frowning when he saw the tears in her eyes.
He wiped them away gently with his thumb. “Why do you weep, little one? Did I hurt you?”
She shook her head and turned away.
“Is it because we are not wed?” He took her face between his hands and forced her to face him. “Tomorrow I will send for a brother from the Temple of Glen-Dorrach. It cannot be a large service with the eight days of feasting as is custom, but you will be no less my wife. Now smile and tell me you love me. For tonight you should be happy. Have I not asked you to be my queen?” He lowered his head and touched his lips softly to hers, but she pulled away.
Tenderly, she stroked his damp hair back from his face. “Do not be foolish, my lord. Now is no time for a wedding, there is much we must do. You have a quest to resolve with your brother, and I have a need to find my people. There will be no more talk of marriage until this war is over and we are free to spend the rest of our days together in peace.” She took his hand and kissed it. “At the moment it suffices that you care enough to ask.”
The look he gave her was long and penetrating. Finally, he nodded. “You speak wisely, my love. We shall wait until I can seat you upon the throne of Glen-Dorrach. Then all my people shall see the beauty I have chosen to rule beside me.”
Skylah sighed and lay back in his arms only half listening as Erik spoke of Wolveryne Castle and the childhood antics of him, Kaden, and their sister Asleena. Finally, his words gave way to the even rhythm of sleep.
It was long hours before she was so blessed. Thoughts of two men kept running through her mind, mingling and merging, and giving no quarter. How could the gods have been so cruel as to grant her wish for true love and deny her happiness all in one? How could she be truly happy when she was in love with two men? And today she had been forced to choose between them.
Chapter Eleven
Late afternoon found Tannith and Kaden inching their way along the narrow ledge behind the waterfall. All the time, they were conscious that one false step could put them over the edge to certain death on the dark volcanic rocks hundreds of feet below.
Phoenix remained passive as Tannith led him carefully along the slick rock.
Dannock-Shae’s gelding, whom Kaden was leading, became more skittish with every step of its massive hooves. Without warning, the horse reared. Its hooves skidded and its eyes bulged in terror as its back legs began to slide over the edge of the ledge.
Kaden double wrapped the reins around his fist and grasped the tightening leather with his free hand. Bunching his powerful muscles, he struggled to hold the entire weight of the destrier, but his strength soon ebbed and every muscle and sinew was strained to its ultimate point. He realized with a sinking heart he would have to let the stallion go to his doom. Inch by inch, he painfully unraveled the reins from his bound hand, and the great war horse slid over the edge.
Its screams hung in the moist air as it crashed into the pounding water below. Kaden, exhausted and spent, collapsed against the rock face, and sat trembling, knowing how close he had come to death.
Tannith left Phoenix inside the cave and hurried back along the ledge to gather Kaden in her arms, kissing his cheeks and forehead. “I thought I had lost you. Never frighten me like that again.”
He pulled away and searched her face. She was shaking as much as him, and tears glistened in her eyes.
They had barely talked since Dannock’s death, but the gravity of the situation brought home to him how frail life really was and how foolish he had been. He pushed his hair back from his face.
If matters had gone differently with the horse, he might never have seen Tannith again. He hugged her to his chest. “Neither man nor beast has the power to separate me from you,” he whispered against her ear, waiting for her trembling to subside and his own heart rate to steady. Then he drew back and slipped his dagger from his boot, making a small nick in his palm.
“What are you doing?”
“Something I should have done long ago.”
Waiting until the blood dripped freely onto the wet rocks at his side, Kaden lifted Tannith’s palm. He made a small cut, matched their hands together, and mingled their blood as one. “Do you swear to love me for all time?”
“You know I do.”
“You must swear it.”
“May my blood run the breadth of Tarlis should I ever be untrue to you. And may my shade follow you into Elysium.”
He brought her hand to his lips and gazed into her beautiful violet eyes glistening with tears. “I pledge my love, my soul, to you. I will walk the hills with you. I would lay my soul at the door of the Abyss to protect you.” He touched his lips to hers. “Now you are truly mine from here into eternity.” He rested his forehead against hers. “We are handfasted in the Dorrachian tradition. You are my wife.”
****
Hammer Deathwielder, Son of Lêr, stood cross-armed before a transparent wall of blue rock. A frown marred his craggy features, and he ran his thumb over the runes on the haft of the black and silver hammer hanging from the harness at his waist.
The hammer’s haft, one and a half feet long, sported a nine-pound head of solid iron, cast in the shape of a fist. Most men would have found the weapon heavy, awkward, and imprecise. But in the hands of the young, dark-haired dwarf, it swung through the air seemingly as light as a rapier.
Hammer had been named for his ancestor Deathwielder, who fought alongside Magus in The Mage War. Shae, his war hammer, was handed down four generations before it had finally come to rest in Hammer’s hands.
It was told that when Deathwielder swung Shae, the enemy had trembled, and the earth had shaken. Hammer had yet to know if that were true, for he had never fought in a real battle, but he had trained aplenty and was ready for the day when he would prove himself. Then he would see what Shae could do, and blood would flow.
Hammer stared into the blue crystal wall, watching with a frown as a tall, black-haired warrior studied the trigger to the entrance of the city. Who was this man? What did he want?
He knew exactly where to find the rocks that triggered the entrance. Hammer’s hand closed tightly over Shae’s haft.
Only one man knew where the gateway of the city lay. The man who had designed it, and this man was not he.
Deathwielder had watched the previous day as the strangers had entered the cave. The man had seemed obsessed with searching for something, but the woman, upon entering, had gone uncommonly still. It was almost as if she were entranced. Then suddenly she cried out and fled. Could it have been she had seen the spirits of the Slave Age? Hammer knew a few had borne witness to the souls of the ancients, but it was a limited few.
He had never been privy to them in all the time he had guarded the gateway.
In ancient times, slaves were bound with golden chains and thrown into the falls in sacrifice to the great Water God, Ahgoss. It had been the belief that the ritual would appease the God and stop the flooding of the caves. The practice died out centuries ago. The Dwarves no longer took slaves. However, it was said that on a certain day of the year, the spirits of the dead would gather in the place of their doom and inhabit the body of any unfortunate found there.
