Book of Kinsey: Dark Fate (The Dark Fate Chronicles 2) (10 page)

Sargon had told them that this place must be the legendary Ointa Dagdarhem, a temple of respite and learning for the Dakayga. Its location was thought to be somewhere in the heart of the mountain kingdom, but no dwarf had walked its floors in centuries, much less knew where or how to find it. Jocelyn allowed her gaze to sweep the room, touching on each of their other companions.

Neal and Horus sat together not far from Sargon and her brother with their packs open, eating the various nuts and berries they had collected when the group had traveled through the Lowlands. The two were as close as brothers, though the same might be said for all of them after the trial of finding and escorting the prince. They took turns peering around the room and commenting softly to each other.

Jorin, blessed with the hands of an artisan and the ferocity of a badger, stood beside another statue, running his hands over the smooth stone just as Jocelyn had done. His broad features were alight and his eyes gleamed as he looked up at the towering representation of their god.

Sanderlin, Mansh, and Baeld meandered around the chiseled stoneworks on the wall behind the tome Sargon and Gideon leaned over. Scenes depicting the ancient battles of their forefathers alternated with the statue alcoves along the lofty walls. Each of the three dwarves had run their hands across the worked surface in wonder.

Finally, her eyes came to rest on Kinsey. He stood in the middle of the chamber, his hands gripping a set of shackles that were bolted to the floor. Supple, powerful muscles in his forearms rippled as he turned the cuffs over, inspecting them. His great, ruddy mane was undone from its multiple braids and flowed like a river over his broad shoulders. The edges of his mouth were turned down in a frown as he examined the open manacles. He looked up suddenly, and his brown eyes locked with hers.

Startled, she looked away with heat rising in her cheeks.
This is ridiculous. I wasn’t staring.
Resolved, she turned back to face the half-dwarf.

Kinsey remained where he had been, unabashedly regarding her as she fidgeted like a youngling just past her mother’s side. The heavy shackles still dangled from one hand, but the pensive frown had turned into an inquisitive grin.

Jocelyn released a breath that she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and stilled her face to calm before walking over to join him.

“Would you not be a little afraid if these were to be your fate?” His voice was soft, but she could hear the tension in it. He lifted the manacles for her inspection. The heavy circles rang softly against each other, and the chains slithered against the stone of the floor.

Jocelyn reached out to take one of the artfully worked metal cuffs. She had not inspected them before. The chain was heavy, more so than steel or iron.
Carcodium,
she thought,
it must be. So much of it…
There must have been a dozen feet of chain for each cuff, and all of it forged from the same metal. The glistening interlocked ovals snaked in a glittering river to a massive loop set in the floor. It was a king’s ransom. No, a nation’s ransom. The metal was even rarer than the gold, silver, and platinum from the mines of Mozil and the working of it arduous. It was the only metal that could be imbued with power, and it was used sparingly. The king’s ancestral axe, Mordekki, was the largest single use of the metal that she had seen until now. Even that mighty weapon was a combination of carcodium and other, more common alloys. As with Mordekki, fine runes of power had been scribed heavily into both manacles and decorated each link all the way back to the anchoring loop.

A chill ran down her spine. As beautiful as the chains were, they were still chains. At their best they protected people, but they did it by restricting and binding, preventing freedom. Jocelyn shuddered slightly at the thought of being bound in such a way. Primal fear twisted her voice as she softly said, “I suppose I would be.” Suddenly, she remembered the words she had spoken to him mere weeks past, effectively calling him a coward. Heat suffused her cheeks, and she uncharacteristically began to stammer. “What I said, I… Well, ah mean ta say...I...I be owin’ ya an apology.”

“No.” Kinsey shook his head. “You said what you felt, and you were trying to drill through my thick skull.” He paused and reached his free hand to touch her on the shoulder. “You were also right.”

She looked up, searching his face to see if he was mocking her.

Part of the frown he had worn when examining the manacles had returned, but his thick eyebrows remained unfurrowed. Sincere concern radiated from him and those warm brown eyes. His deep voice was consoling when he said, “I can understand that. And I can respect it.” He paused, gripping her shoulder firmly. “I do respect it.”

Jocelyn cleared her throat and looked down at the chains again.
Does he have ta be so damn...charming?
She shook her head, frustrated at the way her thoughts jumbled. “So, ya think you’ll be wearin’ these then?” She gestured with the manacles.

“Why else would they be here, if not to hold the monster?”

“Yer not a monster,” she said, too quickly. Pausing to collect her thoughts, Jocelyn took a breath and began again. “Some be callin’ ya demon, that’s fer sure. But if the legends be true, and ya can control it, nothin’ on the face o’ Orundal will be able ta stand up ta yer might.” Jocelyn glanced around at the others. “With the south on the move, we’ll be needin’ that strength.” She returned her gaze to Kinsey. “We’ll be needin’ you.”

Kinsey opened his mouth to say something but hesitated, looking down at the manacle he still held in one hand. After running his thumb across an etched rune, he raised his eyes to meet hers and spoke so only the two of them could hear. “I’ll try.”

Kinsey waited, trying to control his steadily climbing heart rate.

The glittering shackles that he and Jocelyn had been speaking over were now encircling his wrists. Sargon had spoken words that sounded like nonsense to Kinsey, but the metal responded as a living thing, clicking together so completely that the edges were lost.

Around the room stood his companions from the past weeks, positioned by Sargon. They wore varying expressions, from Neal, who was rapt, to Jocelyn, who smiled in a way that Kinsey was sure was supposed to be encouraging. Sargon stood once more behind the podium, slowly turning the pages and reading the script that only he could see.

Sargon cleared his throat and looked up from the book. “We gotta find yer trigger, lad. That thing that be bringin’ about the change.” He stepped around the stone column and crossed into the outline of glimmering stones surrounding Kinsey’s central location in the temple. “I think I got a good idea what that might be, but I’m wonderin’ if it ain’t somethin’ more.”

“You mean Kesh,” Kinsey said, irritation lacing his words at the mere thought of the man.

“The golden-haired fella back at Waterfall Citadel?” the old priest asked as he came to a stop in front of Kinsey. “Yeah, that’s part o’ what I be talkin’ about.”

Kinsey frowned. “I’ve thought on the chancellor many times during our journey here and have not changed into the monster you say that I am.”

“That’s my meanin’, lad. There’s somethin’ more at work here.” Sargon stroked his thick beard in thought. “I be curious. What do ya remember from when we were down in that cell at the Citadel?”

“Shock mostly. I couldn’t believe they thought I had participated in Princess Sacha’s abduction. It was so absurd. Then I saw Kesh...” Kinsey’s skin began to tingle and his jaw clenched at the memory.
That snake.
The horrors of his visions surrounding Ordair’s keep and that eel of a man had taken on a certain sense of hostility. “He set us up, Erik and me.”

Sargon’s features took on an odd cast as a blue light deepened the shadows above his cheekbones. Kinsey and the old priest both looked down to find the glyphs etched into the manacles and chains glowing softly.

When Kinsey looked up, concerned, he found the old priest already looking at him. Intensity shone in the charcoal depths of his eyes. This was not a surprise to Sargon.

“What do ya remember after ya saw ’im?” the priest persisted.

Kinsey shook his head, confused and frustrated. “I don’t remember. I blacked out.”

“Had that happened ta ya before?”

Kinsey dropped his gaze back to the pulsing chains. “I... yes, when Sacha was abducted.” The blue light surged in time with a wave of frustration and anger that danced along his nerves as he remembered his inability to act. The pulsing glow captivated his attention. Almost as an afterthought, he added, “And again the night we tried to rescue her.”

The bright azure light’s intensity grew as he remembered coming to himself on the bar floor with Kesh sitting on his chest, slapping him and screaming. At the edge of his awareness, Sargon shifted slightly. When the old dwarf’s voice came again, it almost seemed to float in on the tide of anger and frustration that was building. “That night ya tried ta rescue the girl, that was when the golden-haired man, Kesh, saw ya change, ain’t it?”

“I don’t know.” Kinsey swayed in time with the pulsing light, his vision blurred. “He tried to kill me.” He shook his head abruptly but did not look away from the chains, which were now growing brightly. “No. He did kill me. I should have died.” He could see it now: Kesh dancing in glee and then his gloating face as he cut into Kinsey’s scalp. Kinsey suddenly knew that his “visions” were nothing of the sort. The horrors were actually memories. He had killed them all. “No,” he whispered. “I
am
a monster.”

The room around him seemed to spin as he felt the rage blossom in his stomach, and his mind tried to slide away from the coming rampage.

“No!” Kinsey shouted, and he strained against the chains, using the effort as a focus to keep himself from losing control.

A stinging slap to the face shattered Kinsey’s focus.

“Change, damn ya!” Sargon bellowed. “Ya failed at everythin’ else! Will ya be doin’ the same with this?” The old priest’s heavy hand slammed into Kinsey’s face yet again.

A rolling, thunderous roar that was barely human in any sense erupted from Kinsey’s throat, and his body began to shake. As rage burned through his blood, his broken attempts at control were replaced by unbridled fury. Bones began to snap and muscles bulged, straining against his skin. He screamed again in pain and rage. His flesh ripped apart and fell to the floor in bloody strips. Death and fire raged through Kinsey’s mind. No recognition of friend or foe remained, only the burning desire to bring tooth and claw down upon all those who stood before him.

Sargon staggered back from the spray of blood as Kinsey’s skin shredded and the Dakayga’s form emerged. He scrambled away from the chained beast toward the safety of the ring and the ancient tome on its podium.

Around the room, the group stood in stunned silence, mouths open and eyes wide. Most of them had never seen a
living
Dakayga before, much less watched one transform. Sargon had witnessed both. Before Duhann had left with the Dark Advisor, Sargon had seen him change.
If only we had known.

The creature that stood where Kinsey had once been shook itself, casting aside the remnants of flesh and clothing. Free of the chaotic leavings, the Dakayga stood to its full height of nine feet or more. Rippling muscles stirred a wolf-like pelt that had the same ruddy color as the prince’s hair. The snarling face was bare, leathery, and smooth.