Hunted (Book 2) (18 page)

Bastian sat on a hard wooden chair, his arms behind him,
hands tied at the wrist. "This isn't necessary," he said for the
fourth time.

Marden eyed him, his lips tight.

"Come on," Bastian implored. He had to get free
and find his way back to Connor.

Not Elinor.

Maybe everything Elinor had done was all a set up to steal
the throne. Once she found the dragon and figured out he and Bastian knew each
other, she could have created the plan to take power. For all he knew she was
sitting on the throne now, planning to be the new queen.

If he’d stop thinking with his cock, maybe he wouldn’t be
fooled again.

"Silence!" Marden signaled to another man.
"Barden, if he talks again, shut him up."

Barden nodded, his braided beard bobbing up and down.
"Yes, brother."

These men were brutes. Grunts. They didn't have a full
brain between them. "I can get you the throne." Bastian said, taking
the chance Barden wouldn't hurt him after a statement like that.

Holding a gloved hand in the air, Marden stopped his
brother from hitting Bastian. "I'm listening."

"I don't want the throne. If we can win it back, you
can have it," Bastian said.

"Go on." Marden turned a chair around, straddling
it. The seat bowed under his immense weight.

"The dragon does as I say. If you help me break into
the castle and secure it, the dragon will serve you. It will be grateful."
At least Bastian hoped Connor would agree. If the healers had Fotia, he was
sure his friend would agree to almost anything. Bastian knew he would if their
places were reversed. Even now he was fighting to set Connor free so they could
look for the people of Hutton's Bridge, one of whom was Bastian's own daughter,
Farah.

"How do I know this isn't a trick?" Marden asked.

"Yeah," said Barden. "What if it's a
trap?"

If Bastian's hand was free, he would have smacked his
forehead. He knew people in his village looked at him as if he were lacking in
brains, but these two were beyond stupid. Their muscles told him exactly how
they'd won a place in the Black Guard. Maybe the next queen should have her men
run through a gauntlet of intelligence tests as well.

"It's not a trap," Bastian said, holding back a
sigh.

"If it's not a trap," Barden said, "we might
be able to get whores for free again." His eyes lit up as he licked his
lips.

"All the whores you want," Bastian said. His
promise was empty and he felt bad for the women who had to suffer through a
night with either of them, but he'd say anything to get free and on his way
back to the castle, sword in hand.

Barden nudged Marden. "Did you hear that?
Whores!"

"Quiet," Marden ordered his brother. His eyes
narrowed. "If I gather my men together, you will fight with us to take
back the throne?"

"Yes."

"And you won't betray us?" Marden asked. He
tapped his chin with a beefy finger.

"I won't." Bastian tried not to fidget in the chair.
Anything could be seen as a betrayal by these buffoons.

"All right, then. I will gather the rest of the guard
and we will storm the castle before the sun sets." Marden stood and headed
for the door.

"Wait," Bastian called out. "Untie me."

"Not yet," Marden said.

"But I promised to help you." Bastian struggled
against the rope. A burning sensation rippled across his skin.

"These ropes hold you to your promise until the time
comes to take back what is ours." Marden stalked out of the room, leaving
Bastian alone with Barden.

Bastian bit his tongue. These men had walked away from
Bastian when he claimed the throne. They hadn't cared enough to fight for it
then. Why now?

"So Barden – "

"Don't talk to me." Barden clamped his hands over
his ears and hummed a discordant tune. "I don't trust you," he
shouted.

Bastian cleared his throat and coughed. Then he sniffled.
Barden eyed him, his hands still over his ears.

"I'm thirsty," Bastian said.

"Can't hear you," Barden shouted. "You have
to talk louder."

"If you would take your hands off your ears,"
Bastian mumbled, "you'd hear me just fine, you idiot."

"What?" Barden yelled again, coming closer.

"Thirsty!" Bastian screamed at him.

"Well, why didn't you say so?" Barden dropped his
hands and poured Bastian a cup of water. "Here." He extended his arm,
holding the cup out to Bastian.

"I can't pick it up unless you untie me." Bastian
reminded him.

Barden screwed up his face, his eyes squinted and his lips
curled. "That's true."

"Marden didn't say I had to remain tied up." And
he hadn't. Not in those exact words.

"No, he didn't." Barden set the cup down on a
table and ambled behind Bastian.

A swoosh whispered in the air as Barden released a dagger
from its sheath. Straining against the rope, Bastian made as much space as he
could between his wrists. The rope went slack. Bastian shook his hands free,
rubbing his wrists. "Thank you." He stood and grabbed the cup,
downing the water in one gulp.

"You won't leave, right? We're in this together?"
Barden's eyes widened, realizing what he'd just done.

Bastian couldn't imagine what Marden would do to his
brother if Bastian escaped. Luckily for Barden, he had no intention of leaving.
Without these men, he had no chance of getting back into the castle for Connor,
Fotia, and the eggs.

"I'm not going anywhere." It was a promise he
would keep.

They passed the time in a suspicious silence. Barden
wouldn't answer him. Instead, he glowered at Bastian, as if his gaze alone
could keep Bastian from bolting. Barden was a decent fighter, Bastian assumed
since he'd won a place in the Black Guard, but Bastian knew he was smarter, and
likely stronger. If it came to a fight, Bastian knew he'd win. Bastian didn't
want to start anything, but if Barden did, he'd finish it quickly.

The door swung open. Marden strode in, followed by a few
other men Bastian vaguely recognized. They'd ambushed him when the fog dissipated,
knocked him silly, and dragged him to the castle on a pallet behind a horse
that wouldn’t stop shitting.

"Why is he free?" Marden demanded.

Barden uttered a few nonsensical answers, none of which
were fully intelligible. Marden cuffed his brother, and then turned to Bastian.
"You didn't leave."

"No, I didn't. I'm with you on this. I told you that
before. Maybe you'll believe me now." Bastian crossed his arms over his
chest.

"I'll believe it when the throne is secured."
Marden nodded to the other men. They drew their swords and pointed the tips at
Bastian's chest.

He didn't flinch, even though every fiber of his being was
telling him to run out the door. He had to trust them if he had any chance of
freeing Connor. "When do I get a sword?" he asked, eyeing theirs.

Every blade was newly buffed and sharpened. He couldn't
have done better himself. They might not have been the smartest men, but they
knew how to keep their swords in fighting condition.

"Well?" He raised one eyebrow at Marden, who
nodded at a dark haired man. One sword stood out. The double-edged blade was
lightly stained with the blood of fallen enemies.

"Give it to him, Kelton."

Kelton flipped his sword around, handing it to Bastian,
handle first. He gripped the hilt in his palm, relishing the feel of it. He'd
created this very sword in his free time at the smithy in Hutton's Bridge,
brought it with him when he stepped through the fog. Used it to kill the beasts
hidden in the fog. They’d held onto the weapon all this time. It was a
beautiful blade, far better than the one Elinor had stolen for him before
leaving Ashoom.

It was his past, his present, and his future. Bastian's
blood boiled, throbbing in his veins. "Are you ready to fight?" he
asked the men.

Marden stood next to him, his hand on Bastian's shoulder.
"We are." His hand snaked to Bastian's neck. "But if you betray
us at any point, I will tear a hole in your chest and rip your innards out with
my bare hands."

Bastian eyed Marden's free hand as it clenched and
unclenched. He remembered the blow the man had dealt to his genitals not long
ago.

He wouldn't betray Marden unless it helped free Connor, and
then he'd run as fast as he could.

Bastian followed Marden and the rest of the Black Guard
down a dark alley. Although the sun was still up, the tree cover above and the
buildings built into the forest shaded their march toward the castle. Nine left
from the Black Guard and Bastian. They weren't an army, but if they could
displace the healers who'd taken control, Marden hoped some of the soldiers at
the castle would defect to their side.

As far as Bastian was concerned all he needed was to get to
Connor and the eggs. If they could free them, they wouldn't need anyone else's
help. Everyone deferred to the one who controlled the dragon. Bastian had taken
the throne without incident once before. Unfortunately this time someone had
given them away.

Elinor.

It couldn't be anyone else. Only the three of them knew
about the eggs. How else could the healers have known their vulnerable spot?

Marden stopped at the end of the alley and held up a hand.
The men readied themselves, hands on swords, waiting for his signal.

The plan was to storm the castle from the front gates. The
hope was that the healers would surrender without incident. Though Bastian knew
some of the men were anxious to draw blood.

Marden held two fingers in the air, then cocked them
forward. He rushed into the street, his sword aloft, glinting in the early
morning sunlight. The men in front of Bastian grunted and bellowed. Bastian
followed, his feet pounding, his heart racing. He'd seen a lot of battle
lately, but this was the first time he'd be facing other men.

He reminded himself he wouldn’t be killing a man for sport.
It was to free his friend and the eggs. He wouldn't take a life unless it was
necessary. There were many ways to fell a man without stopping his heart from
beating.

The Black Guard didn't have the same standards.

When the healers at the gate didn't relent, Marden ran two
of them through before they could even draw their swords. Blood gushed from
their guts, splashing onto Marden's clothes. He didn't look down for even a
moment. Instead he bent at the waist and rushed the gates, his left arm cocked
in front of him like a battering ram.

The gate cracked open. A loud metallic sound echoed through
the street, calling to the people in their homes. Faces appeared in windows,
curious, but not one door opened.

Bastian gripped his sword tighter. They were smart to stay
inside. This wasn't their battle.

Sweat beaded on his forehead. The healers weren't even
prepared and they should have been. Why take control of a castle without the
means to defend it? The soldiers stood to the side, letting Marden and his men
pass. They wouldn't take part in the slaughter, but they wouldn't stop it
either.

Bastian wasn't sure what to make of any of these men, not
the Black Guard, nor the regular soldiers. Did they have no loyalty to anything
or anyone? Perhaps they only followed the mighty, even if it meant switching
sides twice in one day.

He followed the Black Guard as they worked their way deeper
into the castle. The healers in the black cloaks no longer opposed them. They
stood with their backs against the wall. Some cowered on the floor, their fear
palpable.

Still, Bastian kept his sword at the ready in case someone
decided to be a hero. He didn't want to kill, but he wouldn't be caught off
guard.

The doors to the throne room were shut but not barred.
Marden kicked them open, striding in ahead of the rest of his men. Bastian held
back in the hall. He didn't care to face whoever had holed up in there. All he
wanted was his friend.

"Don't hurt me!" a familiar voice called from
within the throne room. Elinor. Bastian would know her voice anywhere.

He sighed, shaking his head. The woman who'd betrayed him.
She could stand in line behind Tressa. He was done trying to take care of them
when clearly neither needed, nor wanted, him.

Bastian strode in. "Ignore her," he said.
"She's the one who told the other healers how to trap my dragon."

The men of the Black Guard stood in a semicircle, the tips
of their swords pointing toward the marble floor.

Bastian elbowed his way in front of them, curious what had
them so stunned. What trick was Elinor playing on them now?

What he saw rocked his resolve. It erased his anger. Every
drop of blood in his veins ran cold until he thought his skin would crack.

Elinor was naked, bound hand and foot to a table. Red marks
slashed across her body, covered in dried blood. Bastian ran to her side.
"Who did this to you?" He stroked her hair and wiped the tears from
her cheeks.

"Bastian." It came out a whisper.

He stepped back, his sword raised. "Don't move,"
he told her, though her limbs were pulled so tight she probably couldn't. He
brought his sword down on the first set of ropes, cutting her left arm free.
"Help me!" He shot Marden an angry look.

The mountainous man lumbered over and hacked the ropes
binding Elinor's feet free while Bastian severed the final rope holding her
right arm. Bastian cradled Elinor's head and draped his cloak around her.
"Don't move too fast."

She cracked a small smile. "I won't, don't worry.
Who's the healer here?"

Bastian's heart felt heavy in his chest. Tressa's final
abandonment had led him to a whorehouse instead of staying with his friends.
"I thought you’d betrayed us," he said to Elinor.

Her eyes darkened a little. "I wouldn't do that. I
thought you knew..." Her voice trailed off as her eyes rolled and she
slackened in his arms.

"I'm sorry, Elinor," he whispered in her ear.
"I am so, so sorry. Who did this?" Bastian whipped his head around
the room, but there was no one other than the Black Guard.

"It doesn't matter. We have the throne back."
Marden ran a hand over the arm of the throne.

Bastian laughed. "You think you're going to sit in
it?"

"Perhaps," Marden said, "but I can guard it
until an appropriate ruler tries to claim it." His eyebrows furrowed as he
glared at Bastian. "That isn't you."

"I don't want it," Bastian said, assuring him.
"I just want my friend."

"The dragon?" Marden asked. He signaled to his
men, and one by one they filed into the hallway.

"Yes." Bastian looked down at Elinor.
"Elinor too."

"I thought she sold you out." Marden snorted.
"It's why the only women I allow my men are whores. Women can cloud your
judgment. Make a man weak."

Bastian looked down at Elinor's golden locks, peppered with
flecks of her own blood. His heart felt a familiar tug. Yes, women did
influence him, but he refused to look at it as a weakness. In Hutton's Bridge,
they'd been encouraged to see sex and marriage only as a means to keep their
society trapped within the fog alive. He'd felt something taboo for Tressa, but
not for any other woman.

He had to admit Elinor could spur similar feelings given
the chance.

No, it wasn't weakness. It was his humanity.

"I have to find the dragon." Bastian lifted
Elinor into his arms. She felt so small, so helpless, her head resting against
his chest.

Marden shook his head. "The dragon is mine. You
promised."

"I need to talk to him."

Marden's laughter bounced off the marble walls. "Talk
to a dragon? Are you insane?"

Bastian had forgotten for a moment that Marden didn't know
humans could turn into dragons. It was a well-kept secret in a land filled with
magic.

"I have my ways of communicating with him. Don't
forget, no one can take the throne without the dragon. You only have one half
of the power, and it's not the half that matters."

"True." Marden nodded. "I will have my men
guard the throne while you and I search for the dragon." He pointed at Elinor.
"She stays here. I will have one of my men compel a healer to help
her."

Bastian glanced down at Elinor. Now that he'd found her, he
didn't want to leave her behind. The stairs to the caverns under the castle
were too precarious to carry her with him. And there was nothing down there to
help her. Only another possible fight with the people who'd taken control of
the castle.

"I don't want Barden in charge," Bastian insisted
before he would set Elinor down. The man was a fighter, but he was an idiot too.
"Choose someone with more than half a brain." He knew Barden was
Marden's brother, but he didn't care. It had to be said.

To his surprise, Marden cracked a smile. "Understood.
Edgar will protect your woman. After we make sure the dragon knows he takes orders
from me, you'll get her back."

"Agreed," Bastian said, shaking the man's massive
paw.

Still, he wasn't so sure he was willing to hand Connor over
either. He'd have to figure that out when the time came.