Those Who Fear the Darkness (BloodRunes: Book 2) (11 page)

“But now is the perfect opportunity!” came
the voice that Katya identified as her target's. “The fact that
there is a crisis,” he sputtered in his frantic excitement, “is my
point exactly. It is a time of need and where has the King been?
Holed up in his private suites while we deal with the people. What
better time to lobby for more power than when we will have the
masses behind us when we point these facts out to them? Plus
Jezebel is gone, so we won't have to deal with her First Advisor
nonsense. We can make ourselves into what our titles suggest we
should be.”

“I don't like it,” said the first voice and
Katya's target sighed exasperatedly.

“Fine. We'll do it your way. We'll deal with
the crisis at hand first and then focus our energy on gaining the
power of the seats back. But you know we have to do something. He
is steadily taking more and more influence away from us until one
day we wake up and find ourselves to be inconsequential.”

“We will deal with it,” the second voice
promised and Katya heard the distinct rustle of clothes as the man
stood, “but I won't put it before the plight of the people. We must
have our priorities straight.”

“Of course, and you're right. The people are
our first priority. I guess I just let my ideas get the better of
me,” her target smoothed over the refusal of his plan, and Katya
almost snorted at its insincerity.

“Good.” The speaker let out a sigh of relief.
“If you'll excuse me, I have a pile of paperwork sitting on my desk
at home that requires my attention. It will be another sleepless
night I'm sure.”

“By all means,” acknowledged her target, a
dangerous undertone sneaking into the voice. “We'll speak of this
further once we have crossed all the t's and dotted all the
i's.”

The second speaker didn't seem to pick up on
the change. “Well, goodnight then.”

Footsteps clapped across the room and Katya
heard the door open and the footsteps retreat down the hallway.
Katya had memorized the outlay of the building, and knew that in
twenty steps the man would come to the front breezeway where he
would be met with his coat by one of the servants.

She could hear their muffled voices as he bid
them goodnight and the front door opened and closed. Katya waited
for the footsteps she knew would come down the hallway to the room
as the servant predictably checked on his master to see if he
needed anything now that his guest was gone.

Moments after the door clicked shut and Katya
heard the dull thud of the bolt being put into place for the night,
the servant came down the hall and knocked on the door softly.

“Come in,” barked her target and Katya noted
that he must be writing something as there was the scratching of
pen on paper. “Deliver this for me,” he commanded, “I will simply
have to take matters into my own hands.”

The servant did not ask questions, but
presumably took the paper and left without a word.

Katya listened closely and could hear its
footsteps retreat to the far end of the house. The scratching sound
started up once more and Katya settled herself in to wait until the
servant returned to bring the last nightcap before they all retired
for the night, leaving her target alone until morning.

Her owner had specifically told her that this
particular errand had to leave no question that it was an
accident.

That was why she was going to stab the
man.

She smiled. This would be the last little
errand that she would run for the beast who had been her owner for
so long.

She had been testing the collar the last few
days and had felt it slowly returning to power. However, her moment
of freedom had allowed her to prepare for it, and she had erected
barriers that she had no doubt could withstand it even when it
regained full strength. It had held her so tightly before only
because it prevented her from thinking properly, but now that she
had her wits about her she was well aware of the fact that she was
far more powerful than the collar itself.

She had also been disturbed to find that she
maintained a connection with the vile man through the collar. If
she thought about him hard enough, she could actually feel what was
going on around him. She shuddered. The barriers that she had
erected to stop that particular sensation from coming over her
unexpectedly had gone up very quickly.

She felt a tickle on her neck and smiled
sincerely for the comfort of Marak. The tiny snake wound around her
body effortlessly, magically attached to her as he was magically
animated. Creating new spells to weave into him had helped to keep
Katya sane during her years of training.

To anyone else, he was simply the armband
that she wore, one that she had had for as long as she could
remember. Karl had let her keep it, despite taking everything else
that she could call her own, which Katya had thought was a nice
gesture at the time. Now, she realized that the reason behind this
‘kindness’ was because of his family’s crest, which was that of a
snake. He likened the armband to a brand of his ownership, as one
would burn into the flesh of their cattle.

In her early years she had known her owner
only as her sponsor, only later realizing that he had bought her
essentially into slavery. As a commoner with talent, she was told
that her parents had done their duty and brought her to the priests
where she was to begin a life of humble servitude. She could
remember nothing of them or of her life before the priests.

After a few years, Karl had anonymously
contacted her with an offer that she had found unable to refuse. He
offered to pay for her training and give her even more instruction
beyond what the priests were willing to teach in return for her
services. At the time she had figured that it would be better than
the boring life with the priests.

If only I had known. Though really, I
doubt that he would have accepted my refusal regardless
. The
tiny tongue flicked across her skin once more, and she felt
goose-bumps spring to life. She reached out a finger to stroke the
minuscule head. She felt the tiny body pulsating, his own form of
purring.

Chair legs scraped across the stone floor as
the person sitting in it abruptly stood, and Katya felt Marak race
around her arm excitedly. As if on cue, the servant reappeared and
Katya heard the expected nightcap being poured.

The door opened and closed again, and her
target was left alone. She heard the slurping of liquid, and then
glass clicked down roughly onto the table. The man was obviously
agitated.

Not for long
. There was a puff of air
as the candle was blown out, and the shaft of light coming from the
window disappeared.

Katya waited a few more moments until she
heard the man cross the room before she lithely slipped in through
the window. Her eyes were already adjusted to the dim light, and
were sharper than most. Part of her training had included a spell
for modifying her vision for night so she had no difficulty seeing
despite the lack of light.

She glanced around, automatically going into
a crouching position while she planned her attack. She spotted her
target with his back to her by the opposite wall.

Too easy
.

All the same, she sent Marak slithering
across the floor to sink his sharp fangs into the man's ankle,
injecting him with a paralyzing poison. The man screamed as the
fangs bit into his flesh, and Katya's hand clamped over his mouth
to let nothing but a muffled moan escape. She waited just a moment
while Marak's poison spread through his veins, taking with it a
numbing sensation.

No point in causing them unnecessary
pain
.

Then she stabbed the knife through his
back.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

She gently lowered his body to the floor as
his legs lost the strength to hold him. He died swiftly and
silently. Katya withdrew the knife from her final thrust, and wiped
it on the man's expensive tunic.

What a waste of life
.

Marak snaked back up her leg and took his
place on her arm, giving her a small squeeze before hardening into
the metal that was, after all, all he was.

Katya sighed and whispered a prayer of peace
to the Three before escaping the way she had come. No one would
notice the councilor's absence until morning, but she still had no
desire to be seen. Now she had only to decide whether to flee her
owner now, or wait to witness his downfall.

The choice was harder than she had thought it
would be and now that it was upon her, she found herself torn.

*

Aileen and Charles rode up ahead of her and
Gryffon, and were often deep in conversation which Layna suspected
also included Echo, who was serving as Aileen’s mount. Layna was
glad that despite Gryffon's initial recognition of the horse-woman,
he spoke to her with deference, and seemed disinclined to speak to
her overly much. He seemed rather in awe of her. This was fine with
Layna, as she felt a similar feeling towards the mage and was happy
to claim Gryffon's attention as her own.

“Is she really a woman turned into a horse?”
Layna whispered to him, though the other three were much too far
ahead to hear her question.

“I think so. Like I said though, she's not
telling. It's just what we assume. She pranced into the capital,
proclaiming that we needed her council. The Word from the Three had
just been heard on the Great River that a nightmare would bring us
wisdom, and so, when a black female horse came and started talking
to us, we listened. She's dropped enough hints that it's probably a
pretty safe bet to assume that she was once a human mage, and she
either by accident or on purpose stayed in horse form after
achieving it.”

“Is this something that happens often in
Treymayne?” Layna asked nervously. All of these surprises were
starting to wear thin her nerves.

“Not at all. Don't worry, it's not nearly as
different from Gelendan as her appearance may make you think, or my
previous warnings. I just didn’t want you to be caught off guard.
Though I’m not sure it really prepared you for Echo. We've just
been having strange things happen, just as you have - or maybe I
should say we have, since I've been here, there, with you. I'm
getting all confused. Who knows, maybe Endlyfta has completely
changed since I've been gone. For all I know, by now we could have
a whole herd of horses running the council and I'll be just as
confused as you are.”

“I can’t say that would make me unhappy. How
long has it been since you've been,” Layna found it hard to use the
word for such a strange place, “home?”

“Around a year, I was sent to observe Jezebel
and her father last spring, though some of that time was used in
preparing my back-story.”

“Do you miss it?”

“Sometimes. It makes me feel more at home to
be around you though.” Gryffon gave her an affectionate smile and
Layna warmed.

Though he had been thoroughly drained by the
episode after the barrier spell, his mood had been improving with
each passing day. Layna hoped that Aileen was mistaken, and that
whatever it was that had caused him to be sick had passed. She
liked this Gryffon, the one that spoke fondly of her and acted as
though he enjoyed her company as much as she enjoyed his.

“So when we get to Endlyfta, that's your
capital,” she paused briefly for his nod of acquiescence, “we will
have to beg an audience with your- “

“-Ieldran. That's basically our equivalent to
your council. They are our group of elders. The number can vary
each year depending on how many people want to be included, but
it's never allowed to fall below three. Usually it is many more
than that and the meetings have been known to become shouting
matches.”

“You've been to them?”

“Most meetings are open to anyone who cares
attend, though seating is limited, and often the late-comers end up
listening from the street on the voice amplifiers.”

“How does anything get decided that way?”

“It gets put to a vote eventually, and there
is a Triumvirate elected within the Ieldran whose words hold more
weight than the rest. If a decision really cannot be made, a prayer
is sent to the Three on the Great River. Usually, with matters of
importance, we get an answer. Though the answer is almost always
more of a question than an answer until we figure out the meaning
behind the cryptic response. Like the nightmare. The whole Ieldran
was taking sleeping potions trying to be the one to have this
nightmare of wisdom, and then in trots a horse. Humor of the gods,
I suppose.”

“Why do you send it on the Great River?”

Gryffon had to think about this for a minute.
“I guess I don't really know. We have the temple with the river
running through it, and it acts as the mechanism to carry away our
messages. People can go there and float out prayers, thanks to the
Three, or whatever other form of worship they want. None of the
offerings has ever been found on the shores to my knowledge, so we
assume they are getting to their intended recipients.”

“Do you have the priests like we do in
Gelendan?”

“Not in the same way. Talent is freely
practiced here, though there aren’t too many with great amounts of
it anymore. Our priests simply interpret the Word and spread it
from the main temple across the land. They don't have anything to
do with training or using magic, though I believe there have been
priests who have also been mages.”

“You make it sound like Gamoland, a utopia,
over here.”

Gryffon laughed. Layna felt a happy shiver
run down her back at the sound. “Hardly. We have our share of
troubles, but you'll find those out soon enough. I think we both
deserve a little break from all that for a little while at least.”
He grinned at her. His old self was definitely beginning to shine
through the previous pain.