Unleashed Fury (BloodRunes: Book 1) (37 page)

Layna let out a barely audible moan. She had
been afraid he'd say something like that. As they left the audience
hall, the moonlight dimmed, and Gryffon and Layna both whispered
the words to enchant mage lights. Two little balls floated out in
front of them, illuminating the hallway with their muted glow.

The state of the rest of the castle mirrored
that of the audience hall. Upturned furniture not worth looting
making obstacles in their path, and dust and spider webs clung to
them as they passed. Layna's imagination ran rampant, and she kept
swearing that she saw things lurking in the rooms. She had to keep
reminding herself that, with the exception of rats or other animals
who had claimed the castle as their home, she and Gryffon were the
only living things here. A prickle of unease tickled at her
senses.

They eventually found the library and were
disappointed that, as Gryffon had predicted, there was nothing
left. There was a huge charred pile in the center of the room that,
the rocks surrounding them discolored and cracked. It looked to be
the remains of one of the book burnings, as though the people had
simply knocked all the books off their shelves and burned them
right there in the library - with no regard or care for whether
they were books about blood-magic or not. Layna could hardly blame
them after seeing the throne; she didn't think she'd dare touch
anything that that man had owned either. The pile was starting to
grow its own vegetation of sorts, making it look like a tiny
mountain in the middle of the room.

As the old man had said, the walls were
littered with markings, but none looked to Layna to be authentic.
She got the impression that most of them were from people more
recently, simply proving their presence. No doubt many of the local
kids used the place as their own haunted mansion, not recognizing
the gravity of the events that had really happened here. In amongst
the nonsense symbols were several painted red signs. “Nat was
here,” and the like. Layna shook her head.

It took them some time to finally find the
doorway leading to the dungeons, and as their mage lights floated
down into the dark abyss, Layna felt a sense of dread. The horrible
atrocities that must have gone on down here were unthinkable. The
almost unreal feel of the upper portion, scrawled with the graffiti
of looters and kids, disappeared as they descended. Layna wasn't
here to scratch her name on the stone wall to prove her bravery to
the local group of kids. She was somehow mixed up in the history of
the place, and she felt as though they were getting closer to
answers. Answers she wasn't sure she really wanted to know
anymore.

They reached the bottom of the staircase, and
a sudden realization hit her like a slap in the face. She stopped
dead in her tracks.
I've been here before.

CHAPTER 32

“I know where she is,” announced the King
suddenly.

Jezebel looked up from the letter she had
been drafting. “She?” she asked inquisitively.

To her frustration, the man ignored her and
went on. “She's in a town up north called Dunlop.”

Jezebel's ears perked up at the word. That
was where her little two problems were said to be heading. Again
Jezebel begged an explanation of him. “Who is?” And again she was
ignored.

Jezebel felt the pen in her hand bending with
the pressure she was putting on it, and she willed her fingers to
let go of their death grip. She took a deep calming breath. The
King's audacity in his treatment of her was a continuous grating on
her frail nerves, but she knew she'd have to put up with it until
she maneuvered her way to the top.

He finally turned his attention to her, and
she tilted her head at the strange look in his eyes. It was as if
he were focusing on something far distant. “We're going to take a
trip to Dunlop, I think,” he said finally, his attention on her
once more. “Right away. And bring your hounds.” He paused and then
narrowed his eyes slightly, now looking directly at her, and he
said sternly, “I don't want her killed though, so make sure you
keep them under control. She must be brought to me alive.”

Jezebel bit back a retort, having learned
that the King was not a man who tolerated being talked back to. She
simply nodded to him instead. Luckily, she had learned how to
handle men like him by way of her father.
I just have to hold
off the anger until the right moment, and then someday, someday I
will be able to throw it all back in his face, and tell him about
all the maneuvering I've been doing behind his back, and how bad of
a father he had been
...She shook off the annoyance, and covered
her scowl by bending her head while she curtsied her good-bye as he
left the room.

She sat back down roughly, rumpling her
dress. She crumpled the letter that she had been working on as she
no longer needed to come up with the excuse. The King had just
ordered her to go to the very place she had been trying to come up
with a reason to visit. Sometimes things worked out so
deliciously.

She was curious who this “she” was that had
the King so worked up.
Perhaps some little trollop he had been
using for his plaything had gotten away and he had just tracked her
down. It seems like too silly of a thing to go on such a journey
for, but then again, men have such big egos, and would go to great
lengths to protect their pride
.

She hoped that while they were there they
could look through the ruins of the Dark King; though it was
doubtful that there was anything of value left at the fortress.
Despite the horror stories and urban legends surrounding the place,
there were bound to be those who were fool-hardy, desperate, or
just plain stupid enough who would have braved the stories and gone
in to loot the place. The kings of the past had all unsuccessfully
put bans on entering its grounds, but this only served to further
fuel people’s curiosity. This had led to others putting together
pillaging missions to rid it of its notorious history, so one way
or the other it was probably empty. The really good things had been
burned in the fires directly following the overthrow anyway.
Which really was a great shame
. The book that Jezebel had
gotten was extremely interesting, and it constantly hinted at there
being much more knowledge that was not contained in its pages.
But it had existed and had been known at some point
. And
then it had been burned and forgotten. Jezebel sighed at the
loss.

She raised herself out of her seat and tried
to casually glance at the papers that the King had been looking
through before his hasty exit, in hopes of getting some clue as to
where he had suddenly gotten such information. Frustratingly, he
had them spelled so that they were blank to peering eyes. Her hands
itched to pick them up and try and break the enchantment, but she
knew that even in seeming privacy, things were never as they seemed
in the palace halls, and she left them alone. She made her way out
of the chamber she had been using to discuss the current affairs
with the King, and walked slowly back to her own suite.

In her room, a letter on the table caught her
attention and she opened it, reading, “My lady, I have some
information on the man you wanted me to look into that I think you
will enjoy. If you would please join me at your earliest
convenience in the conference room, I would be delighted to share
it with you, Devon.” Jezebel placed the letter back on the table
and went immediately into the conference room, eager for any news.
Devon was sitting there waiting for her and she greeted him,
allowing him to speak. “What have you learned?” she asked.

He smiled one of those smiles that she had
begun to recognize as meaning he was extremely pleased with the
information he had to offer her. “Only that our King is not who he
says he is.”

“Oh?” Jezebel was intrigued.

“Yes. Baron Asheron, through whom the King
made his claim to the throne due to blood relation, in actuality,
has no blood relation to our fine new King whatsoever.”

“How so?”

“Well, despite the mysterious disappearance
of several of the people who knew anything about it, I was able to
find out that Lady Asheron already had a son when she wed the
baron. A son whose name was Nathair.”

Jezebel raised a brow. “And were there any
other children in the union?”

“Several miscarriages, but no live births.
Which is apparently why the lord finally named the boy as his heir.
The fact that it wasn't his was covered up so that he wouldn't lose
face over not being able to produce offspring, and having been
forced to name an illegitimate child as his heir.”

“Hmm,” Jezebel thought. “And what are the
logistics of being named the heir with no blood relation in this
situation?”

“I am not familiar with any such
circumstances ever coming up, Councilor, but I would assume that
since his only true claim to the throne was that royal blood flowed
in his veins, he most likely would not have gotten the same
reception that he did, had he revealed this fact.”

Jezebel pondered this juicy revelation for a
moment. “How delightful.”

She did a quick preliminary list of possible
uses of the information in her head, before giving Devon further
instructions. Perhaps this ‘she’ the King was so intent on finding
was someone who knew this information. Jezebel’s presence on this
journey could be useful in many ways.

“Make sure that no one else knows this story,
and can't find it out until if and when we want them to,” she
ordered. “I have another chore for you as well, Devon,” she said as
he started to take his leave of her, and he paused. “I'd like you
to start arranging a series of unfortunate events to happen to my
father. Now that I am the one in the position of power, I'd like to
see him squirm. He's been acting much too condescending to a woman
in my position, and I'd like to see him put in his proper place. I
have a list of possibilities I came up with the other day around
here somewhere.”

She smiled nastily and he grinned back at
her. “It will be my pleasure, my lady.” He continued his bow, and
left her to further sort through all that had happened. Her father
was a very religious man, of the superstitious sort, and she had
faith in Devon's creativity to take advantage of this fact. A wrong
sign here, or a bad omen there, and her father was apt to change
his whole course of action in order to try and correct whatever
mistake he had made in the Sleeping God's eyes.

Once he was out of her way, busy with his own
misfortunes, she could concentrate her full energies on the King.
He was the last obstacle in her path now, and Devon had just
brought her the key to bringing him down as well. There was simply
no conceivable way that she would not get what she wanted. The
blood in the King's veins may be tainted and untrue, but hers was
pure and royal, and she could see a path clearly now, bringing her
straight to the throne.

CHAPTER 33

“What's the matter,” Gryffon asked her when
Layna halted her movement behind him.

She hesitated before answering. “I have this
disturbing, nightmarish feeling like I've been here before.”

Gryffon glanced around at the abandoned
hallways. “These kinds of places can do that to you. Come on, don't
worry about it.”

Layna couldn't shake the awful feeling that
easily, but she resumed her motion regardless.

They moved through the narrow passageway,
deeper into the depths of the castle. The castle reeked of musky
fumes, and Layna found it difficult to breathe. The more Layna saw,
the more convinced she was that it really was familiar.

They had to squeeze through one set of gates
which someone had physically pried open, and the second set looked
like it had been melted away. As they came to the end of the
passageway and through a hulking metal door, they came out into a
large open area.

Layna's throat tightened as she surveyed the
room. Numerous torture devices – some of which she recognized as
racks and feet smashers – filled the room, along with various
shelves of heinous implements. The tools ranged from common knives
with wicked serrated edges, to elaborate contraptions that someone
with a truly sick mind must have thought up. There were also
several weird-looking objects that she couldn't even begin to
imagine a use for, and had no desire to try. It looked like some of
the weaponry had been taken, as there were several empty holders,
and Layna was sickened by the looters' greed. This apparent torture
area was in a semi-circle shape and hallways spread out from it. By
the looks of it, each hallway led to a section of holding
cells.

Gryffon grabbed a set of keys that
miraculously still hung on a peg, and led the way down the
passageway to the right. The ceilings were claustrophobically low
and Layna's mind kept playing tricks on her, making her think that
she could hear someone moaning in the cells. The first couple that
they passed were empty, but shackles lined their walls ominously
and Layna was reminded of the cell she and Gryffon had both
occupied recently. Even it seemed spacious and homey compared to
these.

They made their way grimly and methodically
down the passageways, and found that they were arranged like a
wagon wheel around the central torture chamber. The original
passageway they had come down was the only apparent way to the
surface. Some of the cells held the ragged remains of their
previous occupants. Most just had scattered bones, gnawed on by the
rats that still skittered around, not at all made nervous by the
light from the mage globes. Every time she met one of their beady
little eyes, Layna shivered.

They searched the whole dungeon, and Layna
forced herself to look into each of the cells for any clues. Other
than the vile evidence of atrocities long past, she could see no
sign of any runes or any indication that the mark on her neck
corresponded to anything from the Dark King's castle.