Vitiosi Dei (Heritage of the Blood Book 2) (22 page)

              “That’s not a problem; the four of us should be able to lift it even with half a dozen of them on top of it.” He growled quietly. “Now, let’s get this job finished before that Dragoness and her Knight can ruin everything.”

              The two of them joined their companions on the stairs, and she put her hand on Dalton’s arm, squeezing it as they reached up to push the trap door open. He moved swiftly, his sword swinging low, removing the legs at the knees of the two assassins closest to them. As they fell, she stabbed one, and then the other in the throat, leaving only two assassins to contend with. Sadly, one of them was the older experienced Dracairei.

              Having the shadows come out and slaughter two of their number in a matter of seconds surprised the pair, but they recovered quickly, tumbling down the stairs to have more room to maneuver. They each had two daggers in their hands in the time it took them to take a fighting stance. Dalton engaged them, moving swiftly to take the offense. He barreled through the pair, taking them by surprise, but they moved aside getting several strikes on his armor that did little more than leave scratches. Tyrdra realized what Dalton was doing a moment before he slammed the wine rack back into place, sealing off any hope of escape.

              “The young one wishes to die; take care of the woman,” the older Dracairei said, moving in to battle Dalton.

              “The only one who will die this day is you,” Dalton said in stilted Draconic, giving the Dracairei another moment of pause.

              “So few of your people bother to learn the old tongue anymore, it is nice to see that some of the younger generation seem to care,” the old assassin said as he moved in, testing Dalton’s speed and reflexes.

              Tyrdra lost track of their fight as the other Dracairei moved in to attack her. Her mind was registering things at a speed that few could match, but she still barely managed to avoid the first few attacks as they came in. She realized that any mistake she made in a fight against this one could be fatal, so she would have to do something quick and powerful to end the fight before it truly began. The next time her attacker swung at her she grabbed his wrist, and then his other as he came in with a slash to the side.

She sent a sliver of her consciousness into the assassin’s clothes and caused them to constrict dramatically. Unable to move or breathe, the assassin stared at her with terror in its eyes as she removed the daggers from his hands. He tried moving his hands to rip at the fabric, but his claws wouldn’t reach the fabric that had pulled back to halfway up his forearm. Next, he tried to get some of the fabric in his teeth, but only managed to choke himself more as the fabric around his throat constricted from his movements. Tyrdra pushed him to the side and he fell over.

Looking up to where Dalton was still fighting with the older assassin, she had to remind herself to breathe as she watched the dazzling display of martial prowess from them both. Dalton’s sword had a reach benefit over the assassin, but the Dracairei had two weapons and was slightly faster than the young Protectorate Knight. The assassin did everything he could to break through Dalton’s reach and strike a blow against the young man, and he succeeded several times. Unfortunately for the assassin, Dalton’s armor held up under each blow. Though battered and bruised, he managed to hold his own in the fight.

Tyrdra knew the moment when the assassin started getting desperate; his stance changed slightly, his eyes went wide, and he spit at Dalton’s face. Dalton seemed surprised by the move and the assassin dove in for the kill as his spittle hit his opponent in one eye. She almost let out a scream as she saw the assassin’s blade heading straight for Dalton’s neck, but Dalton used his offhand to grab the assassin’s wrist and twisted, taking a hard blow to the side from the assassin’s other dagger. A moment later, the assassin stepped back, dropping his dagger.

What she had failed to see in the dim light was that in taking the blow to his side, Dalton had slipped his sword through the assassin. The Dracairei master coughed twice and fell dead to the floor. The Dracairei that she fought was still struggling on the floor, his hands and head working in tandem to slowly move himself towards his master’s fallen dagger. She stepped over him kicked him in the face, dazing him. Grabbing his head, she reached into his mind with her consciousness and began reading his thoughts. She only had a few minutes to gather information before he stopped breathing, but it was enough for what she needed.

“There is only one more left, and he is securing the other side of the tunnel while these finish their work,” Tyrdra said, feeling drained. “We should finish this before one of us passes out. Nice work with the master. I thought he had you for a moment there.”

Dalton ripped off a piece of cloth from the assassin’s clothes and wiped his face. “Yeah, I was hoping he would think that as well. Let’s finish this and then find a place to get some rest.”

It took them a minute to find the latch on the wine rack that allowed it to swing open, and she picked up the stick with the stone to light their way down the tunnel. Using the assassin’s knowledge of the tunnels and the location of the last Dracairei, they were able to sneak up on him and finish the day’s work quietly.

They left the tunnels and exited from the back of a small tailor’s shop on the other end of the square from the church. Night was fully upon them now as they made their way back towards the defenders at the church. The news they brought was accompanied by a lot of excitement from people who hadn’t expected to make it through the night. Celebration was cut short, however, when the living remembered how many had been lost that day.

Mayor Browning found them rooms at a local inn whose owner had been killed during the fighting. After showing them to their rooms and thanking them a dozen times, he left them alone to take care of his remaining townsfolk. They went upstairs, and Tyrdra followed Dalton into one of the rooms and sat him down on the bed, where she began to undo the Shapings that she had put into place when the chaos had started.

“Let me see your bruises, I want to make sure nothing vital was damaged.” A moment later, she realized that she could have just fixed whatever was wrong with him when she was removing the Shaping from his mind and clothes. She moved away from him to set her mind back into its natural state, and when she finished, she realized that he was sitting on the bed with his shirt off, the majority of his torso was a black, blue, and red mess, the worst of which was his shoulder where the crossbow quarrel had hit.

Moving over to him, she put her hand on his shoulder. His only reaction to the pain was a slight flinch in his eyes. She set to work healing his body, using the last of her will to make sure that nothing would be permanently damaged. When she finished, his body was still a purplish blue in many spots, but they would dissipate within days, leaving no damage behind. As she turned to leave he grabbed her wrist, and she looked down into his eyes.

Oh no, not now.

“Stay,” Dalton said, and to her shame, she did.

He woke from his dream as he did many of them, confused as to where he was and who he was. Something in the dark was moving towards him, and a moment later he felt a foot connect with his side.

“Oye, brat,” he heard in Orc-ish, the voice reminding him fully of where he was. Warak the Orc stood over him in the cell that the slaves shared. “Your friends have been telling some stories to the other Goblins, like you are some sort of big shot.”

Looking around the room, he noticed the two Goblins that he had saved were with the rest of the Goblins in a circle, all of them looked towards the boy and his tormentor. The two that had been with him looked down in shame, feeling the blame for what he was going through but not brave enough to stop the Orc.

“Leave me alone,” he said to the Orc in the man’s own tongue.

“Oh good, you know what I’m saying. Well then this should be nice and simple for you. You are in my spot,” Warak said, kicking him again with a laugh.

“This is my spot, and you should leave me alone,” the boy said, trying to project danger. It didn’t work and just made Warak laugh again, but this time it was a cruel chuckle.

“I’m glad you have some fight in you; I thought this might be boring.”

Warak went to kick the boy again, but he dodged the Orc’s attack by rolling away from it. He quickly got to his feet and balled his fists. “Please, leave me alone,” he said to the Orc, who seemed to take the plea as groveling.

“Don’t worry lad, I won’t kill you. But an example needs to be made.” Warak stepped in towards the boy and swung at his face.

Ducking under the hit, the boy moved in towards the Orc and swung at his face. Warak pulled back, and the boy cursed silently as he realized that his punch would miss, but as his punch came level with the Orc’s chin, a loud crack reverberated through the room and the Orc flew backwards several feet.

The guards, alerted by the sound, raced to the cell. Lying back down in his spot, the boy tried to pretend that he was asleep. When they arrived, there were several guards, each with a long stick of wood in hand.

“What’s going on here?” the head guard asked as he unlocked the door and entered the cell. Warak lay in the middle of the cell holding the lower half of his face with his hands.

“Rip’d,” Warak attempted to say.

“What’s that?” the guard said, moving closer to look at the Orc.

“I think he said he tripped,” Grelesh said in the common tongue.

“Tripped, huh? Well that
fall
dislocated your jaw, you are lucky that the Mage is still here.” He motioned to two of the guards to grab the Orc and help him out of the cell. As the guard turned to leave, he stopped at the cell door and turned back to the inhabitants of the cell, and the boy could almost feel the guard’s eyes on him when the man said, “I don’t expect anything like this to happen again.” The guard locked the door behind him, and the cell was completely quiet.

The boy peaked out at his cellmates and saw them all staring at him wide eyed.
Great, just great.

Chapter 12

A Jump to the Left

Year: 3045 AGD

Month: New Year

Fourth Eighthday

Serenity Valley

Institute of Learning

Shawnrik had been at the Institute for four Eightdays now. On this, the last day of the month of New Year, he woke up feeling good. Being Eighthday, it was the day that he and Verrian had off from their courses. The last two Eighthdays they had spent working out and training, as Verrian was behind the rest of their Basic Offense and Strength Training classmates. Verrian was finally getting to the point where he wasn’t completely exhausted anymore, however, and they had decided together to take the day off and explore Serenity Valley.

The girls had only been joining them for dinner ever since Shawnrik had learned that Sara and Rigael were his cousins. They had managed small talk, but conversations were stilted and sometimes stopped abruptly. Shawnrik wanted to make everyone comfortable again, but he had no idea what to say to accomplish it. He had attempted to talk to Rigael several times since then, but the young Stroml’dier simply ignored him at each attempt.

Because it had been awkward for the last Eightday, Shawnrik found himself surprised to see Olivia, Sara, Vivianne, Rebecca, and Syranna waiting for them as they approached the station. All of the girls except Sara had dresses on that were more appropriate for spring than winter, but the temperature inside the mountain that encompassed Serenity Valley rarely changed, so he guessed that it didn’t matter that tomorrow would be the start of Midwinter.

“Hey Shawnrik!” Olivia said, waving at him enthusiastically as she did nearly every time she saw him, as if she were afraid he would miss her.

“Hello Olivia, ladies.” He tipped his head in acknowledgement of her group of friends.

“How do we look?” Olivia asked, twirling in her maroon dress, the bottom flaring slightly.

Shawnrik thought she looked beautiful, as her chestnut hair flowed around her face and her brown eyes twinkled with mischief. “I, um…” he said, finding that his tongue was no longer working correctly.

“Pretty sure that means you look good,” Vivianne said, her light brown dress matching her hair, making her hazel eyes seem to glow. “How about the rest of us, Verrian?”

“You ladies are as lovely as ever,” Verrian said, while not looking anywhere but directly at the beautiful young women arrayed before him.

“Oh look, they're turning red.” Rebecca grinned as she ran up to Verrian and took his arm, leaving Verrian little choice but to look at the blonde girl who wore a bright blue dress that matched her eyes.

“You all are going to regret wearing those if we end up having to fight something,” Sara said, her outfit being her usual attire: a pair of pants that were easy to move in and an airy shirt, though Shawnrik thought that both might be of better quality than her other outfits.

“Dresses are fine for fighting,” Syranna said. Her dress was an earthy green with a forest pattern. With her light brown hair and her green eyes, she made Shawnrik think of a predator hiding in the trees. “Besides, if anything happens to them, we can just fight in our underwear.” The other four girls looked at her, no one really sure if she were joking or not. Enjoying her companions' discomfort, she winked at Shawnrik and turned towards the platform. “Oh look, here comes the train.”

Verrian stood still, lost in his own thoughts, and Vivianne pinched him on the arm. Shawnrik grinned as his friend turned a brighter shade of red when he realized that everyone there knew exactly where his mind had gone. Several male students of the Institute scowled at Verrian as the young man boarded the train with a girl on each arm.

“So, where are we going today?” Olivia asked.

“Well, Verrian and I were just going to explore downtown and see what was there before stopping at Gnorman’s.”

“Who’s Gnorman?”

“Oh, he’s a gnome friend of Verrian’s family. He runs a Jeweler’s shop in town,” Shawnrik said, not realizing where such a statement might lead the minds of five young women.

“A jeweler, huh?” Syranna said, giving Olivia a look that Shawnrik couldn’t interpret.

Verrian seemed to catch something Shawnrik hadn’t and added, “Yes, Shawnrik and I stopped by Gnorman’s on our first outing at the beginning of the month; he’s making us an earring, and some cufflinks.”

“Cufflinks? Like for a suit?” Rebecca asked.

“Do either of you even own a suit?” Vivianne asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course I own a suit,” Verrian replied. “I’ll occasionally go to an important meeting with my father, and he likes for me to make a good impression.”

“I bet your suit won’t fit much longer though, Verrian—you’ve been putting on some muscle.” Rebecca squeezed his arm, and Shawnrik couldn’t help but smile as his friend puffed up slightly at the attention.

“Speaking of muscles,” Sara added, “I’m willing to bet tall, dark, and stony here doesn’t have a suit.”

“I’ve never given it much thought, I guess,” Shawnrik said, looking down at his companions. “These bracers are probably the nicest thing I’ve ever owned, and I only just received them when school started.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask you about those,” Sara said, leaning across the aisle to get a closer look. “They look like metal but they aren’t, are they?”

“Pedrial said they were just something he had laying around. He called the material living stone.” As he finished, he noticed that everyone around him except Verrian had suddenly become very still.

“Shawnrik, take those off!” Olivia nearly shouted.

“Calm down, Olivia,” Syranna said, making a soothing motion, she was about to say more, but was cut off.

“Calm down?” Olivia said her expression suddenly full of anger. “My family has legends about that stuff. It
kills
people.”

“Wait…” Shawnrik said, looking down at his bracers, “…what?!”

“Listen,” Syranna said, once again trying to calm everyone down, but to no avail.

Vivianne leaned in towards Shawnrik as if she were thinking about touching the bracers. “I’ve always wondered if it was a real thing. My grandfather told me stories about a man who found some living stone, and a few days later he was a dry husk.”

“Take those off right this instant.” Olivia’s voice had dropped to a near whisper, but her tone told Shawnrik that she would brook no argument about it.

“I think,” Sara said, placing her hand on Olivia’s shoulder, “Syranna has something to say.

Syranna huffed as everyone turned to look at her. “Thank you, Sara, sometimes I feel like you people don’t even realize I’m here. From what I’ve learned from the Lorekeepers of my people, living stone is a parasitic organism to most living creatures.”

“See, I told you to take them off,” Olivia said, making the motion with her hands.

“
But
,” Syranna continued, “there are several forms of life that have strong enough constitutions and are able to be near the stone with little to no consequences. Not only that, but there are several stories about the stone having a more symbiotic relationship with its host when worn for a great deal of time.”

“Symbi-whatic?” Vivianne asked, her hand moving slightly away.

“Symbiotic,” Verrian replied, pulling her back slightly from his roommate. “It means that it is able to live off of its host in a mutually beneficial relationship. Or at least, that is one of the definitions, and the one I hope she means in this case.”

“That is correct, Verrian,” Syranna said. “Another thing that is fascinating is that once bonded to a person—a process that takes several days to accomplish—the stone can no longer be used by anyone else, meaning that it is not a danger to any of us.”

Olivia visibly calmed at the last part and tentatively placed her hand on the cool stone. “Does it hurt?”

“No. Before today, I didn’t even know that it was really a living thing, I thought I had heard the word wrong when Pedrial told me about them.” Shawnrik looked down at his forearms. “What kinds of beneficial things can it do? And is it one lifeform or two?”

“You have to remember that these legends are thousands of years old, so it is always possible that the stories are nearly complete fabrications. The stories I can remember told of men who were impervious to damage and extremely hard to fell. In most of the stories I can remember, the people were monolithic beings—more than likely Giant-kin, though there were one or two that might have been Mountain Dwarves.” Syranna was pushed back in her seat as the train turned the corner on its way into downtown Serenity Valley. “Very few accounts are left about what happened to these men and women after their fighting was done, however. Most of these people seemed to have just disappeared once they were no longer needed. As to the question of whether or not the bracers you wear are one lifeform or two, that is something that I cannot tell you. Perhaps one of the Elders would know more, either of my race or your own. We might also ask the Headmistress; she is very old and knows many things.”

“Since it seems this is a mystery that will not be solved this afternoon, we might as well forget about it for now,” Olivia said, her hand moving slowly over the strange stone. “We’ve veered off topic anyway; we were talking about the fact that Shawnrik needs a suit before the Winter Dance.”

“That’s funny, I don’t remember anyone saying anything about the dance,” Vivianne said, a small smile forming.

“Of course that’s what we were talking about!” Olivia huffed. “What else would he need a suit for?”

“Speaking of the dance, cousin, have you asked anyone to accompany you yet?” Sara asked, standing with the rest as the train reached their stop.

“Asked anyone? Like, to go with me? I thought it was a school dance that everyone went to.” Shawnrik nearly walked into his companions as he stepped off the train; they had all stopped and looked at him.

“Oh my, that’s just too cute,” Syranna said, lifting her hand in front of her face and turning away. A moment later, her shoulders began to shake.

“Verrian! What have you been teaching him?” Rebecca laughed as Verrian began to sputter.

“Relax, Verrian,” Vivianne said, putting her hand on his chest. She seemed to lose her train of thought for a moment before she continued. “No one blames you, or Shawnrik, for his lack of experience with these things.”

Shawnrik could feel his cheeks burning as they continued to talk about him like he wasn’t there. He just wanted someone to explain exactly what it was that they were all laughing about. Looking around at the massive stone structures that were arrayed along both sides of the street, Shawnrik couldn’t help but feel humbled, even as he himself towered over his companions. Bright tapestries hung in windows, drawing the eye with various elaborate patterns.

Sara stepped up beside Shawnrik on his left as the rest of the group continued to talk amongst themselves. “Don’t let them bother you. Many of us had no idea how to behave or what was considered appropriate for these kinds of social functions when we first came here. I almost challenged the first boy who asked me to the dance two years ago to a knife fight because I thought he wanted to take me as his mate.”

Shawnrik chuckled as he thought about the look of horror that must have been on the young man’s face. “Did you end up going to the dance with him?”

“I did, and it was…” She paused, as if searching for the right word. “…fun.”

“Who’s the brave lad that was willing to tempt a knife fight?”

“Oh, are we talking about Danny?” Olivia said, drawing the conversation the others were having away from Shawnrik’s inexperience.

“Danny?”

“Forget about it,” Sara said, moving off towards the nearest shop.

If he didn’t know any better, Shawnrik thought she might be blushing.

“Danny asked Sara to the Winter Dance the year before last. He has been doting on her ever since,” Vivianne added from behind them.

“They went to the Harvest Festival Dance together as well that year,” Olivia added, grabbing hold of Shawnrik’s arm.

“I’ve heard a rumor that he has already asked her to go to the Winter Dance this year as well,” Rebecca said, eyeing Verrian. Shawnrik thought his friend might be in for some trouble the way Rebecca and Vivianne kept smiling at each other behind his back.

“So who did you ask to the dance, Shawnrik?” Sara said.

Shawnrik knew that she was trying to deflect attention away from herself, and he didn’t want his cousin to feel any more awkward around him than she already might, so he took the bait. “What kind of relationship am I supposed to have with someone before I invite them to a dance like this?”

“Oh, well it helps if you like the person, and they like you,” Syranna said from directly behind him. He had lost track of her during the conversation so was slightly startled by how near she was.

“Or if you want to start up a romantic relationship with them, right Sara?” Vivianne laughed as Sara quickly entered the first doorway to her left, acting as if she hadn’t heard the barb.

Shawnrik thought that the building must be run by a seamstress of some sort, as bright fabrics took up most of the space. Bright dresses adorned the walls on each side of the shop in a variety of shapes and sizes that made his head spin. “Alright, how am I supposed to know if someone likes me enough for that?” Shawnrik asked, feeling the texture on a tie that was on display at the front of the shop. He didn’t think he had ever felt anything so smooth.