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Katrina pushed open the heavy oak door. Once her eyes adjusted to the candlelight, her gaze went directly to the full shelves lining the walls. This was nothing compared to the Halls of Knowledge, or even to the Academy, but impressive all the same. Surely, Darnel’s bloodline must draw him to books.
Brie entered behind her and quietly took one of the chairs in the far corner. She seemed intent to be as quiet and small as possible so as not to draw Darnel’s attention to her.
“Have you read them all?” She asked when she found him lounging in a brown leather wing-backed chair.
“Only the ones that piqued my interested,” he answered in a bored voice. His feet were propped on an ottoman that matched the chair. A candelabra sat on the table beside him, casting a yellow glow on his tranquil face. His piercing blue eyes followed her as she began perusing the first shelf.
Touching the gilded spines, she asked, “Are you able to tell what the book is about without having to read it?” All she needed to do was to be near a book. The ones on this shelf were record books kept by the staff on purchases and menus. Indeed, not what she’d find interesting, either.
“Yes.” He sat up. “I’d heard that was a Curian quality. I have to hold the book in my hands and then I know. Can you tell just by looking at it?”
She smiled with a bit of pride and pointed to each row of books. “The second row are ledgers of crops grown here and your levy of each farmer’s harvest. The one above that are documents of....” Her breath caught as the topic stabbed her heart. “You keep a count of the creatures you in your... why must you?”
Katrina stilled her disgust and anger. She was here to make friends, not chastise him. Biting her bottom lip, she pulled in her indignation and moved on, not wanting to show off anymore.
“That’s right,” Darnel shook a finger at her. “I’d heard that my daughter had taken up with a couple of beasts.” He shuddered. “She always was misguided in her sympathies toward such aberrations. I suppose you hold a similar stance which I do not understand. Even your people would agree the creatures are subhuman and need to be avoided. They never allowed creatures to enter their sacred hall, either.”
That couldn’t be true, but she honestly didn’t know. Shaydon didn’t treat the creatures in such a manner. She refused to get into a debate with him. Handing back the book he’d loaned her, she said, “This one must have belonged to a novice scribe. There isn’t anything of importance in it. I’d say the author liked to journal about his daily activities. He worked in one of the smaller libraries and kept track of the books.”
“So there was more than one library?” He asked.
She nodded. How could he have not known?
He dropped his feet off the stool and leaned forward on his knees as he stared hard at her. “I saw you in a large room full of books. I know it wasn’t one in Aloblase, the scopes will not search beyond the gates.”
Issah had warned her to never ask to see himself or Shaydon because they had ways of blocking the devices. Even Riyah kept Alyra blocked from sight. Had Darnel learned the hard way? She decided it might not be wise to ask. “Then why are you asking if you already know?”
He chuckled and leaned back in his chair again. “I have another book I’d like for you to transcribe.”
She turned from the shelves of countless volumes of record books. Though she still had much more to examine, she feared there would indeed be nothing of interest in this library. “Do you know what it’s about?”
He didn’t answer right away as his gaze darted to Brie. Standing he cleared his throat and said in a commanding tone, “You are dismissed, Brie. Wait outside the door for your Lady. Do not leave the guard’s sight, am I understood?”
Brie jumped from the chair, and with a series of bows, she left the room, closing the door behind her. Once she was gone, he motioned Katrina to follow him to a table where several books were kept in a locked glass case. “These are the special ones.” Pulling a key from his pocket, he unlocked the latch and lifted the top.
Immediately, Katrina knew where the books had come from. They all belonged to her people. The subjects screamed at her. Books on gardening, books about devices and inventions she’d never heard of before. Her eyes widened as she realized one of the books was about the portal maker she’d broken. She glanced at him, wondering if he’d attempted to repair it. Well, if that was the book he wanted to be transcribed, she’d refuse.
Others were merely journals, tales of noble deeds by people of the kingdom. One, to her surprise, talked about harnessing the power of the dragons. She’d found books that gave a history and tips for associating with the drakes, but not trying to control them. Who would write such a thing? And then she realized, these books were all taken from personal Curian libraries. Since he’d not been aware of the main library, he must have grabbed whatever he found available.
He lifted one book out of the stack and held it with the oddest expression. Katrina would have thought he looked wistful and almost sad if she didn’t know better.
“This one,” he whispered with reverence. “It seems inconsequential, but I have to know...” He glanced over his shoulder as if to make sure they were truly alone. “Can I trust you, Katerina? I mean, honestly trust you? I know if you make a promise, you cannot go back on it. True Curians cannot lie.”
This was true. He was part Curian and part Logorian. How was it he could so easily speak falsehoods?
His smirk said he knew exactly what she was thinking, whether he’d probed her mind or not.
“I see on your face, dear lady. I have turned from... all of them so I’m not subjected to their norms. My heart has hardened nearly to stone over my years wandering the land. Until...” He gazed lovingly at the book. “Until I began putting the pieces of this puzzle together. I’m almost sure she wrote this one.”
“Who?” Katrina asked.
The book was about growing plants and their properties. It reminded her of the little plant lore book Lotari kept. Perhaps written by a Healer?
“Swear to me that you will tell nobody what I’m about to tell you. I will not allow them to see any weakness in me. They’ll take advantage of it.”
She shook her head. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about. But if it makes you feel better, the only person I’m able to associate with is Brie.”
“Then do not share this with her. I know how the servant’s tongues wag.”
“Very well.” Katrina gave a nod. This one thing she’d not share with Brie. “Why do you want me to transcribe a book about plants for you?”
He stared down at the journal. “Only half the pages are written on. It shouldn’t take you long.”
“Why is this a secret? Who cares if you wish to start a garden?” She wanted to laugh, but his somber expression stopped her.
“I believe my mother wrote this. It’s important to me to be able to read it. To see if indeed she is the author. Perhaps I’ll get a glimpse of her within the pages. Perhaps....” His brows furrowed as he thrust the journal at her. “Do I have your word?”
She wrapped her hands around the leather binding. This was one of the homemade books her people often used for personal use. The finer bound books with gold trim and hardcovers were for instruction and history keeping.
“You have my word. I can see why it’s important to you.”
He smiled then and placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’m truly glad you returned with me, Katerina. Finally, I feel as if I have an equal to speak to, to share small bits of myself with. You have no idea how... well, there are few I can trust. Long ago, I’d hoped to have such a friendship, someone to care about in my daughter. But... as we both know, that story didn’t turn out well, either.”
It depended on who he asked, Katrina mused.
* * * *
Stitch glanced across the yard where men worked around forges shaping metal into something that sent the hair on his back rising. Were they building cages? From iron? Why?
He wondered for the millionth time what was taking Ethan so long to come rescue him. He’d promised to return in a few days and more than a week had passed with no word, no break, no sneaking away to that oasis where the water tasted sweet, and there was plenty of food to fill his belly for a change.
The long hours of lifting stones to build the extensive barrier wall exhausted him. Every muscle ached, along with the stinging welts from the overseer’s cruel whips.
But the construction of the wall had been called to a halt. They’d ordered all hands to help work with the smiths who were fashioning a series of pens, made of thick wood and metal.
“What will they do with all these cages?” He asked once again. A burning slash tore at his bare back and trailed down his hide. Stitch bit back the fury and desire to fight back. He had to keep working. Keep waiting. Keep hoping either Issah or Ethan would soon show up and put an end to his self-inflicted misery.
He had to ignore the pain that tore at his aching muscles and the biting slashes of their cruel whips.
Stitch had never felt so alone in his life. Not even when he served before. Maybe because he’d never known better. But oh, how he missed the beautiful woods of Wilderland. The shade of the fragrant White Tree. He missed his friends.
How could Ethan abandon him like this?
When the sun finally sank behind the mountain crest, they were allowed to stop for their meager bowl of grainy mush. There was no meat to go with their slop. Nor anything decent to wash it down with. The water they were allowed to drink was cloudy and tasted of dirt.
“Best get some rest you fillies. We gots to have these done in the next day or so. Don’t want to be tangling with the monsters, now do we?” The stable guard chortled as he gathered the empty bowls and handed them off to the younger creatures for washing.
Stitch remembered having that job. Clean up, wash up, and cook up whatever meager meal they were able to scrounge together.
The centaur beside Stitch let out a squeak of fear.
“What does he mean?” Stitch asked the dark brown one to his left. The old fellow reminded him of Lot. Oh, how he missed that old nag. “What monsters?”
The dark brown glowered at him. “Keep asking questions, you daft buck, and you’ll find out for yourself when you get a dose of that black potion. They’re bringing the demented ones here for safe keeping. But we can’t very well let ‘em walk around free, now can we? These beasts will kill anything that gets in their path.”
Stitch shuddered. The black powder, of course. Darnel was still using it! Blast! He needed to get out of here. What was taking Ethan so long? If only he could figure out some way to get in touch with him.
“Off to your beddies, little fillies. Get on with you!” The guard waved his whip at them.
Stitch couldn’t sleep. His mind wouldn’t calm after hearing about the poor creatures Darnel had turned. They’d all end up dead in the end. There was no way to save them once they’d been given the powder. Stitch shivered and not from the cold.
Then he remembered how little Miss had turned that one beast. The Manticore-like creature. He’d once been human, as they’d found out after she’d broken his spell. Unfortunately, he’d been that demented beast for so long, that he had turned to dust when she changed him. Would that happen with all the turned? Was there some bit of hope that Little Miss and maybe even Tarek, could change them back?
There had to be some kind of hope, didn’t there?
He closed his eyes, wishing he could ask Issah. Sorrow about casting aside his medallion once again pierced his broken heart, ripping it into even more tatters. He hadn’t been able to help Kitten at all. He couldn’t even risk getting close to her. What had he been thinking coming here?
“Enough!” Stitch hissed, pushing himself up onto his hooves. He needed something to soothe his parched throat, even if the drink buckets did taste like bathwater. Pushing open the door, he tried his best to move quietly. They no longer kept him shackled at night, or during the day. Seemed he’d proved that he was a hard worker and not likely to cause problems.
His stomach churned, threatening to discharge his meager dinner.
As he headed from the stable, he spotted several of the officers sitting around a roaring fire. Kegs of ale, several in total, were within their reach. Where had they stolen that bounty?
His mouth watered for just a taste of something that didn’t resemble mud.
Their words were slurred and their laughter much too boisterous for the occasion. Maybe, just maybe, they were muddled enough for him to sneak one mugful. That would be enough to help him sleep.
Stitch moved slowly, keeping to the shadows. The fire burned so brightly, that he doubted any of them would see anyone approaching until they were right on top of them.
“We’ll need strong chains for them elves, boys. They’ll be the first arrivals, and don’t be fooled by their brute strength, they remain clever, to boot.”
Stitch gasped, then quickly covered his mouth. Elves? Not Egan’s kin! But who else? They were the only known community anyone knew of. And Lucien had given away their whereabouts in trade for Darnel’s help. Stitch’s fist clenched. Good thing that stump of a man was dead, or he’d kill him again. Slow and painful.
To destroy such a noble people. Only a handful were left alive.
And what about the missing centaurs from the clan? Had they all been changed, as well? Did Darnel plan to turn all the creatures?
Ethan, blast you! You better come quickly, man!
“Hey, Ed, pour me another.” The captain shoved his mug at the fellow sitting closest to a keg. “Sure was witty of you fellas confiscating them barrels. What’d you say happened to ol’ Jonas? How’d you manage to get around him?”
Ed filled the mug, sloshing some over the edge. “Oopsie. Here, pass this on down to Capt’n.” As he filled his own, he answered, “Jonas been taken off to jail. Rumor has it he poisoned a unit of castle guards. Can you imagine? Fed them all bad stew.”
“Tha’ don’ sound like Jonas, it don’.” Said another of the guards. “He a right nice fella. Musta been a mistake. Sure hate it iffen the tavern closes down. Only decent place in town to get anything worth gettin’.”
Ed waved his hand. “Aw, they’ll let him out soon. Just teaching everyone a lesson. From what I heard, the general wasn’t sick, only his men. He ate the stew, as well, see? So they just gave him a few licks and tossed him in a cell. He’ll be let go soon as all the ale is gone and they be needing him to make some more.” He laughed at his own joke so hard, that he sloshed his drink down the front of his shirt.
Stitch leaned against a tree, waiting for a chance to snag one of those mugs. He wondered if that poison had anything to do with Ethan. The tonic would make a man pretty sick. Had the Messenger found an opportunity to drug a group of men? If so, he might be in the castle now, which would explain his long absence. Maybe Ethan was working at getting Kitten to run away with him. Stitch’s heart pounded in anticipation, as he sent up a silent plea that they’d soon be able to leave this awful place.
He hoped they hadn’t already made a run for it. No, they’d not leave ol’ Stitch behind. Would they?
If only he could find out. Blast those men for not knowing more. He couldn’t dare interrupt their conversation, though he’d inched a little closer.
One of them thrust out his mug toward him. “Be a good lad and refill that, will ya?” He didn’t even look over his shoulder to see who he was talking to. Stitch took the mug gladly.
He moved slowly, trying hard not to draw any attention to himself. They were all so drunk, that they probably couldn’t see two feet in front of their ugly faces.
Filling the mug, he gulped down the first, then the second cupful. Another man also thrust his mug toward him, asking for another. Stitch folded his long legs, settling down a little away from the group, but close enough to reach their mugs when they needed more. He’d had his fill.
Another man soon joined the circle. His uniform wasn’t as dingy as the others. His Racan emblem was embossed with silver, instead of sewn on like the common soldiers.
“Care for a mug, General?” Asked the captain. He waved for a fresh mug. Stitch quickly filled one and passed it off. “Sure strange seeing you out here this time of night, Sal.”
The big man accepted the cup and downed it in one long gulp. Froth ran down his beard and dripped onto his trousers. Setting it down, he blew out a long breath. “Was out for a stroll to clear my head. Heard a bit of news that... well, I couldn’t keep it to meself. Felt I had to give a bit of warning. We’ve fought many years together. It only seemed right.”
Stitch’s brows rose. A general who cared about doing the right thing? He wanted to laugh but was sobered by the thought that he had met a few decent people, even in this awful place. Tarek had been decent. Was still, actually, now that they’d finally made amends.
“I’m telling you, lads, so you’ll keep your eyes open. The king, he’s laid out to us his plan for the invaders. Says they’re nearly here. Suspects they’ll be here before the next full moon shines her face. He’s... well, thing is that I’ve seen him call forth horrible... things.... Things that...” He shook his head, pushing back the cap that covered his head of tight red curls.
For a moment, Stitch wondered if he were part dwarf from his build and hair. But Darnel didn’t allow half-breeds, let alone full-breed creatures near him. Of course, sometimes folks were able to fool him.
“I honestly have no words for what these fiery beasts are.” General Sal continued, his eyes locked on the flames blazing away in the middle of their circle. “They come up out of the earth. Somehow, he’s learned how to open a... a... doorway, he called it. And he’s learned how to make the smaller ones bend to his will, but something, or usually someone, must be sacrificed.”
He gave a shudder. “I’ve thought long and hard about this. I’ve known for some time our King is powerful because of the dark energy he can pull from. That little princess of his, she had some way of keeping them at bay. I saw it once. Poor thing was terrified, but she kept it from escaping, I swear I watched it with my own eyes.”
“How?” asked the captain with the biting whip.
Stitch knew how. Would the general be able to explain her gifting?
“She could make light. It... it came from her chest, lads. I swear it. I know how ridiculous it sounds, but I’m not making this stuff up. I’m not that imaginative.”
“Who is?” asked the captain. “I believe you, Sal. I’d heard all the Illuminates were killed, but he must have kept one.”
“Indeed, he did.” General nodded and held out his mug for another fill. “Indeed, he did. But now she’s escaped. Probably dead. She was the only thing I’d ever saw that had any control over those pit creatures. And now he’s talking about calling forth an even greater one and unleashing it from its hold. He’ll feed it with the souls of anything living. And I’m afraid when that thing is released, we better run for it, lads. It won’t fight for us, or with us. It’ll destroy any and every living thing it comes across until it’s had its fill.”
Stitch dropped the mug he’d been filling. It hit the hard ground and broke into pieces. That’s when they finally noticed him. Captain leaped to his feet. “What are you doing here? Get back to your stable, you stupid, clumsy mule-man! You have no business sitting with us!”
Stitch, too stunned to react to the harsh names, slowly rose and walked away. He might pay for his indiscretion with extra lashes tomorrow, but he didn’t care. This was horrible, terrible, devastating news. He had to let his friends know so they could warn Issah. He had to get back to his journal. And he had to do it soon.
