Darkness Rising: Disciples of the Horned One Volume One (Soul Force Saga Book 1) (18 page)

D
amien sat
at the intricately carved mahogany table in the dining room of the royal quarters. Roast pheasant and a variety of sides covered the table. Uncle Andy sat to his left, Princess Karrie across from him, and Queen Audra to his right. After the attack that morning Uncle Andy had insisted he join the family for supper, as a reward or for protection Damien couldn’t say. For his part Damien was glad to have an excuse to escape the marathon torture session in the dungeon.

He’d never considered himself squeamish, but after two hours of listening to that woman scream he had been happy to beg off and get ready for supper. The assassin was tough, he had to give her credit. Alden had to quit after an hour and a half. While he recovered, a stunning young woman—blond hair, blue eyes, and a perfect figure—took his place.

The sight of perhaps the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen after Lizzy, torturing someone without blinking, amazed him. The strangest thing about the whole process was the lack of blood. Aside from a hoarse voice you’d never know anything had happened to the assassin.

“What’s wrong, Damien?” Queen Audra asked. She wore a blue gown, her long dark hair hanging loose down her back. Damien had never been as close to the queen as he was to Uncle Andy. Whenever his family visited the capital she spent most of her time gossiping with her ladies. Uncle Andy liked to play with him and Jen. “Isn’t the pheasant to your liking?”

Damien looked down at his almost untouched plate. Everything tasted like ashes after the torture session. As far as he knew the assassin was still screaming under their feet. Thinking about it soured his stomach.

“Everything’s delicious. I guess after the attack I don’t have much appetite.”

He looked up and found Karrie staring at him with her bright, green eyes. She batted her eyelashes, trying to play the flirt. Since he’d last seen her Karrie had grown into a pretty girl. Straight black hair framed a heart-shaped face and a slim body was just starting to show signs of the woman she’d be. In a couple more years, when she finished filling out, the noble boys would be fighting over her and not just because she stood to inherit the throne.

“It’s a good thing you were there today.” Uncle Andy took a sip of wine. “A lot of people might have gotten hurt otherwise.”

“My master said to make myself useful. Capturing assassins seemed useful.”

Uncle Andy laughed and dug back into his meal, an attempt on his life insufficient to blunt his appetite. Damien nibbled a few more bites. The pheasant really did taste wonderful. To his surprise, five minutes later, he’d cleaned his plate. He fought a yawn and lost. It had been a long day.

“You look all in,” Uncle Andy said. “What do you say we call it a night?”

Before Damien could respond a tremor ran through the room, setting the silverware to rattling. The little quake lasted for maybe five seconds.

“Bloody tremblers,” Uncle Andy said. “I swear, if it’s not one thing it’s another.”

Damien stood and stretched. The tremors were a nuisance, but basically harmless. “I think I’ll head to my room. I’m afraid I wasn’t good company tonight.”

Audra patted his knee. “Don’t give it another thought. Go get some sleep.”

Damien bowed to the queen and shook Uncle Andy’s hand.

“I’ll walk you to your room.” Karrie popped out of her chair.

Damien’s jaw clenched and released. He tried to think of a polite way to refuse, but nothing came to him. The walk only took a couple of minutes. He could tolerate her unwanted attention for that long. It wasn’t that he disliked Karrie, she was a sweet girl, he just didn’t like her the way she wanted him to.

“That’s a good idea, sweetheart,” Uncle Andy said. “You need to spend more time with people your own age.”

Damien glanced at Uncle Andy. Was the king trying to set him up with his daughter? By heaven, he hoped not. Karrie had unreasonable ideas enough without her father encouraging her.

Karrie grabbed his arm and tugged him toward the door. He swallowed a sigh and let her lead him out of the royal apartment. Outside the sumptuous quarters waited the same plain gray halls as everywhere else in the castle. Damien loved visiting Uncle Andy, but it felt good to get back into surroundings he found comfortable. Now if he could just get Karrie to loosen her death grip on his arm so he could walk without tripping on her.

Damien turned right. His quarters sat on the same floor as the royals’, but in the opposite wing. “Could you give me a little space before we fall?”

“Are you sure?” She rubbed her small, firm breasts against his arm.

Damien hesitated a moment before he pulled gently away. He needed this complication right now like he needed to wrestle a demon barehanded. “I’m sure.”

She released his arm and pouted. “Why? There are half a dozen boys that would cut their best friend’s throat to walk with me.”

Damien didn’t doubt it, especially if she acted with them the way she did with him. “I believe it. You’re a beautiful girl, and a princess too.”

“Then what’s the problem?” She reached for his arm again and Damien sped up.

He needed to get back to his room before he said something wrong. He doubted Karrie heard no very often and he didn’t know what sort of reaction he’d get if he told her straight out he didn’t like her that way.

She hurried to walk beside him then laughed. “If you keep speeding up we’ll be running through the halls.” Karrie took his hand. “There, that’s not so bad, is it?”

“No.” A right turn and three more doors and he’d be at his room. He’d hold her hand for a couple of minutes and call it a night.

They finished the walk in silence. Damien tried to let go and reach for the door, but Karrie didn’t let him. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

Damien had no intention of inviting her in. He barely had to force a yawn. “No, I’m beat.”

Karrie stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him, her tongue darting in his mouth for a moment before she stepped back. Damien stared at her, no idea what to say, no coherent thought in his head beyond wondering where she learned to kiss like that.

“I told you when we were little I would marry you one day and I meant it. I hate those arrogant, soft boys, with their fake compliments and eyes on Daddy’s throne. Daddy already thinks of you like a son, Mom likes you too, and I like you a lot. The only one that seems to have a problem with this is you. I have to marry in three years, and get betrothed in two. I have no interest in fending off smelly, grabby noble boys for two years. You’re a hero and you saved Daddy’s life today. No one would complain if he announced our engagement after all you’ve done.”

Damien did his best to process her speech, but it overwhelmed him. After the battle and what was happening under their feet right now, he didn’t have the wherewithal to deal with this right now. “Good night, Princess. Sleep well.”

He freed his hand and fled into his room, closing the door firmly behind him. He took slow, deep breaths, trying to get his heart rate down. He didn’t know what to feel, what to think. He didn’t love Karrie, but that kiss… The pounding in his ears didn’t fade until the click of her heels moved beyond his hearing. He sighed and stepped away from the door. What was he going to do?

Something sparkled on his desk, distracting him from the princess. He locked the door and crossed the dark room to his plain wooden table. Glowing words sat on the top. They read:
She broke. My office. Dawn.
So the archmage convinced the assassin to talk. He wondered for a moment what shape the woman was in then dismissed the thought as irrelevant. She had tried to kill Uncle Andy. She deserved what she got.

D
amien strode
down the hall toward the archmage’s office. She’d chosen a place well away from noise and people. In fact, judging by the smell, he figured at some point in the past the small room had served as a storeroom for chamber pots. Damien hadn’t been brave enough to point that out.

He absently took a bite of the egg and cheese sandwich he’d begged from the kitchen, his mind elsewhere. Damien had come to an arrangement with the cook. In exchange for not stealing her rolls he could get a snack whenever he wanted. This suited Damien as he usually woke up early and hated waiting to eat. His master rose early as well and he hoped she’d enjoy the second sandwich that floated along beside him in a soul force bubble.

Damien fought off a yawn. He hadn’t gotten much sleep last night. The attack and torture had pumped him full of adrenaline. Add the princess’s proclamation that they were getting married, his preferences be damned, and it was a wonder he slept as much as he did. Surely the king could have found a better match for Karrie than him.

On the other hand, having seen some of the elder members of the nobility, maybe he couldn’t. Nevertheless Damien had no intention of marrying Karrie, he just had to find some way to make that clear to her and the king. Right. Damien wished he had time to make a quick trip to The Citadel to visit Lizzy and see what she thought about all this. The demon spirit understood relationships better than he did. Getting to be with her, even for a little while, would soothe his nerves as well. Heaven’s mercy, he wished they could spend more than an hour here or there together every few months.

Nothing marked the door as belonging to the archmage. It just looked like a plain oak door with an iron pull. It didn’t even have a lock. Not that it needed one. If she didn’t want anyone inside, a soul force barrier would keep people out better than any normal lock.

He popped the last of his sandwich in his mouth and stepped up to the door. Muffled voices, neither of them sounding happy, filtered out into the hall. Damien frowned. She must have had a meeting before him. He moved a few steps away and leaned against the wall. He didn’t want his master thinking he had been eavesdropping.

A minute later the door slammed open and a tall, fit young woman in her early twenties, with short brown hair stalked out, her face twisted in an angry scowl. She wore leather pants, knee-high boots, and a blue shirt that showed her figure to good effect. She stormed past Damien, glaring at him as she went. What had he done?

She turned a corner that led to the main gate. Damien shrugged. Whatever her problem, it had nothing to do with him. He pushed off the wall, walked over to the open door and poked his head in. The archmage sat in her chair behind a battered desk, head in her hands.

“Is this a bad time, Master?”

She looked up and offered a wan smile. “No. Is that for me?”

Her gaze locked on the sandwich floating beside him. Damien guided it over, transforming the bubble into a plate and landing it on her desk. “I thought you might be hungry.”

She took a giant bite out of the sandwich. “You were right.”

Less than a minute later the food was gone. She sighed. “Thank you. I always intend to get breakfast, but something often comes up. Sit down.”

Damien dropped into the padded mahogany chair in front of her desk. To his right a cherry bookcase held hundreds of leather-bound books. “Was the unhappy young woman I saw what came up today?”

“My daughter, Lane. She’s one of the kingdom’s leading diplomats. I just gave her a new assignment.”

“The moment I saw her I thought diplomat, either that or berserker. I take it she didn’t care for her new task?”

His master smiled. “No, the assignment didn’t bother her. She’s mad because I assigned you to be her bodyguard. Lane doesn’t like sorcerers.”

Damien raised an eyebrow at that. “The daughter of the archmage doesn’t like sorcerers? That sounds awkward.”

“We’ve made peace. I don’t know if you noticed, but she doesn’t have any extraordinary power. Being born the daughter of a leading sorcerer and having no power of her own was hard for Lane. Spending time around sorcerers reminds her of what she doesn’t have.”

Damien could relate to that. “What about the assassin?”

“Right, that’s the reason you’re accompanying Lane. Baron Trasker hired the assassin to kill the king. He’s a border baron, one of ten. They’ve been complaining about taxes and threatening to secede from the kingdom, leaving us open to raids from the bandits living in the badlands. Lane’s going to their annual meeting to try and negotiate a settlement.”

Damien nodded. “And I’m going to keep her safe from Trasker.”

“Partly, but mainly you’re going in case she fails. If the barons can’t be persuaded to see reason you’re to remove them from their positions.”

“As in”—Damien drew a finger across his throat—“permanently?”

“Exactly. Keeping the border secure is too important to jeopardize because of petty, noble greed. It will also make a good example for their eventual successors. I’ve spoken to the king and you have full authority to resolve this with whatever force necessary.”

Damien nodded again. She wasn’t starting him off with an easy mission, to say the least. “Does Lane know my real job?”

“No, and I prefer you not tell her until the last possible moment. I don’t want her to think I don’t have faith in her abilities.”

“Okay. Anything else?”

“Don’t forget to check in at each stop. If I have new information I’ll pass it along. Keep my daughter safe and come home in one piece. Good luck.”

D
amien left
his master to brood in her office and followed Lane to the main gate. He couldn’t stop smiling. Even if she hated him, any assignment that got him out of the capital for weeks or maybe months was right up Damien’s alley. When in doubt, delay. Sound, if not especially brave, tactics.

He didn’t meet another soul until he reached the gate guards who waved him through. Since the ceremony last week everyone knew Damien and he could go wherever he wanted with no trouble. He shivered in the chill breeze as he passed under the raised portcullis, and through the open gates. A thin blanket of snow covered the ground, but the riot of footprints made it impossible to tell where Lane had gone.

Damien frowned and turned back to the guards. “Did you fellows see an attractive, pissed-off looking woman with short brown hair come this way?”

“I believe she was headed for the stables,” the right-hand guard said.

Damien touched his forehead in salute and headed left, expanding his shield and heating the air around him as he went. The stink of the stables, though reduced by the cold, still made them easy to find. Why would she bother with horses when he could fly them to the border in a day?

He found Lane in a fur-lined cloak right outside the stables, adjusting the straps of the saddle on a bay gelding. Her breath puffed in the air with each tug of the strap. Damien strode up and stopped a few feet away. “Morning. I’m Damien St. Cloud, I’ll be your bodyguard for this mission.”

Lane gave the strap one last yank and straightened up to face him. Jade eyes flashed in the bright morning sun. “So my mother said. I’ll tell you what I told her, I don’t need a bodyguard and I certainly don’t need a sorcerer tagging along on a diplomatic mission. All you people are good for is blowing things up.”

Damien certainly had a knack for blowing things up, but he liked to think that wasn’t the extent of his talents. “We don’t need horses, you know. I can fly us to the border by nightfall.”

“Ha! If we fly in there they’ll know you’re a sorcerer and they’ll think you’re along to intimidate them into doing what the king wants. If the barons feel threatened the negotiations will be over before they start. Besides, the meeting isn’t until March first. If we ride and take it easy, we should make it just in time.”

Ten weeks on the road and away from Karrie, that sounded fine to Damien. “Do you have supplies?”

“The grooms are loading a mule. There are army supply posts every ten days where we can get more food and swap horses. Are you ready?”

“I need to pack my gear and grab a sword so I’ll pass for a regular bodyguard. Other than that I’m good to go.”

“Well hurry up, I want to be out of here inside the hour.”

Damien nodded and jogged back toward the keep. When he’d moved past the guards he wrapped himself in an invisibility screen and flew a few inches off the ground so his steps wouldn’t draw attention. A lot of sorcerers forgot that part when they turned invisible. Clomping steps from thin air drew people’s attention. Not that he’d get in trouble if someone caught him, he just didn’t want to deal with the princess.

He flew through the halls at the speed of a brisk run, dodging servants and messengers as he went. The halls quieted as he approached the living areas. A single chambermaid carried a pile of towels toward the laundry. Damien floated silently as she hurried past him, then he turned toward his room.

He landed outside the door and let his screen fade. Getting ready shouldn’t take long. He could pack everything he owned in five minutes. Two minutes later he had a change of clothes, a spare set of boots and his curved dagger tucked away in his rucksack. His sword he strapped to his back then covered it with a heavy fur cloak. He wore both for appearances rather than need. Damien glanced in the mirror and nodded. He looked like a proper bodyguard.

“Where are you going?”

Damien spun to face the door and found Karrie standing there, arms crossed and frowning. He’d been visible for two minutes. How had she found him? “I’ve got a mission, guard duty for the archmage’s daughter. Your father knows about it.”

Her frown deepened. “He didn’t say anything to me. I know Lane Thorn. She’s very pretty. I suppose you prefer spending time with older girls.”

Damien would have preferred spending time with Lizzy, who had existed since the dawn of time, so he supposed that made her an older girl. Lane, on the other hand, appeared to hate him on principle. He doubted it would be an especially pleasant trip. “Guarding Lane is a job, and I assure you she hasn’t the slightest interest in me, nor do I have any in her, beyond keeping her safe. We have a task to complete. When it’s finished we’ll come back, so relax.”

Her frown softened. “I don’t like you hanging around with another girl, but I suppose it is your job. See that you keep it professional. We’ll continue our conversation when you return.”

Karrie turned in a swirl of silk skirts and sauntered down the hall back toward the royal residence. Damien wanted badly to shout at her back that she wasn’t his girlfriend and it was none of her business who he spent time with, but she might come back if he did, so he held his peace.

Damien retraced his steps back to the stable and found Lane sitting in her saddle, reins held in one hand, the lead of an overloaded mule in the other. “Ready?”

Damien nodded and started to conjure a mount.

“What are you doing?” Lane’s disagreeable voice stopped him halfway through the process. “You’re posing as a regular bodyguard, remember? No sorcery; you ride the same as me.”

He grimaced, both at her patronizing tone and the idea of having to ride a bouncing, jostling, uncomfortable horse for ten weeks. A stable boy led a saddled roan mare out of the long building. Damien accepted the reins, nodded his thanks, and checked the saddle straps. Everything looked good and tight.

He hung his rucksack from the pommel and swung up into the saddle. “Satisfied?”

“Hardly.” She clucked her tongue and led the way toward the outer gate.

Damien tapped his mount’s ribs and followed her. This was going to be a long trip.