Darkness Rising: Disciples of the Horned One Volume One (Soul Force Saga Book 1) (20 page)

P
rincess Karrie marched away
from Damien’s room, a frown creasing her forehead. What had Daddy been thinking, sending Damien off on a mission so soon? She’d only just begun working on him and it would take weeks to wear him down enough that he’d accept the inevitable. She would marry him, and that was that.

A servant scurried out of her way, but Karrie paid her no more attention than she did the paintings that decorated the walls every few feet. It would have been ideal if Damien wanted to marry her as much as she did him, but it didn’t look like that would happen. If she knew who she was up against it would make it much easier to turn him to her way of thinking.

Maybe he preferred older girls, like Lane. Karrie chewed her lip. That didn’t seem likely. He hadn’t shown any great interest in her when Karrie had said something. Damien clearly regarded Lane as a job and nothing more. Maybe someone from The Tower? It made sense that he might have another sorcerer for a girlfriend. How could she find out?

She barged through the door to the royal quarters, eager to take her father to task over sending Damien away. The kitchen and dining room sat empty and spotless, no doubt thanks to the efforts of the servant she’d seen earlier. She took a couple of steps and peeked into the sitting room. Empty, though a small fire burned in the hearth. Daddy must have had a meeting.

“Mom!”

“In the sewing room, dear.” Her mother’s faint voice came from the back of their quarters.

Karrie rushed down the carpeted hall, past their bedrooms, to her mother’s sewing room. The small room had a pair of windows that let in the morning sun. Her mother sat at her square embroidery hoop, her delicate stitches creating a scene of dragons flying through a clear sky.

Mom set her needle down and looked up at her. “What’s wrong, dear?”

Karrie plopped down on the floor facing her mother. “Dad sent Damien on a mission. I just started working on him. How can I convince Damien to do what I want if he’s not here?”

“My dear girl, badgering the boy won’t convince him to do what you want. You need to tease him and seduce him. It takes time. When he comes back try playing hard to get. Maybe invite one of those boys that’s always chasing after you to visit the castle. Make him jealous. Ideally you want him to come to you.”

“It’s bad enough I have to deal with those idiot boys at the stupid balls the nobles and merchants are constantly throwing. The last thing I want is to have them hanging around the castle as well.” Karrie chewed her lip some more. “And what if it doesn’t work? I’m not sure Damien likes me that way. If he doesn’t he’s likely to feel relieved instead of jealous.”

“Hmm.” Mom tapped her chin. “That’s a good point. I’d assumed every boy would want to marry you. You are the heir to the throne. But that probably doesn’t mean much to Damien. He’s too much like his father. Fredric always hated politics. Well, if the usual tactics don’t work we’ll try something more drastic. One thing is certain. If you wish to secure your reign and not become some man’s arm candy, you need Damien. His power, combined with a disdain for politics, make him perfect. With him at your side no one would dare challenge your rule.”

T
he Santen family
villa covered more ground than the king’s castle back at the capital. Painted white and trimmed with gold, the main house stood two stories tall. White marble statues beside elaborate topiary animals decorated the sprawling, manicured grounds. From the main house, two single-story wings spread left and right. The whole thing together had enough space to house an army.

The squad stood across the street from the estate’s iron gate. Jen crossed her arms and studied the place. How much had it cost to build? A gilded red carriage rolled down the cobblestone street. A pair of stunning white geldings pulled it, guided by a coachman in black-and-red livery. Aside from the carriage the streets in the Lord’s District were quiet. No street vendors shouted, no kids ran around playing, she hadn’t even seen a servant out running an errand. They were far enough inland that the creak of the docks and rush of the waves didn’t reach them. Only the faint tang of salt in the air mixed with the yeast and cinnamon from the bakery behind them gave any sign that the ocean was close.

The district felt dead.

She shuddered. Dead as Dominic Santen most likely.

“What’s the plan?” Talon asked.

They’d arrived a little early for their meeting with Mikhail Santen so they could scout the place. “You and Rhys will come with me to interview the son. Talon, you focus on his heart rate. Rhys, watch his pupils. You two will be my lie detectors. Edward, stay here and keep an eye out for trouble. I don’t expect any, but better safe than sorry. Alec, I want you to snoop around the grounds. Check out security, get a feel for how hard it would be for someone to sneak in, grab Dominic, and escape.”

Everyone murmured their agreement, though Edward grumbled about getting stuck as lookout. He’d also left his maul at the inn. It made him stick out too much to be practical in the city. He’d settled for hiding a handful of daggers about his person.

“Let’s go.” Jen strode across the street with Talon and Rhys beside her. Alec seemed to vanish as he accelerated away from them. Edward leapt up to the roof of the bakery behind them and crouched down behind the chimney.

The gate was unlocked and swung open at Jen’s touch. Either it served no purpose beyond decoration or the family had unlocked it in expectation of their arrival. Jen thought the former more likely than the latter. A white gravel path wound through the grounds toward the curved steps up to the front door. A pair of guards, the first Jen had seen, armed with spears and short swords, stood on either side of a set of massive, intricately carved double doors.

The men crossed their spears. “Name and business?” one asked.

“Jennifer St. Cloud here to see Mikhail Santen. He’s expecting me.”

They moved their weapons aside and the guard who’d spoken nodded. “Yes, ma’am. We just needed to be sure who you were.”

They pulled the doors open and Jen walked into a foyer twice the size of her family’s quarters at The Citadel. A garish marble fountain shaped like a dolphin sprinkled water out its blowhole into a pool at its base. On either side of the room, curved staircases led up to a second-floor balcony. Jen half expected to see Mikhail standing there, looking over them. Closed doors to the left and right opened into the mansion’s wings. Straight ahead a short hall led deeper into the main house. A slim, pretty brunette with short, curly hair, wearing a servant’s black-and-white uniform with a too-short skirt appeared from deeper in the house.

The servant curtsied. “Master Mikhail said to bring you to the sunroom. Follow me, please.”

Jen nodded and motioned for her to lead the way. They went through an arch, turned left, and continued down a white, marble hall lined with carved busts of men Jen didn’t recognize, probably past heads of the family. At the end of the hall an open door led to a round room, the walls consisting of solid glass. A young man dressed in a fine black tunic and trousers, a long, drooping mustache decorating his face, sat in a blue-upholstered armchair. A matching chair three feet away faced him.

“Mikhail Santen?” Jen asked.

The young man nodded and waved an indifferent hand at the empty chair. The servant bobbed another curtsy and scampered out. Jen frowned at the lack of courtesy shown to an agent of the crown, but kept quiet. She sat facing the arrogant merchant, Talon and Rhys taking up positions behind her.

“I’m here investigating your father’s disappearance. Is there anything you can tell us about it?”

He leaned forward, his bloodshot brown eyes half covered by long brown hair. “You say disappearance, but you mean murder. My father has never been out of contact for this long. Only death would cause him to worry Mother so.”

“I say what I mean. Since no body has been found I assume he’s alive somewhere, perhaps being held against his will.” Jen tried to force sympathy she lacked into her voice. “Does your family have many enemies?”

Mikhail threw back his head and laughed. “No one gets as rich as us without making enemies. And the richer you are the more enemies you make. We have many.”

“I don’t suppose you could narrow it down a little for us?”

“The Blackman clan despises us for forcing them out of the shipping business, as though it’s our fault their ships are outdated and often arrive late. The Corno clan nurses an old grudge over timber rights in the Great Green. There are many others, but those two are the most vocal.”

“Did your father travel with bodyguards?”

“Always. Six men led by a female warlord, Citadel trained, like you lot. We’ve heard nothing from them either. Probably eaten by sharks.”

“What were—”

Talon laid a hand on her shoulder bringing Jen up short. “What?” Jen asked.

“Someone drew steel outside.”

J
en sharpened
her hearing and the distant ring of steel on steel reached her. She leapt to her feet and pulled her soul-forged blade from its sheath.

Footsteps pounded outside, getting closer.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Mikhail asked.

Jen grabbed the merchant and yanked him behind her. Soul force flowed, strengthening her muscles and hardening her skin. Not a moment too soon.

The windows shattered as an armored figure leapt through them. Glass shards bounced off Jen’s iron skin.

The stranger wore a full helm, gauntlets, and a mail coat that covered him from neck to knees. He carried a four-foot-long great sword. He whirled the blade around his head and sliced one of the chairs in half.

Jen rushed forward at full speed. Her sword streaked toward the invader’s neck.

His speed a match for hers, the great sword rose to block her attack. Unfazed, Jen continued the assault, her weapon a blur as it slashed and stabbed.

High, low, left, right, the armored man blocked her every effort.

Damn, he was fast.

Talon streaked in from the side, his double blades driving for the man’s unprotected legs. The invader leapt straight up, six feet into the air, carrying seventy pounds of armor.

Impossible.

Talon caught a boot to the back as he went under his target. The powerful kick sent him flying out the shattered window and into the yard.

Jen darted back into the fray. At the rear of the room Mikhail cowered behind Rhys. “Get him out of here!”

Rhys grabbed Mikhail and slung him over his shoulder. They raced away at warlord speed.

Good, now she could focus on her enemy without worrying about the merchant. She drew deeper from her soul force. A tingle from the hilt ran up her arm, her brother’s soul force reacting to her power.

She swung with all her might. The invader caught the blow on his blade and staggered. He hadn’t had time to set his feet after he landed.

Jen swung again. All power and no finesse.

Every blow drove the armored figure back. It took everything she had just to manage that. This guy was strong, stronger than any warlord she’d ever faced. Almost as strong as the demon.

At the edge of the shattered window he bound her sword. Their guards locked and they jockeyed for position.

Jen pressed against him with every ounce of strength she could muster to no avail. Dark sparks shot from his gauntlets. He grunted and forced her back a step.

Jen leaned in, trying to hold her position.

The gauntlets burst into black flames, just like the demon’s claws.

He forced her to retreat another step. Jen put everything she had into holding him, but he kept on coming. She couldn’t beat him and Damien wasn’t here to save her this time.

The tips of two blades burst out of his chest. The black flames flickered.

This was her chance.

Jen disengaged and spun. Her blade sheared the stranger’s head off. A fountain of black blood geysered out of his neck before his body collapsed to the floor.

Talon stepped on his back and ripped his blades out. Jen gasped for breath. She’d used everything she had.

“You okay?” Talon asked.

She straightened and nodded. “Stay here. Don’t let anyone touch the body.”

Jen left Talon standing guard over the corpse. Rhys wouldn’t have gone far. She needed to make sure Mikhail was okay. Jen pulled the call stick out of her pocket and snapped it. Master Shen needed to have a look at those gauntlets.

She found Rhys and his terrified charge in the foyer along with Edward and three more dead bodies. She kicked one over so she could see his face. He didn’t look like much. Dark brown skin, beard, leather armor, scimitar, and a crushed skull.

“What happened?”

“I saw these three run through the front gate and followed,” Edward said. “I got two, Rhys got one.”

“It’s not a competition,” Rhys muttered.

“Hey!”

They all looked up. Alec stood on the second-floor balcony, blood spattered on his white shirt.

“You okay?” Jen asked.

“Sure, it’s not mine. There’s three more dead guys up here. Looks like they were trying to reach the wife.”

“Okay. Stay with her just in case. Edward, sweep the grounds, make sure we’re done.”

He nodded and vanished.

Jen turned her attention to Mikhail. “Who are they?”

He held his hands out. “I have no idea.”

“What about the big guy in the sunroom?”

The merchant gave her a blank look. Jen flicked a glance at Rhys who shook his head. Either the merchant was telling her the truth or he was so terrified Rhys couldn’t read his heart rate. Either way he was useless.

Edward appeared as though out of nowhere. “We’re good. I found six dead guards, but no more like this bunch.”

“Good. Watch the front. Alec!”

The young warlord dashed to her side. “Yeah?”

“Go to watch headquarters and fetch a patrol. Maybe they’ll know who these people are.”

He nodded. “You want ’em here double quick or should I take my time?”

“Take your time. Hopefully Master Shen will turn up soon and he can take a look around before the locals show up.”

“Got it.” He ambled out the front doors, hands in his pockets, looking for all the world like a teenager out for a morning stroll. Only the blood on his shirt spoiled the image.