King Of Souls (Book 2) (53 page)

“What are you implying Alcott?” Danielle said.

Sir Alcott’s face appeared haggard as if he’d aged ten years in the last half-hour. “I think we repelled the first wave. A test of our defenses. He’s holding off his main force.”

Danielle’s mouth fell open, and she stared speechless into Sir Alcott’s face.

As if in response, a dragon’s distant roar echoed from the northern hills surrounding Kipley’s Vale.

***

As the sun dipped below Freehold’s city wall, dark shadows cast a sullen gloom over the palace courtyard.

Rika peered through the bay window’s cracked glass and scanned the district’s littered streets.

A muscled Ayralen man, his arm adorned with an intricate weave of tattoos, lifted a little boy’s lifeless body from the snow. He handed the child to a squat Meranthian man standing atop a wagon converted into a sleigh. The Meranthian man settled the boy beside a row of bodies covered in plain white sheets. From a dwindling pile near his feet, he pulled free a fresh sheet and laid it atop the boy’s body covering him from head to toe. Grim-faced, the Meranthian man turned back to his Ayralen partner and waited to receive the next corpse in line.

Rika slid closed the red and gold brocade drapes and covered the horrific scene from view. She hung her head and fought back tears.

Somewhere in Freehold tonight, a parent grieved for that little boy. They experienced pain no amount of magic could ever heal. A life altering pain reserved for the child’s parents who had filled his life with fresh hopes and bold dreams. Parents wanting for him a future filled with joy and happiness. An unquenchable, unbearable pain she could just now begin to understand.

Life had cheated Rika of many precious moments. Her own mother’s illness and death in her tenth year of life had left her devastated. Two years later, when Kelwin left for Lora’s Guard, her heart had broken again.

The last blow came from Rika’s father who’d uprooted her from her Ayralen home. They had moved to Meranthia destroying her last semblance of a normal life.

Ronan lay motionless in his broad four-post bed buried beneath a small mountain of blankets.

Rika moved across the room and stopped beside him. A raw ache tightened her chest, and warm tears welled in her eyes. Would their child begin his life without a father?

Rika missed the small, one-room home she and Ronan had made together in Freehold’s Ayralen District. She missed those simpler times despite the anger driving Ronan’s actions. Circumstances had pulled them together, and they’d forged a new life. From the first day, Ronan’s love for her had never wavered. Why hadn’t she told him that she loved him every single one of those days?

Of course, Rika knew how much Ronan loved her. Every day, she saw it in his eyes, but she couldn’t endure losing him. She’d lost too much, so she’d closed her heart unwilling to let him get close.

A slight smile touched Rika’s lips. She could no more stop loving Ronan than she could prevent the morning sunrise.

Rika wiped away the tears and rolled the wooden chess piece between her fingertips. She’d finished whittling it, a king in his image, not an hour earlier. She set the piece on Ronan’s bedside table next to the golden dragon statuette.

Rika stood over him with her hand resting atop her womb. Despite what Moira had told her, she felt nothing, but she believed the old woman’s words all the same.

Rika sat perched on Ronan’s bed and tucked a quilt his mother had made him beneath his chin. She leaned over and kissed his lips relieved to find them warm and soft. “I love you Ronan Latimer. Always have. Always will.”

Rika looked on his sleeping face through bleary eyes. She wanted Ronan to take her away. They could find someplace safe and warm where they could live free and happy, but she couldn’t do that to him. She didn’t want to add more weight to the burdens already loading him down.

Rika’s voice trembled. “Please come back. I —,” she paused breaking off her words as her chin quivered. “We…need you.” She curled up on the bed beside him and laid her head on his chest listening to his heartbeat slow and steady.

A dragon’s distant roar rattled the dragon statuette and the wooden chess piece sitting on the bedside table.

A sharp chill crawled across Rika’s flesh. Visions of dragons pounding the palace walls danced through her mind. She’d already decided to stay by Ronan’s side even if the building collapsed around her.

A heavy creaking noise came from Ronan’s door, and Rika pushed up reaching for the knife sheathed around her thigh.

The bedroom door cracked open spilling warm lamplight from the corridor outside. No one appeared through the opening.

Rika sighed and sheathed her knife. The drafts running through the ancient palace had already pushed the door open twice today. She hopped from the bed, moved across the room, and pushed the door shut until she heard the satisfying click of the door’s brass latch.

Behind Rika, Ronan’s bedsprings squeaked.

Rika whirled preparing to shift forms and froze when she realized an intruder had entered the room.

A shaggy mop of white fur leaped near the foot of Ronan’s bed buzzing across the mountain of quilts covering Ronan. The bear cub stopped near Ronan’s face, and a long pink tongue licked Ronan’s cheek in a line from his jaw to just below his closed eye. Paws appearing three times too big for the bear’s tiny frame, pressed on Ronan’s chest as if to wake him.

Ronan’s brow narrowed, and his head moved from side to side as if to fend off his attacker’s unwanted advance. “Rika, what’s with the licking?” The mumbled words spilled out slurred and heavy.

Rika’s breath hitched, and she froze afraid to break the spell or he’d fall asleep again lost to her forever. A tingle of nervous excitement buzzed along her scalp before traveling down her spine and curling her toes. She smiled fighting the urge to jump up and down screaming like a schoolgirl smitten by her first crush. She reached for the brass doorknob, flung it open wide, and leaped into the hallway. “Sir Alcott! Come quick! He’s awake!”

“Rika?” Ronan’s slurred voice, laced with confusion, came from the room behind Rika. “Why do you sound so far away?”

Rika spun and dashed into Ronan’s bedroom.

The bear cub, now standing atop Ronan’s chest, licked him again from chin to nose. He cocked his head and staring at Ronan with wide-eyed anticipation.

Ronan’s eyes shot open and a throaty, startled shout escaped his open mouth. With panic flaring in his eyes he scanned the room before they settled on Rika.

“Ronan, it’s okay,” she said using the most soothing tone she could muster.

Ronan pushed himself up before tossing aside the quilts and blankets. He swung his bare feet over the bed and paused. “What’s happening Rika? How long have I been asleep?”

Rika hurried toward Ronan and stopped near his outstretched legs. “Slow down Ronan. Let me explain.”

Ronan’s cheeks blanched, and his eyes lost their focus. He nodded. “I feel a bit woozy. Maybe you’re right.”

The bear cub scaled the disheveled blankets before settling near Ronan’s side in a fluffy heap.

Ronan’s hand drifted downward before settling atop the bear cub’s head. He scratched behind his ears and squinted trying to focus his eyes. “Thanks for the wakeup call, boy.”

Rika eased onto the bed and met his bleary gaze. “You’ve been asleep for nearly three days.”

“Three days! Rika, I’ve —”

She held up her hand. “Shush. Let me finish. I swear you’ve no patience at all.”

Ronan’s cheeks reddened. “Sorry. I’m listening.”

“You and Thoth crashed into the arena floor after you decided to go after Trace.” She shook her head. “And that was a foolish idea, Ronan. You had no business taking such a chance. What if you’d died?”

Ronan cast his gaze toward his feet and sighed. “I’m sorry. I acted on instinct, and thought I might catch Trace off his guard. How’s Thoth? Is he…?”

“He’s not dead,” Rika said. “We’ve tried our best to keep him warm and dry, but he’s not well. He hasn’t moved an inch.”

“Where’s Danielle?”

“She’s resting. Three dozen dragons and sorcerers attacked Freehold this morning.”

Ronan began pushing himself up. “I can’t let her do this alone.”

Rika shook her head and pushed Ronan down by shoulders using a not so gentle touch. “Sit. Shut up, and listen.”

Ronan’s lips tightened, but he held his tongue and nodded.

“Danielle came up with a brilliant plan to defend Freehold, and it worked,” Rika said.

A wide smile bloomed on Ronan’s face. “Then it’s over? Rika, that’s wonderful.”

Rika shook her head. “Trace wasn’t among the attackers, and we’ve heard the dragons’ distant roars all-day long. It’s like he’s taunting us.”

The smile faded from Ronan’s face. “How’s Danielle?”

“She’s resting. She used an enormous amount of energy fighting the first wave of dragons, but she saved us all.”

Ronan pushed away the bundled quilts and stood. His gaze drifted downward as if noticing his lack of clothing for the first time. “Where are my clothes Rika? I have a defense to plan.”

Ronan’s piercing gaze met Rika’s but never wavered. He made no effort to cover himself. Rika didn’t know whether to mourn his lost innocence or take pride in the man he’d become, but the world needed him. She stood and opened a dresser drawer near the bed. “I’m not sure how much defense we can muster. We’ve three working ballista after the initial attack, and there’s been no word from Devery.” She tossed Ronan his missing clothes.

Ronan slipped on his pants and tunic, picked up his belt from the bedside table, and froze. His eyes narrowed, and his gaze locked on the gold dragon statuette.

“Ronan, what’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Rika said.

Ronan took the dragon statuette in his hand and turned it over, his face a mask of concentration. “Rika, when you found me, did you find another statue near me?”

Had the exhaustion affected his mind? Rika tucked a strand of loose hair behind her hair. “We found the dragon statue in your leather pouch.” She nodded toward the pouch looped through Ronan’s belt. “But just that one. What’s wrong?”

Ronan shook his head. “It’s nothing. My mind’s just playing games with me I suppose.”

A light knocking came from Ronan’s door before it pushed open wide. Sir Alcott strode through grinning from ear to ear. “It’s good to see you on your feet my boy.” His gaze shifted toward Rika. “You see. I told you he’d be okay. Nothing a little sleep wouldn’t fix.”

“A little sleep?” Ronan said. “You let me sleep for three days. Why didn’t you wake me?”

Sir Alcott stroked his beard, his face awash with concern. “When a knight drains his last drop of energy, waking him could cause memory loss, personality disorders, or, more rarely, insanity.”

“Is that what happened to Danielle?” Ronan said.

“No,” Sir Alcott said. “But, she’s sleeping and can use all the rest we can spare her.”

“What’s happened to Trace?” Ronan said.

Sir Alcott shook his head and sat beside Ronan’s desk. “We haven’t seen him since the blizzard.”

“Not in three days?” Ronan ran his fingers through his hair and scanned the room. “Rika, where’s my boots?”

“Near the window, I’ll get them for you.” Rika moved to intercept Ronan before he reached his boots. She didn’t want him seeing the palace district until she had a chance to explain.

“That’s okay. I see them.” He slipped on his boots and reached for the heavy curtains.

“Ronan wait,” Rika said and reached for his hand.

Ronan slid the curtains aside and stared through the bay window’s splintered glass. He froze turning his head in a slow arc taking in the disaster’s full breadth. “How many dead?”

Sir Alcott’s gaze drifted downward. “Your Majesty, I don’t think —”

Ronan glanced over his shoulder, and his eyes flashed with anger. “I asked how many, Sir Alcott.”

“As of an hour ago, four hundred seventy three,” Sir Alcott said.

Ronan’s shoulders sagged as his gaze turned toward the bay window. “What of Jeremy?”

“Jeremy was injured during the attack, but he’ll recover,” Sir Alcott said. “He’s resting in the room beside yours.”

Ronan sunk onto the bench nestled inside the bay window’s alcove. “How many dragons did we kill?”

“Thirty-two dragon and rider pairs,” Sir Alcott said. “Your sister handled the majority of them.”

“That’s good,” Ronan said. “I don’t remember seeing many more at Trace’s war camp. With a depleted force, we might have a chance.”

Sir Alcott exchanged a nervous look with Rika and pursed his lips.

Rika’s chest tightened, and she eased onto the bench beside him. “Guardian scouts have reported several large herds of resting dragons inside Kipley’s Vale. The estimates vary, but we believe no fewer than a hundred dragons accompany the emperor’s forces.”

Ronan’s jaw fell open, and he shook his head. “What about our defenses Sir Alcott?”

“Most of the guardians are in Freehold,” Sir Alcott said. “The Prime Guardian sent them as escorts with the Ayralen refugees, and we’re glad to have them.”