Take My Heart...: Dark Ages - Fantasy (Dark Gods & Tainted Souls Book 3) (3 page)

Elizebetha hurried to catch up to the fast-paced king and his men. The king led her directly to her own library. She’d prepared a meal in the dining hall but clearly he had other plans. She walked through the library door, slightly flustered, the feeling of concern gathering within her. The king stood regarding her books and the six men were actively rifling through them and writing down the titles in small leather bound ledger books they all had with them.

“What’s the meaning behind this, King Thellas? If you wanted a tour. I would have gladly obliged. I’ve had a meal prepared in the dining hall.”

The young king walked forward, ignoring her niceties. The look in his eyes frightened her. There was so much suppressed rage within them. Clearly, he’d been acting for the crowd just moments ago.

“You shall not speak unless addressed or asked a question directly,” he said.

“First, under what rights do you claim this Keep and the title of Duchess?” he asked.

She was taken aback but composed herself quickly. “I’m the first-born daughter of Denfro and Jenavie, the past duke and duchess. My line is passed to the first born of any sex, not the first male,” she said.

“Your parentage is not in dispute, but rather your identity. You claim to be a woman of eighty years, yet you appear much younger than that. How is that possible?” He spat, clearly baiting her.

She was shocked. The physical appearance of her family was never mentioned. It was always left unspoken. The truth was actually very hard to explain without revealing too much of their activities.

“My family has a reputation for being youthful and long-lived. It’s a well-known fact. We are blessed,” she said back with defiance.

A man brought his ledger up to the king, who read it quickly, shaking his head in disgust.

“It’s a well-known fact that your family is a disease, a blight on the land and the world of natural order. What need do good people have to read books like, ‘The death rites of the desert wanderers’? Or worse, to write them. This one was written by your own father.”

She looked at him sharply. This wasn’t at all what she had expected. She had heard the new king was forceful, eager to make his mark and slightly obsessed with trade and order, but not that he was so rabidly against anyone different. Who were these men who seemed to be almost directing him? Their cold eyes and cruel weapons clearly only built to cause pain and broken bones.

“My father was a great man. A scholar. He travelled far and learned many things. He simply sought to share them,” she said. It was the wrong thing to say.

“A great man? A great man… my father was a great man and he was killed. I was but a child when I walked into his study to find him slain. His body looked like it had been torn apart by wolves, in a locked room no less. Now you tell me, did your father write of how that could be achieved?”

A guard who had stood by the door walked up behind her and with a well-aimed swing of his metal studded leather baton, smashed it into her unprotected kneecap. She collapsed to the ground with a cry and the sound of breaking bone. The king stood looking at her with mania in his eyes. He put his strong hands around her throat and squeezed. She felt the life leaving her as she struggled for breath. Her fingers clawing uselessly at his strong grip. He shook his head slowly and tightened further and further.

“I’ll make the world safe again,” he said as he slowly choked her to death.

Chapter Five.

Once again. Seth found himself at a crossroads. He was stuck in what was now a very lovely prison. The sun shined brightly and the land of the dead had changed overnight, or rather over day. The sun had risen and life had risen with it. Sandy shores, grass covered hills, trees that looked like they might grow leaves and human beings who looked lost, but like people should. Still, he was stuck here and didn’t see a way out of it.

Being the son of a hunter and mother who had tended their small farm in the freezing cold, he liked this place and envisioned he could spend a happy simple life here. He felt that his role as the Druheim had ended. Still, he felt the pulling, it was like an urge he couldn’t shake. Looking at those little boats floating in the bay, he saw one. It hadn’t been taken yet; no one had touched it. It sat as if just waiting for him. He wasn’t scared of what was over there. He felt he had nothing to fear from the judgments of the gods. He had done all they had asked of him. But his companion. Seraphina clearly felt very differently than he.

“We need to get on those boats,” he said simply.

“Why would you say that? It’s like asking me to walk right into a hangman’s noose,” she said.

“But don’t you feel it, the pulling? It’s like a voice whispering in my ear.”

“I feel it, but it terrifies me. Seth, what do you think my gods would think of what I’ve done? I’ve killed so many in my life. Not enemies who came for me, but people who had things I wanted. Once I killed my language teacher because his lessons were boring and he had stale breath. What judgment can I expect other than torture and, at best, lasting death?”

“What choice have we got?” he asked.

“Any choice, any path, anything but that. We can stay here, we can journey the length of this place, we can try to find another way back home.” She started crying and held him. Her small face pressed into his chest and her tears wet his shirt.

“All paths lead to death. It’s not escape. It’s just delay,” he said.

She looked at him. “Then let us delay it? At least another day, just one more day.”

She’d been saying one more day for more than two weeks now. They had set up a small camp next to the water because it was too hard to leave the ocean. The first time he had tried to return to the city with the Wolvern. Silver and the few of her people that survived. He only got out of sight of the sea before the pulling and the urge to return became too strong to deny. Seraphina must have felt it too as she came back with him, tears in her eyes. She was struggling with her guilt and trying to gather the strength to leave. He knew they weren’t just wanting, but she was mentally convincing herself to do it.

That night they sat by the small fire, alone, looking out at the water and the small boats.

“I think I can leave tomorrow, but I’d rather leave in the sunlight,” she said.

“Are you sure?” Seth replied.

“Like you said, it’s not escape to stay, it’s simply delay. Even if I stayed here for another few days or weeks with you, what would be gained? The people I murdered would still be dead and the only thing I would have had is a few more days of happiness.” she said.

“You’re happy here?” he asked.

“I am Seth. I like you. It’s easy to be with you and not feel judged, but there is something I want before I leave to god knows what hell.” She said the word and leaned into him and started to kiss him. Seth felt her warm lips against his and her soft tongue in his mouth. She kissed him with passion and energy. He assumed he knew what she wanted. It had been around five years, after all, and maybe her last chance of human contact in who knew how long.

He pulled away from her with a smile. “I want it to, but are you sure you want to? I mean, with me?” he asked.

She just laughed and pulled him in to kiss her again. “I’m sure you’re my type, even if we did start off badly, but I’m in charge. You do what I say. I can’t do this if I’m not in control.” Seth just laughed. He was more than happy to let her take control. In a way, he understood her mind well. It had been so long and she wanted to go slowly, not have some slavering man pinning her down. It was for her as much, if not more than him right now.

“Good boy,” she said and pushed him back into the sand.

She kissed him again and he felt the passion rising in her and himself as her light and beautiful body lay against his. She looked gorgeous with her scruffy blonde matted hair, perfect blue eyes, and a slight smile. He hoped she would allow him to see the real her and not her guise of perfection. She reached down as she kissed him and slowly undid the leather ties on the top of his pants. She freed his cock, which was hard in moments and slowly ran her hand along it. Her fine white hand was cool and he almost laughed at the sensation.

She grinned at him looking down at it. “I knew it.” She leaned in to kiss him more. “Now close your eyes and lean back.”

Seth obeyed her and laid back in the sand, closing his eyes. He felt her lean back and slowly pulled aside her thin dress and then her hand on his cock again. She ran the tip back and forth very slowly across the entrance of her pussy and then guided it inside of her. Seth gasped at the incredible feeling of it. She was so wet and ready for him. He opened his eyes for a second, but she just told him to close them again.

Seraphina let out a slow moan herself as she lowered herself fully onto him. She began rocking back and forth. Seth could feel the pleasure building as his cock slowly slid in and out of her. He’d wanted her from the first time he’d seen her. They had been enemies but she was always incredible looking and held herself with such confidence. The more he’d come to know her in the past few days, the more he wanted her. She was funny, kind and smart. He’d do this the way she wanted. The girl had needs. Seth drew on some of his memories and, reaching down with his hand, rested his thumb against the spot. Just at the top of her pussy, calling out to be touched. He flicked his thumb slowly back and forth across it.

He could feel her rocking faster and faster. “That’s good,” she said and ground down on him deeper. She was speeding up and her moans were increasing. He realized she was ready to go. It would be very easy. She was so pent up and just wanted release. “Open your eyes,” she said. He was glad he did. He got to see the beautiful sight of those deep blue eyes locked on his as she came. Her perfectly refined faced flushed red and she actually swore like him more than once.

She collapsed with her head against his bare chest, softly panting; his cock still inside her. She sat up and looked at him. “You didn’t?” she asked.

“You didn’t tell me too,” he said with a smile. Seraphina leaned down and kissed him again. Seth could feel how much more relaxed and happy she was. It wasn’t just the release. He knew this was the moment she’d decided to try to love him. It was both of them getting closer and trying to build something.

She leaned back and looked at him again. “So we can go again?” she asked.

“We can, but this time, I want to see all of you,” he said.

Seraphina stood up from him and reaching down slowly, pulling off her dress and showing him all of her. No tricks. Just her lovely pale body in the moonlight. He looked up at her.

“Maybe we can stay a few more nights?” he said.

She grinned at him. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

Chapter Six.

Minsetta’s situation had gone from fantastically lucky to downright troubling in the space of a few hours. First she was killing and laughing, had two allies in Grimm and the girl Josette and now he’d shown up, looking like a miniature version of his father who had made her life a living hell. Made her flee her own city for the goddesses’ sake. King Thellas the younger.

Her father had known of the Dark Guild, her and all in that shadowy world and for the most part, he’d steered cleared, still he let his hatred of women guide him and finally driven her out of her own city. When she saw his bald-headed eunuchs with the new king, she knew that the apple hadn’t fallen far from the stunted tree. She still remembered those ugly features in her dreams. Guided by their king, or rather directing him from the shadows, the Order of the Learned, sexless idiots.

Minsetta watched the king pass by on his fine white horse and look her right in the eye as he passed on his way to the Keep, with his few hundred men marching behind. If Elizebetha thought this was her salvation, then she was sadly mistaken. Minsetta walked back through the camp, smiling at the men of the Red Bastards and eventually found Grimm.

Grimm sat heavily on a small stool, bleary eyed, and drinking what she hoped was water from a small leather skin. His eyes had a far-off cast, he was clearly deep and far away from this camp and the world of now.

“We have a problem,” she said, crouching on the ground before him.

“I have a problem. It feels like a blacksmith cracked open my head and poured some melted iron into it,” he said.

“You shouldn’t take so many memories at once, but still it seems you did what needed to be done and have protected something that will now need,” she said.

Grimm looked at her through watery eyes with surprise.

“Of course, I know,” she said softly.

She was a little jealous of his knowledge and power now but spoke truth. She knew what was next, what had already happened while she searched for the drunken Northman.

“We have to leave. Today,” she said. “You, me and Josette, if she’ll come.”

“And why’s that?” Grimm asked.

“Because the king’s arrived.”

“So what? He looks like a child I’ve never been less impressed by someone.” He spat.

As Grimm spoke, he looked at the keep. A thick, dark snake of smoke started to rise from the courtyard and stain the sky like a dark thought.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“It’s books, Grimm. Lots of books.”

***

Dagosh’s men were busy piling up the bodies of the dead onto blood-drenched wagons. It was a nasty job, but better he did it than anyone else. At least, they’d do it with some respect. The Red Bastards had the good sense to leave his people the hell alone. Each one had been left, untouched, weapons and armor still in one piece. They clearly didn’t want to piss off their new allies, or at least, wanted a day to rest before getting in another fight.

They had won the battle and he felt nothing but tired. He’d imagined it was some glorious adventure, but realized he just wasn’t angry anymore. He’d been filled for so many years with such a pit of rage. It was like a fire that drove him onwards, but now, looking at the dead faces of the men and women he’d saved from slavery, trained, and become friends with, his rage left him. He felt cold without it.

He thought he was rescuing them, giving them some meaning and pride back in their lives. Now they had no lives at all. When this was over, he was going to hire the Cold Death out as guards only and do easy work. This was just too hard.

He looked up to see smoke rising from the Keep. It was a deep dark color and it looked like trouble. The fire lit inside him again in an instant.

“Cold Death,” he yelled to the hundred or so men and women who were collecting the bodies,

“To arms!”

***

Never trust a king. Never trust people who all look the same, have little uniforms with strange symbols and carry stupid looking weapons. Goldie was a good judge of when people were lying, play acting and when he had seen his new friend Thellas talking with Elizebetha, he saw the truth of it. A man holding himself back from violence. He looked like a drunkard getting ready to hit his wife.

He was quite used to smiling at someone when he really wanted to stick a dagger in them. His father had taught him that skill early on. Now he could smile while the dagger was actually in them, but naive old Elizebetha just followed them into the Keep and probably thought all her troubles were over.

The courtyard fell silent when they disappeared through the huge open doorway. He saw the king’s troops, standing still but silently preparing, tightening straps, straightening armor, testing bowstring and whispering to each other. There was no one to fight. The Reds were in their camp and were clearly part of the king’s plans, but the Blackrock loyalist were here and the Cold Death were only minutes away. The king had brought enough men to deal with them both.

Goldie watched, face unmoving, as soon as the red-clad men came back out of the Keep. They carried armloads of expensive looking books and leather bound volumes, throwing them roughly in a pile on the ground. He’d seen her library and knew where they came from. After two or more trips, they had quite the pile. One man bent down with a flint and spark stone, after a few strikes they were alight. A pillar of smoke started to rise from the pile as they cracked softly.

The captain of the Blackrock Guards, a man called Griffin or something, had been looking on, clearly trying to gather the courage to do something. Now he stepped forward to one of the bald men.

“What is the meaning of this? Surely the lady will not abide this?” he said.

As quick as an assassin, the bald man pulled a small curved dagger from behind his back and thrust it into the man’s belly. Its sharp blade slid easily through his leather armor. He held the soldier close as his body slid to the ground, slumping backwards into a growing pool of blood. Goldie turned and calmly walked away. He knew what was next. The sounds of battle started ringing behind him, but not a hand touched him as he walked towards the gate.

Then he saw just what he’d expected. Brave old Dagosh, running towards the Keep. His hundred and fifty or so fighters that were still left, followed, armed and ready behind him. Blood up and looking for a fight. They’d be killed in a heartbeat. Goldie rushed out the gate and met them on the roadway, out of sight of the king’s men.

“Stop Dagosh!” he yelled.

Dagosh went to run past. Goldie drew his sword with a deep sigh and pointed at him.

“I should have known you’d turn traitor,” he spat, stopping.

“I’m not, you fucking idiot, but if you go in there you’ll all be dead and I’d rather that not happen,” Goldie said.

“We have to protect Elizebetha!” Dagosh said with real feeling. This man actually cared about her.

“You can’t. She’s dead. I’m sure of it and now, unless you want all these fine people to join her, you have to run.”

“The Cold Death don’t run!” shouted one of the archers drawing on him. It was Captain Stellos. She fired a well-aimed shot into his shoulder. It sunk fast and deep into his flesh, making him drop his sword with a grunt. Dagosh rushed past him, shoving him roughly to the side, and hitting his head on the roadway. In the midst of them, he saw Josette. She looked back at him for a moment and ran on.

Goldie looked from the roadway as the brave idiots ran through the gate and at a force twice their size.
Fucking loyalty
, he thought as he passed out.