Read The Shadow Games: The Chronicles of Arianthem VI Online
Authors: Samantha Sabian
The Shadow Games: The Chronicles of Arianthem VI (29 page)
“You would have to get in line,” Talan said, “There is one more dangerous than you with designs on her.”
“Yes,” Pernilla said, her dark eyes on the dragon, “I heard rumor of that obsession. The Goddess of our kind.” She shrugged “That is a battle you will not win.”
“We will see,” Talan said.
“Both contracts are rescinded, and the Shadow Guild will remove itself from this matter.”
“Thank you,” Talan said.
“And now,” Pernilla said, “because I am thoroughly stimulated and you allowed me to sate only the one need, I’m going to go put my Empress on her knees and have her sate the other.”
“Hmm,” Talan said.
Pernilla started toward the door through which Aesa had disappeared. She paused in the doorway. “And know, this Talan, if you ever require the services of the Shadow Guild, I will take her blood in payment anytime,” she said, nodding to the prone figure on the altar. She then gave Talan a heated once-over, “And yours as well.”
“I thought the Shadow Guild did not take the same payment twice,” Talan said.
Pernilla’s eyes were full of dark merriment and her tone of utter, arrogant confidence as she turned away. “I am the Shadow Guild,” she said over her shoulder, laughing, “And I will do as I will.”
Weynild returned to Raine’s side. Her eyes were once again open, still violet, and Weynild sat down next to her.
“I hate vampyres,” Raine muttered.
“You didn’t look like you hated that.”
“I didn’t,” Raine said, “it was actually pleasant, even, um, stimulating. I confess, even as tired as I am, I’m in a bit of a way.”
“Are you now?” Weynild said, intrigued. “Well I can’t have that, now, can I?”
Weynild had a skill in removing her armor that had to be supernatural, for within seconds, the lower half of her leathers were either gone or around her knees. And Raine truly was in a desperate state, for she cradled that silver head in her hands with a gratitude that bordered on worship as the lips went down on her. And that mouth tortured her, but not for long as Raine rocked beneath the cradled head, then writhed beneath her dragon lover on the altar in the empty throne room of the vampyr queen, climaxing until she was completely spent.
Fortunately, Weynild also had the supernatural ability to redress her because now Raine could barely move. All of the battles, the strength expended to save her love, the blood loss, and now the final exertion of sexual release was too much. She was exhausted. She tried to sit up, but Weynild tucked one arm beneath her knees and one beneath her arms, and lifted her as if she weighed nothing. Raine didn’t even argue, merely laid her head against her lover’s shoulder, drained. Weynild carried her out as if she were a child.
The “back door” that Raine had surmised existed was there, behind the throne room, which exited out onto an enormous terrace at the top of the mountain. It would not have been a point of ingress or egress for most, but for a creature of flight, it was perfect. There was only a solitary figure on the terrace, and it took Raine a moment to recognize the beautiful vampyr from Hestr and from the Hrafn catacombs. She stood leaning against the stone railing, nodding respectfully to the dragon but clearly entertained by Raine’s undignified position.
“What’s your name?” Raine asked, irritably certain that she knew.
“Can’t you guess?” the vampyr said.
“Malron’a.”
“Yes,” the real Malron’a said, her sensual tone communicating how humorous she found the situation.
“I hate vampyres,” Raine muttered as Weynild continued walking.
“Goodbye, Raine,” the vampyr called out mockingly after them. “We’ll see you soon.”
“They certainly seem to like you,” Weynild said.
Chapter 28
Y
’arren gazed at the group around her fire. The future First General of the Ha’kan still held Skye, unwilling to release her even in sleep. Half-seated, she embraced the Tavinter while the Royal Princess slept with her head in the Tavinter’s lap, arm wrapped around her waist just in case. Skye’s childhood friend lie on his back near them, his arm flung over her calf, just as they used to sleep as children. Not far from them, Syn was stretched out on her back, her head on a knapsack while Jorden slept curled around her with her head on her chest.
Isleif came up beside her, looking at his great-granddaughter with love and admiration. “She is going to be more powerful than me,” Isleif said.
Y’arren nodded. “You should have the seen the spell she cast, thirty people, all invisible and untouchable, nearly undetectable even to me.”
“It is unfortunate that Ingrid still lives,” Isleif said, “but Skye has something that I lacked, something that may serve her even better than magic.”
Y’arren turned her wise eyes upon him, and he responded to her unspoken query.
“Her friends.”
The sorceress combed through the wreckage of the garden, finding very little. But she had expected to find very little after discovering the carnage to the west in the forest, where the bodies of numerous slain Hyr’rok’kin lay, but none other.
She turned her attention to the house, which was empty but largely undisturbed. She entered the structure and everything appeared as it had for months, the girl’s books spread on the divan, her own books across from them. She made her way to her private room, which was still locked, and used her key to enter. The goblet was there, on the mantle and she lifted it to peer inside.
A great smile crossed her features. She did not know why she didn’t think of it before, other than perhaps she had not thought much about the girl being a mage until she displayed that power in the garden. But the dragon’s daughter had shown her the way, and now she had found what she needed. She removed a miniscule glass vial from her inner pocket and carefully tipped the goblet to its edge. A tiny rivulet of blood rolled from the goblet into the vial, little more than a few drops, but it was all she needed. She capped the vial, then held it up to the light, and it glowed with a soft red luminance.
The girl lived.
Ingrid tucked the vial back into her inner pocket, where it would remain at all times. Her test confirmed that the vial worked, but in a way, she had already known that Skye was still alive. She walked back upstairs, through the room she had shared with her young, bemused lover, and out onto the balcony. The sorceress stared off across the fields at the setting sun. The dragon’s daughter was very powerful and very skilled, but she had not been close to Skye when she blocked that first spell, the one that would have bound the girl to her for all of time. And although her defense of Skye had been expert, it had not been complete. The smallest part of that energy had slipped through and touched the girl, so subtle she probably had not even noticed. But Ingrid had felt it, even as she stepped through the portal, she still felt it. The girl was tied to her by the thinnest of threads, but she was tied.
Ingrid removed the vial once more, and it glowed in the last rays of the sun. She could feel it respond to her, to that filament of connection. Ingrid smiled. Between the vial and the thread, she would be able to find the girl anywhere.
Chapter 29
F
aen watched his Mistress with unease. She walked through the Gardens of Night with a thoughtful mien, but not nearly as furious as he expected given the latest series of events. She stopped to examine the evening primrose and moon flowers, but he could tell she was not really looking at them. Hel continued on, her long, black cape flowing behind her. The demon followed, close enough to respond to her bidding, but not so close to draw her attention or ire if not needed.
So much manipulation for naught, Hel thought to herself. The dragons that had rebelled and sought to bring chaos had succeeded only in uniting Arianthem; the sorceress who sought the Tavinter had succeeded only in awakening her power; and that Arlanian had managed to create an ally from a dangerous enemy.
None of that mattered to her. True, she was disappointed that Talan had not used the fade bracelet as she thought she would. She was certain the dragon would have attempted to travel through Nifelheim again, and was prepared for her. But it had not been Talan but her daughter that had cut through her realm, and Hel had not been looking for the daughter. Unfortunate, for the dragon’s daughter would have been a prize, and Talan surely would have come for her.
Still, that did not matter much, either. No, in the larger game, the only thing that really mattered had succeeded, even exceeding her expectations. She stopped before the tree and looked up, as if her thoughts had brought her here. It rose up out of the ground, a grotesque, agonized, twisted, beautiful thing, the Tree of Death. And given such unique properties once grafted with a limb from a Dracaena from the Gardens of Ásgarðr, and with a limb from the Tree of Life that sat in the center of Iðavöllr, the splendid plains of the Heavens.
“Faen?”
The demon ran forward. “Yes, your Majesty?”
“How goes the resin?”
Faen was pleased that he had good news for his Mistress. “It is most excellent, your Majesty.”
“Have you been able to make stronger bonds of it?”
“Oh, yes,” Faen said, “we were able to move from that bracelet to fully formed ropes, and now you should see this.” He hurried behind the tree, disappeared for a moment, then returned dragging something behind him. It was a chain, thick and heavy, that glowed with a soft light and wriggled like something alive, the few links snaking about on the ground behind Faen. He proudly displayed the monstrosity.
“We were able to stabilize the petrification of the resin, to make something larger, more substantial.”
“That’s good,” Hel said, but she was not as pleased as Faen had hoped. “You’re going to need to make more.”
“More?” Faen said uneasily. These few links had taken an enormous amount of time and effort, consumed all the resources at his disposal. “How many more?”
Hel glanced at the few links, then turned away, her expression both cold and volcanic. “Enough to hold a dragon.”
Chapter 30
R
aine was lying comfortably on Weynild’s neck as the dragon made her way across Arianthem. The strong wings made short work of distances that had taken Raine days to cover. She was comfortably wedged between two rows of spikes, which allowed her to relax against the warm reptilian skin beneath her. There was barely any wind and Weynild’s pace was leisurely, which allowed them to talk.
“So Drakar killed Jörmung?” Raine asked.
“He did,” the dragon rumbled, “he arrived in Kylan’s keep in splendid fashion, and declared his undying loyalty to me in front of both Volva and Jörmung.”
Raine grinned at the scene in her head. “Was he as melodramatic as I’m picturing?”
“Oh yes,” Weynild said, “he was quite theatrical. He and Kylan went after Jörmung, and they took him down. And then Idonea arrived, having slipped through Nifelheim, and she was able to free me from those chains.”
“It was a stroke of brilliance to leave the fade bracelet with Idonea,” Raine said.
“It was a more a stroke of luck,” Weynild replied, “but I felt compelled to do so. And although Idonea was concerned for the Tavinter, having left her at the mercy of that sorceress, she was convinced that Skye could hold her own. And when I told her I felt Y’arren’s presence with Skye, she was greatly relieved.”
“I, too, feel that Skye is safe,” Raine said, “And I feel her strongly, as I did before.” She pressed her cheek against the dragon’s neck, breathing deeply. “Where are we going?”
“I believe we should return to the land of the Ha’kan,” Weynild said, “but first, I would like to spend a few days alone with you in my keep.”
This thought filled Raine with joy. Weynild’s keep, unlike Kylan’s castle, was little more than an enormous cave. But Raine loved it beyond all other locales, for it was where she had met Weynild, and where they could be completely and utterly alone.
“That sounds wonderful,” Raine said, hugging the muscled neck beneath her. The mention of Kylan had brought some mischievous thoughts to Raine. “I have several confessions, I think, most of which are unimportant and I have forgotten. But I must admit that my eyes turned violet almost the minute I saw Kylan.”
“That is as much the Scinterian in you as the Arlanian. And Kylan is very attractive,” Weynild said, unfazed.
A little too unfazed, Raine thought. “You really have slept with everyone in Arianthem, haven’t you?”
The dragon’s rumbling laughter felt good against her cheek. “I am a thousand years your senior. What do you think I was doing with all that time? But I have been faithful to you from the day we met,” she said, then added under her breath, “much to everyone’s disbelief.”
“And disappointment,” Raine said, hugging the lithe neck beneath, shifting her weight slightly, and wrapping her legs about the strong muscles moving beneath her.
Weynild turned her massive head to glance back, her amber eyes knowing. “What are you doing back there?”
“You’re doing that thing again.”
“What thing?”
“Flying so—, so rhythmically. You know I can’t resist you.”
“Mmm,” the dragon said. This was usually where she would dive to the ground, transform, and satisfy them both. But her young lover had earned a prize with her extraordinary feats of bravery and unselfishness. “Then perhaps you should give into that feeling.”
“Really?” Raine said, her head popping up. Normally she would restrain her passion until she could share the experience with her lover, but now she was being offered a generous gift. To be able to move against that sinewy neck without reserve, thighs clenched around those rippling muscles, high above the clouds, her cheek pressed against that smooth, silky skin…
“You have earned it,” the dragon said, amused, “so go right ahead.”
And so the dragon’s lover did, with complete and utter abandon.
Also from Samantha Sabian
CHRONICLES OF ARIANTHEM I
(ISBN: 978-0-9885822-1-7)
CHRONICLES OF ARIANTHEM II
(ISBN: 978-0-9885822-3-1)
CHRONICLES OF ARIANTHEM III
(ISBN: 978-0-9885822-5-5)
CHRONICLES OF ARIANTHEM IV
(ISBN: 978-0-9885822-7-9)
CHRONICLES OF ARIANTHEM V
(ISBN: 978-0-9885822-8-6)
visit us on the web at