Born of Stone (12 page)

Her soft breath whispered across his lips and he could see her trembling, but he ignored it to taste her sweet mouth. She tasted of blackberries and cream. He licked across the seam of her lips until she opened for him with a sigh of surrender. Then he delved into her mouth with a hunger he hadn’t experienced in too long. She was delicious. He lost himself for a moment in her taste and innocent sounds. The light touch of her palm on his bare chest burned him with passion but he held it in check, lest he frighten her. Just when he was ready to move his mouth farther down her jaw, she pulled away abruptly and took a stumbling step back. Tears fell down her cheeks but she no longer looked frightened.

“I…I…”

“What is it, pretty one?”

“I can’t do this. I’m so sorry.”

Then she turned and ran from the room. He cursed himself for a fool and an animal. Now she might never return and then where would he be?

Amazingly, the thought of never seeing her again was more bothersome than that of being chained indefinitely.

Phaidra ran from the house as if the hounds of the many hells were after her. She met no one when she followed the well-worn path to the small hut she shared with the other servants to Iva’s household. She was the only Fifth, and therefore somewhat in charge of the Sixths and Sevenths below her. However, she almost never took charge and they often ignored her completely.

Their hut was empty, only the thin straw mattresses littering the floor any indication of its occupants. Each one had a single threadbare blanket and a small basket of their personal belongings on top. She went to hers, which was closest to the small stone fireplace as befitting her station, and rummaged through her basket. Hidden at the very bottom and folded within her only other dress was a drawing of her mother.

Phaidra had no living family and had only been taken into Iva’s household as a favor to her dying mother. Iva, Kalypso, and Phaidra’s mother had been friends as children and miraculously, Iva hadn’t ignored the request. Phaidra had been five years old and terrified of losing the only family she had, but Kalypso had promised to look after her. For some reason, the usually fiery redhead had taken Phaidra under her wing and treated her decently. It was the only reason Phaidra had made it so far. Even after seventeen years, she rarely did anything to draw attention to herself, more comfortable with her station in the middle of the hierarchy.

Now she had a choice. She could go to the Council of Firsts and tell them of Master Nel’s imprisonment, or she could do nothing more than Iva and Kalypso ordered. The problem was she just couldn’t be certain of the council’s reaction. Master Nel was correct in assuming they would have him released immediately. They could do no less. However, once he was on his way, she would definitely be punished. Every Kevan’s first priority was her House. If she betrayed the House of Iva, she would never be welcome there again. Could she really leave Keva for the foreign land of the Masters?

She replaced the drawing and looked around her living space. It was smaller than many of her station. As a Fifth, she should have been sleeping in the house by now. However, Iva had many Fourths and Thirds. They took up all the room and kept her in her place. She wasn’t abused and she had regular meals. Overall, she didn’t have much to complain about. It wasn’t a glamorous existence but she had never needed such. She was a simple girl who only wanted to do what was right. Keeping a Master imprisoned was definitely
not
right.

With a sigh, she left the hut and stood on the path leading up a small hill to the large house. From her vantage point, she could see the city barrier to the north and her Kevan sisters patrolling the afternoon sky. She had never aspired to be a warrior of any class. She would never know the back of a dragon or the weight of a spear. But she now knew the kiss of a Master and that seemed even more dangerous than any battle. Her heart was warring with her good sense. She just didn’t know what to do.

“Mother…how I wish you were here to guide me.”

Orestes landed half a league away from Angor and found Goran and Steinn waiting for him. They both remained in Gargoyle form so he did as well.

“Brothers, how fare the borderlands?” he asked.

Both men looked troubled as they glanced at each other before answering.

“In chaos,” Goran said. “We’ve been spotting refugees leaving the bordering villages in droves, all headed farther into Halstrid.”

“They speak of creatures attacking their homes, burning them out and killing any who linger,” Steinn added. “But we have yet to encounter anything save the aftermath of such attacks. The sky is smeared with smoke and the ground drenched in blood. But there is nothing to
fight
!”

The frustration in his voice was plain on both their faces.

“We must alert the King,” Orestes said.

“I’m sure he already has been told by the Twenty. There were wizards already combing the remains when I landed in the west,” Goran said.

“Aye. Same in the east,” Steinn replied.

Orestes looked past them in the direction of Angor. “Want to place bets we’ll find the same here?” One grunted; the other shrugged. “Let’s go.”

They took to the air again as one and closed the distance to Angor. Within a few minutes, Orestes noted the trail of destruction before they finally landed amidst the smoking remains.

“It’s the same as the other villages I’ve seen,” Steinn said. Goran nodded in agreement.

“I passed some villagers on the way who spoke of a minotaur,” Orestes replied.

His brothers looked grave but not at all surprised.

“A minotaur, a cyclops and even a few trolls,” called a voice.

All three Gargoyles turned to see two wizards headed their way.

“Masters! We are indeed under attack, but by whom is still in question. Never in my many, many years have I seen these types of creatures work together.”

The wizards reached them and the gargoyles bowed their heads to their makers.

“Bastien, Corbin, we are at your service,” Orestes said.

Corbin laid a hand on each of their arms in greeting, as was his way. He was always the type to touch those near him whether they liked it or not. Bastien stood back and merely watched in silence.

“We arrived a short time ago,” Corbin said. “All is as it was when we got here.”

The Gargoyles nodded and began looking around. All around them were burned homes and dead animals. Crops had been rudely yanked from the ground and scattered to the four winds. The village church had been desecrated, a large wooden cross broken in half and sitting in the doorway.

“One thing I don’t see is people,” Bastien observed, speaking for the first time. “They seem to have been given time to flee. Does anyone else find that odd?”

“Yes,” they all murmured.

“It seems fear is the biggest concern here,” Corbin said.

“Fear and destruction of property,” Orestes said.

They looked around some more, finding the tracks of their adversaries easily. However, they led away from the village and the border. Angor was a fishing village with cliffs on two sides over a vast lake. Another side led into the forest Orestes had already passed. The remaining direction led to Keva.

“To Keva then?” Goran asked.

The brothers looked at each other and Orestes wondered if they shared the sinking feeling in his gut. Keva had many treaties with Halstrid. Fighting them would be like fighting kin.

“To Keva,” he said.

They bid goodbye to the wizards, who promised to repair the village. Even with only two of them, they had a vast store of magic. Then the Gargoyles took to the air once again to head for Keva. The day was swiftly ending, but the journey into the home of the female warriors would be completed by nightfall.

The closer they flew to the Kevan border, the more agitated Orestes became. On any other day, he would have flown straight through their barrier, a shimmering wall of pure magic that kept anyone with ill intent out of their lands. However, a churning in his gut left him wary and he landed a full league shy. His brothers dropped beside him. The three moons had already risen and he was hungry, but there was something bothering him he couldn’t quite name. A menacing doubt filled him where visiting Keva had never garnered such a sensation before. He almost felt as if he faced a battle line.

“You feel it too?” Steinn asked.

Orestes lifted a brow in surprise but nodded.

Goran nodded also. “Something isn’t right but damned if I can decipher it. When was the last time either of you visited Keva?”

Orestes thought back over the past few months and Steinn shrugged.

“I was here two weeks ago,” Goran said.

“It’s been at least six weeks for me,” Orestes admitted.

“I was here four days ago,” Steinn said. “And this feeling didn’t overcome me then. I flew right through the barrier without a thought. Want to place bets the barrier will not accommodate us so easily this night?”

“Which would go against our treaty,” Goran said.

“Yes. The King negotiated safe passage for all of us at any time,” Orestes said.

Steinn shrugged and looked toward the shimmering wall, barely visible in the darkened sky. “Perhaps. I could be wrong, but fear I’m not.”

“Well, there’s only one way to know for certain,” Goran replied.

With one last shared look, they continued on foot, remaining in Gargoyle form. At the ground level, there was an actual wall of stone with a massive gate. It was always guarded by a contingent of Thirds from the many Houses of Keva. As soon as they were within sight, a call went out and Orestes recognized two of his former lovers. Other women called out a welcome to Steinn and Goran.

“So far, so good,” Orestes murmured for his brothers’ ears only. “We’ll soon see.”

They reached the gate and waited patiently for it to open. It was three times their height and nearly as wide as all twelve of them standing side-by-side. It would take a few minutes for the women to heft it open even a crack, much less enough to allow them entry.

“They could have just bid us fly over,” Steinn observed.

Orestes noticed that as well. He watched while the women standing atop the wall continued to stare down at them wordlessly. Even the ones who had been calling to them had stopped the calls and were waiting with solemn faces and a hand on their weapons. It had been so long since they had negotiated their treaties, Orestes wasn’t certain what to think or feel. He had begun to think of the Kevan as his sisters-in-arms. This felt like the worst sort of betrayal.

“Four days ago you sensed no unrest?” he asked Steinn.

“None whatsoever. I was with a woman the whole time I stayed here, nearly three days. It was her birthing day so I helped her celebrate.” They all grinned at each other for a moment. “I only left to have supper with you lot. Perhaps I should have lingered.”

“No. Then we’d most likely be looking for you alongside Nel,” Goran said.

Orestes whipped his head around to stare at his brother. “Do you think so?” he asked.

Goran shrugged and stared at the unopened gate. “Don’t know. But they certainly aren’t letting us right in like we’re used to. Are they?”

That thought caused unease in Orestes’s gut and anger began to boil in his veins. The thought of any of his brothers being held against his will was nearly enough to put him in a rage. But he had to tread carefully. They didn’t know what was going on, and the Kevan were protected by the same treaties they might be breaking. Until the Masters knew they had reason, they couldn’t storm through the barrier.

After what felt like an eternity, the gate began to creak in a telltale sign of movement. The brothers waited, still in Gargoyle form, to see what this meant. It took a few minutes for the gate to open enough for a single figure to emerge wrapped in a long black cloak. Orestes couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman. He knew from the slender build it wasn’t Nel and he became more agitated. Then the figure pushed the hood from over his head.

“Albain,” Goran said through gritted teeth.

Steinn muttered an oath and Orestes growled. This was the last of the Twenty any of them wished to see.

“Masters,” Albain called in greeting. He held his arms out to his sides as if opening them for an embrace. “Welcome to Keva.”

The wizard stopped a few paces away, far enough so the Gargoyles couldn’t reach him without lunging. The brothers looked at each other a moment before Orestes stepped forward.

“Good evening, Albain. Are we no longer welcome within this realm?”

Albain frowned and looked over his shoulder as if he had forgotten where he stood. “Nonsense. Of course you are.”

“Then why the delay?” Goran asked.

Albain shrugged. “There was some confusion over why the three of you didn’t attempt to fly in. I was called to speak to you and ensure all was well.”

Though his words sounded sincere enough, Orestes still didn’t trust them—or him. He looked over his shoulders at his brothers and saw identical skepticism in their eyes. He turned back to face the wizard.

“Well then, lead the way in.”