Magical Lover (11 page)

Good try, girl. Good try.

Chapter 7

“He’s not well guarded.” Enar peered over Thoren’s shoulder, keeping in close proximity with his friend, thereby ensuring he remained invisible.

Thoren cocked his head to the side, watching the two men guarding Jamie roll dice. Hiding under the spell of invisibility, he and Enar had tracked the boy back to Keara’s store, where Jamie sat behind the counter tied to a chair and gagged, guarded by two not very observant men.

Through the open window, Thoren heard the dice rattling in the wooden cup before he saw them thrown onto the counter the men lounged against. One of the men let out a cheer, raking a pile of coins toward him. The other man glared at the winner, but proceeded to roll the dice again. Jamie stared at the game, dried blood frozen in rivulets from his temple to his jaw.

Crowds of people dressed in identical colors of drab brown and black cried noisily to the vendors hawking their wares in the stores lining the narrow street. Hit from behind by one of the passersby, Enar stumbled into Thoren, who fell against the window with a loud “oomph.”

“What was that?” one of the guards asked.

His friend shrugged. “Nothing important.”

“Dumber than rocks.” Thoren shook his head.

Enar chuckled. “Lucky for us. Which one do you want?”

“The bigger one. You’d have trouble with him.”

“If it makes you feel better to compensate for what you lack...”

“You wish.”

“Mmphm. Now do I use Blood Seeker, or the flimsy sword?” Enar mused.

Thoren glanced over his shoulder at the huge broadsword strapped to Enar’s back. Enar reached up, fingering the hilt of Blood Seeker, before placing his hand on the smaller sword sheathed at his waist beside his dagger.

“Wouldn’t be very sporting,” he said to Thoren’s raised brow.

“Hmm, tough and yet sporting. What have I done to deserve such a friend?”

Enar snorted. “Lucky, I guess. Ready?”

“As ready as I’m getting.”

Thoren swung the door open, landing it on the wall with a bang, simultaneously dropping his spell. Enar bellowed a war whoop and the two guards jumped, paling even as they reached for their weapons. Thoren pushed the weapon of the larger man aside, landing a punch on the side of the man’s jaw, knocking him into the counter. The man slipped to the floor, head lolling.

While Enar toyed with his victim, Thoren slid across the counter and pulled the gag off a wide-eyed Jamie.

“Did they hurt you?”

Jamie shook his head, mouth working like a fish, but no sound coming forth. Thoren touched the lump on the boy’s head that still oozed blood. It looked like he had been hit with a sword hilt.

“You sure?”

A vigorous nod.

Guess their definitions of hurt differed.

Thoren pulled his knife, sawing through the bonds holding Jamie’s arms to the chair. His knife had no sooner touched the ropes circling Jamie’s ankles, when Thoren heard the back door creak open. The knife’s movement froze as Thoren raised his eyes, looking for the newcomer.

“Hey, George, Hans, you can kill the boy.” Footsteps sounded, carrying the voice closer. “Lord Simon has the woman. Said the dumb bitch fell right into his hands.”

Keara. Cold rage spread throughout his limbs, focusing his thoughts into a single thread. Simon had Keara. Simon would die.

Dropping the knife, Thoren leapt to his feet, stretching out his hand to slam the newcomer against the wall with a blast of magic. Using magic, Thoren pinned the man against the wall, rage beating his pulse. He felt steam escaping from his ears and didn’t care who saw.

Simon had Keara. Simon would die.

The man’s eyes rolled, showing white as he struggled to breathe, hands flapping uselessly against the invisible grip on his throat, his feet kicking against air.

“What woman are you talking about?” Thoren snarled, his voice warped with fury.

“The...the witch...the apothecary witch,” the man squeaked as wetness stained the front of his trousers.

“Where?”

“Lord Simon’s house. I swear I had nothing to do with it. I’m just the messenger!”

With a roar, Thoren threw the man against the opposite wall, knocking him unconscious. Steam whipped around his head, blurring his vision. Scales rippled down his arms, his fingers changing into claws. The beast roared to escape.

What was happening to him? Why, in the name of the Goddess, was he even considering turning in a non-Draconi town? Had he completely lost his mind?

Taking a deep breath, he pushed the dragon back where it belonged. The claws shrank into fingers, scales disappearing into skin. He ran a hand through his hair and stared at the ceiling, trying to get his breathing under control. Forget the breathing, he needed to get his entire body under control. If anything happened to Keara, he became like a demented dragon, bouncing off the walls, threatening to turn into the beast.

He refused to think about what the demented dragon act meant.

“Now that you’ve finished playing darts out of soldiers, are you ready to go find Keara?” Enar leaned against the counter, a wide-eyed Jamie at his side.

Did the boy know he was a Halfling? There would be plenty of time to ask, but now they needed to find Keara. Thoren turned to Jamie.

“Tell me the quickest way to Lord Simon’s house.”

Jamie looked at the floor, then cut a sideways glance at Enar. “Umm. Well, you see, the quickest and safest way would be the sewers.”

Thoren groaned.

“Sweet Goddess, not again. I doubt I could abide the stench.” Enar shivered.

“And you know where his house is from the sewers?” Thoren raised a brow.

Jamie blushed. “Yes, sir.”

“Thought only thieves knew where the houses were on the sewer line.” Enar crossed his arms over his chest. Jamie gulped and backed away a step.

“Small boys do too. Especially when they got nothing better to do.”

Thoren threw Enar a glance, remembering their youth.

“Lead the way, Little Adventurer. But stick close. You have some explaining to do once we get Keara freed.” Thoren gestured toward the cellar.

****

From the dungeon, Simon carried Keara to what looked like a bedchamber, pitching her on the bed. She rolled, trying to get off the bed, but a hand stopped her. Her eyes followed the hand up the arm to the person’s head. A cowl hid the face in dim shadows. A brown robe like a priest’s cloaked its body. A squeak was the only sound the gag allowed her to make. Chills flowed through her skin from his touch on her shoulder and her body shook. Who was this?

Keara tried to roll the other way, but the hooded man stopped her, keeping her on her side. She felt cold steel slip between her hands and then relief as the rope around her hands released. Unfortunately the relief didn’t last. Simon grabbed one arm, the hooded man the other, and despite her struggles, they tied her arms to the bedposts. Her heart pounded against her ribs. They were going to rape her, they were going to kill her and no one would be able to stop them.

She pulled against the ropes holding her, but only succeeded in tightening them.

“Quite a fighter. Hopefully her powers are as strong as her spirit,” the hooded man said.

“I brought her to you. Do you have my money?”

“I said I’d pay you once she works out. Currently she’s tied to a bed. Until I know how well she’ll work out, you don’t get paid. Understand?” His voice hardened and Simon flinched. Hooded Man pulled the cowl further over his face, the drapes of robe hanging from his arm slipping up, exposing skin. Spindly black lines danced against pale white flesh.

Her eyes popped wide and froze. Draconi. A Draconi had her captured. What did that mean? Did Thoren know this man?

As if he read her thoughts, the hooded man turned toward her. “Ah. So you know.”

“Know what?” Simon asked.

“She knows who I am.”

Simon glared at Keara before turning back to the hooded man. “How? I don’t even know who you are and we’ve worked together for several weeks. A name would be nice.”

The man waved a hand and Simon shrugged. He turned back to Keara. “You’re wondering why you’re here. Let me tell you. You, my dear, will help me get revenge on my enemies, especially that hard-nosed bitch priestess who had me banished. I’ve waited months, plotting a way to get back at that bitch, and then like a gift from the Goddess, I saw you. Imagine that, a female Draconi unguarded. It took little effort to convince Simon to help me capture you. I couldn’t resist having you as mine and using your powers for revenge. Now, now, don’t shake your head just yet. You will help me. You won’t have a choice. Our friend here,” he gestured toward a grinning Simon, “has a special herb he’s going to feed you. It makes you quite amenable to whatever we want you to do. What’s it called?”

“Zombie dust,” Simon smirked.

Zombie dust? A barbed ball formed in her stomach, gnawing at her insides. Her breath caught. Zombie dust was against the apothecary code, forbidden, dangerous. Ground roots from the plant mixed with oil from the leaves and steeped into a tea made a drink so dangerous even the town’s laws forbid the possession of the plant. Too much and the user could die. Just the right amount and she would do whatever the one who gave her the drink asked. Anything. Cold seeped out from her stomach, shaking her limbs like a baby’s rattle.

“Ah. So she knows what zombie dust is.”

“Of course she knows. She’s the town’s apothecary.” Simon faced her. “But what you didn’t know is that I have taught myself herb lore. Nothing like you, of course. My skills focus on the illegal, the dangerous. Why should I bother to learn the mundane that you practice?”

Thoren had to find her and fast. Would he even bother? And what kind of punishment would Thoren give her for wandering off and getting caught? Despite what he thought, he was her husband according to her laws. How many bruises and scrapes had she and her grandmother tended when a husband decided his wife displeased him? She shuddered. Power crept out of Thoren, along with sheer masculinity. If he turned a mind to beating her, there wouldn’t be much left to clean up.

Be that as it may, she’d rather face Thoren’s wrath than whatever evil these men had planned for her.

Simon moved to a table on the opposite side of the room from where she lay and started mixing what she assumed to be the zombie dust potion.

The hooded man ran a finger down her throat, between her breasts. She jerked to the side and he laughed.

“Soon you won’t mind. You’ll do what I want. Where did you find her?” He walked to where Simon stood mixing his potion.

“Outside of the town. Her apprentice had returned. We have him too, she obviously was chasing him down. Guess she didn’t like her rescuer after all.”

“Is that true, female?” The man turned to Keara, his face still hidden in shadows.

Keara glared at him, refusing to move her head.

“Did he touch you, or will I be your first?”