Night of the Storm: An Epic Fantasy Novel (The Eura Chronicles Book 2) (10 page)

DARK THOUGHTS FILLED DRAGNOR’S
mind.

He had searched the human realm for eighteen years for The Flame. Each year the Lilae had alluded him. After finally catching her, she’d managed to slip through his fingers once again.

In his pocket was a single strand of her ruby-red hair. He kept it with him at all times. Now, he pulled it from his pocket and stroked the iridescent red strand. The colors changed in waves from gold to red. He smelled it, his eyes closing as her scent sent shivers along his ash-colored skin.

How she’d managed to cloud Emperor Kavien’s judgment was a mystery. All he knew was that he wanted her back.

Her death would buy him more time.

The sound of boots plodding hurriedly down the dungeon stairs ripped him from his thoughts.

“Master Dragnor,” the guard called. The smell coming from the torture chamber kept him back, as did Dragnor’s dark glare.

“What is it?”

Even over the stench of blood and rotting guts, Dragnor could smell sweat and dirt on the guard and realized that it was daytime.

The guard bowed. “The men you summoned, sir. They have arrived.”

A pleased smile came to Dragnor’s thin lips.

Dragnor turned and disappeared up the stairs faster than the man’s eyes could see.

It took only seconds to reach the top. Straightening his clothing, Dragnor made his way to the entrance at the back of the castle that led to the main courtyard.

Weeks of waiting had finally come to an end.

The castle was dark, just as he had ordered. The palace finally felt like home. All torches and candles had been left unlit.

The dark soothed Dragnor. It reminded him of his prior life in Nostfar and even more of his afterlife in the Underworld.

Darkness was his friend and ally. It allowed him to walk unseen, yet he could see anyone in his path with perfect vision. Servants stumbled to complete their duties, using only the occasional flicker of natural light that spilled through open windows and drapes. He would very much like this darker new world.

Once he stepped into the light that flooded the room from a sky light at the very top of the palace he folded his hands before him. His eyes shone with pride at what he saw.

Standing in the wide entryway was the Maloji Tribe. They were in three sets of twelve and all bowed when Dragnor stood before them. Each man had his hair pulled straight back. Their faces were all tattooed with the intricate white symbols of their clan.

“Brothers,” Dragnor said, and they all nodded in respect.

No one spoke, but they all stood to their full height. The palace staff all scrambled around, staring at the Shadow Elves, but trying not to be seen. They were even more intimidating than Dragnor. The Maloji were a specialized sect of Nostfar warriors.

Taken as boys to the underground temples, they were trained to fight with every weapon conceivable and forced to live in the most extreme conditions so that they would learn how to truly survive any situation.

These were the men responsible for the infiltration of the other realms. They led the Shadow Elf armies and trained the soldiers. These men were the reason the Avia’Torenan army would be made nearly indestructible.

Back in the ancient days before The Barriers, the fraud Garion had tried to teach a system of fighting to the other races to prepare them for the devastation a Maloji warrior could cause.

Dragnor grimaced at the memory of seeing Garion in the palace weeks ago. His reputation truly preceded him, and he was made even more frightening after being risen from the dead. He knew how to stop him, though. Kill Elder Delia, and you kill the puppet Garion.

“The work has begun, Master Dragnor,” Parvos spoke for his troop. They all wore crimson light armor. It fit sleek onto their slim, toned, bodies.

“We will destroy Kyril.”

“And Alfheim,” Hitari added. His troop wore black. They simply had to aid what Wexcyn had already started. Plagues, widespread fires, floods, and creatures of the Underworld had been set loose.

The Maloji entered palaces where no one else could penetrate, and killed entire families, making sure no heir survived. To leave a lone heir of any clan would be a terrible mistake. The power passed down to a Legacy would be almost as strong as that of an Ancient.

Dragnor’s eyes scanned the assembled warriors.

“What of Nostfar?”

This would be the test to see if they truly were loyal. He didn’t doubt any of them. None had families that they remembered. But still, there could be a shred of loyalty to one’s race.

Dragnor had given that loyalty up long ago. Wexcyn promised them immortality, the chance to be rulers in this new world while all other Shadow Elves would be totally wiped out.

Nomavi gave a single nod. His troops were all garbed in green.

“There was one problem,” Parvos admitted. “We entered the Raeden palace. We killed everyone, however, the Alden heir lives. Our brothers found him in Tolrinia, and he escaped.”

Dragnor’s grin faded as he watched Parvo’s expressionless face. None of those men feared him. They were bred without fear. If it came down to a fight, Dragnor would lose, but his power made him stronger then all of those men.

His jaw clenched. He tried to keep his composure, but Dragnor hated bad news.

“Which one? Was it Daveed, the eldest?” Dragnor could only imagine how powerful that Tryan would be with all of his ancestor’s power passed down.

“No, the youngest,” Parvos said.

“Wilem?”

“Yes. He lives. The Storm, Prince Liam, rescued him.”

Dragnor stared at Parvos then he looked over the other Maloji.

Dragnor laughed. “But the boy cannot be a day over ten years old.”

Parvos nodded. “And yet we should never underestimate a Legacy, even one that is a child. Children grow into men. Men that seek revenge for the deaths of loved ones.”

Dragnor’s laughter was extinguished. “Very well, Parvos. If he is still alive in Kyril, the beasts should kill most of the Tryans as they try and reach Eura.”

“He has a dragon.”

Dragnor’s eyes widened. It took a lot to surprise him. Dragons were rare. They were the most powerful creatures in the world. The vision of a Legacy, commanding a dragon changed things.

“Nomavi,” Dragnor turned to the elf.

Nomavi stood still and ready to be commanded.

“Dragnor.”

“Find the Alden Legacy. Kill him.”

Nomavi nodded, and he turned to his men. They didn’t need orders; their duty was understood. They filed behind their leader and exited the palace.

“All right, brothers,” Dragnor clasped his hands before him. His gaze darkened as he thought of the many tasks that needed to be carried out. “Now let’s get a move on before the emperor is awakened.”

“What about The Flame? Are you still searching for her?”

A grin appeared on Dragnor’s face. “Don’t worry. I’ve already found her.”

IT WAS A LONG WAY DOWN
from where Lilae stood on the balcony of her room in the Citadel guest house.

Lilae looked down at the stone beneath her. She clutched the railing, afraid that somehow she would fall to her death.

Lilae was never fond of heights.

Still, she couldn’t help standing there, taking in the magnificent view of Gollush and its thousands of citizens.

The cavern was tall enough to house buildings that rivaled any that Lilae had ever seen in her many travels through Eura. The narrow stone towers were sure to house hundreds of elves at a time, with ten to twenty rows of windows that looked out of the circular structures.

Clearly, this civilization had spent thousands of years building, growing, and advancing.

This, Nostfar, was nothing like she’d imagined it to be.

Footsteps drew Lilae’s attention. She glanced back at Pretica as she walked from Lilae’s room to the small balcony.

“I bet you never expected such an achievement from Shadow Elves,” Pretica said with a tight smile on her lips. She stood beside Lilae and shrugged. “I know of your folktales and scary bedtime stories.”

Lilae’s cheeks reddened. “You’re right. I did not.”

“That’s fine. We have stories about you too,” she said with a chuckle. “We thought your teeth would be pointier. Sharp enough to bite our throats like the stories my mother used to tell Ayoki and I.”

Lilae’s eyes widened, having never seen a sharp-toothed humans in all of her life. “Really?”

“Yes.”

Pretica wrapped her long fingers around the railing and used it to stretch her arms. “I much prefer reality to the pictures I made in my head about you humans and Tryans.”

“As do I,” Lilae said. She stepped away from the balcony and sat on the bench against the wall of the tower. “Your sister. The Seer. How long ago did the Bellens take her?”

Pretica tensed at the mention of her sister and the Bellens.

Lilae was curious. Her experience with Sister Eloni hadn’t been pleasant. The woman had tried to kill her after pretending to be a friend and ally. Lilae hoped that the Seer wasn’t in any trouble.

They needed her.

“I worry about her,” Pretica said, her face becoming serious as she looked out at the city below. “She is fragile.”

“How so?”

“Ayoki is not very…stable,” Pretica said, her voice lowering. “Her power is not like yours and Liam’s. It consumes her.”

Lilae sat up straighter, intrigued. “What can she do?”

Pretica turned on her heels, so abruptly that Lilae tensed, expecting to get hit for asking the question.

“Come, you’re clean, in new clothes; let’s get you some weapons, shall we?”

Lilae nodded, her eyes narrowing when Pretica didn’t wait for a reply and simply stalked back into Lilae’s room and to the door that led to the stairs.

Now, she wanted to know even more about what exactly the Seer could do.

Whatever it was, it had caused absolute terror to fill Pretica’s eyes despite her attempt to change the subject and fix a fake smile to her lips.

Lilae stood and followed Pretica.

Secrets.

She never liked those.

“WEAPONS,” PRETICA SAID
,
motioning to a long table at the back of the armory on one of the locked lower levels of the Citadel. “You’ll need them if you want to make it to the Goblin City safely. Chosen or not, there are many creatures and enemies between Gollush and Vaugner’s tower that I wouldn’t want to face unarmed.”

Delia sat on a bench, wrapped in freshly laundered brown robes as she examined a glowing Shadow Elf dagger.

Lilae, Liam, and Rowe tested weapons that caught their eye.

Liam knew quite well about the enemies Pretica spoke of. During his time in the Order, he’d fought Shadow Elves for longer than he cared to recall. They already swarmed much of Kyril. He just hoped his mother, Queen Aria was safe from the increasing threat.

“Thank you, Pretica,” Lilae said.

Liam watched Lilae sheath a Valhorian long sword into her new finely crafted scabbard, and a dagger in each boot. She looked fine in her new, clean Shadow Elf light armor. The form-fitting brown leather clung to her curves. A silver breastplate covered her full bosom, over a tunic that was tucked into soft hide pants. Even her boots were impressive, hard and covered in more silver armor.

Liam was certain Lilae would look attractive in anything she wore.

“You’re welcome. I hate to admit that there are more enemies in the woods than allies. Nostfar creatures can be treacherous.”

“I’ve come face to face with a basilisk from Nostfar before,” Lilae said. “I still have the scar.”

“At least you have your life,” Pretica added.

“These are fine weapons,” Rowe said. He tested the weight of multiple axes.

Liam raised a Shadow Elf sword. A cast of his Tryan power into its steel made it glow a dim yellow. He made sure to use very little power, just to test whether or not it was safe to use his Enchant without breaking the blade.

“You don’t have to hold back, Liam. Our steel is one of the strongest in all of the realms. Only the Silver Elves can rival our weapon forging. Our gods are sisters after all. It isn’t a surprise that their people would have such similar qualities.”

“Aden is known for creating complex gods,” Delia stuck a dagger in her belt. “I dare say Ellowen has the most varied gods in all of the worlds.”

“Indeed,” Pretica said with a nod.

Liam poured more of his power into the sword, testing the steel’s limits. Each surge of his essence made the sword’s glow change color. It went from yellow to orange to blood red. At it’s maximum input, the sword glowed a deep blue.

Liam’s brows rose. “This sword can now cut through stone like a knife through softened cheese.”

“I approve of this ax,” Rowe added, his ax burning a deep red as he gave it a swing through the air.

A smile came to Pretica’s face. One of the first they’d seen on the otherwise serious woman. “I am honored by your approval.”

Pretica nodded to the map in Lilae’s side purse.

“The map will show you the fastest route to where The Barrier between Nostfar and Eura once was. After that, you’ll follow the river to the Goblin City. We haven’t been able to document much of the path through Eura, but I believe there is one human town between The Barrier and your destination.”

Lilae cried out, and everyone stopped what they were doing.

She fell to her knees with a pained look on her face, and Liam met her on the floor, catching her in his arms.

“Lilae?”

Lilae clutched his neck. “Help. The pain. My skin!” Her thin fingers struggled to take off her armor. She cried out again, a scream so blood curdling that it gave Liam chills.

Delia was on her feet in seconds, helping Lilae remove her clothing. Liam took a dagger from Lilae’s boot and cut through the fastenings of her armor and the buttons on her tunic.

When she fainted, Liam’s mind turned to the worst possible outcome.

She cannot die. Please. Not her.

Opening her clothing revealed cream-colored undergarments stained with fresh blood. Delia touched Lilae’s odd black tattoos of symbols Liam vaguely remembered from his studies during his time in the vaults as a young boy.

Lilae’s tattoos started to bleed as if the symbols cut and burned her skin. Blood dripped onto the floor and onto Liam’s hands.

“Holy Elahe,” Pretica gasped. “Those tattoos. I’ve seen those symbols in the old temple ruins.” She pointed at Lilae, stepped away. “She’s marked by dark magic.”

“Magic from the Underworld,” Delia said. Her glare lifted to Pretica, her white cheeks reddening with fury.

“How?” Pretica stepped away from Lilae as if the tattoos would infect her somehow.

“Dragnor did this,” Delia snarled. “He’s collecting on his promise to make Lilae suffer no matter how far she runs. He is a vengeful soul, one that I cannot wait to get my hands on.”

Liam clenched his jaw, vowing to end the Shadow Elf’s life the first chance he got. But now, he needed to help Lilae. He collected her writhing body in his arms.

His heart raced as she cried out in pain. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head, showing only the whites.

“I’m not letting him harm her. We’ve healed each other before,” he said to Delia, desperate for some kind of confirmation that what he had said was true. “Maybe I can heal her now.”

“Maybe.” Delia’s eyes widened as she nodded her head. She touched Lilae, withdrawing her hand as if Lilae’s skin had burned her. “This magic is strong. You can certainly try.”

“Take her to the infirmary. Maybe one of our clerics can help her as well, though we know nothing of combating dark magic such as this.”

Liam nodded, looking down at Lilae’s pale face as she hung lifeless in his arms. “Show me the way.”