Unleashed Fury (BloodRunes: Book 1) (24 page)

She stared into the fire, finding its dancing
flames mesmerizing, and she numbly took stock of her present
situation.
So, basically, I am all alone in the middle of
nowhere with only the few belongings I was able to quickly grab
while my former house was burning, my mentor brutally stabbed to
death, and my best friend kidnapped by probably the same murderers
who were doing who knows what to him at this very moment.
Well, it couldn't get any worse, right?

Layna cringed at the thought, and looked up
at the sky waiting for the Three to curse her with sleet or snow or
something
, but the night remained calm. She sighed. She
would have to try and save Gryffon - she couldn't just leave him in
the hands of those people. Not when he had already saved her from
the same, and she...
and I just can't leave anyone in their
hands,
she finished the thought.

No matter how hard she thought about it
though, she had no idea how she was going to help him. She couldn't
just walk into Jezebel's manor, she would be caught immediately.
She knew the way around, of course, but she was sure that the other
servants were under strict orders to report it at once if they
caught sight of her. Despite their inclinations towards her, she
was unsure that they would risk their own lives for her sake. All
her imagined schemes ended with death or imprisonment, and soon
Layna found herself yawning uncontrollably, her earlier hysteric
energy completely drained.

The snow in the water bag had all melted and
she offered some to each of the horses who drank it with relish.
She took off both saddles and commandeered the blankets beneath
them for her bed. She rolled the sleeves of her coat over her hands
and used them as mitts to pick up the now hot rocks, and put them
underneath the pine boughs for added warmth. She then coaxed the
horses to lie on either side of her and she cuddled between them,
wrapping her coat and the blankets tightly around her.

She lay staring at the bright stars in the
sky above her and named each of the Three, sending them a tiny
prayer to help her. She also sent out a silent apology to Mila for
so crudely burning her body, and then whispered a prayer of peace
for her as well. Again, a soothing calm overtook her, and she
drifted into an uneasy sleep.

She was shivering when she woke, but no worse
than when she had been back at Jezebel's. She saw that both horses
had already risen, and were looking around for food. Fly noticed
her movement and came over eagerly. He lipped at her hair, asking
for food.

“I'm sorry, Gorgeous,” she told him
regretfully, “but I only have a handful of grain or so from your
bags. I don't know what we're going to do.” She fished out what she
could, and they ate it greedily, looking for more. When they
realized they weren't going to get anything else, they abandoned
her to search for a patch of something edible on the ground. Layna
looked around her, and sighed hopelessly. She had to pull herself
together, but it was so overwhelming.

The quiet morning air was suddenly
interrupted by the crunching of snow, and Layna spun around in
alarm, searching for the source. A figure separated itself from the
forest. As it became visible, Layna gave a cry of happiness and
rushed forward to hug Charles. “I cannot tell you how happy I am to
see you!” she exclaimed to him, choking on the words.

“What the blazes are you doin’ out here all
by yerself?” he asked her, perplexed.

She broke down, words bubbling out of her as
she recounted yesterday's events.

Charles listened silently, and lowered
himself to the ground, staring straight ahead. “They killed Mila?”
His voice was hardly audible.

“Yes,” whimpered Layna, “and I'm afraid
they're going to kill Gryffon too. I don't know what I can do.
Can't you help me please?” she pleaded.

Charles sat in silence for so long that Layna
fidgeted uncomfortably. Out of desire to do something while Charles
stared off into space, not answering her, she stood.

“Do you,” Layna stammered, struggling to open
her saddlebag and retrieve the jar of ashes, “Do you know what Mila
would have liked to have happened to her remains?”

Charles looked at her appraisingly before
taking the offered jar, holding it as one would a new-born child.
“Aye, I believe I rightly do,” he said softly. He carefully tucked
the jar away with his own belongings and sat looking thoughtful a
moment. After a time his expression hardened and he nodded shortly.
“Mila would’ve wanted me to help you. No doubt we can come up with
some sort of finagled plan to get ya in, but once yer there it’ll
be up to you to find Gryffon and get him out while I takes care of
this Devon fellow.” He paused for a moment before adding gruffly,
“I hope you realize, young one, that we're gonna be right regular
outlaws if we do somethin’ like this to a noble woman. Layna
swallowed hard, but nodded.
I am one already anyway.
“Good,”
said Charles, “then here's what we're gonna do...”

CHAPTER 18

Jezebel smiled at Gryffon, who stood shackled
to the cell wall, and watched with pleasure as he spit out another
mouthful of blood. She could feel the power emanating from him
every time she caused him pain, and it made her shiver with
pleasure at the sheer ecstasy of feeling the power flow into
her.

It was ten times what she got when working
with the hellhounds, and she made a mental note to make sure that
she had Devon invite her to these chats more often from now on.
Now that I know how to use the power to get the full pleasure
out of them
. The book hadn't mentioned using the pain spells on
people, but she found they worked much the same as with animals.
Except that it doesn't seem to make him obedient, only cause him
the same pain. But that is satisfying in and of itself. I will just
have to work a little harder to get the good little puppy to
obey.

Devon had found the shackles for her,
supposedly they dated all the way back to the Dark King's era, and
Jezebel was happy to be able to try them out. They had a magical
binding on them which prevented the wearer from touching the power,
and if they tried they got a lovely little jolt of pain. Jezebel
had found it quite entertaining to watch when Gryffon had
discovered this special property.

Gryffon lifted his head and glared at her
through puffy eyes. “You're despicable,” he insulted her.

She rewarded his insolence with another slap
on his face. His head jerked sideways with the force, but he
brought it back around and met her eyes again.

“You really are the most disgusting woman I
have ever had the displeasure of knowing.”

She hit him again, balling her fist this time
so that a large gash appeared where a ring tore out part of his
cheek. He infuriatingly turned back to her and stared her down
again.

“You mean, rotten, hateful, little liar.”

Smack!

“You don't deserve the air you breathe.”

Smack!

“Nasty, manipulative, ugly whore.” He spat
out another mouthful of blood and Jezebel felt the heat of her fury
rising.

She hit him again and again, using hands and
feet and strengthening each blow with her talent, until she was
panting with the exertion. Then she stood back, and watched as he
coughed up blood and winced with pain at a large welt that was
already appearing where she had kicked him in the ribs.

“Let me show you this neat little trick I
just learned,” she purred at him breathlessly and pointed a finger
at him. Her whole hand started glowing with power, and Gryffon's
body writhed in pain, as lightning bolts shot from her finger and
were absorbed into his body through his chest.

As she drank in the power, she threw her head
back in pleasure. After a long satisfying moment, she angled her
chin back down to face him once more, enjoying the agony etched
plainly on his face. She watched with rapt attention as a dark spot
appeared slowly, ever so slowly, burning itself onto his chest.
Darker and darker it grew as she held the stream steady, dropping
it only when she was starting to sweat from the exertion of
maintaining the contact.

She cocked her head to the side. “Isn't that
interesting,” she commented, poking harshly at the rune that had
shaped itself from the burn.
That was an unanticipated
side-effect. I wonder what it means.

Gryffon's head lolled against his chest, and
his lips were cracking as they swelled. Still, he raised his head
with obvious effort, and coughed at her, “Stupid bitch.” His eyes
rolled back in his head, and his body went limp against its chains
as he lapsed into unconsciousness.

“Revive him,” she ordered Devon who came
forward with a bucket of cold water, but then hesitated.

“I admire your endurance, mistress, but you
may want to consider that if we kill him, the rest of the Council
won't be nearly as pleased with you for bringing a spy to justice.
Especially since that spy is also suspiciously someone you may have
a grudge against.”

She saw the reason in his argument but was in
no mood for it with the power still flowing through her veins. The
frenzy of her anger threatened to overpower her tenuous control,
but she fought hard to control it anyway.
He is right, after
all. And besides, I have all night to play with Gryffon
.

With effort, she took a deep breath and then
another, dissipating the power that still sparked on her fingers.
She nodded. “You're right, of course.” She reached out instead to
stroke the rune which had welted on Gryffon's chest. She brushed
off a charred chunk of flesh before turning to Devon. “Come. Let's
take some tea in the library while we rest.”

As they sat in the library sipping their tea,
a soft knock sounded at the door and the little mousy-haired
servant girl peeked in, looking scared. “There's a minstrel at the
door, Councilor, begging an audience. Would you care to be
entertained?”

“Why not,” Jezebel said cheerfully. “I'm in
the mood for some music. Show him in.” The girl nodded and
retreated, returning with the minstrel in short order.

The minstrel was an old man, with a withered
face that told of years of hard work under the brutal sun, and he
used gnarled fingers to unsnap a case that held a beautiful lute.
He settled himself onto a pillow on the floor provided him, and he
started to play. The knotted fingers proved to be surprisingly
flexible as he wove out a tale, adding his voice to the music, and
though it was coarse with age, it held a strong baritone
quality.

The music slowed, and Jezebel found herself
relaxing. She sank deeper into her chair, her earlier excitement
forgotten. That is, until suddenly a tremendous crash sounded from
below which startled her into sitting straight up.

She looked wildly about for the source of the
commotion, and at the same time Devon jumped out of his seat and
took a step towards the door. Then he stopped abruptly and made a
small grunting noise.

Jezebel watched him curiously. He turned back
towards her slowly, and she saw that a knife was buried deep in his
stomach.

Her gaze flew to the minstrel who had a
sadistic grin on his face and his arm outstretched in a throwing
motion. Another knife left his hand and hit Devon, who staggered
backwards, blood starting to drip from the corner of his mouth. He
looked down uncomprehendingly at the handles, bringing up a hand as
if to brush them off and then took a step towards the minstrel, a
pained grimace on his face.

Jezebel finally regained her self-possession
and she reached for the power. Anger at the minstrel's offense gave
her strength and she saw the old man’s smile falter for a moment as
he noticed her movement. She gave a triumphant shout as she felt
his fear.

He turned on his heel and fled out the door.
She followed, sure of her victory, but skidded to a halt when she
saw what was happening in the hallway.

The little harlot of a maid that she had had
thrown out was sprinting down the hall, clutching something to her
chest. Fury raged inside Jezebel at the sight of her, and she
unleashed the power she had been gathering for the minstrel at the
girl instead. It sped towards the hussy like a gigantic ball of
electricity, but then bounced off some unseen force, ricocheting
into the wall and shattering a vase there.

Jezebel howled in frustrated anger, and she
reached out a hand to claw at the girl as she passed.

The girl tripped as Jezebel’s hand made
contact, and she was swung around with the force of her momentum.
Jezebel caught hold of her hair and yanked; causing the girl to
lose her balance and she tumbled to the ground, bringing Jezebel
down with her.

They landed in a pile of sprawling limbs, the
girl exclaiming in pain as Jezebel's elbow jammed into her stomach.
The box she had been holding tumbled out of the girl's hand as it
hit the stone floor roughly, and she scrambled out from under
Jezebel to make a grab for it.

Jezebel brought her foot around, kicking the
box away from her, and resumed her attack. She balled a fist and
smashed it into the girl's side.

The girl grabbed at her ribs reflexively and
then whirled around to face her, bringing up her fists as she did.
Her expression held pain, but behind it was an intense anger that
Jezebel had never thought possible on the innocent-looking
face.

It distracted Jezebel for a moment, allowing
the girl to land a shot on her jaw. It hit off the mark as she was
still off balance from her turn, and it was only a momentary
setback. Jezebel whipped her head back around to laugh at the girl,
but was taken by surprise when she was hit again.

She blinked her eyes as stars danced in front
of them, and she grabbed for the girl. Her fingers closed around
the blond hair once more as she pulled the girl forward to
interrupt her barrage of punches.