Maylin's Gate (Book 3) Read online

Smoke billowed out the window, but the assassin remained hidden.

  The assassin would keep away from the window. In an instant, she could take a pet, and she had no doubt the assassin would not underestimate her threat. She hadn't kept a baerinese pet in decades. Not after her vow to General Demos. If she broke her vow, would General Demos welcome her back? Would her bloody reign begin again?

  A wall of heat slammed against her back, and a rafter fell in the room's center battering her bed and desk.

  She could no longer wait. She slung her dress through the shattered window and dangled it outside like fish bait.

  In succession, two sharp thuds slammed into the cottage's wall and pinned the dress in place.

  She screamed for affect and pulled herself through the window. Her bare feet touched the icy cobbled streets and she ran without looking back.

  Tapping into her precious energy, she built a wall of blackness in the space behind her. A void curtain capable of consuming physical objects. The curtain would protect her from the next bolt, but at a cost. Without her pets she couldn't draw on the energy forever.

  Ripool's streets stood empty. But, thousands of baeriense souls huddled inside homes and businesses. The baeriense detested winter nights.

  She ran along the street, bare feet slapping the cobblestones. With fresh air filling her lungs, she gained speed and sprinted ahead.

  To her right, lights glistened against the harbor’s melting water.

  Which general had made the assassination attempt? Had they worked together? Both Pietro and Andreas had more than enough justification. In her weakened state, the attempt made sense. How had she been so foolish? She trusted the baerinese. Like the humans, they betrayed her.

  Anger swelled insider her and she ducked down an alley leading toward Ripool's center. Where could she hide? She could escape Ripool by air or sea.

  The draco wanted nothing to do with her, not that she minded. She couldn't commandeer a ship unless she broke her vow. Even if she did break her vow, she couldn't defeat an entire army of elite baerinese soldiers. Not with a handful of pets. She needed time and space to refresh her forces.

  Rows of town houses lined the city street and she raced past them.

  She turned right and entered an alley snaking toward Ripool's artisan row. She ran past a darkened blacksmith shop and an empty stable. Her breathing grew ragged and her muscles refused to keep up her relentless pace.

  She bent over exhausted and pulled in deep breaths of air. Despite the night's chill air, sweat dribbled down her forehead and dripped from her nose. She clutched at her gown and peered around the empty street.

  Moonlight glistened off ice-covered streets. Ripool's homes stood grim and lifeless.

  She padded forward pulling her nightgown up around her knees and paused.

  Movement came from her right, and she swung around to meet the intruder.

  A baerinese couple froze at the street corner ahead. The man pressed a hand against the baerinese woman's back guiding her into a nearby building.

  Their apprehension hadn't escaped her. Like all baerinese, they feared her. A raw ache settled in her chest. She escaped humanity only to create a prison for herself among these people.

  The couple darted inside a townhouse, and the door slammed shut behind them. A moment later, the sharp click of a deadbolt slid home.

  She winced, but how could she blame them?

  The air whistled near her right ear. Twenty feet ahead, a crossbow bolt bounced off the cobblestones.

  She sprinted past the street corner and into the shadows lurking in the avenue beyond.

  The faint sound of clanging armor and guttural commands came from behind her.

  She lurched to her right, darted down a deserted alleyway, and froze.

  A baerinese assassin stood a dozen yards ahead pointing a heavy crossbow at her chest. A deafening click and the whir of a bolt echoed from the alleyway's buildings.

  She drew on her power and settled a void curtain before her.

  The bolt entered the black wall and disappeared. Lost forever in the void.

  To her left, a closed door offered an escape. She could take the assassin's life, but to what end? Would she keep killing the baerinese? Maybe the assassin's bolt would offer a welcome end to her miserable life.

  She clutched at the door handle and threw open the unlocked door. She left a void curtain hanging in the alleyway. The assassin wouldn't dare go near it.

  She stumbled ahead and pulled the door shut behind her.

  Bolts of cloth lined the shop's walls. Half-finished clothing littered two worktables.

  On the floor, baerinese lay sleeping beneath blankets and quilts. A baerinese boy sat against the room's far wall and stared at her. Terror registered in the boy's eyes.

  She grabbed some clothing and a half-finished quilt. She eased around the sleeping forms and hurried toward the shop's front door.

  A low hiss came from the rear entrance and the baeriense around her stirred.

  The sickening sound of a crossbow bolt cut the air and landed with a thud in the door frame beside her.

  She reached for the doorknob and yanked. The door slammed against its frame and she spilled into the street. She followed the street to her right still clutching the bundle of clothing beneath her good arm.

  The road ahead ended at one of the many narrow canals weaving through Ripool.

  She rushed ahead and paused at the canal's edge. Breathless, she glanced over her shoulder and scanned the shadows.

  Rattling armor and muted shouts came from the street behind her.

  She squinted through the shadows at the canal a few feet below. A street-side ladder led down to a rickety dock where a simple rowboat sat tied off.

  In either direction, the street followed the canal.

  She hurried down the ladder and leaped into the rowboat. Along the boat's bottom, she laid out flat and covered herself with the quilt.

  The clanging armor grew closer and stopped at the canal's edge a few feet above her.

  Her pulse raced and she held her breath afraid to move a muscle.

  "Nils, take your men upstream," a deep voice said. "We'll follow the canal to the harbor. She couldn't have gone far."

  The clanging armor faded and she pushed the quilt away. She scrambled across the rowboat and untied from the dock.

  She picked up a wooden pole lying across the boat's three seats. With a soundless shove, the skiff slipped free of the pier toward the harbor and a destination unknown.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Missing

  Winter wind whipped over Ronan's frozen face and the draco beneath him hissed for the hundredth time that day.

  The beast chugged ahead fighting the brisk wind blowing through the Adris's high peaks.

  General Demos leaned forward and rubbed the animal's neck whispering in its ear.

  That he had to squeeze his body against the baerinese general felt awkward. But, the week long journey south seemed an eternity at the draco's lumbering pace. He should've let Rika fly him to Moira's. They would've arrived days ago. "Can't you make the beast fly any faster?" The words came out mumbled and choppy across his frozen lips.

  General Demos spoke in a slow hissing cadence he had grown accustomed to hearing. "The draco is exhausted. If I command it to fly faster, it will die."

  He pointed to the distant range ahead. "Do you see that peak? The largest one. There in the center?"

  "I see it," General Demos said.

  "That's Dragon's Peak. I mean to arrive there this evening even if it kills this miserable lizard," he said.

  "This animal has served us well and you should show it the respect it deserves."

  He shifted in the saddle trying to offer relief to his numb rear end. "This flying toad almost killed me. Given half a chance it would gladly eat my insides for breakfast."

  "You threatened it," General Demos said. "I would've done the same had you try to mount me. Besides, it merely scratched you."
r />   "Just get us to the base of that mountain, and do it fast." He pointed to Dragon's Peak.

  "Are humans always in such a rush?"

  His head buzzed. "You're people are killing and enslaving mine," he said. "Pardon me if I want to cast them off our continent. You came as aggressors or have you forgotten?"

  "My kind killed yours?" General Demos's eyes narrowed. "Do you know anything of human history? Your people committed atrocities against the baerinese."

  "Spare me your lecture on ancient history," he said. "The people that committed those crimes died millennia ago. We've done you no harm."

  General Demos fell silent for several minutes. The draco soared over jagged peaks and snow drenched valleys. With the sun fading in the west, the draco descended toward a grove of pines beneath a nameless peak.

  "What are you doing?" He said. "I told you we aren't stopping until we get to Dragon's Peak."

  "We aren't landing," General Demos said. "Although, we should. The draco could die at any moment. Where would that leave us?"

  "Then where are you going? If you're up to something, I —"

  General Demos pointed toward the horizon.

  Ominous clouds appeared in the sky behind Dragon's Peak. They moved on a course toward Moira's cabin.

  "We're almost there," he said. "We're not setting down."

  "I mean to fly us closer to the peaks should the storm force us to land," General Demos said.

  He couldn't argue with sound logic. "That's fine, but don't think about landing."

  The draco hissed and bucked. White foam formed at its jawline and flew past him in sticky globs.

  "What's wrong with it?" He said.

  General Demos raised his voice over the gusting wind. "The draco doesn't want to move beyond this peak, but I don't know why." The general stroked the draco's neck and leaned forward trying to soothe the beast.

  Veins popped in the draco's neck and it screeched shifting to the right and left.

  General Demos held tight to the reins and pushed the draco forward unwilling to waver their course. "I fear the draco will resist my efforts if we don't land now."

  The draco topped the peak and the world below changed. Vast stretches of pine forest lay split in half and laying sideways. In every direction, pine needles littered miles of forest floor. A jagged fissure ran along the forest's center opening into a world of shadows beneath.

  His stomach twisted. What in Elan's good name happened here?

  "Look ahead." General Demos's tongue flickered with abandon.

  He tracked the general's outstretched hand across the valley to the far peak.

  Jagged boulders littered the mountain face. Its peak had blown away.

  His skin crawled. "What in the name of Elan's ghost happened?"

  "I'm afraid even Elan couldn't raze a mountain top," General Demos said.

  Had an earthquake leveled the mountain? If so, why did vast sections appear untouched? An isolated earthquake? Was that possible?

  "Could the dragons do this?" General Demos said still wrestling with the draco.

  "The dragon’s wouldn’t do this. Even if they wanted to, I'm not sure they could manage this."

  "Maybe your friend Moira has some answers?"

  Goose bumps erupted across his arms and legs. What if whatever caused the damage had taken Moira? What if she hadn't survived? "I don't know, but fly faster."

  "I'd rather seek shelter in the next valley." General Demos struggled to reign in the flailing draco. "The storm will overtake us before then."

  The creature hissed then bucked right and left.

  "It's just over the next peak," he said. "I'll shield us if the storm closes in."

  General Demos shot him a nervous glance. "That might not be the best idea."

  He ignored the taunt, but he couldn't blame the general. "Hurry." His gaze settled on the approaching storm.

  General Demos struggled against the reigns. The draco's nose jerked upward as they sailed over the final peak.

  In the valley below, the wind blew snow from the treetops and shook the grove. Through the twilight sky, Moira's cabin appeared at the valley's far end.

  His pulse accelerated, and he pointed toward the end of the bowl-like valley below. "We’re almost there."

  A string of log cabin's littered the slope leading to the lodge where Moira lived.

  The sinking sensation of falling sent his stomach rolling and the draco's body sagged.

  The beast shrieked with a final gurgling hiss and its wings went limp.

  General Demos pulled on the reigns as if to resurrect the dead draco.

  The draco's head lolled back. The glassy sheen covering its eyes gave no doubt to the creature's state of health.

  A hundred feet below, pines sprouted from the mountain face at an impossible angle.

  "Hang on," he yelled above the wind and blowing snow. He drew on his magic for the second time since Devery's death. The magic he'd channeled a thousand times resisted his pull.

  Panic clawed at his chest and with his mind, he yanked on his inner power reserve. Something inside him popped. Shields flickered to life around him and General Demos.

  He and the general clattered through treetops. Their spirit shields sparked. Limbs rattled and shook beneath their weight.

  He readied himself for impact a moment before he hit the ground.

  His shield flickered beneath the onslaught but held. The men rolled, side-by-side, down the slope and into the valley two-hundred feet below.

  His stomach twisted and churned and he lost track of ground and sky. His shield flickered and sparked off boulders and trees and he lurched to a sudden stop.

  General Demos careened into him from behind and sent him smashing into a tree trunk.

  Crushing force knocked the wind from his lungs, and his shield flickered out. He lay still beneath the clouds bubbling like a cauldron in the sky above.

  A rustling sound came from the snow beside him and General Demos's gloved hand appeared above him.

  He took the offered hand, and the general pulled him to his feet with childlike effort.

  He brushed the snow from his face and checked over his body for damage. He glanced into General Demos's eyes and nodded. "Thank you."

  "It's I who should thank you."

  "You thank me?" He narrowed his eyes brushing the snow from the furs covering his chest. "For what?"

  "For the shield." General Demos peered back up the mountain and surveyed their path of destruction. "Without it, I would have died."

  He had given General Demos the shield on instinct without considering the man friend or foe. "You're welcome." He stared at the ground and kicked an ice chunk attached to his frozen boot. "But, it was an accident."

  "Whatever the case, I'm grateful." General Demos squinted through the swirling snow. "I'm not one for cold weather. Should we find your friend?"

  He adjusted his grip on the pack and checked his sheba blade. Both had made it down the slope intact. "Yes. Let's go." He trudged forward through the knee-deep snow toward the valley's far end.

  Like a faucet pouring snow, the sky opened and heavy snowflakes filled the air. Visibility dropped to zero and the sun slipped under the peaks to the west.

  He trudged past towering pines pulling his boots above the snow with each hard-earned step. He recalled his last trip through the valley. Aided by magic, he had made fast progress.

  He hung his head and stared into the whiteness at his feet willing his body forward. The wound on his leg burned and rivulets of sweat rolled down his face.

  "Who is Moira?" General Demos said in a clear even tone.

  That the general could carry on an easy conversation annoyed him. He'd relied on magic too often this past year. He felt soft and weak. "Moira?"

  General Demos pushed through the snow like a man out for a Saturday walk in the park. "She must be important for you to come all this way."

  He could think of no good reason to offer his enemy any information. "
She's a friend."

  The pair pushed ahead trundling through the snow for the next thirty minutes. General Demos didn't push further for which he was grateful.

  Through the forest's shadows the edge of the first home appeared.

  He raised his head and inhaled expecting to catch the familiar scent of wood smoke. Instead, the sharp scent of pine filled his nose. "It's just ahead."

  General Demos followed in his path careful to lag a few yards behind.

  The sight of a ten-foot tall baerinese trooper might give Moira a heart attack. For the second time that day, he appreciated the general's foresight. That he felt gratitude for a man who led the invasion of an enemy bent on eradicating humanity shook him. General Demos wouldn't think twice about killing him, Rika, or any other human.

  Unlike his last trip to the valley, snow buried the paths between the cabins. Shadows clung to the cabins and nothing stirred. An ominous sign in such an isolated place.

  Worry pinged at the back of his mind. "Something is wrong." He reached for his blade and slipped it free of his scabbard. Without enhancement magic, he staggered under the sheba blade's weight.

  The sharp ring of General Demos's blade leaving its sheath set his skin crawling. He should've listened to Rika and disarmed the general. How was he to know his magic would falter?

  He whirled and found General Demos facing him with blade drawn. His stomach sank and he reached for the enhancement magic churning in his core.

  "Here." General Demos turned the blade toward him hilt first. The general slid free a second blade and wrapped an enormous hand around its grip. As if reading the apprehension on his face General Demos spoke. "I've no wish to fend for myself in these mountains."

  His shoulders relaxed and he wrestled the sheba blade back into its sheath. He took the offered sword and tipped his head once again grateful for the general's restraint.

  "We work together?" General Demos paused waiting for his answer.

  He didn't have a choice. He'd rather have General Demos with him than face the Adris Mountains alone. Elan knew the man appeared more than capable, but he wouldn't shake the general's hand. Anger still raged for the atrocities at Porthleven and Ripool. "Agreed. But only until we've reached safety."