Traitor to the Blood

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Hedi stared at the pale man crouched over Wynn, his hands wet with the soldier's blood. Her stomach still lurched from what she had seen him do. She tried not to shake as she held the dagger out at him.

He looked familiar, but she could not think of where she had seen him. The cloak he wore was well-made, and his even features were distorted in a feral expression. He might have been handsome, if not for the predator's crouch on all fours. Hedi did not trust handsome men.

"Do you still wish to live?" he rasped.

His words were little more than a harsh whisper, as if injury or illness had crippled his voice.

"Who are you?" she whispered back, trying to be both quiet and forceful. "What do you want with her?"

He glanced down at Wynn. When he looked up again, Hedi' felt cold. His strangely beautiful eyes were like crystallized ice.

"You are Lady Hedi Progae," he rasped, merely stating a fact. "You seek to escape from the lower level of this keep. An innkeeper named Byrd is to wait for you on the lake's far side. I suspect you assume Baron Milea will be there as well."

Hedi' lowered the dagger only an inch. "Are you with Byrd? Did he send you?"

Such contempt crossed the man's face that her hope died instantly. She backstepped, trying to keep fear from overcoming her wits.

"Your plans are nothing to me," he said. "Help me get Wynn to her companions, and I will protect you."

There was a thinly veiled threat in his words. Any disagreement and she would need protection from him. Hedi did not respond well to threats, but the man crouched in her way, and she doubted a dagger would be enough to get her to the door.

"What happened to her?" He looked down at Wynn, and his rasping voice softened.

"She arrived at the keep beaten and restrained. I found her locked in a room. I helped free her, and we came here. The guard we left behind might awake or be discovered at any moment."

He jerked his chin up, all traces of gentleness gone. "Her guard is only unconscious?"

"Your friend did not care for killing an unconscious man, regardless of the risk for leaving him."

He looked about, then leaned over to wipe his hands on the dead soldier's breeches. Not all the blood came off.

Hedi wished she did not need his help. She had feared for Wynn when she realized Darmouth used the scholar as bait for the assassin who murdered her father and left her mother and sister to starve. Wynn had to be Leesil's next target, and Darmouth tried to lure him in. She would not let what had happened to her father happen to Wynn.

And Leesil, who had ruined her life, would not fall into Darmouth's hands either.

Hedi would find him first.

Black wishes grew in her mind until they seemed within reach. When Byrd's assassins came for the warlord, they would bear Hedi's token. The lecherous savage would know she had committed his final betrayal, as the elves presented Darmouth with Leesil's severed head.

"Your note to the innkeeper spoke of a guide," Wynn's guardian said, and lifted her limp form in his arms where he knelt. "I see no guide."

Hedi was startled from her thoughts. "What do you know of my note?"

"Where is the guide?" he demanded.

Exposing Korey troubled Hedi, but she had no alternative. She could not find the way out without Korey's assistance, so she crouched to open the canvas bag's mouth.

A small dark brown cat hopped out. She hissed at the tall man, and the fur on her back stood up.

"What is this nonsense?" the man asked.

"It is all right,' Hedi said to the cat. "Change. He will help us."

Korey backed away, ducking behind Hedi's skirt. Her fur receded and her body grew. The man watched with fascination as Korey transformed into a little girl. Hedi pulled the cotton nightdress from the bag and covered her immediately.

"He's bad!" Korey whispered. "Cold and bad."

"We have a long way to go," she said to Korey. "This man will protect us and carry Wynn."

Korey remained half-hidden behind Hedi.

The man gently shook Wynn, whispering in the little scholar's ear, "Can you move? Wynn, wake up."

But Wynn did not awaken. Her breathing was regular, and other than her battered face her color was normal.

"She will recover," Hedi said.

He stood, holding Wynn against his chest as if she weighed nothing. Hedi grabbed the bag and took a step closer. Her head barely reached the man's collarbone.

"Get the keys off the guard," he ordered.

It took a moment, partly because Hedi could not bear to look at the soldiers' faces as she searched their bodies. Finally they were ready to descend. A skilled fighter was a stroke of luck Hedi had never counted on- but at what cost?

Deep inside, it felt like she had struck an unwilling bargain with a demon.

Chane waited until Hedi finished unlocking the door. "I will go first."

The little girl glowered at him from behind Hedi's skirt as he stepped past through the doorway. He carried Wynn down the dark stairwell, and the descent was longer and deeper than he had expected.

"Can you see?" Hedi asked from behind him.

"Yes."

He did not care for this Hedi Progae, another social elite only Wel-stiel would value. She had spirit enough to take on the soldiers and even pur one down, but she looked too much like the worthless noblewomen of Chane's childhood. And she was no thaumaturge, by his judgment.

Thaumaturgy, the magic of the physical realm, was one he had never witnessed. Even if Hedi Progae was such a mage, she certainly was not old enough to have mastered transmogrification, the changing of one living thing into another. Which meant the child had done thus herself.

Wynn murmured in his arms, and he held her closer. Even in the dark stairwell, his sight made out the curves of her oval face, the swelling around her cheek and eye… the stain of congealing blood in the corner of her mouth.

He worried and hoped she would wake soon. Wynn had purpose: to study, to learn, to build upon all that she was even now. She was not part of the cattle that was humanity. She needed to be preserved.

When they reached the bottom step Chane paused and listened for any sounds of movement ahead. He heard nothing and he stepped along the passage until he reached a set of archways that opened into a long room filled with storage. There were doors at either end of the space and along its back wall. And one heavy door behind, in the passage itself.

Chane thought he felt something nearby.

Young Korey scurried past him, caught up in her childish pursuit of an adventure.

"Oh, we're on the far side," she said, and nodded. "Papa took me down the other stairs, the… the south one. But we're on the other side."

Chane stared along the passage the other way and saw another staircase leading up.

"What are we looking for?" he asked.

"The portal," she answered, as if this told him everything. "I know where it is."

Before Chane took another step forward, he picked up something on the edge of his senses again.

The smell of forest and fresh earth… decayed leaves? Sweat and wool? The thin scents were all mixed in the stale air here. Thin but fading, as if someone had recently passed this way. And even more powerful was the smell of blood.

Chane's awareness widened, and he turned around. He found himself staring at the ornate door in the passage wall across from the center arch-way. It was thick and solid, but in the moment of silence he thought he heard heartbeats beyond it.

"We are not alone," he whispered. "Start moving… quietly."

Hedi' took Korey's hand, and as they moved on Chane saw and smelled dark spatters of blood on the stone walls and floor.

Magiere and Leesil should still be across the lake looking for the passage's exit. He wanted to send Wynn through to them, but they must have found their way in first. There had been a fight in this room, and Chane picked up the scent of a dog and some other animal he could not place.

Hedi slowed to step around the blood. Korey scurried past into the storage area and pointed at the door to the room's far end.

"That one. I remember now."

Chane followed with a glance to Hedi. "Check the door."

She did so, and when it opened she looked surprised. A trickle of anxiety ran down Chane's neck, but he stepped through the door, and Hedi closed it softly behind them.

Chane stood at the head of a short corridor with wooden doors every three paces on each side. Each had a small metal-shuttered peephole. These were cells for prisoners, but he heard and smelled nothing, sensed

"Now?" he asked.

Korey ran to a cell on the left. "This one."

Chane came up behind her. The door had a slide-bolt-and-pin fixture in place of a lock.

"Open it," he said.

Korey pulled and a piece of the door above the latch fell out.

Chane backed away. Korey stared at the rough piece of wood on the floor. She bent over and picked it up, peering curiously through the hole.

"What does this mean?" Hedi asked, and took the piece of wood from the girl.

Chane had no answer. He shifted Wynn higher in his arms, stepped carefully to one side, and looked through the half-open cell door. The tiny room beyond was empty.

It seemed certain that Magiere and Leesil had found their way in, and their dog as well, for who else but Chap would have left a dog's scent in the outer chamber. He grew wary, wondering if they had come and gone, but he doubted they would leave so quickly without Wynn. Which meant they were still in the keep, searching for her. Eventually they would have to leave, if they wanted to survive. How could he be sure they would find Wynn if he left her outside?

Chane entered the cell and looked about. He saw no hint of any secret opening. He returned to the hallway, looked up and down, and noticed two shuttered lanterns on the floor beside the door. It brought some relief.

Leesil and Magiere planned to return this way, though it appeared they had not yet done so. Hopefully for Wynn, they would make it. Chane need only leave Wynn in Hedi Progae's charge within sight of whatever exit they might find. Either Wynn's companions would return, or Hedi's baron would come looking for her.

"Someone has already broken in,'' Hedi said, still fingering the piece of wood.

"Yes," Chane answered. "And now we are breaking out."

"The door's right there," Korey said, pointing to the cell's back wall.

"Where?" Chane rasped.

Korey slapped the side of the wall with her little hand and frowned at him. "Push it. Its right here."

Chane set his shoulder against the wall and pushed. It gave just a little, pivoting at the midpoint. He shoved until the section turned all the way, leaving a narrow opening on each side of the rotated wall section.

"I have to go back now," Korey said.

"No!" Chane turned on the child then glared at Hedi. "Deal with this."

He would not have the girl discovered wandering the keep and be questioned.

"I've been gone a long time," Korey added, innocently unaware that Chane would stop her if Hedi did not. "Papa is going to be so mad at me."

Hedi glanced at Chane and knelt down. "Korey, you must come with me. The keep is no longer safe. If you escape, your mama and papa will be free to leave. Your father knows of this secret way out. He will know where to find you."

"No!" Korey half shouted. "I can't leave. Papa said if I did, I'd never see him or Mama again."

Hedi's voice hardened. "Yes, and Darmouth told them that if they left, he would kill you."

Korey's little eyes widened.

"Understand?" Hedi continued, grasping the child's arms. "Leave now, and they will be tree. All or you can come with me and Erne!, far away. You will never have to stay in your room, and you can be with your mother and hither always."

Korey's jaw was trembling. "I don't have any clothes or shoes, just this nightdress."

"Emel has my things," Hedi reassured her. "And I have Wynn's other clothes in the bag. Here, let's put the coat on you now. We will find you other clothes once we are out of here."

"We must go," Chane said impatiently.

Hedi looked at him with suspicion as she draped the sheepskin coat around Korey. "You said you would just take us to the lower levels, to help us escape."

"Plans change. Now move."

Chane knew Welstiel would be furious. Not that it mattered. There was nothing else to be done. He could not risk reentering the keep with Chap and Magiere inside. Hedi rose up, glaring at him.

"Yes?" he rasped. "You wish to say something?"

"Let me get one of the lanterns," she said.

"No, leave them. I need no light," he said.

"We do."

Chane was becoming tired of these two. "Check Wynn's clothing, her coat, all of her pockets. See if you find a crystal."

Hedi frowned in puzzlement but did as he asked. To Chane's mild relief, she pulled out a small cold lamp crystal.

"Rub it between your hands," he instructed.

She did so, and when the crystal's light sparked, Hedi dropped it.

"Ob!' Korey said, snatching it up in wonder. "Pretty!"

Chane could not suppress his groan-ladies and peasants, imbeciles all. "You have your light; now move on."

Korey scurried through the opening, crystal in hand and coat dragging on the floor. Hedi followed, casting a dark scowl at Chane. I hey climbed down more narrow stairs, and the walls grew damp.

When they reached the bottom, there was a wooden partition blocking their way.

"Here," Korey said. "This is the portal. We have to go through."

The crystal's light revealed a chain dangling through a hole in the stone ceiling. Chane nodded at it, and Hedi took hold and pulled with all her meager weight, i he portal rose enough tor Chane to duck under. He found another chain on the other side. Supporting Wynn with his forearms, he gripped it to hold the partition up. Korey came out behind him, waiting as Hedi followed. Chane released his grip, and the portal ground along the wall grooves back into place. He turned about to look down a dark passage that glistened with moisture in the crystal's light.

"A stone tunnel," he whispered, almost in awe. "Under the lake."

Korey headed onward, and Hedi grabbed the girl before she got too far ahead. The tunnel curved gradually, and soon the wooden portal was out of sight behind them. The farther they went, the more Chane heard Korey's teeth chattering. They walked beneath a lake in the middle of winter, and her feet were bare.

"It should not be far," he said.

He had lost track of distance and wished only to keep them moving. Hedi Progae was likely colder than the child. She had no shoes but otherwise wore only the velvet gown. Wynn wore some sort of maid's dress, and Chane realized his own body provided her no heat. He held her close just the same, and rolled his shoulders, trying to wrap her in his arms beneath his own cloak.

The stone tunnel ended in an alcove barely wider than the passage. By the crystal's light, Hedi grasped the first of a set of iron rungs in the wall and began to climb. For a moment Chane wondered if the child could follow, but Korey managed awkwardly. Chane hoisted Wynn over his shoulder and climbed.

Above him, Korey clambered out an opening. At the top rung he realized he was inside a hollowed-out tree. He looked into the night forest, listening intently, but he detected no one except for the woman and the girl. He climbed out and rolled Wynn off his shoulder and back into his arms.

It was still snowing lightly. The ground was covered with white where falling flakes made their way through the forest canopy. Hedi rubbed her hands up and down Korey's arms, trying to warm the girl. She lifted the child, raising her bare feet out of the snow.

Chane carried Wynn a short way into the trees. He found an older fir that had lost its lower branches, and where the ground was bare of snow. He settled Wynn there, and pointed for Hedi and Korey to take their place beside her.

"Pull Wynn close and keep her covered," he said, and stripped off his cloak to drape over the three of them. "I will find kindling."

He scavenged beneath other trees until he gathered handfuls of dead needles and leaves that might ignite. He searched for substantial fuel and added a pile of loose branches he snapped in proper lengths. Then he realized he had no flint to strike on his sword.

Wynn would freeze out here if he did not do something. He focused his attention upon the half-dry mound of needles and leaves.

"It's too wet to light," Hedi said.

"Be quiet."

In his mind Chane drew lines of light, slowly crafting symbols within his thoughts. First the circle, then around it a triangle, and into the corners between these two shapes he scrawled glyphs and sigils, stroke by stroke. The mesh of lines overlaid his sight, and he stared through it at the pile of kindling.

A small flame erupted. It sizzled and crackled with moisture. He held the flame there with his concentration as he added snapped twigs and waited until the fire held on its own.

"Thank you," Hedi said warily, though she still shivered. "The fire should help Emel find us when he searches the lakeshore."

Chane crouched and pulled the cloak tighter around all three of them. Wynn was still unconscious, but they had her positioned in the middle. He dug in the bag and found her short robe and draped it over her alone.

"I believe your baron went inside to look for you," Chane said, and pulled a pile of snapped branches within Hedi's reach. "He is welcome in the keep and privy to most news. Once he learns you are missing, he will come to find you. Keep a watch on the tunnel exit. Do not let the fire burn high enough to be seen across the lake."

"You are leaving?" she asked.

Chane could not decide if her voice held worry or relief, but he did not care. If he stayed, he might end up fighting for his regained existence.

"Keep watch over Wynn," he instructed.

"I will take care of her," Hedi Progae said. After a long pause, she said again, "Thank you."

Chane turned away, gradually slipping from the firelight's reach among the forest's trees. He looked back more than once to Wynn's sleeping face, until he waked too far into the cold dark.

Crouched within the dining hall, Leesil grew desperate.

Snarls down the south corridor died away. A tall blond-bearded soldier stepped into the far arch across the entryway and shoved out a younger soldier, ordering him to bring more men in off the keep walls.

Leesil guessed this was Omasta. Soon his men would be rushing about the keep.

The coming confusion would work in the Anmaglahk's favor. Omasta might secure Darmouth someplace safe, but the elves would find him. Leesil had instigated chaos inside strongholds a few times in his youth for exactly this purpose. The larger the place, the better it worked.

Omasta stepped back into the council hall.

Leesil had to do something quickly to warn Darmouth or Omasta. Voices shouting in the courtyard grew louder and closer, and he had only one option. If he didn't get his message out quickly enough, it would mean his own death, and possibly Magiere's and Chap's.

He rushed across the entryway before anyone came through the front doors, and crouched beside the council hall's arch. He left his weapons sheathed and spun around the archway into the council hall.

Omasta stood to the left of the table's near end. At the sight of Leesil, shock crossed his features, and Leesil shifted to the table's right side.

Leesil still wore his cloak, but the hood was halfway down, and his white-blond hair hung loose. His skin, eyes, and oblong ears were so different from those of the sturdy men who lived in the Warlands. Leesil could imagine how startling he must appear.

And then he saw Darmouth at the table's far end.

Leesil's throat tightened.

A sickening surge of revulsion rolled in his stomach. The very real presence of the tyrant made any surging memory but a shadow.

Darmouth's face was clean-shaven and his hair was cut short, but he still wore the steel-reinforced leather breastplate. Two long war daggers were mounted on his belt, and he wore a heavy shortsword sheathed at his hip. He took more care with his appearance than in the past, but Leesil saw only the murdering, self-obsessed dictator who'd made him kill over and over. Darmouth, who'd used his mother for… "You!" Darmouth shouted.

Omasta reached for his shortsword. "Guards!"

"I'm here to warn you," Leesil said with great effort. "Assassins are inside the keep."

"Yes," Darmouth answered. "That's plain to see right here."

Beneath the aging tyrant's anger, Leesil saw an eager hunger in Darmouth's glare. Omasta charged.

Leesil rolled across the table. He started to reach for a stiletto, but it would be no defense against a sword, unless he was willing to duck inside Omasta's guard and kill him. He pulled his right punching blade instead.

Omasta vaulted the table and came down swinging. Leesil blocked and ducked away at the clang of metal. He leaned into the wall and kicked up into Omasta's chin.

The solid impact whipped Omasta's head back, but he kept his feet, staggering against a high backed chair. Darmouth drew his own sword and charged around the table's end. Leesil dove across the table again before Omasta could right himself.

"Listen!" he shouted, and words stuck in his throat for an instant. "I'm not the one who's come for you. There are elven assassins inside the keep."

He believed that deep inside Darmouth was a coward, like any who saw deceit and betrayal everywhere and beat down dissention wherever it was perceived. Leesil hoped the man's own paranoia would plague him enough to listen.

"Liar," Darmouth growled, holding his sword out. "Traitor and liar, like your mother. I'll gut you alive on the west wall while the whole city watches."

Leesil's hatred for Darmouth began eating him up inside.

Omasta sidled along the table toward the archway, while Darmouth backed to the far end, circling to Leesil's other side. Blood trickled from Omasta's mouth into his beard.

Leesil tried to think of some way to convince one of them of the truth. Five soldiers appeared in the archway. His panic and fury made the dim room sharpen in his sight.

"I want him alive!" Darmouth shouted.

Magiere ran down the south corridor with Chap and Emel following behind. She skidded out the corridor's end in time to see five armed men come up to the archway of the council hall. Darmouth's voice echoed out into the entryway.

"I want him alive!"

Magiere glimpsed Leesil at the hall's right side, and her breath caught. He looked desperate, sweating in the keep's cold air. The lead soldier in the archway rushed him, and Magiere raced across the entryway.

Leesil sidestepped so quickly that the soldier stumbled, then he pivoted in a complete turn. His winged blade sliced through the guard's side. The man toppled against two chairs and fell in a heap. Two more guards surged forward as Omasta waved them on.

"Leesil!" Magiere shouted.

He saw her and then ducked as the next guard came at him.

The soldier closest to Magiere started to turn toward her. She hammered the falchion's hilt into his skullcap, and he toppled into the man in front of him. Magiere kicked out into her target's back, and both men fell to the floor at the table's end.

Magiere spotted Omasta, and for one breath he seemed ready to come for her. But he turned, running down the table's side. Magiere saw Darmouth at the back of the council hall. Omasta grabbed the tyrant's arm, pulling him toward the back wall even as Darmouth tried to jerk away.

Chap leaped over the men Magiere had downed and landed atop the table. He wheeled about, snapping and snarling at the two soldiers closing on Leesil. One of the downed men rose up to face Magiere while the other fumbled for his fallen sword. Emel ducked around Magiere.

"Try not to kill them," he barked, and closed on the rising man.

Magiere swerved around the table after Omasta. As she passed Chap, a soldier turned from Leesil and swung down at the dog's head. Magiere faltered, ready to lunge across and block with the falchion.

Chap hopped aside. The soldier's shortsword bit into the table's edge, and before the man could pull it back, the dog launched into his chest. Magiere's gaze flicked about the room.

Leesil managed his one opponent. Emel backed another soldier into the room's corner. She spotted a skullcap rising over the table's end-the first man she'd struck down. She stepped back and brought the flat of her blade down with a clang. The skullcap vanished from sight as she heard the soldier slump to the floor.

When Magiere looked back, Darmouth was gone. Only Omasta stood at the room's far end near the swaying tapestry of the lone rider. She rushed toward him.

"Leesil!" she shouted, and dodged Omasta's first thrust. "Behind the tapestry!"

Leesil dodged away from his opponent. Omasta turned from Magiere to intercept him, and she felt a wave of dread. Leesil would kill Omasta if the man didn't get out of his way. Magiere slapped down his sword with her own, and threw herself at him.

They both hit the back wall beside the tapestry and recoiled to the floor. Magiere rolled blindly away and scrambled to her feet.

The tapestry swayed wildly, and Leesil was gone. Omasta climbed to his feet to face her.

Only three soldiers were still conscious. Chap rolled on the floor with one. Emel still battered steel with another in the corner who wouldn't give up, though the man made no headway in getting clear of the baron. Omasta tried to rush for the tapestry. Magiere slashed across his path with the falchion's tip. The lieutenant backed away.

"Move!" he yelled.

"Leesil is trying to protect Darmouth," she snarled back.

Omasta glanced to his left. The first soldier who'd assaulted Leesil lay huddled on the floor with his side split open.

Magiere's last hope faded. Omasta would never believe her.

Emel sliced his opponent neatly across the right shoulder, and the guard dropped his blade, crying out. The baron followed with his fist, and the man twisted and dropped to the floor. Chap had bitten both wrists of the soldier he fought, and the man retreated against the table, weaponless, as the dog snarled every time he tried to move.

The guard Magiere had bludgeoned twice was rising again at the table's far end. Emel raised his boot and stomped the man down.

Omasta saw all this and seemed appalled by Emel's actions. He looked back at the tapestry and Magiere.

"Don't," she warned. "It's over. You have to believe what I told you."

He inched forward. There was no fear in his eyes, but he didn't come at her immediately. "Move, Magiere… now."

She didn't want to hurt him, and it was clear he'd rather not harm her. She had to keep him back if Leesil was to protect an entire province.

Magiere mirrored Omasta's slightest move. His face filled with anger. This time he swung hard. When she blocked, the force between their blades made them both stumble. Magiere's frustration became rage, and her vision sharpened.

The room brightened before her as the ache filled her jaws.

Omasta hesitated as he looked her in the eyes.

Magiere feinted with the sword, and he caught it on his own blade. At the instant of contact, she lunged low.

Her shoulder caught below his rib cage, and she drove him back into the wall. He slammed against the stone, and she hopped back before he could rake her with his shortsword. One of his feet slipped, but he didn't fall. He grunted and swung at her. Magiere twisted aside and brought her blade down on top of his.

Both swords' tips hit the floor, and the impact of steel on stone echoed off the walls. She stomped down on his blade, rising up on her own force with her fist cocked back. Omasta stumbled as his weapon jerked from his grip. Magiere struck downward, sinking her weight into the blow.

Her fist cracked down the side of his face and collarbone, and Omasta crumpled, unmoving.

The only guard still standing was Chap's. Emel grabbed him by the throat and pounded his saber's hilt into the man's forehead.

Panting, with hunger burning her insides, all Magiere could do was shove the tapestry aside and assume the others would follow.

Darmouth fled down the stairs from the council hall to the old sergeant's office. One moment he'd been eating supper with Omasta in the safety of his own stronghold, and now his keep was breached by the one traitor who'd ever escaped him.

He'd never forgotten. When Leesil hadn't been found, anger grew inside of Darmouth like consumption. He couldn't abide such a useful tool in service to anyone else, most particularly any other province ruler in the

Warlands. Emel was in league with this half-blood. Darmouth was surrounded by betrayal, with only Omasta to depend on. He slapped the old tapestry aside at the bottom of the stairwell and emerged into the old sergeant's office.

There were his wolfhounds asleep on the floor. Kana, the tallest, raised his head and blinked, looking dazed and tired. With no time to stop, Darmouth hurried out the door into the storage area. He headed straight through the archway for his family's crypt.

The Hall of Traitors had the heaviest door in the keep.

Darmouth pulled out the key to unlock the ornate door, but he fumbled for a moment. Once it was open, he stepped inside.

Warm orange light washed over him from small braziers on the columns that were always kept lit for the dead. There were iron braces on each side of the door, and he reached for the oak bar resting against the wall. The door swung sharply inward, catching his shoulder, and Darmouth stumbled back.

He caught himself on his father's crypt, and his shoulder throbbed from the impact.

Leesil-that mongrel traitor-stood in the doorway, panting.

He looked like some mad creature out of the forested hills below the mountains. His hood was pushed all the way back, and white-blond hair framed a narrow face that glistened with sweat. His amber eyes sparked in the braziers' glow.

Darmouth's rage faltered. He knew what Leesil was capable of.

Leesil took a step into the room, and his gaze shifted between the crypts of Darmouth's father and grandfather. His eyes grew calm.

Many years had passed, and Leesil's face had changed. A strange realization occurred to Darmouth.

He looked so much like his mother… born out of treacherous blood.