Regret's Shadow (Sins of Earth Trilogy) Read online

  Ms. Willow, Dillon, and a spindly young man named Franz had joined them in their journey, while the fourth apprentice, Liza, had decided to stay and look after the tower and await their master’s return. The group of them was dismayed to hear about the goblin attack, but found an eager resolve to play a role in any defense of the Realm.

  “Ms. Willow,” said Hade as he approached the woman, “You’re sure that we’ll make the capital in less than two days? That seems impossible.”

  She smiled, keeping her eyes ahead of them, almost as if she were unwilling to focus on the soldier.

  “Look at where you’re standing, Sir,” she let out a chuckle, “Impossible is a matter of perspective.”

  He liked this woman, with her straightforward manner and sense of humor.

  “I suppose you’re right. It’s just a bit to get used to.” He rubbed his beard.

  She nodded, “I can believe it. I wasn’t raised in magic like the others, I spent many a year as a washer woman and milk maid before Master Osric found me. It was quite a shock coming to the city to learn magic.

  “As miraculous as this all is, we’re going to need to set down before evening. It takes a lot of effort for us, even working in shifts, to keep the flyer running. We’ll need to be sure we have a good night’s rest.”

  She did look at him finally, “It wouldn’t do to pass out and let this thing drop outta the sky like a stone.”

  Hade shuddered. He’d had more than a few thoughts about plummeting to their doom than he’d like to admit. Still, he smiled at the woman before rejoining the others near the bow.

  Ethelrynne gripped his arm as he slid beside her. She gave it a squeeze and smiled at him. He was pleasantly surprised by her touch, but then all the elves were still in an exceptional mood. Returning her smile, he reached over and gave her hand a pat. If any of the rangers had noticed the exchange, none of them reacted.

  “This is far better than using the Treeway,” said Heldvir. He hadn’t lost his grin since they’d set out. Veld nodded sagely, sporting his own smile. Tinder continued to gape.

  Hade leaned closer to Ethelrynne, speaking into her pointed ear to be heard over the wind, “What is this Treeway I keep hearing about?”

  She turned her head to face him, and paused. For a moment, they were scant inches apart, and both were caught a little off-guard by the closeness. Her purple orbs seemed to dare him for a moment, then she leaned to his ear. He held perfectly still, heart pounding.

  “It’s how we came to the woods outside your fort. It’s a magic some elves use to pass through one tree, and emerge in any other tree within our Realm. Unfortunately, the glamour hasn’t been cast on any of the trees in your Realm.”

  She pulled back, and he was left yearning for the sensation of her breath on his ear. He nodded quickly and turned to gaze over the railing, berating himself for a love-struck teenager.

  The princess was gorgeous, and a fine warrior, but she was an elf and a noble besides. He had no business lusting after her.

  “Ms. Willow said we should reach the capital tomorrow,” he said, to break the silence.

  “Have you thought about what you’re going to tell your king?” she replied.

  He turned to face her at length, still unsure. She was regarding him with an open expression. Apparently she was unaware of his inner struggle, or she suspected he was merely thinking about her question.

  “The truth, I suppose,” he put his back to the railing and braced his hands on it behind him.

  “I can’t imagine he’d think we have reason to cook up such a tale. Besides, having an elven princess in his court should lend credence to our tidings.”

  She mimicked his pose, sidling a bit closer to him.

  “Have you met the man?”

  Hade shook his head, “No. He was present at the first muster of my unit, back before we were deployed to the ‘Folly.”

  He stopped, remembering. He’d been young, headstrong, and full of excitement. His brigade had travelled by ship from Galloway and stood at attention in the massive courtyard of the royal palace, awaiting review by the king. He’d had nightly dreams of glory in the field, of battlefield promotions and single-handed victories.

  What a fool he’d been.

  “I saw him from a distance and that was it. If I were to approach the court on my own, I’d probably be laughed out of the city, or thrown in the dungeons.”

  He turned to her and smirked, “I’m actually hoping to use you and your men to help win an audience.”

  She patted his hand and stood, “I’ll see what I can do.”

  With a smile of her own, she walked toward the stern to chat with Ms. Willow. Hade watched her go, before turning to take in the passing landscape once more. As he did so, he saw the three rangers watching him. Veld grinned as they turned back to look over the railing.

  Nightfall found them camped in the countryside. They’d set the ship down near a stand of gigantic firs, tall along the banks of a bubbling brook. Dillon showed off some of his magic in starting the cook fire, and Heldvir had shot a small doe that they were butchering as the sun went down.

  They gathered around the fire and took supper. The cabin onboard the ship was far too small to accommodate them all, and the hold had been filled with magical components. It was determined that the princess would take the cabin, while the others would camp next to the fire.

  The talk was lighthearted, and the apprentices shared a small store of wine they’d brought along for the trip. Hade once again wondered at how well the elves got along with the humans, even though they’d only met that day. It filled him with a sense of hope.

  Several times during the evening, he’d made eye contact with Ethelrynne. She was often regarding him with a strange expression, and he fought with flutters in his stomach.

  They were on a quest that would decide the fate of the Realm, and he was blushing like a maiden. Just when he’d get himself distracted, those violet eyes would land on him and he’d feel his blood warm all over again.

  After a time, conversation dwindled and eyes began to droop. Hade helped Franz set up a few small tents against the hull of the ship. He was making ready to retire himself when he felt a touch upon his shoulder.

  He was surprised to see Ethelrynne. She had a subdued expression.

  “Princess?” he said.

  “If you don’t mind,” she said quietly, “I could use your help.”

  He nodded, “Of course. What do you need?”

  She didn’t answer, but let her hand slide down to his and pulled him along. She walked through the camp, everyone else asleep except for Veld, who poked the fire with a branch. He nodded at his princess as they passed, again smirking at Hade. The soldier felt his cheeks burn.

  He wondered what Ethelrynne could possibly need his help with, and he couldn’t help but think that it was a ploy to get him alone. He dismissed this as ego and libido talking, but it wasn’t an unpleasant idea. She turned and offered him a small smile as she led him up to the ship’s deck.

  In the cabin, a small lamp lent a warm glow over the card table and feather bed. There was a trunk partially obscured in shadow at the foot of the bed, and it lay open with the princess’s cloak folded neatly inside.

  “Normally,” she broke the silence, moving to allow him to enter, while at the same time closing the cabin door behind him, “Chazmyr would help me with this, but…”

  “Right,” Hade said. He had been getting more and more nervous, and when Ethelrynne turned and pointed to the clasp of her armor, just behind her neck, it made sense. Her sergeant acted as her personal attendant on the road, and with him back at Vizerburg, someone needed to fill the role.

  While he wondered why one of her other rangers might not be suited better to the task, he still stepped forward and began to help her out of her armor.

  It was a lengthy process; the armor was intricate and Hade paid particular attention to avoid placing his hands near inappropriate places.

  They talke
d as he worked, with the princess relating how Chazmyr had first shown her how to don and remove her armor as well as how to care for it properly. The rangers she commanded had watched her grow from childhood, and they were all father figures to her, in a way.

  “It can be a bit smothering, at times,” she said, sitting on the edge of the bed and extending a booted foot. Hade set to the buckles, keeping his eyes on his work.

  “Between those doting hens and the sniveling lickspittles at court, you’re the first man I’ve met that hasn’t been trying to protect me or marry me.” She giggled a bit at the comment.

  Hade stopped and looked up at her. His heart was racing, but she seemed to be making light of their situation, so he smiled in return. Slipping the knee-high boot free, he set to work on the other one.

  “Well,” he chuckled, “I think you’ve spent more time protecting me, if we’re being honest.” He grunted as the other boot came free.

  “And I usually wait until the third date before I propose,” he said, straitening and knuckling his lower back.

  She laughed out loud at the comment, cheeks flushed. She stood in front of him. With her boots off, they were almost eye-to-eye. She laid her hands on his chest and sighed.

  “Your turn,” she said.

  He blinked, and looked at her quizzically for a moment, before she pushed him to face the other way.

  He then remembered that he was still wearing the suit of finely crafted mail that the baron of Vizerburg had given him. The man had said it was a gift for exemplary service; Hade felt as if he’d stolen it.

  Her fingers were deftly unlacing the back of the shirt, “What about you, Orin,” she pronounced his first name slowly, trying it out. She’d only ever called him Hade.

  “Got any maidens sprinkled about the countryside, pining for the day their lover will return?”

  The wine had made her bold. His neck and face were beginning to burn again.

  “Nah,” he started, “most of the men I’ve served under ensured there was little time for such things.”

  A memory stole upon him then; a vision of the sea at dusk. Sounds of frantic splashing, cries for help, and the gratitude of a lady saved from death…

  The chain shirt came free, and she let it pool in the trunk. He shook the memory away, and worked his greaves while she began to pull off his boots.

  “So…you’re saying you never married?” She had missed his momentary reverie, and was setting his boots next to her own near the foot of the bed.

  He dropped the last of the mail in the nearly-full trunk, “Heh, no. Although, I can’t imagine why no one wanted to marry a scruffy soldier stationed on the outskirts of nowhere.”

  She was staring at him, he realized. His grin slipped slightly, as it occurred to him that she’d taken his boots. He glanced at the footwear and back to her as she took a step toward him.

  She was limned in the glow of the lamp, her golden hair a halo. He was painfully aware of how the soft fabric of her tunic and leggings accentuated her figure. Even though she was a near-silhouette, her violet eyes were bright, her cheeks flushed. Before he knew it they were toe-to-toe.

  “Their loss,” it was barely above a whisper.

  “Princess, I…” he stammered.

  She kissed him. It was soft and tentative at first, but soon blossomed. Her hands reached up to either side of his neck, and he found himself circling her lithe figure with his arms before he knew what he was doing. She broke it off, pulling away just an inch. His whole world consisted of two purple pools.

  “Hmm,” she grunted, snaking her arms to lock behind his neck, while wriggling tighter against him.

  Hade’s head was swimming, but still he assumed a hurt expression, “’Hmm’? That’s all you’ve got?”

  She smirked, “At ease, soldier.” She put her fingers through his facial hair, “I’ve never kissed a man with a beard before. Elves don’t have facial hair.”

  “Really?” He wasn’t sure how to take that, “I can always shave.”

  She kissed him again, opening her mouth to let him explore with his tongue. This one lasted longer, and Hade was beginning to give in to his yearning for her.

  When they stopped, the silence was broken only by their heavy breathing. She began to back toward the bed, pulling him along with her. Her eyes smiled at him.

  “I don’t know…it’s different. Makes me wonder,” she said as they started to work at disrobing one another - in a considerably more urgent fashion than they’d removed their armor.

  “How else are human men different then elves?”

  They spent the night together, satisfying her curiosity.

  Chapter 23

  Following a day of audiences, the king had retired to his solar, an opulently furnished sitting room which stood behind the Throne Room. It contained plush chairs and sofas, several round polished tables, two hearths and a wide balcony.

  There were bookshelves unset in the walls, twelve feet in height, yet they didn’t reach the domed ceiling. Lamps were fastened in regular intervals, as well as upon each of the tables. A deep, rich carpet of golden thread covered the entire floor.

  Near the outer wall, facing away from the large glass doors that lead to the balcony, sat a massive stone desk. Its top was polished granite, the color of charcoal. It was adorned with two lamps, a globe of Valia, and a sunken inkpot with multiple quills had a home on the right-hand side. Sheaves of paper were scattered about the surface.

  The king was on his balcony, looking over the White River as it twisted by below, and the shipping district that sprawled out beyond. There was a slight breeze, but Remiel wanted to be alert, focused.

  He had an important meeting that might shed some much-needed light upon events transpiring in the west of the Realm, and he couldn’t afford to allow the day-to-day minutia of ruling to scatter his thoughts. He often took to his balcony to clear his head.

  There came a soft cough from the half opened door behind him. He turned to see Calvert, his butler, stepping onto the balcony.

  The elderly man bowed deeply, showing the king the top of his bald head, before assuming an apologetic expression. He understood Remiel all too well.

  “Young Master Reynolt has arrived from the keep of the lord mages, Your Grace.” Calvert had a voice smooth and rich, like aged liquor.

  Remiel nodded, “Thank you, Calvert. Show him in. Tell the queen I’ll be taking supper in my solar, and I’ll have a guest. As always, she’s welcome to join us.”

  The butler nodded curtly, “Very good, Your Highness.”

  As Calvert disappeared, the king took one last look across the lower half of his city. With a final deep breath of the spring air, he turned and entered his solar, closing the door behind him. He moved to the western hearth and poked at the low fire there. As he straitened, wincing at the tightness of his lower back, Calvert returned.

  “Reynolt of Crystalwater, recently-appointed Wizard of the Realm,” he announced, before stepping aside to allow Reynolt to enter.

  The wizard was clad in a deep purple tunic, breeches, and cloak. He wore a wide black belt, and polished black boots.

  “Your Majesty,” he said, before bowing deeply. As he straightened, Remiel could see that his brown eyes were haunted. There were bags beneath them that hadn’t been there when they’d met before his departure, and his jet hair was prematurely streaked with white. A chill ran up the King’s spine.

  “Reynolt. Congratulations on your appointment.” He waved the young man to a seat near his desk.

  “I trust your mission was a success?”

  They moved in concert to the other side of the room. Reynolt chose a deeply cushioned armchair while the king took his seat behind the desk. Calvert glided to a side table and poured two glasses of brandy.

  “Tell me,” Remiel began in somber tones, “Is Leodyne Falkshire…dead,” he stammered a moment, “I mean, you were able to defeat him, yes?”

  The young wizard took the offered libation before responding.
He drank deeply, and sighed. He set the glass on the desk and leaned back, gathering his thoughts.

  “The lych is gone, My King,” he started, “His thralls were consumed in the energy well, so there will be no disciples of his mad teaching to spread through the Realm.”

  “Ahh,” Remiel breathed, “That’s good news.”

  Reynolt didn’t share his relief, “It would be, Your Highness, if there hadn’t been more to Falkshire’s descent into madness.”

  The king stopped in mid-sip of his brandy. He set the glass down with a frown,

  “Go on.”

  Reynolt rocked forward to place his steepled fingers against his chin, lips pursed. At length he seemed to cease an inward struggle.

  “Master Falkshire was in league with Malavarius Drejth.”

  There was the hiss of a sharp intake of breath, and Calvert reddened as the two men glanced his way. He stiffened, the tray he held with the brandy decanter shaking slightly as he regained composure.

  The king stared at Reynolt for a few moments, his steely eyes unreadable.

  “You are sure.” It wasn’t a question.

  Reynolt nodded solemnly, “Positive, Your Majesty. I was witness to their last communication.”

  “Damn,” the king spat. He had been briefed on the nature of Leodyne’s suspected corruption, of course, but there had been other attempts to harness Drejth magic, none of which indicated a direct link to the long-dead sorcerer.

  “It’s worse,” Reynolt interrupted his thoughts.

  Remiel raised an eyebrow, indicating he was dubious about how much worse it could get.

  “Drejth has cast his spirit into the world, somehow. He has something dire planned; something that he said will end your family’s reign.

  “While he didn’t lay out his grand design, he did mention the Baroness…Emberlock. He said he had to meet her in Galloway ‘before the moon turned.’ ”

  He let that sink in.

  “Galloway,” the king breathed.