Page 31

Chapter

Thirty

DAGHEL

I smile grimly as I prowl through the throne room. I played my expected part and done it so well that Vorn feasts and laughs jovially as if he truly counts me among his assembled brothers. Even Ajek has begrudgingly played the part of accepting me despite not being able to follow through with his plans. But as far as everyone is concerned, the ends have been accomplished, and I am the last mated gathol remaining, so naturally they fearlessly celebrate. As are the warriors for, although there are other hidden faction encampments, all are unconcerned about them at this moment. Vorn boastful speeches have them all convinced that our blow was brutal enough to shatter morale if not send them fleeing from our peaks.

The male is not only boastful and crude, but possesses a disgusting cruelty that I know some creatures of Vepra’s pit would enjoy playing with, but I merely smile as I move casually among his warriors and accept their loud toasts to me with a faint tip of my head. Not only do they think that I am one of them, but they all think me a fool. That is a dangerous mistake.

My gaze lifts to Vorn, and my lips curl. The pretend king is so desperate for power that he feeds his warriors food tainted heavily with magic so that his influence can slip them into madness with their killing rage. I had not realized that before when I was merely Daghel, but the scent of dark sorcery is heavy with a comfortable familiarity that I can easily identify. What is more is that I am not blind to Vorn’s true intentions toward me. I saw it in the slyness of his smile when he insisted that I enjoy them and the secretive shadows within Ajek’s eyes.

Of course, they intend that I do not leave. That much is apparent to me now. They used me as their sword against our own gathols. It is all so clear to me. Was there ever a message of reinforcement forces coming from the inner mountains to attack the peaks? Oh, that clever, nasty little orc. He played his cunning little ploy very well in finding a way to dispense with the gathol who were the true potential threat to his rule. I never even suspected. And who was the mastermind? Was it Vorn, or was it Ajek?

It does not matter. Both will die and then the gathols will return to their mates and queen. It is only right that I set things back in order. The clans have forgotten their allegiance to Vepra and the rulership she established with her own hand. I will remind them… and I will begin with the clan of the Fang Peaks.

My gaze shifts among the revelers as they feast as the smell of charred human flesh fills the room, searching for one particular individual who does not belong. But then I catch sight of him—a new face amongst Vorn’s retinue. Ah. There is the mage. My smile widens. Perfect. Now that I have his location, it is time for the real fun to begin. I know that I will not succeed in killing everyone before the mage finds a way to bind me, but at least now that I know where he is, I can find ways to delay him as I kill as many as possible. Ever since Vorn insisted I enter the feast hall, I have been aware of this. But it is no matter. This is only to whet the appetite. More will fall before the end. I can play this cat-and-mouse game very well.

I come to a stop behind a male and my eyes drop to him and I smile, dipping my head when he turns to raise his cup to me. No one sees the sword I oh so carefully pull from its sheath. Blood lust sings through me and I wish that Drisk could be here to savor it with me, but I have little doubt now that Vorn had plans for him as well. He probably never made it up to our rookery for Anya to take her to join the hidden gathol as I instructed.

But I do have an advantage, none of them know my secret. Even the mage is feasting without care, completely oblivious and ignorant of my presence among them.

I brush a claw against the male’s cheek, drawing a chuckle from, his eyes brightening with interest. Ajek’s beautiful son. What a pity he is as poisoned with cruelty inside as his father. My gaze lifts to meet Ajek’s eyes and the male freezes, his smile slowly slipping and replaced with horror as I quickly bring out my blade and plunge it into the young warrior’s throat in the same spot Ajek’s javelin had pierced the wyvern. The male’s body arches violently and thrashes as he chokes on his spurting blood, but he is already forgotten as I spin, slashing my blade as I cut down those nearest to me to the sweet, sweet melody of Ajek’s bellow of grief.

A shout of fear goes up as I feel my dark fire welling up within me, spilling from me and down my sword, incinerating those that attempt to attack on my claws crushed skulls into bloody messes and pull out in entrails in the wake of my slashing blade. Blood spills everywhere as I perform my macabre dance, moving quickly and calculatedly to keep warriors between me and the mage stumbling in horror to his feet.

I know when he recognizes me because my first name spills from his lips with a sound of terror that sends Vorn bolting, wide-eyed to his feet.

“Durethikal!”

I grin at the mage as the orc between us slumps, his head severed and his body dropping twitchingly to the ground, and spin to avoid a bolt of magic as I renew my attack.

“Impossible!” Vorn bellows fearfully. He spins haplessly in place, searching for protection as I methodically cut my way to him.

Platters of roasted meat and flesh fall to the floor as they are overturned with every table I viciously kick over. The foul filth of eating clan. I cannot abide it! I laugh as the blood spurts and runs over the floor and at their screams of fear and pain fill the air.

“Are you not entertained by suffering?” I bellow as I catch a male by the hair, wrenching his head around so hard that it snaps. He doesn’t even have a chance to experience the horror of his skull caving in as I puncture it with my claws and break it open like a melon. “You laughed at the suffering of your clan you slaughtered, and you laugh now as you feast. So, laugh,” I command with a bark of cruel laughter. “Laugh sons of Fang Peaks!”

The screams grow louder in a symphony, and I am almost disappointed when I see Ajek manage to get across the room and flee into the hallway beyond. Never mind, I can deal with him later. Let him savor his suffering.

“Save me… and stop him,” Vorn roars, and several males gather around him as a protective shield despite the white terror in the depths of their eyes.

I laugh at his fear but sadly, I can see my carnage coming to an end before it hits. The warriors were too good at providing obstacles between me and their king and now there are fewer bodies available to be shields against the mage’s magic. Several blasts skim far too close to me so that my skin prickles as I whirl out of their path, grinning ferociously as stone and furnishings explode and giant, metal candlesticks fall to the floor with metallic clangs.

Drawing up my ice fire through me, I sweep it out, blasting it in an arc, incinerating males as they fall, their flesh burning rapidly from their bodies as they quake with their screams before falling in lumps of blackened, oozing meat to the floor.

Their despair and terror is so delicious but my gaze lifts as a tall, powerful male strides quickly into the room, tossing back his cloak. There is fear within his eyes as he lifts his hands with determination, and I laugh incredulously. It seems that there was more than one mage, after all. That explains where the cowardly Ajek went.

Magic hits me from two sides, and my body arches, captured within its pulse crackling over me.

“Do not release your concentration for even a moment,” the first mage bellows as he skirts carefully around the tables, drawing in closer to me as his magic focuses and gathers with his proximity. “We are dealing with none less than Durethikal!”

The other glances toward him in surprise before snapping his head back to me warily, as if afraid of what I might do without his eyes trained on me. “If it is Durethikal, we cannot take any chances. Two of us together cannot bind him as our ancestors did before.” His gaze shifts with thinly veiled contempt to Vorn. “You dared to allow a drehl to be born? You did not say that you one such in your midst when I arrived. Do you have any idea how this folly could have torn apart the Cold Mountain Council of Clans whom I represent?”

Vorn shakes his head and sneers, and his eyes turn to me with a hatred that makes me smile back at him despite the spell’s hold. That shakes him. His gaze flees from mine to address the mage of the rebellious clans. He too will have to die.

“It was not my decision but my mother’s. She insisted on keeping the pup and allowing his mother to raise him within the palace grounds. But there has never been anything special about the male. It was a miracle that he even managed to become gathol because not even the clan wyverns would come near him. If not for Drisk showing up?—”

“The wyvern, where he is?” the council mage demands and perplexed look furrows Vorn’s brow.

“He is chained by trusted warriors, waiting for my signal to kill him so as not to alert Daghel to our intentions prematurely.”

The mage laughs bitterly. “You are a fool. This ‘Drisk’ is not who you have been led to believe he is. He is not just any wyvern, but the wyvern, the bonded one of Durethikal. He came for the male he is bonded to, and his purpose has now been realized. Do not imagine for a second you can kill him. Do you think that our ancestors did not try? Driskal is a nightmare unto himself, impossible to kill because of his bond with Durethikal. You will slay him and believe you succeeded, but then he will rise and destroy every fool he catches. We can enchant the chains of both males so that we do not repeat any mistakes. I will need to report this to the council and gather the mages. This experiment of purging your gathol has been successful. They will be pleased to hear these results despite having to deal with a larger problem. As for the queen?—"

“Have no fear, all accounts with her have already been settled,” Vorn assures him as I am dragged from the room.

Someone places a hood over my head—mostly due superstitious foolery I am certain—and it serves to disorient me as I am forcibly guided through the palace as we descend into the cool dampness of the lower cells carved into the cliffs below the palace floors, and far beneath the warmth of the rookeries. They are taking me into the dungeons. I can smell the cold, wet rot in the air and the icy cold that has formed icicles on some walls I brush against. Still, they lead me down farther into the depths until there is a clang of metal as a cell door creaks open and I am thrust inside. Cold metal clamps my wrist but the temperature of it does not bother me nor does the itch of magic from the enchantments they weave around my shackles and chain, and on the metal ring they draw the chain through, securing me to the wall. I am pretty certain that they are also enchanting the wall itself and my lips curl with amusement.

Smart males.

It is only when I am thoroughly bound that they pull off my hood. As I have been pushed to my knees, with hands bound above my head it forces me to look up at them briefly. They stare down at me warily and back away as I rise to my feet, shifting my arms to one side as I grin at them.

“What are you smiling about?” Vorn demands and takes a step forward with foolish bravado only to be stopped by Ajek’s hand firmly gripping his shoulder.

My grin widens and the council mage draws back and turns to face Vorn at the entrance of my cell. “I will leave immediately, but I must advise you to not permit anyone to linger around this cell. Durethikal is far too cunning. I would fear for any orc left within range of his influence.”

Vorn nods and follows him out so that they proceed down the corridor together. “These are the palace dungeons. There is no one else who is a guest here presently, so I will close them down entirely. Anyone caught entering without permission will find themselves becoming an additional guest down here while they await my judgment.”

All of my “admirers” move on, leaving only Ajek and one warrior in the cell with me. Ajek glowers at me, hatred burning in his eyes as I smile up at him.

“Let us see how long you smile. Strip him,” he barks to the warrior at his side.

The male’s reluctance to follow the order is laughable as it is understandable but he steps forward with wariness stamped across his face as he quickly removes every bit of clothing from me before following Ajek out of the cell.

The cell down swings shut with a loud clang and the rusty sound of a bar locking in place brings a smile to my face. Ajek sneers at me from the other side of the bar and spits at me before turning away, leaving the warrior holding my clothing to follow after him.

I smirk as their voices echo down the corridor and lower myself comfortably to the icy floor. As if my nudity bothers me. There is straw covering the ground to supposedly provide some illusion of warmth, but it does not matter to be me. I wait there in the darkness within only the firelight of distant torches providing the dimmest illumination.

I am there, alone in the darkness—just like old times—but my eyes snap open when I catch a familiar scent and see something shift in the shadows. A little spy.

“Hello Linahna,” I rumble pleasantly, and she freezes outside of my cell.

“How did you know I was here, Daghel?” she whispers.

“Who else would it be?” I sigh, my eyes closing once more as I rotate my shoulders to relieve some of the tension from them.

“Are you okay? They have forbidden anyone to come into the cells. I was not sure I could even make it down here. I heard that you avenged my people,” she whispers, admiration in her voice.

“All is well,” I assure. “But do me a favor if you would.”

“Anything.”

My eyes snap open to fix on her in the darkness. “Bring me my mate.”