Strife & Valor: Book II of The Rorke Burningsoul Saga by Regina Watts (red queen ebook .TXT) 📕

the lantern, after all. Where Kyrie had gotten it remained unclear, but I had the feeling it was not, as the durrow had been told, a matter of scavenging. That spirit-thief, Al-listux, seemed to have something to do with it…but what?

More useless wondering.

The darkness was muddled with lamplight and torches of all kinds throughout the city, but once we were outside of it, the night sky was a deep velvet tapestry. Valeria rode our first mile with her chin craned so high that I worried she might fall backward off the horse—but, oh, her mystified smile as she admired the ocean of constellations! By Weltyr, it was a more beautiful sight than any distant nebula.

Branwen’s countenance was much more stoic after a certain point. She had been light-hearted owing to the successful distraction of our fun time in the Mongoose’s bed, but as we drew farther from the city the happy memory faded into angst.

“You really don’t know any reason why this woman might want your audience, Rorke?”

I glanced over at the high elf’s question, shaking my head. “Not the slightest. If it’s desire, then I can assure you both this is a woman so beautiful she, like either of you, could lay claim to any man in all the land. I do not think looks have any bearing on it.”

“Is it because you woke her up?”

My hands spread nearly of their own accord. “Perhaps. I truly couldn’t say…she is a cruel woman, exceptionally cruel. If it is my love she wants, I can’t imagine giving it to her of my own free will. Not even in the confines of slavery.”

Of course, having already seen how quickly my ire could flip over to love with Branwen, I ought not to have made this statement with quite so much confidence. Simply speaking of Gundrygia evoked the feeling of her body in my arms—ah, the soft aroma of her flesh!

Yes, I did indeed feel as though I had been enchanted. Even then, riding toward her, I seemed in the throes of an action not of my free will. Rather, going to her was something into which I had been tricked…or, more aptly, forced. For, my first duty being to Weltyr, I had no choice but defend innocents in his name when they came to me for help. Though I did so with a warm heart, I could not shake the chilling sense of awe that gripped me when I thought of doing battle with the powerful sorceress.

So I thought, instead, of Weltyr. Of the Scepter, out there somewhere in Hildolfr’s possession. How was I to go about the business of finding it? My Father’s world was vast beyond all measure. Those that called it small had simply lost their sense of scale amid the synchronistic meetings and connections they had observed over time. The truth was that there were nearly infinite places for a man to go…especially a man in possession of a relic as valuable as the Scepter.

But it was not a mere thing of gold and gems. It was no mere totem or magical artifact. It was more than that, I was quite certain. Like Valeria’s ring, it held some power that I had not yet detected—that, perhaps, only a few had ever detected. I glanced down at the lantern, pondering its ability to repel lesser monsters and unintelligent animals of the surface.

“Branwen,” I said, “do you know anything about magical relics?”

“Hm…well, a thing or two, I guess. What do you want to know?”

“I’ve been wondering about Valeria’s ring. And, of course, the Scepter…especially after talking to Grimakin. He claimed it inspired greed in Hildolfr—that the old man got it into his possession and was changed at once.”

“He did seem very different once we left you behind,” Branwen confessed. “I thought it was because he regretted what we did to you. We all did, I think, but…”

Her eyes fell away and I glanced forward, suddenly unable to look her straight-on. “Yes, well, what’s done is done. Perhaps he regretted what happened, or perhaps he was driven blind with greed by the Scepter…perhaps you all were, even before setting hand on it. What was it Grimalkin was petitioning you for when I met you two, exactly?”

“Oh,” she said with an absent wave of her hand, “he wanted me to help him find work. Some silly nonsense about dreams promising him riches…imagine doing something like flying all the way across the world just because a dream told you to!”

Valeria and I exchanged a glance at that.

“I don’t know,” I said, maintaining a casual tone. “I think that prophetic dreams are more common than most would have them. I’ve had an odd one recently, myself.”

Looking at me all the more sharply to hear such a thing, Valeria asked, “Have you?”

I nodded. “While we were all still in the Nightlands, I had the strangest experience. There was a dream where I was viewing the hivemind of the spirit-thieves. Where it was located, I couldn’t rightly say. It looked like some kind of heinous tumor submerged in a flooded chamber. Someone opened a door to feed it.”

I considered mentioning that the voice of the caretaker had noticeably resembled my own, but I neither wanted to alarm them nor encourage them to write it all off as a mere assemblage of the day’s stresses and the morrow’s worries. Therefore, I refrained from additional details except to say, “The hivemind urged me to be more critical of the institutions around me…though I must confess that, when I consider the source, my kneejerk reaction is to close my eyes and ears and be less critical than ever before.”

“Have you ever had a dream like this before?” Valeria studied me closely, adding, “Or since?”

“Not that I can recall…and I think I would recall something this vivid, this strange. No…it was the only time. I suspect it has something to do with Al-listux. Back in your palace chambers, Valeria, when your guard came to my aid, the spirit-thief was attempting