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

“I burned the fields,” said Gundrygia, “and chased the fools from Soot into the hills—just as mankinds burned the fields of all my creatures whenever they endeavored to settle somewhere and begin their own agricultural communities. I used my magic to show them what it’s like to lose everything…and now, Wotsung, I think I’ll show you.”

Never had I heard that word in all my days beneath Weltyr’s eye, but there was no time to ponder it. Gundrygia’s eyes glowed a hot violet-pink, the air around her shifting to a similar hue. I released my companions, ready to meet an opponent I was not confident I could best—

And a pair of ravens bolted from the dark, their beaks and talons poised for Gundrygia’s eyes.

Amazing to think that a woman so terrifying might be afraid of anything in turn! Yet the sharpness of her scream as the ravens descended to tear at her face and scalp was like the wail of a dying banshee. As she howled with fear, the visible evidence of her magic vanished. Instead Gundrygia raised her arms before her eyes and cringed away. Her gimlet servants scattered, the little cowards, and the lantern fell from her hands.

To my awe, one of the ravens caught the lantern’s handle and flew off with the hefty relic gripped in its black claws.

While this mighty bird—surely more than twice the size of even the largest raven I had ever seen about the streets of Skythorn—bore the lantern from Soot, its brother continued the vicious assault against Gundrygia. Cringing face filled with terror, the woman cast me a look, grit her teeth, and drew the hem of her dress up over her head.

The twisting fabric transformed in an instant to the plumage of a snowy owl. Shrieking in this new form, Gundrygia flapped silently off with the second raven in close pursuit.

I had to make a choice, and made it in an instant. Without saying a thing to Valeria or Branwen, I tore off after the fast-receding ball of light that marked the raven with the lantern.

The women called after me, but there was no time to waste. I was already far behind the bird and, encumbered as I was by my armor, it flew farther and farther beyond the possibility of my acquisition. The raven soared effortlessly beneath the pale face of the obscured moon, the beating of its widespread wings evident in the lantern’s golden light.

Less effortlessly, I pursued it. On and on: it flying, me running, I thought of nothing but getting Odile’s lantern back safe and sound. The treasure was too valuable…and, after it had been identified by Gundrygia as that same relic Fortisto had mentioned, I could not let it go without a fight.

I was just not prepared for the fight I was due.

Focused as I was on the bird, I did not realize how far it had led me outside of Soot’s boundaries until the ball of light descended not far from the site of our horseback lesson. Seeing my chance, I paused only for a few short breaths before doubling my pace. Strife bounced in its scabbard to keep the pace of my steps. Moments later, I stumbled into a quarry of stones and through these high piled stones followed the raven’s call. Its croaking laughter was gradually rendered unnecessary by the glow of the light that led me to itself…and to the old man at whose feet it shone.

After all I had been through in the past forty-eight hours, I could hardly believe my eyes. Thinking my vision failed me, I blinked several rapid times—but Hildolfr was no mirage.

Much as he had when represented by that nameless creature in the secret garden cave of the Nightlands, the ranger sat upon the edge of a great stone. This time, rather than tending to his pipe, the one-eyed old man and last of my traitors sat with one hand upon his knee while the other remained casually draped about the lance forever within his reach. His familiar raven, its feathers glossy in the light, perched upon his left shoulder to casually groom itself.

“Hello, Rorke,” said Hildolfr, his tone strangely mingled somewhere between pride and sorrow. “It’s good to see you again.”

My heart was as stony as his seat. “I wish that I could say the same. Each time Weltyr has deigned to show you to me has proved more painful than the last.”

Hildolfr’s lips quirked beneath his beard. “Is that so?”

“Indeed, it is. First, a heinous creature of the Nightlands stole your form to address me; next, you appeared to me in a dream. Now you’re here: a hallucination brought on by ceaseless, sleepless riding and the fatigue of a hard-fought battle.”

“Life would be much simpler for you were I not before you now, Rorke Burningsoul…but it would also be the same as everybody else’s life. And you’ve never been satisfied with the idea of living everybody else’s life. Isn’t that why you joined the Order?”

“I joined the Order in service to Weltyr, whom I thought you yourself knew nearly as well as I did. Your treachery down in the Nightlands proves otherwise. What have you done with the Scepter?”

“I have taken it out of the hands of those who would misuse it.”

With a scoff, I drew Strife. The ranger remained where he sat, unmoving.

“All night,” I said, unable to help the frustration in my voice. “I’ve been asking simple questions and receiving no answer. This night, this journey, my whole life! I’m tired of it. I’ll ask you again, you old snake—where is the Scepter? Or is it in the same place you left that missing eye of yours?”

Now Hildolfr laughed, albeit in the dark way of a disbelieving adult to whom a toddler had just spoken crossly. “My missing eye is the one you see through now, Paladin. I cast away my foolishness…now it stands before me.”

The second raven croaked