Ravenhaunt (The Rhynvold Chronicles Book 1) Read online

  “Is she…?” murmured Narei.

  The Prince of Tarpine merely nodded and took her arm, directing her away from the sight. Selene did not protest when Grahm did the same to her, even though she would have smacked the Sithian any other time.

  The princess remained silent as they began their trek out of the cave. She could not resist looking back at the carnage behind her, where the old hag who had disguised herself as Grandmistress Jaiyana lay. Selene wanted to curse as her eyes found the corpses of the imps, as well as those of the two child-sized skeletons that hung from the ceiling. There wasn’t a Grandmistress Jaiyana; there had never been. It was all a lie.

  Her eyes found the fire again, which had diminished in size. One could safely assume that the evil demon lord from beyond was not present. Selene was the most skilled spellcaster here, and she had sensed a palpable heat and wickedness permeating the chamber when Gazjra Dae’goth was present. If he had remained, the girl would have felt it. All that she felt now was numb and chilled as the earth sucked the heat from the area.

  “Selene, please,” murmured Grahm from somewhere to her left.

  Realizing that they were entering the darkness once more, she clutched her fingers around an imaginary ball and held it aloft. The elven word for light caused her being to manifest into a bright yellow orb that cast luminous rays. Now the walls of the cave danced with the shadowy outlines of her fingers.

  Their silence only broke when all five reached the mouth of the cave. The soothing pattering of rain didn’t put Selene at ease, but it was still a comforting sound. She loved storms.

  “I doubt you’ll ever forgive me-” began Grahm.

  “I wouldn’t,” interjected Gudwin, moisture forming in his eyes. “How could we be so weak?!”

  “Gudwin you weren’t in control,” Selene reminded him. “Neither was Grahm.”

  “I’m ashamed!” the dwarf continued. “I cannae believe it!”

  Aeron slammed his dark blade away with a low wail of metal scraping metal. The flesh on Selene’s body rose in goose pimples at that sound; no weapon ever made that noise when it sheathed. Now that she could think, she remembered hearing it earlier in the cave as well. Was it a demoralizing enchantment, or did some fool blacksmith put metal into the sheath?

  “We are well, that is all that matters,” murmured Narei, staring off into the night. “We should tell someone though. We don’t know what else lives out here.”

  As Aeron sheathed his dagger, his niece studied him. The half-elf was flat-faced, numb to the world. Her uncle stared off into space while they deliberated. Was he unaffected by the memory of the woman that had died by his hand? A horrifying thought to be sure, but Selene knew him better than that…at least she hoped so. One could justify the death by remembering that Jaiyana was a witch, but none could overlook the boon she had given Aeron. Perhaps he felt guilty for ever encountering the false grandmistress?

  Almost three years ago, Aeron had been completely blind. Her father, King Draezon, had informed her years ago that his half-brother had been born decades after him. That meant that her grandmother, Queen Erin Rosshald, had been old at Aeron’s conception. All knew that it was rare for a woman to have a fruitful womb at her age, and her father suspected that had caused her uncle’s blindness.

  Tonight, the mystery of his disappearing ailment had been solved: the witch had fed him the heart of Cas, a son of a lord from Is’an. But it wasn’t merely a heart; she had sacrificed the Southern boy to her demonic lord, and the mighty fiend had imbued the organ with some of his power. The enchantment was supposed to take effect when Aeron became angry.

  That had happened much later than the witch had intended, at a feast in Tarpine, and Selene supposed it was fortunate. Had Aeron returned alone after gaining sight, he might have met his end. On the other hand, he might have done exactly what the witch wanted: led his friends to the cave.

  Three years ago, Selene wasn’t the mage she was now. Three years ago, clumsy Aeron might not have been courageous enough to fight.

  Her uncle was rightly worried about the state of his soul right now. He likely blamed himself for the death of Cas, and maybe even of the other child. Selene attempted to look on the brighter side and think of the lives they had saved by eliminating the witch. After all, Jaiyana had admitted to turning away from her task of coaxing Grandmistress Lillian home, instead seeking to feed off children and use them for sacrifices.

  “Is Grandmistress Lillian a witch?” Selene blurted, drawing all eyes to her. “No, it’s not possible…I’ve not felt it.”

  “How would you know?” countered Narei. “You didn’t feel Jaiyana.”

  The princess narrowed her eyes at the annoying elf. “I’ve not been around her until now…I’ve been around Grandmistress Lillian for years. I would have sensed something.”

  “Likely masked herself,” pointed out Grahm.

  “So you wouldn’t have felt it.”

  A sharp and nauseating pain twisted in her gut like a solid punch had stolen upon her. She suddenly became aware of throbbing head pain. Selene wondered if these symptoms were leading her to grow angry.

  “I would have!” she snapped. “I’ve felt Grandmaster Shinji, Grandmaster Frederick…all of them that possess any ability! I feel you now!”

  “Girls,” protested Aeron in the ensuing moment of silence. “Not tonight. I hear this every day. Please, let’s go back to the Academy and tell them.”

  The five walked back towards the main campus, or at least the remaining light that emanated from it. It was more of a brisk run, which the princess did not desire. No one else wanted the rain to soak them, but for her, it was a means to wash away the horrors of the cave. Though the memory would never truly fade, the cold dampness took her mind off it.

  Eventually, they reached the outlying buildings. Selene sorely desired to start a blaze in their tower’s fireplace and curl into a ball under the sheets while the heat radiated through the chimney. Her wet locks had clung to her face and neck like slimy tentacles, chilling her, and her stomach wasn’t feeling any better. She knew she had to help the others rouse the grandmasters though.

  Not one soul stood outside except for the guards at the central hall, who sat under the shelter of the overhanging roof. When the five emerged into the torchlight, the guards immediately set to chastising them.

  “Children! You should be in bed!”

  “There’s a witch in the cave!” Narei shouted.

  Selene could palpably feel their disbelief, without even trying to read minds. She knew how ludicrous it sounded; the girl just didn’t care about convincing them. Action was needed.

  “Witch?” one questioned. “Hold, what cave?”

  “They’ve had a nightmare,” another surmised. “Up telling ghost tales and spooking each other. Get to bed now!”

  “No!” Selene shouted, overcoming her protesting companions. “People are dead!”

  Now the guards took on serious expressions. They shared a look, and two of them shrugged. Why weren’t they acting?!

  “Rouse the grandmasters! There’s been a murder! Stop fopdoodling about and sar-”

  “On my soul, princess!” one guard swore, holding up a hand to stop her forthcoming insult. “I’ll get a grandmaster, and he’ll be ecstatic to hear your colorful language.”

  As the man departed, the five children huddled under cover of the roof. There was no fire here since it was a warm Moryn night. Selene willed herself warm instead, and soon she felt the magical sensation exuding from her. Aeron shuffled closer to her, and the others followed suit.

  “Were you about to say the S word?” inquired her uncle, eyeing her warily.

  Aeron was referring to the word her father had coined a decade ago, which was a direct derivation from the name of a steward he had killed during the War of the Princes. The deceased man had bungled governance of one Northern town—Selene thought it was Angbaen—so bad that her father had used his name as an insult in court one day. From there, the word had spread from the guards, to the townspeople, and to a good portion of the Plainlands at least. Some had added another connotation to it involving what a man and a woman did when alone.

  “Words like that help add weight to the situation,” the princess explained. “Barely worse than fopdoodle.”

  “False. ‘Tis an ugly word coming from a pretty lass,” Gudwin commented. “Both are.”

  Selene ignored them; her actions were justified. How was her tongue worse than the poisoning that a demon had done to them? A self-proclaimed Lord of the Beyond had corrupted Aeron through his hex-weaving minion. What did it matter if she used a few choice words?

  Shortly, the guard returned with the grandmaster Selene did not want to see this night: Balthazar. The man had an imposing, thick jawline, but it was dwarfed by his thick, bister-colored beard. His gray eyes seemed tiny as they sat above high cheekbones, yet the thick brows above wholly masked this with their imposing shape. His forehead possessed well-defined wrinkles from frowning, an expression he used quite often. Now was no exception, Selene noted, when she saw him in his night robe.

  “Is what I hear true?” the Easterner growled. “You’ve scared yourself with ghost tales?”

  Selene audibly groaned, rolling her head disgust. The guard had not relayed her message! What fools! Why would any be in the employ of the illustrious Academy if they did not take their profession seriously?

  “I’ll not take that tone from you, Lady Selene,” the grandmaster warned. “I’ll be off to bed and away from this madness now.”

  “Grandmaster!” Aeron pleaded as the man turned to go.

  Selene looked at her uncle, wondering what he would say to convince the man of historical studies. Surprisingly, the prince said nothing, but Selene’s eyes fell to th
e gilded dagger at his belt. There, the half-elf pulled the blade and held it shakily as red drops of blood dripped free. Oddly, the fluid ran away like oil, and it had not crusted on the edge. A quick look at Grandmaster Balthazar revealed that Aeron had attracted his attention. Just before her uncle was about to draw his long sword, the Easterner held up a hand.

  “Show me where,” he said before pointing at four guards. “You, follow me and be watchful.”

  An hour passed before they reached the scene of the carnage again. Everything was exactly the same, from the ashes of an imp to the skeletons hanging from the ceiling. Jaiyana was a foul-smelling corpse now, looking like a prune. Selene passed a glance at the bonfire again, noticing that it still burned, but she did not detect malice.

  “This is where the missing children went,” one guard whispered.

  “We thought they ventured home,” said the other. “Turns out they didn’t get very far.”

  The princess was about to whirl upon the guards with all her wrath until she saw the withering glare of Grandmaster Balthazar.

  “I want the bodies, all of them, brought back to the Academy,” he ordered. “Now.”

  The man pivoted on his foot and walked out with the children trailing. Selene wasn’t sure why they needed the witch’s body. Why not let Jaiyana rot in the cave where fungus and insects could at least multiply on her?

  A cloud of drowsiness had descended upon the princess’s head by the time they arrived at Eritmaer’s Hall again, signaling to her that it was much later than she was used to…at least of late. With the hard lessons at the Academy, she was worn out at an earlier hour, whereas previously she would melt candles down to empty chambersticks every week with her evening reading or games.

  The haze was thick upon her, enough to miss how three new grandmasters had arrived before them. One was an ancient man who stooped over and shuffled forward. A beard, well over a foot long, swayed with the sage as he came forward. Selene felt pity for Grandmaster Frederick, who still yet clung to life dearly for the sake of knowledge. Truthfully though, he was in prime health, except for his age, as his popping knees reminded her just then. The princess had to stifle a snicker though, for as the old man rubbed his balding scalp, she noticed how soft and fluffy his night robe was. Likely it was comfortable; it just seemed odd on a man.

  The other two were Grandmaster Argyle and Grandmistress Lillian. The former was a wild-haired druid with a streak of gray in the middle of his beard; if Selene didn’t know any better, she would have expected his standard look to arise from his rude awakening. As for the latter, the woman was a brunette that had uncharacteristically removed any braid or adornment from her hair. Instead of bearing her usual cheer, Grandmistress Lillian had a somber look on her face, and her brown eyes had lost their happy twinkle. The woman was crossing her arms and staying silent.

  “Explain what happened, children,” Grandmaster Balthazar commanded, turning upon them.

  Eventually, they found the words. When Aeron spoke the name of the witch, Selene looked straight at Lillian. The mentor’s skin lost all color, and her eyes widened. Selene could not help herself in this instance; she had to know what the grandmistress was thinking, and her curiosity caused her to abuse her powers of telepathy once more. Without even acknowledging the act, she melded her mental being with the philosopher’s.

  Jaiyana? No, it can’t be. I was so careful! I left them all behind! the woman’s thoughts raced forth in a tumbled mess of pain and denial. How did she find me? I thought I teleported away safely? Did Oromohi find out?

  With that unfamiliar name, an image of a handsome man with short, curly hair appeared, but the emotions that the grandmistress held were nothing close to attraction. Betrayal, disgust, and fear mixed together, with the latter seeming out of place. The fear was similar to terror in the face of the otherworldly. It wasn’t hard for Selene to take the leap and assume that Oromohi was a demon of some sort, likely an incubus, but that was the only one she was aware of that could look like a seductive mortal.

  No, I did get away. It’s been at least a quarter-century; Dayhla would have found me if she wanted to. She wasn’t looking for me; she wanted…the children. Those four wanted more life.

  A pit formed in Selene’s stomach. There was no possible way for Grandmistress Lillian to be older than two decades, and even if her speculations were generous, the woman would have been a child twenty-five years ago. Did that mean that she was like Jaiyana, consorting with demons? Had she…extended her life?

  Grandmaster Argyle spun his head in hysteria, then rotated his hands in circles around his ears. This onset of panic caused Selene to jerk in surprise, severing her connection to the former witch. While the druid practically shouted his response, the princess kept a wary eye on Grandmistress Lillian. It seemed that the woman had not detected her mind reading, but the girl did not breathe a sigh of relief just yet. Knowing that the woman was knowledgeable of spells meant that she was proficient enough to detect a mental intrusion.

  “This explains much!” the man said, raising his hands. “Demonic forces at work in the wood disturbed the goodly creatures that resided there! That is why things felt so wrong to me!”

  “It does explain that,” Grandmaster Frederick noted with a slow nod. “We should take note of the luck these children had…or should I say, the safety that the gods ensured these innocents.”

  “That’s all and well, but the important fact here is the reason this witch was here…for you,” were the biting words from Balthazar as he leveled a finger at Grandmistress Lillian.

  “You take me wrongly,” she pleaded, looking at her colleagues. “It was a part of life that I was involved in for many years, but it was not a good life to live. It is unfulfilling and despicable in the eyes of all the gods, and that was why I left. There is more to life than subjugating yourself to the prideful monsters of the beyond. I hoped to turn my life around by doing good work for the rest of my time on this world, and I have begged the gods for mercy ever since. Tell them, Frederick.”

  And what a significant time left that had to be; Selene couldn’t help but dwell on that fact. Had the woman’s life been extended by ten years, or perhaps more? Selene wondered if she could spend a moment studying Grandmistress Lillian further. She had no idea how to read the lifespan of an individual, yet theory dictated that she might be able to discover it with time magically.

  “Guards, escort the children back to bed,” ordered Grandmaster Balthazar. “They should not be here for this.”

  None of them protested.

  Selene wondered why Aeron was not being interrogated further, considering the revelation the witch had given them. Before she could even begin to reach for his mental being, the answer hit her: he hadn’t told them. No one had. While preoccupied with her thoughts, she had not thought to mention it. Khaz’nà was still deathly afraid of the Underworld, and if evil had touched a prince of a prominent kingdom, every cleric in the continent would surround him with protection spells and study the effects of the healing. A remnant of Gazjra Dae’goth could remain in the half-elf.

  Part of Selene wondered if she should keep an eye on him as well. She didn’t want her uncle to be taken from her, especially not after tonight, but his utterly blank stare concerned her. She wanted it to be shock, the princess hoped beyond all hope it was. If it was ambivalence, as she feared, then something demonic was in him.

  A cold chill raced through her, just as the group walked into the south dormitory tower. Before the next thought fully arrived in her mind, she grew fearful of crying in front of those around her. Fortunately, no one else wanted to say goodnight, so they let the princess race up to her room on the fourth floor.

  The princess kicked her door shut behind her and felt herself tremble uncontrollably. Her stomach still hurt, but now it jerked spasmodically. She wanted to calm down; she knew she had to but wasn’t sure how. It took all her strength at that moment to sit on her bed and relive what was she heard tonight before the fight:

  A ridged face glared straight at her with eyes of pure flame. Horns sprouted from everywhere possible, the chin, the head, the sides…but what was worse was the twisted teeth as the thing spoke. Except its voice was roaring in her head, using the tongue of fiends.

  “I am Gazjra Dae’goth, Master of the Underworld. Everyone fears the voice of the hellrage dragon!” she recalled, the bass tone still echoing in her skull. “As should you, weak spawn of Talon! I am no Andiel; I am far worse! And your soul will be mine to gnash on for centuries while your father weeps on his throne!”