FOREVER KNIGHTS: #4 Battling Black Roses

Nightway Castle, Nightway (Four years after meeting Riaura)

ALAZAR

Though Marod’s instances of violence on Riaura became more rare, they also became increasingly dangerous in their scarcity. Alazareth hoped Riaura wouldn’t have need of him again anytime soon. But Marod’s penchant for violence was not promising.

Tonight, that hope shattered. He woke in WaterRose to the sound of Riaura’s desperate screams. Her broken calls hauntingly rising to the windows of the Castle Stronghold. With the night off from the Guard, he’d thought to have his Knight Sleep. Preferring the safety of the stronghold over the barracks.

The valkyrie shrieked from down the hall.

She hears her as well. He knew.

Leaping from his bed, he yanked on boots and crossed the bailey, shouting to Dimitrius in the tower, then crossing the lowering bridge at a jog. Leaping from the end to land as a silver and black wolf in the mud and grass of the meadow. Sliding slightly in the dampness of it. Once in Warlock Grove he followed her calls and found her shadow carrying a blown-out torch, moving to and fro through the trees.

“Alazareth!” Her movements were erratic.

She’s terrified. He called to her but in her frantic state she couldn’t hear.

She’s going to run into a tree. He rushed to intercept her.

She slammed headlong into him.

Alazareth’s hands shot out to catch her arms. “What is it?”

Tears cascaded her face and her voice was hysterical. “He hurt me. He hurt Marod!”

“Calm Riaura!” He steadied her. “I don’t understand. Who hurt you?”

She babbled unintelligibly about ‘the man’. Clearly in a state of shock.

“Stop. Stop!” He commanded.

She jerked to silence. Trembling.

She’s petrified.

“You’re safe with me. Tell me what happened.”

“It hurts.” She said simply and held out her arm. A jagged cut tore over her palm, where tissue was blistered and puckered. The injury curved over the back of her wrist and partway up her forearm.

Alazar’s brow knitted. He caught her arm, turning it to inspect the wound. This isn’t Marod’s usual work. He realized. Gut dropping.

“Why?” He wondered aloud, releasing his grip on her to fist his hands at his side.

Why did someone do this to you? A low rumble rolled from his throat.

She gasped and drew back. “What was that sound?”

“What happened to you?”

“Marod hates me!” She expostulated.

When did she stop calling the queen ‘mother’? He waited quietly as she continued.

“She’s always been cold to me. You know that.”

You have something Radix wants. She’s jealous of you. Around his mouth whitened.

“Is there anyone you can tell?” He queried.

“People are scared of her. The whole village. Everyone in Nightway. They call her a dark Dread of the worst caliber.”

“I’ve heard.” He turned her and led to the edge of the bubbling Wake. Pulling a satin kerchief from his pocket he dipped it in the Wake and handed it to her to clean up. He’d begun carrying it for her frequent bouts of tears.

She dabbed the wound. Cleaning it with chilly water from the Wake made her shiver as she talked rapidly.

I forgot the cold. He winced. Easy to forget when I can’t feel it.

“Marod was speaking to Radix. He’s an ugly, old man! But she talks to him like he’s a King.”

No! Alazareth looked as though she’d slapped him. Radix was here?

“She looked scared.” Riaura hadn’t noticed his alarm yet. “When she bowed to him he stepped on her hand. I went to help…I was watching from the doorway, you see?” She explained. “His eyes…” She shuddered.

Tiny black things.

“I know him, Riaura.” His voice was edged in steel.

“He saw me peeking on them.”

How are you alive? What’d he do?

She didn’t answer. And he realized she shook like a leaf. Her teeth chattering.

She’s cold.

He sat on the edge of the Wake. “Lean on my back.”

“What?”

“Go ahead.” He hunkered over, dropping his head so she could huddle his back. He linked his fingers in his lap. Trying to hide his rage from her.

She hugged her arms around his waist. Feeling heat waves rolling off him.

“You’re so warm. Like you’re on fire!”

“I know.” He nodded. “Are you quite warmed?”

“Yes.” She murmured. Sighing in relief.

“Tell me more of this monster.”

“I tried to run but he blocked the stairs. The floor turned black and crackled into dry flakes.” She swallowed convulsively.

Ash. He knew.

“I felt sick when he grabbed me. He-he was cold…And evil.”

“I know.” Alazar said mournfully. His hands shook as he feared what’d happened next. His insides quaked.

Riaura’s lip quivered. “I’d have rather died then suffer any more of his cold dead touch.” She rolled to her knees next to him.

He jerked to face her and saw tears coursing from under her closed lids. Pain she tries to hide.

“What can I do?” He asked.

She slumped forward against the side of his shoulder.

He roughly patted the top of her head.

Though she was now nearly seventeen, she was still small framed. Clinging to his neck like a terrified child.

Please don’t let this tale get any worse. He swallowed.

He leaned away from her, but she hung on. He grunted. A rock under the hand to his other side, bit into his palm but he was heedless. “What else happened Riaura?” He peered into her mind and saw the flash of memory. Marod clenching Riaura’s wrist. Mixing vials of moss colored liquids into a vase. Flowers withering on the table where they’d been discarded. The liquid hissed. Making a plume of dark steam.

Alazareth saw the flash of Radix’s face.

“She picked up a broken blade and cut me!” Riaura turned her arm, examining the wound. “Then she put my hand on the table,” Riaura swallowed. And drew a rattling breath.

Alazar leapt out of her mind. Too horrified to watch. He stood. Too pained to look at her.

“She poured boiling water on it.” She said on a breath.

That wasn’t water. He winced.