FOREVER KNIGHTS: #5 Subjugation of Beasts

Stone Peak, Black Mountains, Battling Border

CHAVIAS

“Back from the dead.” Chavias heard Yuen, the Nightway queen’s advisor declare.

There was a quiet murmur and a rough feminine laugh.

The queen. Chavias knew. He stood and strode from his cot. Leaning against the stone wall in the corner to press his face against the square bars of his cell door, to see down the hall. Glimpsing her emerging unsteadily from Radix’s chambers.

Yuen helping hold her up as she stepped. “I’ve a horse readied on the surface, My Queen.” He murmured. Looking at her lingeringly.

And Chavias was suddenly sure why the advisor had gone to such lengths to save the queen’s life. He’s in love with her.

That’s sad.

Doubtful she gives a shit. He grunted.

Wonder what the advisor promised the demon in exchange for his beloved’s life?

“Okine!” Radix stepped into the hall to give the raspy roar.

Chavias leapt from Radix’s view. Hearing the scraping step of the hideous demon commander emerging from the lower levels. The torture chambers.

“Get Chavias.” Radix barked.

Chavias cringed. Knowing something horrible would happen.

Okine cackled. Unhooking the neck shackle from the stake high on the wall outside Chavias’ cell.

“You won’t need that.” Radix muttered.

Chavias blew a relieved breath.

Okine made a sound very much like a whimper of disappointment.

“Bring him here!”

Okine turned the key and opened the door.

Chavias stepped out, giving Okine a dark stare.

Okine returned it but shifted nervously on yellow feet.

Good, you should be disconcerted.

I’ll kill you one day.

Chavias walked toward Radix’s chamber. The same sinking feeling as always, overtaking him. Step dragging as he rounded the entrance into the stone room.

Don’t ask me about Calisto’s cape. He hoped. Nearly holding his breath.

Radix was in the far corner of the sparse room staring at the broad stone table there. Casually lifting and shuffling small carved pieces over the surface.

Chavias had seen him lingering over the table many occasions in the past. He’d gotten close enough once to see the stone was etched into sections separating the countries of Ardae.

Radix’s personal chess game. Chavias supposed. Wondering who all the pieces scattered over it were.

“Slave. You will go to the Worthington House. See what the boy is doing. If he is maneuvering.”

“And if he’s not?” Chavias asked coldly.

“Gut him.” Radix skid another piece over the stone to a different part of his engraved map.

Chavias said nothing further as there was nothing further Radix would hear.

Okine walked behind Chavias into the armory.

Chavias slipped on gray leather armor and pulled his swords, Frank and Ferdinand, from behind a boulder where he hid them. Though Firoque aren’t stupid enough to touch my things some of the other Cimmerii perhaps are. His eyes flicked to Okine, seeing his shoulder outside the armory in the hall.

Worthington House, Grier Country

“I don’t care if the Dread Man is turning you into the bloody prince of Grier! I’m staying the Hell away from the Bishop girl…and Black.” Turner announced to Worthington. “Especially him.” His voice echoing through Worthington’s green parlor.

Smart boy.

Or at least, not as dumb as he looks. Chavias thought.

Even as Ronald Turner gave Chavias an apprehensive glance in the corner. “Why is he here?” He asked.

To nanny Worthington.

Thadeus gave a loud caw and hissed in Turner’s direction as he shifted on Chavias’ shoulder.

“He’s the sorcerer’s warlord. My guess would be to spy on me. But you never know,” Worthington shrugged. “Perhaps he’s here to kill you at my bidding for your cowardice.”

Unlikely. Chavias gave the boy’s back a bored glance.

Worthington dropped onto a plush divan. Pointedly not looking at Chavias himself.

Big words for a boy whose too scared to look at me.

Worthington took another bite of apple. “I need someone to keep an eye on her when I’m busy.”

“Send him.” Turner gestured.

He gives me no commands. He knows better.

Thadeus gave a long hiss. Expressing Chavias’ feelings better than words could’ve.

Worthington was quiet a moment.

Go ahead. Lie to him and I’ll make you suffer. Like a fly on the end of a pin. Chavias’ eyes bore into the back of Worthington’s blonde head. Do try to give me orders. Please.

“The sorcerer needs him for other things.” Worthington swallowed. Thinking better of making bold claims.

Sure, he does. Chavias shifted, leather armor creaking. Noticing Simon Worthington stiffening at the sound emerging from behind him.

Oh, don’t worry, Boy. If I push a curved blade through you, you’ll see it coming. The image was highly gratifying.

Focus on the conversation, Chavias. He told himself. Knowing Radix would want a full report upon his return to the lair.

“It’s not going to be me.” Turner promised.

Throwing his apple onto the side table, Worthington stood. “Then who’s going to do what I need done without cowering like a lady?”

Certainly not you.

Thadeus cawed loudly.

Making Worthington jump and toss him a quick look.

“You can try my brother.” Turner offered. Shaking his head. “But it won’t be me.”

MacDonald Turner. Chavias was aware the man was one of the Grier Guardsmen.

“Well, call Mac and have him meet me. I’ve some things I’ve been working on I’d like to discuss with him.”

“Like what?” Turner demanded.

Yes, like what? Despite Chavias’ impassive stare, he listened attentively.

“He still works for the Grier Guard, does he not?”

“Yeah.”

“Have him come here.” Worthington directed.

“Fine.” Turner strode from the room, lips compressed. “You better pray my brother is a bigger fool then I.”

Is that really possible? Chavias watched him heading for the parlor entrance.

“Well I’m certain he’s less coward.” Worthington snapped disdainfully.

Turner lifted red eyebrows. “Call me what you wish. Least I’ll be alive. You’re a fool.” He shook his head.

He does have a point. Chavias assessed Simon Worthington’s blonde profile. He possessed a straight nose. His jaw and chin a bit narrow and eyes a bit squinted. But women seem to enjoy how he looks.

It was gratifying to know that none of that’d be enough to woo the Captain’s mate.

And eventually, whether by my hand or Radix’s, he’s going to die.