The Huntsman of Adamos (Quartet)- draft

CH PRISONER OF WAR

Yurieth watch the Dark Queen walking around her rooms, she had just come from the Temple of Shadows where she had killed four Aetherian warriors and filled her blood altar with their blood. It took every ounce of Yurieth’s control not to attempt to rescue them and reveal himself. Afterward she had their bodies treated in profane ways.

One of the young priestesses, which was obviously Serapha’s sister, had stood silently staring away in the distance. Yurieth wondered if she wanted to be there as little as he did. She wasn’t paying attention and the Dark Queen struck her hard across the face, knocking her to the floor. Serapha’s sister stood back up stoically, not wiping the blood running down her chin from her split lip as the Dark Queen and her group walked out. A man who was either her father or uncle licked the blood from her face then pushed her down across the altar. As the man pulled up her dress to expose her nakedness, Yurieth turned away in disgust and followed the mages and priestesses.

The Black Huntsman had watched the Ruling Royals of Xelusia for nearly a week and he wanted nothing more that to burn this entire city to the ground. In the temples, mothers brought their children to be bled into the blood altars or used in ways that were against every Aetherian teaching. There were no husbands and wives as on Aetherian, nor families that he could discern. Every night there seemed to be some kind of blood rite and orgy somewhere in the city. If Yurieth had believed in the infernal realm where the dishonored spent eternity, he would have believed this place to be its gate. As he watched a group of Royals leaving the Dark Queen’s rooms, he noticed the Mage King left her as well, which Yurieth found odd. He had never seen the Dark Queen alone. She walked out onto the balcony and looked down at the Celebration of the Day of Darkness, his gaze followed hers to the debauchery going on below. Tomorrow would be the Day of Light Returning on Aetheria , the most holy day of its calendar year, and Yurieth resisted the urge to wish he was home.

He felt the tinge of Siren’s magic and looked back to the Dark Queen. She was staring at him with glowing red eyes. The power washed over him like an avalanche, and he almost submitted. There was a vibration in the air and Yurieth dove off the building as a blast of magic smashed where he had crouched in the shadows. Landing in the crowd, he ducked among the partiers. Suddenly, the siren’s magic shook the air like the tone of a large bell. Everyone stopped moving and turned their head toward her.

“Bring me the Huntsman who walks among you alive.

Your Queen has use for him.”

The mass of people turned as one searching for him, so he ducked down a dark alley. The power of the siren magic was a thousand times worse than the most painful headache he had ever had. There were no sounds except the footfalls of the mindless searching for him. He turned and was surprised to see a little girl staring at him. She was dirty, starved, and obviously abused.

“I hurt, can you help me?” she whispered, tears running down her face.

He knelt before her, “I can. Where are you hurt?”

“My head,” she whimpered and looked down, but when she looked up her eyes glowed with the power of the siren’s magic. Her voice suddenly sounded like an adult’s, “You cannot escape, Huntsman of Adamos. You will give me what I want before I take your blood.”

“I will never surrender or submit,” Yurieth snarled at the child, realizing he was speaking to the Siren Queen.

The little girl laughed and smirked in a very adult way. “Oh, I think you will. You owe me, you killed my eldest son. Now, I will take from you what your grandfather would not give me.”

Suddenly, the little girl ran forward and stabbed him in the leg with a small knife, then she began biting him ferally. He pushed her off, but she was incredibly, unnaturally strong, as he struggled to get away from her, he realized others were coming. He killed the girl with a quick slice of his long knife and limped away.

A crowd rushed toward him from a side street, and more from doorways. A naked woman jumped on his back as two tackled his legs. He fought free of them as the crowd surrounded him. It seemed like hundreds of hands were grabbing and hitting him at once. He twisted to get free, slashing with his long knife and ax. His bow was pulled from his back as he was lifted and then pressed flat against the stone street. The sheer numbers of bodies pressing down on him paralyzed his efforts and crushed the air out of him. Darkness and the sound of the siren queen’s laughter mocked his stolen consciousness with the realized horror that he had killed an innocent child.

Yurieth woke in a decadent room. The first thing he noticed was that he was not restrained, and the second was that he was naked. He laid still for several minutes before sitting up. His wounds had been bandaged and he was completely alone. He stood, slightly shaky from blood loss and his crush injuries. Tying the sheet around his waist he searched his prison.

The walls were made of a reflective black glass, the floor and ceiling were polished blood marble with red lampstone insets. His magic told him there was a space behind the walls and that the floor and ceiling were solid. Making a fist he hit the wall with a single blow, watching the vibration of the impact. The glass was half a handspan thick. He would not be able to break it. Unsteadily, he walked the perimeter of the room seeking a seam or weak spot, but he found none.

He had the sudden feeling of being watched and turned. The Dark Queen walked through the glass, it rippled around her like water and he realized it was a doorway of some sort.

“You’re awake, my lord.” her voice was silky smooth and the most evil sound he had ever heard.

“What do you want of me?” He demanded.

“What I want is irrelevant right now, what I prefer is for you to be naked.”

“I would rather not. Your people take nudity as an invitation, something I am not extending. ” He stood in a relaxed warrior stance as she walked around him.

Physically she was beautiful, her body painted to look like clothing covered her when in truth only a translucent swath of silk was gathered between her legs and hanging front and back from a belt. She had blood red hair with black streaks and the dark facepaint around her eyes made them seem larger and more enticing. However, he could sense her ugliness, her abomination.

“Did you get all of those lovely scars in our little war?” She purred, reaching out to finger the one across his chest.

Yurieth caught her wrist. “Do not touch me, sorceress.” Her magic struck him like a physical blow, but he did not release her wrist.

“How interesting... There is not a male or female on this world who would reject or resist me and yet you do.” She slowly withdrew her wrist from his hand. “How is that possible, Lord Yurieth, son of High Lord Adamos? Is it because your parents were oracles or because you are a huntsman?” She began walking around him slowly as she spoke. “Why are you different from all others I have faced?”

“Who... What are you?”

“I am Bab’lonia, Daughter of the Devourer, the Dark Queen of the Blood Temples, and your new lover,” she announced confidently.

Each time, she finished a circle around him, the magic became more oppressive, more painful. Blood trickled from his nose onto his lips, but he refused to wipe it or even give her the pleasure of a reaction. He called his magic and folded its power around him the way his mother had once taught him how oracles wrap the Light around themselves for protection against the Shadows. The pain increased until he wanted to faint, causing him to blink rapidly and pant in pain. Then suddenly he saw the Queen as she truly was, the withered husk of an ancient female, pale and skeletal.

He laughed and the pain retreated. “I do not think so.”

She tipped her head curiously. “Why are you amused?”

“I can see what you are, hag. A withered skeleton using magic to seduce and lie about your beauty. Huntsmen have the ability to see things clearly, like oracles. And yes, I was told about the prophecy, you will not get a son from me or my house. You are too old to carry it and too hideous to look upon,” he mocked her.

The Dark Queen struck him with surprising strength, and he tumbled across the room and crashed into the wall opposite. Her eyes were completely black, and the lines painted on her body seemed to move and writhe as she screamed at him. “Then I shall need to acquire a body you find more appealing. I can wait, Huntsman! I have waited thousands of years, what are a few more to an immortal? I will have what I want.” She turned and walked back through the mirror.

Yurieth pushed himself up, the blow had almost broken his jaw. Settling back onto the bedding laid on the floor, he waited.

Horrified by his nightmare, Abrieth woke in a cold sweat just as Serapha rushed into his room.

“Get up,” she begged, “Get up, we have to go.”

“My angel, what is wrong?” He demanded, still shaken by his nightmare.

“My grandmother, the Queen, has your brother. We have to get him away from her before she hurts him.” Serapha was already throwing clothing at Abrieth.

“She is already hurting him. I felt, dreamed about him being attacked,” Abrieth announced.

“Who cares about his body!” she snapped, “If he submits to her, she will take what she wants from his body, devour his soul, and harvest his blood. Now, get dressed.”

The Assassin Sangriel looked up in surprise when the Huntsman Regis unlocked his cell door. In truth, no imprisonment could hold an assassin unless they let it. He gaped at the one standing behind him next to the Protector of Adamos. She wasn’t wearing temple red or the skin paint of the priestesses but who she was, he knew without a doubt.

“Princess of Shadows,” Sangriel lowered himself.

“Assassin, I no more belong to the shadows than you do,” Serapha announced. “I need your help. Lord Yurieth has been captured by my grandmother.”

“I see,” Sangriel said as he rose slowly. “Where?”

“The City of the Temples, you will lead us through the secret passages, or you can die in this cell,” Regis announced.

Sangriel’s eyes never left the Princess’s eyes and he saw the truth of what she was, who she was. “My princess, I belong to the Light too, as the Aetherians are so fond of saying, it is my duty and my honor to serve you.”

Sangriel led Serapha, Abrieth and Regis through the tunnels leading into the Temple City. They had stopped at her family’s estate and she had gotten them the uniforms of the berserker warrior who were royal guards, then she shaved their heads and painted them with ink to look like they were tattooed. She had also used a strange cream to lighten Regis skin. Sangriel had donned the wear of an assassin. After dressing in her royal priestess gown and painting herself, she told them no one would dare look more than once at them for fear of risking the king’s wrath or worse, the queen’s.

They were almost to the palace when a hooded figure tackled Serapha and dragged her into a darkened alleyway. Sangriel wove a shadow wall and they vanished from sight.

“Are you crazy, Sister? Why would you return here? She is looking for you.” The priestess who looked remarkably like Serapha demanded.

“I had to come, they have my... my friend’s brother... he’s a huntsman. Do you know where they’ve taken him?” Serapha begged.

“Yes, grandmother is keeping him in her glass cage. The Huntsman refuses to yield and he can resist her magic. It is driving her crazy. I’ll help you get him out, but you have to leave. Grandfather is looking for you for HER. They think you might be dead and unless you want to be the next host of the queen, you need to keep it that way.” Demona insisted and Serapha looked terrified.