Unleashed Fury (BloodRunes: Book 1) Read online

  When his task was completed, Jonathan stood back and his escort brought forward a cloak, draping it around Jonathan's shoulders. Jonathan took it gratefully and awaited his next instructions. The man in front of him raised his hands and the rows of people started to chant, louder and louder, until the walls of the underground temple seemed to reverberate with their sound. Then he brought his arms down again abruptly, and silence filled the air.

  “You now join us on the path to knowledge, my brother, and I will be the one to show you the way.” The man’s voice echoed eerily in the sudden quiet. “As such, you may call me 'Master'.”

  *

  Layna stood on her tiptoes to reach the gigantic family crest of two mean-looking serpents wound around a cross that hung above the fireplace in the sitting room. One of them hissed and took a bite at her hand, but she was too fast for it. She gave it a quick rap on its head with her duster before it could sink its teeth into her flesh.

  It sneezed indignantly and glared at her before once more taking its place in the pattern. Layna shook her head, amused. Magic was wonderful, but she wasn't sure she saw the point of giving inanimate objects attitude. Unfortunately – or perhaps fortunately – that particular brand of magic had been lost to the ages. It heightened the value of the manor to have such a remarkable display of talent still functioning. Jezebel never missed an opportunity to point this out to her house-guests – or anyone else who would listen.

  Layna climbed down off the ladder and surveyed her handiwork. She didn’t see anywhere else that had collected dust, so she gathered her things to leave. As she made her way out, she stuck her tongue out at the snake that had reanimated to watch her go. It hissed at her once more and she opened the door, laughing.

  As she stepped into the hallway, her laughter was cut short as she collided with a hard shape there. She hastened to right herself, mumbling a frightened apology as she glanced up to see who she had stumbled against. To her horror, it was Devon. To make matters worse, he was roughly leading another man whose hands were tied behind his back. He arched an eyebrow at her as if daring her to comment.

  The man he was leading was handsome underneath a blackened eye and split lip, but Layna knew better than to look further. She glued her eyes to the floor and hurried off. Servants who saw too much in these hallways tended to find themselves in trouble – or missing. Lady Jezebel did not tolerate any invasion of her privacy.

  Layna heard the men behind her resume their journey, a muffled groan and a trip forward told her the man was again being shoved along, and Layna quickened her pace. She quietly slipped into the kitchen where she let out a sigh of relief.

  “Whatcha sneakin' from?” a voice by the fire asked.

  Layna yelped and swung around, searching for the owner of the voice.

  She scanned the room, and her gaze landed on Lord Gryffon, who was sitting next to the fireplace. Her stomach fluttered and a weak, “Oh,” escaped her before she could bite it back.

  He was halfway through a dinner roll, which he took another bite of, and his eyes raked over her as he chewed. He smiled at her, sending a thrill up her spine, and swallowed before saying, “Sorry, didn't realize you were so jumpy.”

  “Oh no, I - ” she started, pointing towards the door, but he cut her off.

  “No need to explain,” he said holding up his hands to stave off her explanation, “That was the lovely Devon I caught a whiff of out there wasn’t it?”

  She simply nodded mutely at first, but then remembered her manners, “Yes, sir.”

  “He makes me jumpy too,” he told her in a conspiratorial tone, “And please don’t call me ‘sir’, it sounds so stuffy.”

  “Yes, si...my lord,” she answered politely.

  Gryffon sighed dramatically, and playfully rolled his eyes. He got to his feet and came to stand next to her by the table. He stood a full head above her, a thin stubble lining his strong jaw. “Please,” he beseeched, holding out a hand, “Just 'Gryffon'.” She tentatively took the outstretched hand, and her stomach did another flip flop as its warmth nearly enveloped her cold fingers. He shook it twice before releasing her, a smile playing on his lips. “You’re Layna, aren’t you?”

  She nodded again, this time her voice nearly escaping her entirely. “Y-yes,” she finally managed to stammer out, “I came here a few months ago from the country, and Lady Jezebel was kind enough to hire me despite my lack of experience in noble households.”

  Gryffon surprised her by snorting. “Did you just put the word ‘kind’ in the same sentence as ‘Jezebel’?” he asked her incredulously. Then he laughed.

  Layna froze and stared at him, disturbed despite the warm feeling that his laughter spread through her. She could get in a lot of trouble if anyone heard her in a conversation like this, and her eyes darted to the door of their own volition.

  He seemed to pick up on her discomfort and he cleared his throat to continue. “I’ve been meaning to stop and introduce myself to you, but it never felt like the right time. From what I’ve seen, you seem quite competent at everything, despite her outrageous demands.”

  Layna could feel her face getting hot at the compliment and she quickly steered the conversation away from her, “Forgive me for asking, sir, but aren’t you here as her consort?” She winced at her own audacity but couldn’t help herself. The question had been weighing on her mind, and with him talking about Jezebel like he was…she had to know. It was met only with another laugh. Layna looked quizzically at him.

  “Hmph,” he snorted, “ensnared and kept against my will is more like it, but I suppose that's the story she's spreading. But that's a tale for another time. How are you liking the big city?”

  Layna was still distracted by his admission that he wasn’t Lady Jezebel’s consort, and surprised herself by answering truthfully instead of reciting her carefully planned out speech. “It’s a little overwhelming,” she replied, “I’ve never seen so many people in one place before, not even at the markets. It’s strange to walk down the street and not see even one face I recognize.”

  “I know what you mean,” he sympathized, “perhaps I’ll have to give you the tour some time, I’ve managed to make myself known to quite a few of them.” He gave her a wink.

  Layna shifted uncomfortably. As much as she dearly wished she could, she couldn’t forget that he was still a noble, no matter how disarming his mannerisms were. And even if he didn’t like Jezebel, she certainly liked him. Layna did not want to be between the lady and something she wanted.

  “Um, I'm sorry sir, but I really must be getting back to my chores. It really was a pleasure to meet you.”

  She hurried off before he could reply, and slipped into one of the many passageways that snaked around the manor, making her way back to her own tiny room. Once there, she let out a real sigh of relief and collapsed on the bed. She gave herself the luxury of completely clearing her mind for a few minutes before she worked up the energy to sit up and start unlacing her dress.

  As she slipped out of the heavy material and into a lighter night dress, she felt her tiredness from the day dissipating, and her mind began to wander. Absently, she wondered why Devon had been dragging that poor man down the hall. It couldn't be good news, Layna was sure of that, but she had no idea what Jezebel would want with someone who looked as though they had just gotten out of a bar fight. Layna had the sinking feeling that something bad was happening with the man even now, but felt helpless to stop it. She sighed guiltily. There was simply nothing that she could do. Usually Devon kept his dirty work away from the manor, and that was the way Layna liked it.

  Someone rapped on the door, interrupting her brooding. She padded over to open it a crack and she peeked out. A thin ray of light shone into the hallway and illuminated the figure standing there. Katrina gave her a smile and a quick wave, and Layna smiled back, opening the door wider for her to enter.

  “That was a close one today, huh?” Layna commented as her friend slipped inside and plopped onto the bed, indicati
ng the close call with the Jezebel’s rage earlier.

  “Ugh,” Katrina groaned, “Imagine if I hadn’t gotten the wine there in time, or – gods forbid – I was still in the room and she had to be in the presence of someone so far beneath her?” Katrina shuddered theatrically and then rolled her eyes. “I swear, sometimes I wonder why I’m still here,” she paused, and then held up a finger. “Oh yes,” she said emphatically, as if really just remembering, “it’s better than living on the streets.” She winked.

  Layna simply gave her a sympathetic smile. Katrina’s parents had died of a sickness when she was young, and Katrina had actually spent a fair portion of her childhood on her own. While she joked about it now, she had opened up and confessed to Layna not long ago how rough it had really been. Layna admired her courage; her own life, which until coming here had seemed full of problems, now seemed like a fairy tale in comparison.

  Katrina hit her with the pillow playfully. “Now, why you’re here I still don’t understand. Why put up with the evil lady when you could go home to the country?”

  Layna picked at a feather that was poking out through a loose seam. Then she gave Katrina an impish grin. “But then who would you talk about all your crushes with?” Katrina threw the other pillow at her, and Layna laughed and tossed them both back. “So, did you talk to him today?”

  Katrina groaned and put both of the pillows over her head. In a muffled voice she complained, “I tried to, but he makes me so nervous!” She stuck her head out from underneath the fluff, looking very pathetic. “Why can’t I make my mouth move when he’s near me?”

  Layna patted her on the head. “It happens to the best of us.”

  Katrina narrowed her eyes and sat up. “Speaking of which, you’ve been losing your tongue and all other mental capacities in the presence of one Lord Gryffon lately. His complete deliciousness aside, need I remind you that he is off limits? Dangerously off-limits. Jezebel-will-eat-you-alive limits. I don’t know how it is in the country, but in the city, the nobles are not to be messed with. I say this ‘cause I love you. Look, but no touch.”

  Layna waved it off. “Got it, drool all I want but remember I’m still just the one that needs to clean it up afterwards.”

  Katrina continued to give her a look, turning her head so that one bugged-out eye was looking straight at her, and then raising an eyebrow.

  “Alright already stop it. And get outta here, I have to get to bed.” Layna shooed her out. “Oh, and tomorrow say something to him. Try ‘hello’. Start small, work yourself up to an actual sentence.”

  “Ha ha,” Katrina laughed, standing from the edge of Layna’s bed where she had perched herself and skipping to the door. She opened it, but turned back halfway through, “Don’t forget what I said.” She pointed with two fingers to her eyes and then pointed to Layna. Layna blew a kiss at her. Katrina fake caught it and smiled, shutting the door behind herself.

  Gryffon has a gorgeous smile, Layna found herself thinking as she stared at the door. And though she mentally scolded herself for the thought, it was, after all, her own room and her own head. It wouldn't hurt just to remember...

  *

  Jezebel wiped a spot of blood off of her hand and smiled sweetly at the man before her. “I am most pleased by this interesting piece of information. I do so thank you for sharing it with me,” she mocked as she caressed his bloodied face. He was almost unrecognizable as the handsome man that Devon had brought to her. She hooked a finger under his chin and tipped it upwards so that he was forced to look at her. The eye that wasn’t swollen shut already cringed at the contact, and he jerked his head away in disgust, spitting blood on the ground in front of her. With amused contempt, she watched the spittle make a dark puddle on the floor, and then crushed it into the dirt with the toe of her shoe.

  She stood over the man for a long moment before turning to Devon. “See if you can't persuade him to tell us a little more about it, won't you?” Devon gave her a lopsided grin and moved towards the man once more in answer. With that, she spun on her heel and stalked out of the room, indifferent to the grunts of pain behind her.

  She made her way up the winding staircase to the main level of the manor. At the top, she paused to glance through the peephole in the bookcase, to make sure that no servants were present, before pulling the lever to re-emerge into the library. She took a seat in the chair she had occupied earlier and settled in to happily contemplate this new information.

  To think, just hours ago I was worried about the chances of success without my father's support. Ha! If this man was telling the truth, and I think he just might be - she laughed to herself, remembering the moment that he broke - I may not need my father for anything anymore.

  She raised a finger to her lips and bit back the grin that was widening as she thought. Not that the prospect of using a position of power that my father helped me attain against him isn't an entertaining thought as well, but getting the power without him and then rubbing it in his face is even better. Jezebel forced her shaking limbs to calm their excited movement. I cannot let myself get too excited before I know for certain. Even so, she couldn't contain the elation she felt at the possibility of finally escaping her father’s control, and she eventually abandoned all attempts to hide her mirth. It irked her to no end to know that even though she could lie, cry, and manipulate her father into almost anything, she still had to go through him. But if she could find a way to make this work to her advantage...yes, yes the information just has to be correct and it will work for me, I can't bear the thought of living in my father's shadow for another second now that I have caught a glimpse of escape. Whatever it takes, I will make it work. Jezebel nodded to herself in decision and stood, making her way back to her suite. She needed to get a good night's sleep so she could start putting things into motion first thing in the morning.

  On the way to her room, Jezebel passed Gryffon in the hallway and she moved to intercept him. “Gryffon, my dear, would you like to join me for a nightcap?” She gave him a seductive smile and moved towards her room suggestively.

  “Thank you, but no,” Gryffon answered shortly, trying to pass her.

  She shifted, so that he was forced to brush up against her as he passed, and she leaned in towards him. “Don't forget why you are here, Gryffon.”

  He paused mid-step and turned to her, giving her such an intense look that it almost made her step back a pace. But she held firm and narrowed her eyes at him instead. “I am here,” he said slowly, “because I believed your lies, thinking that maybe, just maybe, you were a decent person until it was too late. Now I realize I was wrong.”

  She sneered at him. “If it wasn't for the money I lent to you, you'd still be out on the streets, not living like you are, so don't try to blame your bad decisions on me.”

  “Don't you forget whose money that was,” Gryffon retorted angrily, “Just because your father turns a blind eye to your hands in his purse doesn't mean that I don't know what's really going on here.”

  “My father gives me anything I want,” she snipped. “That's how it always has been and how it always will be.”

  Gryffon opened his mouth again but shut it without saying a word, shaking his head in disgust. He pushed by her roughly and made his way down the hall, all the while muttering.

  “I always get what I want,” she yelled at him and was rewarded by another angry look over his shoulder. She laughed at him until he rounded the corner, and then she turned back to her door. She was slightly put out by his refusal, but she was not about to let that little set-back ruin her mood. He'd come around eventually; he didn't have a choice.

  *

  “…as such, you may call me ‘Master’.”

  “Yes, Master,” answered Jonathan without hesitation. He fell into step behind the man as his new master led the way back through the rows of hooded people. They filed out behind them as they passed each in turn. Master led him to a small room, near the entrance to the main temple, and motioned for him to take a seat. Th
e two men sat in silence for a long moment before Master finally spoke.

  “It is essential that the goals of the Order be achieved for the good of all mankind,” he started.

  Jonathan nodded his agreement emphatically. The man paused, and Jonathan waited patiently for him to continue.

  “As you may know, the magic in Gelendan has grown weaker in past centuries. The great mages of old have become few and far between. The more time that passes, the more reclusive they become, and the less of them there are to start with. It is the hope of the Order to strengthen all of humanity by rekindling the talents to prepare for the return of our god, Nuko.”

  Jonathan braved a question. “How, Master?”

  The man did not seem annoyed at the interruption, and, to Jonathan's relief, he answered. “Through the efforts of people who have proven themselves worthy countless times, such as yourself, we are working to identify all those with talent so that we may better assess the situation. The Priesthood and the Order are well intertwined, and we have contacts for you inside the temple who can provide you with a list of names. As you know, it is the law that all those finding that they possess significant talent must reveal themselves to the priests. Then, they must either be enrolled into the training program – paying the gods for the gift monetarily – or, if they are unable to pay the training fee, enter into the priesthood themselves – paying back this gift by a life of servitude. Therefore, they should have records of most of the talented, and much of your task will simply be organizing this list and double checking its accuracy. But you must also,” Master emphasized, “make sure that you systematically check for signs of talent other places as well, and do not assume that all those who have it have come forward on their own. Despite the threat of death as a consequence for not doing so, there are bound to be those who won’t.”