Unleashed Fury (BloodRunes: Book 1) Read online

  “And what should I do if I find someone who has not come forward?”

  “It is not your job to report any violators to the authorities, just to identify them to us with the note that they are rogue. We are merely doing an inventory at this point.” He handed Jonathan an envelope. “Detailed instructions are enclosed, along with the names of the contacts I mentioned. I don't need to tell you to dispose of this after committing them to memory.” Jonathan nodded as he rose to leave, reading it as a dismissal. As Jonathan reached for the doorknob, Master added, “If you happen to see this,” gesturing to a peculiar symbol painted onto a parchment on the wall, “make sure that you tell us. Perhaps soon I will be able to tell you why. There are plans that have been set in motion, and the completion of those plans is imperative to the success of our operations.”

  Jonathan nodded his understanding and continued towards the door. He opened it and headed back out to the streets and to his regular life.

  CHAPTER 3

  A rooster crowed, and Layna cracked open an eyelid, groaning to herself. How can he be so lively this early in the morning? She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, and cringed as her bare feet hit the cold stone floor beneath them. On tip-toe, so as to avoid as much contact with the frigid surface as possible, she made her way over to the fireplace. Although the signs of winter were just barely beginning to show outside, Layna still thought it was much too cold for her liking. She sacrificed a piece of wood from the small pile allotted to her to warm the chill from her bones. She hurriedly pulled a tunic over her head, and stood in front of the fire as it slowly dissipated heat throughout her small room.

  As the last of her morning chill faded away, she busied herself with making her bed and using the wash-bin to clean up. A long bath would come after her morning chores in the barnyard.

  She pulled thick leather boots over her feet, and picked up a basket to head to the chicken coop. The halls were quiet in the morning, despite the fact that most servants were already up and about, readying the manor for their mistress's morning appearance. Like Layna, many of them held the same distaste for such early hours, so other than a few mumbled 'good morning's, the atmosphere was subdued.

  Layna made her way down to the back entrance to the house and quickly slipped out the door, trying to conserve as much warmth inside as she could. The cold, raw morning air bit at her bare skin where it was exposed through holes in her tunic. The sharp intake of breath that the shock of it caused seemed to freeze in her lungs. She shivered.

  As she drew near the barnyard, she heard a grunting noise. She looked curiously around the corner of the pig pen where it seemed to be coming from. There, Devon was struggling to lift a large burlap bag over the fence and into the mud hole that served as a compost pile. Layna paused for a moment with indecision, but then shrugged off her unease and moved towards him to help. She grabbed a corner of the bag and together they lifted it over the fence. It made a dull thud before water started seeping up through the frost and it slowly sunk a few inches.

  “Thank you, Layna,” Devon acknowledged with an odd smile.

  Layna hoped her nodded reply didn't show her surprise and fear that he knew her name. She hurried off, feeling his eyes watching her, and she shivered again. This time it had nothing to do with the cold.

  Soon the rising sun burned away the last of the morning fog, and her chill from the encounter diminished as the warm rays thawed her cold body. Layna hummed as she spread grain for the chickens, while methodically checking each of their nests for eggs. She let her mind wander, and her thoughts turned once again to Lord Gryffon, as they so often had been of late. It was a constant struggle between her head and her heart. Her good sense told her that no matter the outcome of her infatuation with the man, it was bound to be bad news. Either she would end up with a broken heart; as she let her feelings get out of control and inevitably those feelings were never returned. She was, after all, only a maid. Or, even if the impossible were to come true and he were to return her interest, where would that get her? Quite possibly a one-way trip into the basement accompanied by Devon.

  A sharp pain in her hand brought her abruptly back to her surroundings. She realized that in her day-dream she had left her hand down where the chickens could reach it while feeding them. One was busily trying to pick every last crumb from her finger and had ended up taking some skin with it. Layna withdrew her hand and sucked on the offending digit, where a tiny droplet of blood was forming. She quickly threw the rest of the feed down onto the ground, and the chickens converged to gobble it up.

  She hurried through the rest of the chore of collecting eggs, and made her way back to the kitchen with her prizes. When she arrived, the cook was already bustling around in the overheated room, and he barely had time for a nodded affirmation of the proffered eggs. Layna enjoyed the warmth, and made her way to the servants' table where the cook had indicated that breakfast was set out for them. She sat in front of her meal of porridge and a leftover roll, and was surprised to see a note next to the plate. She glanced around the room, but other than the cook, who was paying no attention to her, no one was around. Cautiously, she picked it up and saw that her name was scrawled on the back. Hmm, she wondered, who would be leaving me a note? She carefully broke the seal and unfolded the letter.

  “Layna,” it read, “My apologies for upsetting you yesterday. Please accept this as a token of my desire for your friendship. Very Sincerely, Gryffon (Just Gryffon).”

  She tilted the note and a small charm attached to a delicate chain slid out into her palm, a slight tingle passing through her as she touched it. At first she was elated, holding the necklace up to look at it, searching its design for hidden meanings. No more than a split second later, however, her senses kicked in and alarm overtook her. She quickly glanced around again to see if anyone was looking before pocketing the necklace. If Jezebel ever finds out that Gryffon gave me a gift...she shuddered at the unfinished thought.

  She'd decide what to do with it later; it was too much for her to think about this early in the morning. She stuffed the rest of the roll in her mouth and hurried out of the kitchen to start the day.

  *

  Jezebel tramped through the halls of the manor irritably. Where are all the servants when I need one? She passed by the kitchen and was almost knocked over by a girl traveling much too quickly in her hallways. She opened her mouth to scold the girl that running simply was not something that was done here, but seeing as how she was in such a good mood, she shut it again and merely smiled. Well, I've been looking for a servant and here is one in front of me.

  “My lady,” the girl curtsied prettily in a gesture of subservience which further quelled Jezebel’s anger. “I'm so sorry. I'm so clumsy.”

  Jezebel looked her up and down slowly, as the girl held the pose waiting for her response, and she pursed her lips. The girl was very beautiful with a body toned by constant physical labor. Jezebel felt her eyes narrow to slits as she took in the long supple legs and ample chest underneath the battered tunic. The days of using my female charms to get my way are behind me, Jezebel reminded herself. There is no reason to feel threatened by this girl. Soon I will be far too powerful to worry about such nonsense. Still, she couldn't help the feeling of jealousy that threatened to well up inside of her. She shook the emotion aside and thought instead of her plans. Besides, by bringing the girl along, she could keep an eye on her as well. “Yes, quite clumsy. Go change into something appropriate for a trip to town and meet me by the main entrance,” she commanded.

  The girl looked startled by this instruction, but simply nodded her understanding and hurried along to comply. Jezebel strolled to the dining room and inspected the buffet of food presented for her there. She daintily picked up a pastry and nibbled on it, wrinkling her nose in distaste. With all the money I spend importing spices you would think that even the incompetent fools in my kitchen would be able to come up with something decently edible. But no, apparently good food is simply beyond them. Bein
g low-born as they are, they simply have no palate for refined tastes. She put down the pastry and meandered instead towards the front door.

  She was surprised to find that the girl was already waiting for her there. She had been hoping to be able to make a comment about having to wait. “Is that really the best you have to wear?” she asked instead, improvising. “Perhaps you'll have to pick up something more appropriate for escorting a lady while we're out.”

  Jezebel bared her teeth at the girl who wore a slightly taken aback look before wisely murmuring an apology, and Jezebel brushed by her to the awaiting carriage. She paused at the edge of the carriage and looked back at the girl expectantly. The silly little thing just stood there dumbly, with a puzzled look on her face, and Jezebel sighed exasperatedly. She made a motion for her to open the door. The girl’s pretty little mouth formed a silent “oh” and she rushed forward, tripping in her haste.

  Jezebel rolled her eyes at the girl's awkwardness. Really, the servants' ineptitude at times never ceases to amaze me. I may have to have a word with Devon about his hiring choice of this one...perhaps he let a part of his anatomy other than his head influence his feelings and it caused a lapse in his judgment. Jezebel growled under her breath at the thought.

  The girl had finally managed to pull herself together and had the door open with a hand held out for Jezebel to hoist herself into the carriage with. Jezebel took the outstretched hand roughly. She settled herself onto the plush cushions and waited as the girl hopped in herself and took a seat opposite Jezebel on the wooden bench provided there.

  The carriage jumped into motion and Jezebel gazed out the window at the passing streets. They rode by a run-down home where, as they neared, Jezebel saw a woman with a baby in her arms speaking with a guardsman. The words drifted to her over the clattering of the horse's hooves and she listened with growing annoyance to the pleading of the woman.

  “Please, sir, without this money we won't be able to buy food for my baby. She's only eight months old.” The woman had dirt smeared on her face and her clothes were torn and ratty, and the baby was in no better condition.

  She shouldn't be allowed to reproduce like that, Jezebel thought with contempt. Disgusting, vile creature.

  “Please,” the woman continued to beg. “We can't afford the taxes right now.”

  Jezebel sniffed her disdain at the woman and commented as they passed, “Isn't it sickening how many people are out there looking for a free hand out?” She smiled cruelly at the woman, whose gaze focused on their carriage for a moment, drawn by her voice. “What's that woman doing going around making babies instead of working harder so that she can pay her taxes?” Jezebel drummed her fingers on her knee. “If it was up to me, I'd have all those freeloaders thrown out of the city, but my father and other important people insist on keeping them, saying it's our duty to protect them in exchange for their taxes.” She waved her hand in the air with a haughty flourish. “But look, this woman doesn't want to pay her taxes. What if an army came marching through, and I just decided that I didn't feel like it, so I wasn't going to send out my guards that day. No, I don't think so,” she paused in thought. “Not that it wouldn't be tempting to show them what would happen if I didn't.”

  Jezebel chuckled and looked at the servant girl who was now staring out the window at the woman with a strange look on her face. When the girl noticed that Jezebel had stopped talking and was looking at her expectantly, she turned back and made a sound of agreement.

  Satisfied, Jezebel went on, “You should see the way these people live. It's really quite sad. You'd think that they would have some kind of instinct or something to clean up after themselves, but they wallow in their own filth and then wonder why they have plagues spreading through their populace.”

  Jezebel ranted along this same vein for a while, simply enjoying the ride, as the carriage made its way slowly through the winding streets towards the center marketplace. As they approached, the sound of the shops could be heard - vendors hawking their goods, coins jingling in purses, and the general commotion of a busy street. The driver halted the horses, and came around the side to open the door and help the two women out. The girl stood respectfully off to the side and folded her hands in front of her, waiting for Jezebel to tell her what to do.

  “Come along, dear, we're going to go pick out new furniture for the sitting room; my father's treating me.” Gathering her skirts around her, she flowed past the girl and deftly moved between the people in the crowd towards the woodworkers' guildhall.

  *

  Layna quickened her pace in order to keep up with Jezebel who was pushing past people with no regard for anyone around her. Given the arrogance she had just shown during the one-sided conversation in the carriage, Layna wondered if she had so much as an ounce of respect for anyone but herself. She failed to see how Jezebel could sit there and believe that she was better than everyone else simply because she happened to have been born into a wealthy noble family, but it seemed to be a popular sentiment among those born with status. Jezebel’s father was powerful and well-known for his profitable investments into the gem trades and the formidable group of well-trained guards he had to move the gems, but Jezebel herself had nothing to do with his business. Layna’s own family had been fairly well off compared to many others in their town, but she had never thought herself better than any of them because of it.

  They reached the woodworker's guildhall, and Jezebel marched carelessly past the line of people to make her way inside. Layna followed, embarrassed by the looks she got from the waiting people, but made sure never to lose step with her mistress.

  “Hello, Francis,” Jezebel gushed to the guild master who sat behind a large oak desk just inside the building.

  He stood and greeted her with a kiss to her outstretched hand, “Jezebel, how very wonderful to see you.”

  “Lady Jezebel,” she corrected, refusing to let his momentary lapse of etiquette pass without notice.

  “Of course, my lady,” he amended, bowing to her. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

  Jezebel accepted the bow with a slight nod and smiled brightly. “I’m redoing the sitting room so I'll need some custom-made pieces as soon as you can possibly do them, charged to my father's account of course.” She added, “It’s a gift.” Jezebel held her hands in front of her, palms upwards with her fingers interlaced.

  Francis' eyes darted to follow the motion and he paused with a peculiar look on his face for a moment before answering. “Indeed, my lady, and a most beautiful gift it will be for such a beautiful woman. If you could follow me please.” He gave another half bow and motioned with his hand towards a back room.

  Jezebel started forward, then stopped and glanced back over her shoulder at Layna. “Here,” she said extending her hand with a few coppers in it. “Go pick me out something from the sweets cart. I won't be long.” Layna nodded and started to turn away, but paused as Jezebel added, “Oh, and do get something for yourself as well. Anyone who knows how to barter should be able to get two with that.” Layna curtsied at Jezebel's insincere smile and continued to make her way back outside, glad to be out of the company of the woman.

  Out in the busy street, Layna took a moment to orient herself before she spied the sweets cart over in a corner. She weaved her way through the crowd and contemplated the choices. They all looked amazingly delicious to Layna, but she had heard enough horror stories from the cook to know that Jezebel was much fussier. She eventually decided to get a pastry she had once heard the cook saying that Jezebel had enjoyed. It had been big news in the kitchen that he had been able to find something that Jezebel had nothing unfavorable to say about. Layna was able to procure just one of the tarts with the few coppers, having already known that there was no way she would be able to barter for two of any of them with the measly amount she had been given. She sighed inwardly and her mouth watered at the sight of the warm icing dripping down the sides.

  Layna ducked into an alleyway to allow herself to lick where i
t had dripped on her finger. The sugary icing burst with warm, delicious flavor in her mouth. It was difficult to stop herself from stealing a nibble, but she fought to maintain control, and carefully carried her treasure back to the carriage to wait for her mistress.

  She chatted idly with one of the merchants whose cart was near the roadside. “What do you have?” she asked the wrinkled old woman.

  The merchant pushed her spectacles up the bridge of her nose and narrowed her eyes to inspect Layna before answering. “I've got books galore,” she stated to Layna's delight.

  Reading was one of Layna’s passions, and she silently lamented her lack of money as she would have loved dearly to purchase some. “What kind of books?” she asked excitedly instead, hoping that she would get a chance to buy some someday.

  “You name it, I've got it,” responded the woman proudly in typical vendor fashion. She proceeded to list off an impressive collection of titles, some of which Layna had heard of, but most of which she had not. “I even have some really rare books,” the woman said, “including this one here.” She gingerly lifted a battered old book with a peeling red satin cover and continued, “Which mysteriously lists no author, and it is a limited edition! '10 copies made, none sold' it says, but I'll sell you one today. Just don't ask how I got my hands on this book, else I'd have to kill you.”

  The woman winked at her and Layna smiled at the old joke, regretfully declining. The vendor looked slightly annoyed at having wasted the effort on a non-paying customer and left Layna to try and interest someone else into buying her wares. Layna listened absently to the woman hawking books on spells that would make your true love find you, history books, adventure books, and all sorts of others. It indeed seemed that the woman really did have every book under the sun.