Fallen, p.44
Fallen, page 44
part #5 of Ancients of Light Series
The foursome’s escalating disagreement provided opportunity to assess his surroundings. Brod lifted his eyes a slit to find the group on the other side of the dungeon doors. No magic drained his strength and no flicker of energy, indicative of protection spells, surrounded him. It confirmed Rhydach and Alaric had yet to rebuild any semblance of alliance with a powerful witch. That was an important piece of intel. He prayed to live long enough to pass it to his brothers.
Brod recognized the area. In his youth, he and Maeve had clambered through these same dungeons, using them as their personal play space when empty of Rhydach’s enemies. The shifting relocation of the castle had made it impossible for him, or any other who might at one time have resided in Rhydach’s fortress, to make a return visit to wage war. It was a genius defense, but the familiar territory would serve him now, increasing his chance for escape. Broderick studied the shackles on his wrists while his memory raced through the labyrinth of tunnels and passageways leading into and out of the space.
His focus turned to the rusted door. The argument outside had grown more contentious. Steel scraped over leather. Shortly, two thuds followed the unsheathing of the sword. Broderick was familiar with the sounds. He’d witnessed the cause hundreds of times before his father had extracted their family from the madness in this fortress and sought asylum with the Light. The head usually dropped to the floor and rolled first upon decapitation. The second sound was always louder, more pronounced—collapse of the headless corpse in a death heap.
A screech beyond the door revealed Lorcan was not yet an orphan—unfortunate. Two additional thuds echoed. The second slaying launched Alaric’s fit up and over the level of conniption. As the door to his prison was yanked open, Rhydach’s gleeful laughter overtook the other’s cursing. It seemed Anna and Kurt had lost the argument.
“Have you any idea the amount of information that female could have provided? Anna has been privy to Maeve’s innermost sanctum. She would never have been suspected if we had sent her back to Shadowmere.” Not bothering with their captive, Alaric chased after Rhydach, near foaming at the mouth. “You cost us a valuable resource because you are a bloodthirsty lunatic with absolutely no restraint or—”
The rant cut off abruptly. With this pair, nothing could be gained by feigning unconsciousness, so Broderick watched the unfolding drama with unabashed interest. It would have been an enjoyable way to pass an evening if he’d had a blade and a free hand. The point of Rhydach’s sword pressed hard against Alaric’s gullet and the aforementioned bloodthirsty lunatic hissed. “What makes you think I have not already gained all the information the whore possessed?”
Scrapping the edge along tender flesh, Rhydach shocked Alaric with his insight. “Anna’s been spreading her legs for you since Kurt first brought her to visit. I’m surprised Maeve hadn’t already scented your foul stench all over that slut.” Unmoving under the threat of armed insanity, the look in Alaric’s eyes was the only source of confession. Rhydach took delight in soiling his partner’s memories of every pleasurable dalliance. “As much as those transitioned creatures disgust me, it shall be an eternal source of delight knowing every time Anna flopped on your bed, I’d already partaken of her favors.”
Without warning, Rhydach lowered his sword and cackled while he tucked the weapon away behind the folds of his robes. He held no ill will towards Alaric over his inability to control his lusty nature. It was a flaw they shared. His conniving ways were another matter. “You’d be an imbecile to assume I’m an imbecile, especially since I’ve been handed the keys to the kingdom. You’ll find yourself demoted to court jester if you cross me again.”
Broderick would have congratulated Rhydach on his ability to leave Alaric looking both sick and speechless were he not chained to the wall. His host’s merriment ebbed as Rhydach turned to face him, though the Dark ruler did not abandon his good humor entirely. He would have appeared hospitable if not for the leering look of craze in his pale gaze and the frothed-pink saliva coating his fangs. “The prodigal son returned home. You have been gone far too long, dear boy.”
Catching Alaric’s blank look, Rhydach reprimanded him with a boney elbow to the ribs. He expected his lackeys, even the important ones, to follow along. Wanting no more distractions, he distanced himself by pacing closer and stared with reverence at his prize. “My apologies for your poor treatment. I’ll move you to more amenable accommodations once I’m convinced of your intention to stay.”
The madman was in fine form. Since Rhydach had stowed his weapon, Broderick determined it was best to play along. He answered with a jovial grin. “You just tell me how long you need me to hang around, Buttercup, and I’ll see what I can do.”
That quip caught Rhydach as hilarious. After his latest bout of laughter subsided, he shadowed directly before the one he intended to remake in his own image. “Your intelligence matches your strength. This pleases me. You are a fine gift.”
Not wanting to betray his thoughts, particularly when Rhydach was stepping away from his torturous bent, Broderick continued in congenial fashion. “Good to know. Since the gift giver met such a poor ending, I was worried.”
Glancing over to where the outstretched legs of the headless corpses were visible beyond the doorway, Rhydach nodded. “Anna was only returning what had been stolen from me. She could never have created something as magnificent as you.” The thought took Rhydach down a trail of others until he was lost in them, entranced by the beautiful pool of crimson forming on the floor around the bodies.
When he emerged from chasing old memories, Rhydach rubbed his hands together with renewed purpose. It was a shame to see that volume of blood spilt and seeping into the stone, particularly when Anna had been so useful, but the bitch had no loyalty. Voices from his fallen friends far below moved him to action. Crossing the dungeon floor, his black robes swirled with each purposeful stride. Rhydach dipped both hands in the female’s blood. Waste not, want not.
“Blood is such a beautiful thing. Without it, life is not possible. Consider the power and mystery. Is there a single comparable magic potion?” After coating both hands in her essence, he raised them for inspection by the two in attendance. Rhydach could see quite clearly neither had his same level of appreciation for the beauty of his glistening, red gloves trailing tendrils of crimson liquid over his forearms and marking each of his steps with a smattering design on the floor. Certain Broderick would not have the same flaws as all the others he had put his faith in, Rhydach resumed his former position. “Did you know in the beginning God specifically forbade mankind from drinking it? I believe that aspect of the Vampire breed’s creation was a particularly pointed screw you from our forefathers in hell.”
The powerful warrior was Rhydach’s key to victory over the Light—this one would grow to share in his love of butchery and debauchery. He only needed to purge the misguided boy of the influence of the Light and return him to his true path. Broderick was a son, his heir, and the revelation fostered great affection in Rhydach. “I forgive you for leaving me and stealing the affections of that double-crossing bitch.”
Broderick nodded in measured response, wondering what medication the Dark ruler was on. “I appreciate that.”
This was proceeding better than anticipated, inspiring more good will in his dark heart. “Of course, you will have to kill Maeve since she is the scourge of the Darks and betrayed us both, but I am willing to allow you to keep her in your dungeons to play with for a time. We will also need to retake Shadowmere unless you fancy another fortress? Laverock, perhaps?” The gleam of avarice was bright in Rhydach’s eyes.
Bizzaro land. He’d landed smack in its epicenter. The crease in his brow belied his confusion, but Broderick was determined to play his part. “I’m fond of Shadowmere.”
Rhydach slapped his shoulder with affection, splattering blood on them both. “Don’t blame you there. The Dark Queen constructed a fine fortress.” A sly look entered his gaze when he pulled back. The blood marring Broderick’s shoulder reminded him of earlier instructions from the voices. “But Maeve can do nothing you cannot do equally well. You are perfectly matched, polar opposites.”
It required immense concentration not to jerk away when Rhydach began to dabble bloodied fingertips over his chest… the freak. His rambling continued, becoming all the more difficult to follow, but Broderick got the gist. Rhydach knew he was of the same creation as Maeve and wanted to use the power to his advantage. Little point in denying what could be leveraged towards his freedom and when the Dark one paused to take a breath, Brod gave confirmation. “Yes, we are unique from the rest of the breed.”
All would kneel to him one day very soon. There would be no more challenges to his authority with this Dark warrior at his side, but his poor prodigy believed himself to be of an identical construct to the gorgeous Dark Queen. Undoubtedly, she had led him to think so. “You are as different from one another as you and Maeve are from all others in the breed too.” It was time to deconstruct her beautiful web of lies, to pluck each strand away and reveal the perfection of the Warrior of Dark. Rhydach relished the task. “Only one Vampire was created in the Light. So if a pair of angel’s wings also beats within your chest, how were you created?” Returning to his art, the swirling designs were taking shape, forming a pattern of archaic crimson loveliness on Broderick’s chest.
It was only rumor, but Maeve had explained why the truth of their creation had been hidden from all others. Rhydach was fishing. It would be a careful balancing act to disclose enough to gain Rhydach’s confidence and get unleashed while not giving the Dark One anything he could use against the Light. “I was not created. You know I was born into your Coven.”
“You are splitting hairs, boy.” Rhydach cupped his cheek, a gesture of paternal fondness. It reminded Broderick of his father’s manner when he’d been giving some important instruction to him in his youth. Today, he was too aged to appreciate the handling, and he recoiled. Rhydach only moved closer, gripping tighter. “Once you understand, you will join me as you were created to do.”
Setting him loose, Rhydach stepped back to retrieve more blood from the pool, adding the final flourishes to his painting. His narrative accompanied the design of two symbols, one inside the other, on the center of Broderick’s chest. “One Vampire, created in the Light, cradled in God’s palm. The finest warrior from Heaven, rebirthed and sent to Earth to combat the Warrior of Dark.” Rhydach pulled a dagger from his belt and sliced his own palm. “We must reveal the gloriousness of your creation. You were actually the first. Raised and sent before Maeve, you were not born Broderick. That was just another lie they constructed to fool you.”
Serious doubts took hold, evident in Broderick’s stormy gaze. Wisps of knowledge swirled, still elusive, in his consciousness. The more the Dark one spoke, with each completed piece in the intricate design adorning his torso, the more awareness clicked into place. Magic existed in this somehow, trickery, and Brod refused to succumb. “There is no difference between Maeve and me.”
“Would you be surprised to know a handful of Archs fell? Lucifer lives in infamy for his sinful pride, for leading the rebellion, but other prince warriors were pushed out of Heaven alongside him.” Rhydach finished the carving on the center of his hand and held it up between them. “And one of those majestic creatures was actually brought forth straight from the depths of hell in the guise of our humble form. A fallen angel raised to be the glory of the Darks.”
The rune marking Rhydach’s palm leapt at him with familiarity and the blood on his chest burned. Sweat broke out over his brow. With each step, the hand came nearer to the center of the circle mapped over his chest and the throbbing in his skull increased. The blood markings began to sizzle against his skin, dancing like grease on a skillet. Shaking his head, his gritty answer was a denial of the knowledge he shouldn’t own, truths beginning to take shape in his brain. “No.”
“You were promised to me after the first Generals deserted our cause. For my perseverance, I would be given a Warrior of such great power that no immortal in the Light could stand in opposition.” It was an honor to be the key to his enlightenment, unlocking all the secrets that had somehow been blocked from Broderick. “Maeve interfered, kept you from knowing your true origins, and stopped you from fulfilling your mighty role. It is time for us to fix that.”
When Rhydach’s bloodied palm fell against Broderick’s chest, the pain clenching him was immediate, causing his back to arch and a roar to escape his lips. Memories flooded in with shame racing in on its heels. The knowledge unleashed so much anguish in his soul, his body contorted in agony. The fall, the separation from God, hell and Darkness. Suffering so immense it could not be survived, but there was no death, just torturous, ugly existence. Until there was a reprieve. Until the Realm. Until Maeve.
The first memory he had after his rebirth was seeing her, as if her appearance in the Realm awoke him from a mystical slumber. Now the thoughts from his childhood belonged to him again. Broderick remembered the feeling evoked by her arrival at Rhydach’s that fateful night so long ago.
Hatred.
Even as a young boy, he had recognized Maeve as an enemy and clamored with the need to destroy her. His unholy fury had been overtaken by a bond of friendship. Reliving the memory as though watching a movie, he could see her big dark eyes and messy black hair. It had been no more than a week since her arrival when he’d lured her into the armory. Playing a game, Maeve had delighted at finding him, but he’d planned to pull one of the daggers and slit her throat. Had they not been interrupted by a guard, Broderick might have slaughtered the Dark Queen before she’d gained an understanding of her existence and his.
The heralded golden child of the Darks was under Rhydach’s protection, but Broderick was not. Striking him across the face, the fortress guard had then bent to grab Broderick up from the floor and beat him proper for playing in the armory. Those expressive eyes of Maeve’s had gone wide with emotion, but it wasn’t fear. She’d not left him, fleeing as any young child in trouble might. The guard had been too preoccupied to see her eyes shift white. It happened a second before his neck snapped and he’d fallen to the ground beside where Broderick lay terrified. The strange effect was gone when Broderick turned away from the paralyzed warrior. As though nothing were amiss, Maeve had clasped his hand and pulled him to his feet.
Broderick now recalled looking back as they’d exited, in time to witness the guard’s body explode into a crimson mist before the wooden door swung shut. From the moment Maeve had become his savior, he’d combated his instinctive urge to destroy her. Eventually, the desire faded from his consciousness. Love had flourished in its place.
A hand on either side of his face brought him back to the present. “You, my Fallen One, are the son hell promised to me. The Light is a lie and there is not an ounce of it in you. Together we will destroy it—nothing before tonight matters.”
Maeve had said they were cut of the same cloth, but she had never intimated they were created in the same manner. The answers had fallen so easily from her lips—vague manipulations. Broderick could see beyond them, understanding what she had failed to disclose—he was a viper and his home was in hell.
She was Divine.
He was the Fallen.
There was no common ground between them.
How had all that been locked away?
Animosity had crawled into his heart the first night he’d ever seen her. It again stormed his consciousness.
And Broderick welcomed it.
CHAPTER 76
Tempestuous clouds accompanied violent bursts of lightning, welcoming the Light warriors into Dark territory. The sizzling streaks dissected the underbelly of heavy gray skies, pouring bouts of sleet mingled with swirling snow over the contingent awaiting signal from Maeve. Thundersnow pelted the white peaks in the mountainous area, forming slick layers over the surrounding landscape. Alia made no attempts to intervene as the storm continued to build. Any measure to calm nature’s fury might alert the enemy to their presence. Tonight, it was imperative that every element of surprise belong to the Light.
Casting a shroud to cover their arrival, Kaitriana contemplated the structure looming farther up the rocky terrain. The antiquated fortress was an imposing presence, situated on a precipice extending unnaturally from the mountainside. Infernestrum was the name of the Dark One’s home. Dubbed “hell’s window” in the Ancient language, Rhydach had indeed provided the occupants of the fiery pit a portal into the Realm.
Kat looked forward to slamming it closed and boarding it shut. No magical protections shielded the stone walls. The fortress was cloaked, shifting location with the break of every new dawn. It was a genius defense for a slithering Dark creature, believed for centuries to be the result of a spell woven by the castings of a hundred Dark Witch. In the end, it had been the brilliant composition of just one. Since it never remained in place for longer than a single day, the vanishing castle prevented enemy Vampire from shadowing into Rhydach’s lair. Its construction dated back to the period of Maeve and Broderick’s youth, and although many had entered its halls, Infernestrum had only been breached once—when Ella had brought along a few Light friends to assist with Nicholas’s rescue.
Motionless since their arrival, Maeve’s eyes roamed the exterior of Rhydach’s home. In deep, contemplative study, she turned to her comrades after completing her otherworldly assessment. “There are sixty-eight Dark souls inside and four who are of the Light.”
It was not unusual for Rhydach to hold Light prisoners. Maeve’s report was unquestioned by those allies surrounding her. Her gaze swept them before settling on a ginger-haired female who Kendrick was forcibly tugging to stand at his side in the circle. A band on the witch’s forearm bound her magic. When Maeve’s gaze locked on him, the leader of the Warrior Caste did not falter in his progress, but his trepidation was palpable. Despite that his bitterness had nearly cost Kylie’s life, he was an honorable warrior and Maeve was not the type to bear a grudge.
