Rise of the DarkWalker: The Chronicles of Carter Blake, Book II

The half-elf huddled in the corner, shivering and burning in turns, the fiery cuts on her back weeping steadily. Shaking, she closed her eyes and touched a dry spot on the wall, moving her finger in soft, slow strokes. In her mind she saw Jothan, sweet Jothan, and held onto his smiling face. Jothan’s face flickered between reality and a memory she feared she’d lose forever, the only warmth in the cold grip of her captivity.

Soon she could no longer ignore the approaching heavy footsteps of Ortho, her captor, torturer and soon, executioner.

The dark dwarf approached in heavy, deliberate steps, his smile a flash of black decay. A bloodied leather apron covered his sweaty girth and he carried a key in one hand. She wept as the dwarf's thick hand grabbed a handful of the rags she wore and pulled her out of the cell.

The chain attached to her ankle cuff slithered across the floor behind her like a dead snake. Ortho reached down and unlocked the manacle which fell to the stone with a clang. He then dragged her by her ankle to the torture chamber. She screamed, clawing at the unyielding stone floor. Her nails caught in the seam of where two flagstones interlocked and tore off, peeling up and away in a bloody mess.

A swiftly approaching shadow caught her attention. As they passed through an island of torchlight, the shadow resolved into a woman dressed in buckskin with curly brown hair. The human pressed a finger to her lips and stole forward a little faster.

The half-elf’s leg was dropped when the human’s arm shot around the neck of the dark dwarf and pulled him back. He pulled frantically at her arm, but to no avail. Within seconds, his slumped and she lay him on the floor. She turned and lifted the former prisoner in her arms and strode back the way she came.

Outside, the human helped her onto a horse. For the first time, she spoke, “When you’re safe, tell everyone that you were rescued by my master, Drago the Clanless.” She slapped the horse’s rump.

Sera watched as the half-elf woman was carried away to freedom. ‘Though this is separate from my mission, it will aid Lord Drago with winning more of the common people to his side.’

###

Carter ducked under the creature’s outstretched claws and bisected it before it could land. He spun and watched it fall in two pieces. The creature’s skull-like visage faded into mist before showing his own reflection for a brief, unsettling moment and then the entire thing faded into nothingness. As the mist cleared, Carter frowned, unsettled by how easily the creature had fallen—almost too easy, like it hadn’t been a real threat at all

He blew out his cheeks like a fish, and then let them relax. ‘What. The. Fuck.’ His shoulders drooped for a moment before he sheathed his sword. ‘I’ve seen something like this before, but I swear by Kellün’s left nut I can’t remember.’ He furrowed his brow, a nagging sense of familiarity gnawing at him. The creature, the mist—it was all too familiar, like a half-forgotten dream hovering just beyond his reach, taunting him with the knowledge that he should remember, but couldn’t.

‘I wonder what Adora would say to that version of her favorite curse?’ He then stretched with a mighty yawn. ‘Damn, I’m tired. How long have I been awake now?’

He shook himself and twisted his wrist, activating his gauntlet. ‘Hcort.’ At the spell trigger, a lit torch appeared in his hand. The jute, soaked in beeswax, crackled as it sent shadows dancing on the cavern walls. As the smoke trailed around his head, Carter headed further into the cave. ‘I’ve got to find Conker’s Blade.’

He rounded a turn in the cave, and found himself face-to-face with an eerie statue. The figure stood as tall as a man, but its proportions were disturbingly wrong—its broad, hunched shoulders and misshapen torso frozen as if in mid-lurch, like the thing had been captured just before lunging toward him. Its head was grotesque: a mass of stone tentacles fanning outward from where a face should have been, resembling some twisted mockery of an octopus. Carved from a greenish-mauve stone, its surface was slick with condensation, giving the eerie impression that the creature’s rubbery skin might still be alive, glistening in the dim light. The creature’s bloated, pupil-less eyes stared blankly ahead, hauntingly lifelike despite the cold, unmoving stone—an eternal gaze, watching over the depths of the cavern.

In its upraised right hand, a turquoise dagger with a spiral hilt and a broad, serrated blade that tapered to a sharp point. The teeth rose around the blade as if it had been made from coral from the deepest part of the ocean. A constant drip of water came from the tip of the dagger, but there was no evidence of it below the statue.

Carter reached out to catch a droplet, but it vanished on impact with his hand. ‘Interesting. It’s an illusion.’ He glanced up at the dagger. ‘Is that one, too?’

He reached up, and the dancing torchlight made the tentacles appear to reach for his head. He leaped back, heart thumping and sword half drawn, before realizing it was only a trick of the light. ‘By all the hells. That earlier vision has me jumpy as fuck.’ He let the sword drop back. And took several deep breaths. His shoulders shook with a silent laugh. ‘How would I even fight a statue?’

A brief flash of a scarlet knight passed through his mind, followed by a scream of soul rending grief and a glimmer of white. His whole body trembled before he successfully shoved that memory to the back of his mind again.

‘Focus, Carter,’ he commanded himself. Unable to resist the urge, he reach up and touched the dagger. It almost jumped into his hand. ‘That was weird.’

“You have freed me. Take me back to my people.”

Carter held the dagger away from his body and stared at it. ‘I’ve heard of intelligent weapons before, but not encountered them myself. Is this one of them?’

“I am.”

Carter looked the weapon over, bemused. The blade of the dagger was infused with an alchemical process that dyed it turquoise. The metal itself was an alloy resembling that of the sword he’d taken from the half-demon, Belial. He touched the edge with a caress and cut himself. He yanked his hand back, and stared at the deep and bloody cut. ‘Kellün’s balls, that’s sharper than I expected.’ As the blood dripped to the ground, he placed the dagger behind his belt and retrieved a healing potion.

“Do you often touch the edges of new weapons you encounter?”

“Of course,” he said, absently. He poured a little of the glowing liquid on the wound. And hissed in pain at the contact. “How else would I know if it needs to be sharpened before I use it?” The cut filled in, healing that would have taken a month by itself, done in seconds.

“You’re not very intelligent, are you?”

“I’m not the one stuck in a cave, on a statue of an ugly creature.”

“I’m a poniard.”

Carter could almost feel the contempt from it.

“I have no control over where I go, or end up.”

He shook his head. “Do you have a name?”

“I am Conker’s Blade.”

“Wonderful.” He grinned. ‘Now I can fulfill my side of the bargain with Amando.’

“The Prince of the Mer?” The dagger quivered behind his belt, vibrating his cuirass. “No, thank you. Deliver me to Alba, his sister, instead. She’s a better fit for me, than that dullard.”

Carter pulled the dagger free and held it before his eyes. “I made an agreement.”

“I don’t care.”

‘Interesting dilemma. Do I keep my word, or do I make a dagger happy?’

“Poniard.”

“Whatever.”

‘If I keep my word, Adora gets another army as reinforcements for her war against Drago. If I make an intelligent dag – poniard – happy, who knows what will happen, besides potentially having more war on my hands. By the Abyss, I don’t want to make these kinds of decisions. Adora is so much better at them than me. I’m more suited as a weapon.’

‘Ha-ha! Brilliant.’ His face glowed as he danced a small jig. ‘That’s a wonderful idea.’

“What is?”

“I’m going to pass you to Adora. She’ll make the decision for me.”

“No. You will take me to Alba.”

“You will stifle yourself, or I’ll hand you over to Amando.”

Carter could feel the dagger’s anger almost physically as he headed back outside the cavern.

###

Music from the troupe of minstrels wafted through the air as her guests danced or sat listening. Some were clustered together holding a myriad of different conversations. She knew some negotiated trade, others alliances, and more than a few vied for Lady Soo-jau’s attention.

Adora took another sip from her goblet of ginger water. ‘I hope this settles my stomach from the Shakshuka soon.’ The hill dwarf dish was tasty, but the spices they used hurt. ‘I shouldn’t have had any, knowing what it does to me, but etiquette dictated I did.’ Ambassador Séaghdha had presented it with a huge smile.

She crossed the room to peek out the window. Tall oaks and ancient pines stood as silent sentinels as flickers of light from fey playing illuminated their branches. The full moon cast silver light down on the tree tops. The silhouettes of a cloud of bats fluttered by the glass.

The soft shuffling of footsteps creeping up behind her caused her shoulders to tense as her calm vanished like smoke.

‘Time to be the queen again.’ She sighed, a long and heavy sound.

“Your Majesty.” A familiar, and detested drawl told her who it was without needing to see him.

“Lord Maverick.” She continued to face the forest. She knew his arrogance demanded her attention, and her duty was to give it to him. ‘I’ll be damned if I move according to his whims.’ A wolf trotted by, pausing to glance up, as if it felt her gaze, before disappearing into the bushes. She turned to face him, certain her pause irritated him. “What brings you before me, Donnell?”

His eyes widened a fraction before he hid his surprise behind his smooth smile. “The war effort, of course, Your Majesty.”

She placed her goblet down on the window’s sash, and laced her fingers before her. “Will you be committing your armies?”

“Well, you see, Your Majesty, I would, but they’re needed at home to defend my people who depend on me for their protection.” He gave a simper. “You know how it is.”

“Indeed.” Her voice was cool, but her face gave nothing away. “I also know how it is to stand between them and annihilation, personally.”

He paused, hands clenching for a moment, the movement almost imperceptible. He then gave her a slight bow.

“That is, of course, part of the reason I came to speak with you, Your Majesty.” A muscle jumped in his jaw. He took a deep breath. “You simply must stop personally fighting.” His drawl was back. “It is unbecoming of our Queen, and – forgive me, Your Majesty – but if something were to happen to you, there is no heir to take over if the worst should happen.”

His words dripped with faux concern, but the condescension in his tone belied his words. ‘He thinks he’s more clever than he is, but he can’t seem to hide his arrogance. What is your real game, Maverick?’ His shoulders were too tense, his stance too wide, a faint sneer playing at his mouth.

“No heir to take over?” She raised her right eyebrow. “Let me guess: You think I should name one. Perhaps as soon as tonight.”

“Well, I—”

“Maybe even you.” She nodded. “As position you’d hate to accept, yes?”

“Well, I suppose I could be persuaded...” He allowed his voice to trail off.

She titled her head without another word, and swept off. Maverick watched her leave with a glare darkening his face. Lord Hathshire came up behind him.

“That didn’t go the way you thought it would, did it, Lord Maverick?”

Maverick sneered, showing his canine. “You think?”

***

Lady Soo-jau approached Adora and gave her a small bow. “Your Highness.”

Adora acknowledged the Vaush-Tauric with a nod. “Lady Soo-jau.”

“You may wish to watch that one close.”

Adora studied Soo-jau's face carefully, searching for any crack in her stern expression. ‘Is the warning out of genuine concern, or does she have an as yet unknown agenda? It’s hard to be wary of someone Carter spoke highly of, but I don’t know much about her.’

“You mean Lord Maverick? I’m used to his antics.”

“While dangerous, he is not the one of whom I speak.” She moved to stand beside the queen and looked across the room to Hathshire. “He is.”

Adora followed her gaze. “Lord Hathshire?” She glanced back to the rumored dragon with a furrowed brow. “He’s a schemer who wants to ally with Maverick. He’s rather dim.”

Soo-jau narrowed her eyes at Adora. “He’s a werewolf.”

Adora felt herself rock back on her heels. Her gaze lingered on Hathshire across the room, narrowing slightly as she weighed Soo-jau’s words. He had always struck her as nothing more than a dim-witted opportunist, hardly a threat unless aligned with someone sharper, like Maverick. But if Soo-jau was right… what else was he hiding? Could there be more to his clumsy politicking than she had first assumed? ‘If she’s correct, then I have to rethink every interaction I’ve had with him.’ She forced herself to remain calm, despite the pulse of unease that flickered at the edge of her thoughts. ‘Am I being too cautious? Or too dismissive? I can’t afford to make decisions lightly—the court is watching my every move. If Hathshire turns out to be more dangerous than I anticipated, how could I smooth over this lapse?’

“Interesting accusation.” There was a temptation there—just enough to make her wonder if it was worth investigating further. ‘Could Soo-jau’s warning be a piece of a larger puzzle? But no, I have too many responsibilities to go chasing after rumors. “Do you have proof?”

“I know the scent.”

“I am sorry, Lady Soo-jau, but I cannot take that as proof.”

She returned her gaze to Hathshire and Maverick in time to see the latter brush off the other and stalk off. “Besides, you’ve not said whether he is a natural one, or cursed.”

The Vaush-Tauric placed her hands on her hips. “Does that matter?”

“Of course.” Adora took a pair of goblets from a tray and passed one to her guest. “A cursed werewolf isn’t necessarily to blame for his actions. His curse might be what makes him do the travesties he does.”

“Wouldn’t that only apply to his actions under the full moon?”

The queen rolled the cup between her hands and sighed. “Indeed.”

“So, what will you do, Your Majesty?”

Adora turned her attention back to Soo-jau. “All I can do is keep a closer watch on him. He’s only guilty of being an ass based on what evidence I have at the moment.”

Soo-jau nodded. “A wise choice.” She cast her gaze across the room. “Is Lord Angriz in attendance?”

“That’s an abrupt change in subject.” Adora snorted. “Why are you asking about him?”

Soo-jau faced her directly. “It is a private matter. Draconic in nature.”

Adora’s eyes widened briefly. ‘So she is a dragon after all. Fascinating.’

“Now, I’m really intrigued, but as it is private, I will inquire no further.” The queen looked about. “He is over by the buffet table.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty. If you will excuse me.”

Adora watched with a small smile flickering at her lips. ‘Didn’t even wait for my acknowledgement before heading to him.’ She gave a slow shake of her head. ‘Dragons are… different indeed.’

“You allowed her to leave without permission, Your Highness?”

The oily voice slithered into her ears, making her cringe inside.

“That is… interesting.”

She turned to see the rotund form of Lord Tyrese Hathshire standing close to her. She took as step back and studied him for a few seconds. His oily black hair was slicked back, giving his face a sheen that matched the gold rings on his pudgy fingers. The overpowering scent of lavender clung to him, thick and cloying, as if attempting to mask something less pleasant. His gaze, quick and calculating, flickered over her body, making her skin crawl.

‘Is the perfume to hide his natural musk as a lycanthrope?’

“Lord Hathshire, are you questioning me in my own castle?"