Serpent's Lair (The Forgotten: Book 1), Page 3

CHAPTER 2

  Natalya squinted up at the bright sun overhead and sighed at the sound of her sister’s retreating giggles as the girl chased after another adventure known only to her. “I swear, Alina,” she scolded, “you’re as bad as the cat…they say curiosity is what killed him you know - you should be careful!” She sighed again as Alina ignored this statement; but it had been worth a try. “Come on, we’re going to be late!”

  Alina glanced back at her, grinning impishly, as Natalya caught up to her where she was squatting by the stream’s edge. Without warning she suddenly shot upwards, spraying water all over Natalya with her flailing arms, and then she bolted back along the path. Natalya shrieked indignantly and chased after her playfully, the warm sun drying her chilled skin. They raced along the path homewards, until finally Natalya outpaced the younger girl and caught her in a wet embrace. They both fell to the ground, laughing. Amidst the tangle of blond hair and damp clothes, Alina’s fiery amber eyes darted past Natalya and she swarmed to her feet.

  “Look,” she cried, pointing over the hill. “I can see the square from here! Look at all the people!” Natalya clambered to her feet as well, following Alina’s pointing finger to the throng of people gathering in the village square. Already carts were lined along the streets, the vendors bustling about setting up their wares as more and more people streamed in through the city gates. Festival times always brought in all of the people from the surrounding countryside.

  Natalya smiled and started down the hill with Alina skipping excitedly beside her. Hurrying home to change out of now-wet clothes, the girls nearly collided with their mother, a beautiful woman balancing a tray of freshly baked meat pies, one of which Alina deftly nabbed on her way past.

  Her mother slapped her hand away in reproach, but her broad grin told the girls she was in too good of a mood for this small indiscretion to be punished. Natalya followed her sister past the curtain that partitioned off the room they shared and pulled off her damp tunic, replacing it with her best dress as Alina bombarded her with questions.

  “How many people do you think have come? Do you think there’s anyone from Treymayne? Do you think we’ll meet any of them? I bet they have all sorts of interesting things!” Natalya strained her limited knowledge of the proceedings to provide answers for her, but seeing as how the Festival of the Dragons was completely new to her too, she found she had little to offer. The festival was one that the new Queen, Queen Layna, had initiated in order to teach people about the events of the last few years that had led to her reign. Natalya didn’t believe most of the rumors that were circulating about their new monarch defeating a real dragon god in order to assume the throne, but it still made a good story. And any excuse for a festival was a good one. Despite her doubts about the truth to the stories, Natalya was rather smitten with their new monarch. The Queen had made the time-consuming trek to come all the way to the border counties in the months after being crowned, including their own Hardonia, just to see all her subjects. She had made quite an impression on Natalya’s young mind.

  “You’ll just have to wait and see,” she told her sister affectionately, her vague answer hinting that she did know the answers but was simply keeping it from her to keep up the excitement rather than reveal the actual truth of her lack of knowledge. Alina was bouncing wildly around the room and Natalya laughed and waved a hand at her. “Come on, let’s go mingle!”

  She wiggled her eyebrows playfully and Alina let out a little squeak and took her hand, nearly ripping Natalya’s arm off her shoulder in her rush towards the door. Outside, music was playing and Natalya could hear the deep baritone of the blacksmith, his slightly slurred speech indicating that his celebrations had started hours earlier.

  Natalya saw their neighbor, Darryl, across the street with his father and she waved enthusiastically at him. He caught sight of her and, after a brief exchange with his father, he trotted over to them.

  “Good morning, ladies,” he took Natalya’s hand with exaggerated gallantry and kissed it loudly. “You’re looking lovely as always, Natalya.”

  Natalya batted her eyes at him to Alina’s uncontrollable giggles and replied, “I thank you, kind sir. Would you do two ladies the honor of escorting us to the festivities?”

  Darryl’s eyes lit up mischievously and he jumped to attention, extending bent elbows to both girls, “It would be my pleasure.”

  Making their way towards the crowd, however, their escort charade was soon forgotten, as they whispered comments about strangers and townsfolk alike, laughing behind their hands.

  “Look at that dress on Etta!” Darryl exclaimed, “I think she’s forgotten that she’s aged about twenty years beyond it.”

  Alina wrinkled her nose and all three laughed, watching Etta as she glanced around before applying another layer of powder to her face. The well-ripened wife of the apothecary had a death-grip on her youth, self-testing every youth potion and anti-aging cream her husband boasted in his shop.

  Darryl nudged Natalya and pointed to the edge of the square where a stranger was leading a chestnut mare pulling a cart covered in a tarp to a currently unoccupied space. He was rugged-looking, suntanned and well-built, and was leading the horse with a trained hand, his alert eyes taking in the situation around him. A very large silver dog padded along beside him, his tongue lolling in the morning heat.

  “He doesn’t look like a merchant,” Darryl commented. “What do you think he has under his tarp?” Both girls looked at him, Natalya with a bemused expression, but Alina with startled surprise. Natalya could almost hear the wheels turning in her over-active imagination.

  Lowering his voice, Darryl continued, “I hear some people have shunned the Gods and taken to blood-magic,” he glanced at Alina out of the corner of his eye, who was starring wide-eyed and slack-jawed at the man now. Leaning towards his captive audience, Darryl went on, “Maybe it’s his victims’ bodies!” This last bit he punctuated by a fearsome growl as he grabbed Alina, who screamed and batted at him, glaring at him as he doubled over in amusement.

  Natalya rolled her eyes at him, “Don’t listen to him, Alina, he’s just trying to scare you.” Alina took another wary look in the direction of the stranger.

  “And succeeding, I must point out,” Darryl interjected smugly, earning him a jab in the ribs from Alina, who gave him a defiant look and then stuck out her tongue at him.

  Natalya shook her head at them once again and curiously glanced back at the stranger, wondering just what he did have in his cart, only to find herself looking directly into his dark stare.

  She flushed and looked quickly away, but luckily was saved further embarrassment as the festival bells sounded, drawing everyone’s attention to the center of the square.

  The priest stood on the platform built for the occasion, chanting the holy words of the Three, each verse telling of the creation of their world through the cleansing fires of the Gods. As the priest intoned the sacred story, he held out a stone for each of the three representations of the Kiani Stones which now stood encased in a statue in a maze of gardens made especially for them near the palace.

  When he had completed the ritual telling, he continued with the story of how Layna had been switched at birth in order to protect her from a secret society bent on bringing back blood-magic and the ways of the Dark King. She had instead been brought up as a farm-girl in the country and later moved to the capitol to work as a maid in the household of the evil Lady Jezebel. There she had met Gryffon, who was posing as a noble though really he was a spy for Treymayne sent here to stop the impending threat of blood-magic.

  King Nathair rose to power and Jezebel took her place at his side, starting the whirlwind of events that would lead to war with Treymayne, blood-beasts being reborn, and eventually King Nathair being taken over by the dragon god, Nuko, who manipulated him through a Bloodstone left behind ages ago. This same Bloodstone had been the catalyst for the evil of the Dark King’s
reign.

  Layna and Gryffon had banded together to stop them from completely waking Nuko who would have torturously lorded over the humans until he grew tired of them and wiped them out. Together with a mysterious woman who had helped them and then disappeared, they sought out the help of the Three through the Kiani stones.

  Only by all of them working together were they able to destroy Nuko by poisoning his blood and piercing his heart with the legendary sword, Leoht, which had also been the same sword to have stopped the Dark King. It was then that it was discovered that Layna was actually the rightful heir and she was put upon the throne. She and Gryffon married and bore a little girl named Phoenix. The Three blessed their child and the Kiani stones were placed into the trust of the new monarchs.

  It was the first time that Natalya had heard the story in its completion and she was held rapt with the rest of the crowd. She sighed wistfully at the description of the love story between Layna and Gryffon, she gasped in surprise when battles were narrated, and she whistled loudly above the din when he recited the part where Queen Layna’s lineage was discovered.

  Since Hardonia was so far to the west, they did not see the effects of the blood-magic running rampant nor even the short-lived war with Treymayne, though they had heard the horror stories. Hearing about it all now seemed very surreal and Natalya still couldn’t wrap her mind around it, even hearing it from such an authoritative source.

  The priest ended his recitation with a proclamation of “Long live the King and Queen!” and Natalya, Alina, and Darryl clapped and cheered with the rest of the crowd, caught up in the mad rush of adrenaline that was coursing through the people.

  Alina tugged on Natalya’s sleeve, pulling her towards the carts. Alina was drawn to the brilliant colors of the yards of fabric being displayed on the cart of a trader Natalya recognized as Felix, a handsome merchant from the North, with a reputation of being able to talk the very shirt off your back.

  “Look at this fine piece here,” he was saying to a nodding woman who Natalya didn’t recognize, “it once wrapped the magestone of the King himself! Lost during the Dark Ages, it has been passed trader to trader until it found its way to me. For the price of mere 100 coppers, it could be yours!”

  The woman was looking at her coin purse doubtfully and glancing over her shoulder at a man by the smith’s wares who could only be her husband, and Felix expertly threw out the last bone to seal the deal, holding out his hand with a flourish, opening it to reveal a glowing sapphire stone. “And this, of course, dear lady, would be included. I wouldn’t want to separate the fine cloth from its charge.” He raised his brow suggestively, nodding slightly at her inquisitive look and quickly folded and wrapped the cloth and stone, swiftly accepting the woman’s payment and moving on to identify his next target.

  Darryl snorted at the retreating woman, drawing Felix’s attention. “Ho, Darryl, how are you enjoying the festival? Is your father set up with his jewelry? I keep telling him we should set up together, there’s profit to be made in cloth and jewels.”

  Darryl nodded his greeting and responded with a wink, “Alas, Felix, my father is too honest a businessman for your dealings, it simply could never work.”

  Felix sighed his regret, but brightened as he spied Natalya and Alina, the merchant gleam back in his eyes. “And what brings you two fine specimens to my cart? I have everything a young woman could want, scarlet velvet to provoke the young men,” gesturing to Darryl who smiled obligingly, “deep green for that mysterious look, or blue for a lovely evening gown. Well, my dears, what’s your pleasure?”

  Alina raised her arm to pick up a silky cloth and Felix’s eye was caught by a glint of metal around her wrist. “Aha, what’s this?” he asked triumphantly, sure he had discovered the way to this young woman’s purse. “A beautiful bracelet, set with, what…firestone, hmm? Well, with that bracelet, your lovely face and this wonderful green velvet you’re guaranteed to land any man you desire! Why, the King himself would be astounded by your stunning appearance.”

  Alina smiled at his flattery, placing a self-conscious hand over the bracelet, a gift from Darryl when he apprenticed with his father. Natalya and Alina both had one, set with their birthstones.

  Natalya watched Alina stroke the cloth longingly and then turned her attention to Felix, “How much?” she asked, pointing to the cloth that Alina held. Felix immediately assumed his business-like tone and replied after a brief consideration, “For you, my dear, the bargain price of 20 coppers.” Natalya knew this was probably still more than the cloth was really worth, but Alina’s grin and the mood of the day made Natalya feel it worth the extra money. She nodded her agreement, dipping into her coin purse and withdrawing the proper amount. He looked slightly surprised that she hadn’t haggled with him, but soon composed himself. As he wrapped the cloth, he picked up a remnant piece of deep blue and added it in saying, “And for you, a scarf of this would be lovely with your eyes.”

  Natalya smiled her thanks and they moved with the crowd to the next set of carts, looking over the assortment of shell knick-knacks and fishing supplies sold by her neighbors and the more exotic leather goods and wood carvings from the people to the North.

  Mid-afternoon they found themselves at their father’s cart as he peddled his baked goods next to the strange man the three had joked about earlier. Natalya stole a few quick looks in his direction and found that his cart was laden with an impressive collection of knives, both practical and ceremonial, and Natalya noticed that many had stones embedded in their hilts. Since Queen Layna had overthrown King Nathair, there had been a lot of exciting changes happening. Magic was becoming more widespread and the Queen had taken away the priests’ control of the talent and set up a new training program that was available to all.

  The embedded stones allowed the user to empower them with spells to help keep the blade sharp and true; Natalya had even heard that in battles one could empower them with healing spells to help with minor wounds. Gelendan had been limited in its use of magic for hundreds of years since the Massacre and the reign of the Dark King. Only recently - since the border to Treymayne had been opened - had they begun to see artifacts trickle through which were magically enhanced. Previously, it had been only the priests and the wealthy who could afford to own such things. So, a commodity such as a blade decorated by magestones was a rare find indeed, and the stranger found his cart well-attended.

  As Natalya watched, the man demonstrated the blades, deftly throwing them against a nearby tree, showing the gathered audience how straight and balanced they were, and withdrawing them and showing the point to the prospective buyer to reveal no dents in the strong metal.

  He carried them with ease, his well-practiced hands tossing the blades upwards to reposition his grip for his final throw.

  “Natalya, are you listening?” her father’s voices suddenly brought Natalya out of her observation and she looked guiltily at her father.

  “She’s all misty eyed for Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome,” Alina teased with a jerk of her head in the direction of the blade dealer.

  Natalya gave Alina a sour look but ignored the comment, instead turning her attention to her father. “I’m sorry,” she apologized, “What were you saying?”

  Her father gave her an impatient look but repeated his question, “I asked if you had seen your mother. She’s supposed to be bringing more meat pies, but she hasn’t been back yet.”

  “Oh,” replied Natalya, “I haven’t, but would you like me to go look for her?”

  Her father seemed placated by her offer of help and he agreed, sending her off towards the house with instructions to get the meat pies herself if she did not encounter her mother along the way.

  Natalya threaded her way through the tangle of bodies, and finally emerged out onto the street. It was now empty, except for a few hurried people making their way to or from the square on various missions like Natalya herself.

  She
made her way to their house and searched the kitchen, but found no evidence of additional meat pies. She concluded that her mother must have already been here, and they simply had not passed in the mass of people.

  She hurried back, half-jogging, not wanting to miss the evening ceremonies. When she reached the square again there was a strange tension in the air, and the knot of people seemed to tighten as she tried to pass by them. Natalya quickened her pace, wanting to be back with her family and ask what had changed the mood.

  She finally pushed her way through and found them, but as she laid eyes on her father she stopped short. His hands were clenched at his sides, white-knuckled and shaking, and before him stood Lord Morven. Morven was the son of the Baron who held lordship over the lands. He was slim and lanky, his dark black hair was slicked back, standing out in stark contrast with his white skin, pale from never having endured the beating rays of the sun during a day’s work. He was cunning but cowardly, hiding behind the powerful veil of his father and now, apparently, the royal Knights, as a group of them stood with him. Natalya drew closer, confused. The Knights were a special group put together by the Queen and they didn’t belong by the side of someone so vile. Her mother stood next to her father with the tray of meat pies in her hands and Natalya edged to her side.

  Natalya could almost see the forked tongue as Morven spoke. “Well now,” he drawled, the ends of his mouth curving slightly upwards, “apparently you are good for something. You’ve managed to breed a whelp worthy of being talented. I never would have thought it possible of you.” His smile grew wider as he continued, “It’s a shame I’ll have to take her away. She looks so much like her mother.”

  Suddenly, the tray her mother had been holding dropped to the ground and all of the color drained from her mother’s face as she stared towards the center of the square.

  Natalya rushed to her side and dropped to her knees to try and gather the pies before they were ruined, but her mother paid her no heed. She simply continued to stare, one hand lifted to her mouth and Natalya saw a tear forming at the corner of her eye.

  Natalya straightened and followed her mother’s gaze, and the scene behind Morven finally came into view. To her horror, she saw Alina kneeling before three black riders, horses and cloaks bearing the emblem of the throne. The middle rider held in his outstretched hand a magestone that was glowing so brightly as he held it next to Alina that Natalya had to look away. A deep voice boomed from under the dark hood, making the hair on the back of Natalya’s neck stand on end. Its eerie tones seeming to reverberate throughout her very bones and it made her blood run cold.

  “She is one. Her talent is strong.”

  He clamped his hand around the stone, shaking as smoke snaked out from between his fingers and the smell of burning flesh filled the square which so recently had been buzzing with action, but was now so still you could hear a pin drop.

  Morven, who had paused to watch the spectacle, turned back to her father, his sinister delight written plainly on his face. Before he had the chance to speak, however, her father’s hand flew from his side and connected squarely with Morven’s pointed nose. Morven staggered backwards, clutching at his face as blood streamed down his chin. The two burly men who followed Morven like shadows closed in, but Morven shoved them aside, anger blazing.

  Natalya’s mother clamped onto her father’s arm, holding him back from attacking further.

  Morven wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve and spit blood in the dirt at her father’s feet. Her mother stood frozen, looking from her father to Morven in terrified anticipation. Morven glanced back at Alina and then fixed her father with an icy stare. “You’ll be sorry you did that, Lyam,” he looked back at Alina suggestively, “very sorry.”

  He jerked his head towards the two brutes who were still hovering, ready for a fight, and they turned and followed with disappointment. The bigger of the two, with a crooked nose that looked like it had been broken one too many times, swaggered past her father’s table and stuffed a meat pie in his mouth, staring fixedly at her father.

  Then abruptly, he overturned the table, sending pies flying all over the ground. Her father closed his eyes and took a deep breath, but did not take the bait. When he opened his eyes he simply stared defiantly back at the man, his temples bulging. The man curled his lips into a sneer and walked over, bringing his face within inches of her father’s.

  “Just give me an excuse to break you, old man.” When her father only continued to stare, the man snorted contemptuously and turned his back on him, following Morven who watched the exchange with amusement. Morven swung himself up onto his horse and urged it towards Alina.

  He grabbed hold of her arm and wrenched her up onto the horse behind him. She jerked her head as if coming out of a daze and then her eyes widened as Morven spurred his horse, her lips forming a silent ‘oh’ as she realized what was happening. The horse stamped its hooves and broke into a gallop, and Alina shot a frightened look at her family, her outstretched arm growing smaller as they bore her away.

  Natalya dropped the tray again and sprinted to her father’s side who was still staring straight ahead. Her mother tugged on his sleeve, “You have to do something,” she wailed, “We can’t just let him take her!”

  Her father’s blank eyes shifted onto his wife. “What would you have me do? I cannot defy the nobles, or the throne.” He shrugged his arm out of his wife’s grasp, and letting his gaze fall downwards, he moved away. The crowd parted for him, murmuring to each other in hushed tones.

  “Father!” Natalya shouted, but his steps never slowed. Her mother had sunk to the ground, her weeping face covered by her hands. Natalya bit her lip, her breath quickening. She looked back down the path where Alina’s terrified face had been moments before, the dust not yet settled from the horse’s hooves.

  Without thinking, Natalya suddenly burst into a run, shoving by people who exclaimed their indignant surprise. She kept running long after the dust had settle in the horse’s wake and her breath came in ragged gasps.

  As the sun sank below the treetops casting long shadows under the gold-tipped trees, Natalya sank to her knees, rocking back and forth sobbing. “She’s gone. She’s gone. How can she be gone?” Natalya closed her eyes, grasping the stone at her bracelet as if willing Alina back through it. The stone remained just a stone. She threw her face towards the sky and screamed her frustration, lashing out at everything around her. Her hand connected with a jagged outcropping of rock and a sharp pain shot up her arm. Blood welled from the wound and the pain shocked Natalya back to reality. She sat back on her heels and clutched at her hand.

  She sat there for some time as numbed shock swept over her. Finally, she dragged herself back to the city and arrived just as the bells were ringing, signaling the end of the evening ceremonies. Through tear-swollen eyes, she watched the people around her packing up their wares in a subdued tone. They kept peeking at her out of the corner of their eyes and whispering behind their hands to each other.

  Natalya felt suddenly very alone, and as tears threatened to come to the surface again, she turned hurriedly away from the prying eyes and ran smack into a very solid body. It grunted and put a hand on her shoulder to steady them both. Natalya looked up into the face of the Treymayne trader and mumbled a quick apology, wiping at her tears impatiently. He wrinkled his brow and caught her hand, examining the cut.

  “That looks bad,” he said, a slight accent betraying his foreignness, “I could wrap it for you.”

  Natalya snatched her hand away, trying not to wince as the cut reopened in the process. “I’ll be fine, thank you,” she said briskly.

  “Suit yourself, he answered, returning to his task of wiping each of the blades clean. Natalya looked around at the townspeople who now had a scandalous tone to their whispers, and she could almost hear them as they told each other how unseemly it was for her to be consorting with the outsider. The borders to
Treymayne had been opened less than two years ago and though seeing them was becoming more and more commonplace, it was still recent enough to fuel gossip. It was one thing for them all to talk with him in order to buy his highly coveted blades, but gods forbid she speak with him.

  She felt a sudden rush of hatred for them and spitefully turned back to the man. “Actually,” she admitted, “I could use your help. I’m Natalya.”

  He looked back at her, a curious look upon his face at her sudden change of heart, and shrugging, took hold of her hand once more.

  “The name’s Hunter,” he replied absently as he opened a case and started cleaning her cut. They stood in silence whilst Hunter finished cleaning and wrapping her wound, adding a large glop of something moist and foul-smelling to the gauze which, to her horror, he proceeded to place on her wound. It squished around her fingers and caused a tingling sensation, but it didn’t sting as she had feared. She asked in ill-disguised disgust, “What is that?”

  He looked at her, a cold smile playing on his lips, and answered, “Us primitive Treymaynians, you know, we use dirt to cure everything; haven’t you heard the stories?”

  Natalya felt a flush burning up her neck to her cheeks and stammered, “I didn’t mean…”

  He shook his head and dropped her hand which had been in a suddenly tighter grip. “Sorry, it’s just been a common reaction. I had hoped when coming here…” he trailed off.

  Natalya nodded, mutely, glancing away in embarrassment and again they stood in an awkward silence.

  “It’s a poultice of comfrey, goldenseal, and aloe. It will help soothe the pain and keep away infection while it’s healing.”

  Natalya gave a weak smile. “Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it.” Hunter was saying as a wave of nausea over took Natalya. She doubled over and groaned, clutching her stomach. Hunter once again steadied her and ducked down to examine her face, a look of concern across his. “Are you alright?”

  Natalya breathed deeply and nodded, “I think so, must just be the sight of the blood,” She lied as inside her mind raced. Something was wrong with Alina, she could feel it.

  Hunter’s gazed fell to her bracelet, which she suddenly realized she had in a death-grip, and she forced her cramped hand to release it. She hastily excused herself and raced home, bursting through the door to find her father with his head in his hands at the table, a half-finished bottle of Rosewine in front of him and her mother waving her hands around in a frantic huff as she screamed at him.

  “We can’t just let that monster take our little girl, hasn’t he done enough?” Her mother immediately fell silent upon her arrival and stomped over to the sink, picking up a rag and scrubbing away at the dishes with a vengeance.

  “Father, Mother,” she panted, winded from her sprint, “there’s something wrong with Alina, I can feel it!”

  Her father raised his eyes to her, half-closed, and answered morosely, “Alina is gone, there’s nothing we can do. We cannot argue against the divine judgment.”

  “They can’t just take the talented anymore, Queen Layna changed all that. It must be a mistake!” Natalya persisted.

  “There’s nothing to be done.” He turned back to the bottle, taking a long swig before getting up from the table and stomping outside.

  Natalya looked expectantly at her mother who was still scouring the pan until Natalya feared she may rub a hole straight through the bottom. She avoided her stare. She huffed exasperatedly; obviously her parents were not going to do anything about it.

  “Fine,” she said curtly and left. If her father wanted to drown his sorrows in the bottle and her mother clean her troubles away, Natalya would just have to take matters into her own hands. She went to pack her bags.