Faith Of The Dragon Tamer (Book 2) (9 page)

Inside, the people were as thick as the grass in the field. Many lingered on the black floors with memories of home stored around them. Where before the Razon castle had been a maze of splendor, now the black floors were dirty and the golden accents were tarnished with the fingerprints of many. But Korin barely registered the stark difference before focusing on the marble staircase leading to the second floor.

He took the steps with quick strides, unconcerned about hastening what was to come. He knew there would be pain. He knew there would be punishment. But what was to come was to come. There could be no denying it, no salvation.

The guard posted at Ista’s study stepped aside and let Korin enter. Ista stood at the window, gazing over her creation. She was in her beautiful body, and Korin briefly wondered why, but as soon as the door clicked shut the pain came. All thoughts were whisked away as he fell to the floor, clutching his head as the incessant pulse of anguish exploded inside his mind.

It lasted far longer than it ever had before. But then he knew it would. While it continued to wrack his body he tried to focus on Mari, on Lorlier, and on his duty to them. When his mind finally cleared Ista’s melted face peered down at him with such animosity he wondered how she had hid it all these years.

How she hated him!

“How do you deny me, Korin?”

Korin bowed his head. “I focus on other things, Ista. I pretend I’m someone who obeys you without hesitation. My true self is safe from you, hidden away deep inside. He comes out when I don’t feel you, when I’m not doing those things I abhor.

“Ista, Marianne is dying – ”

The pain was worse than the first, but it didn’t last long.

“I don’t care, Korin,” Ista said. “I care little for what happens to Marianne.”

“But if you want me to marry her she needs to live. If you don’t send the cure now there will be nothing left for me to claim.”

Ista’s eyes bore into him. Korin heaved a heavy sigh. Ista knew he was right. Although she knew she could take any nation by force it went against the web she was trying to weave. She had portrayed herself as the savior to the people. She needed to reinforce that theory.

When Ista turned away he knew he had won. It gave him no satisfaction, only profound relief he may have saved Lorlier’s daughter.

Ista walked to a large desk that sat beneath a portrait of a former Razon leader and dipped her hand in the ever-present basin of water. After dousing her brow she opened a top drawer and pulled out a shed section of silver dragon’s skin – a blanket of the power.

Just as a boiling cloth could absorb the poison from dragon’s flames, silver dragon’s skin must absorb magic. It would draw the disease from Marianne.

Korin heaved a sigh. He had done all he could. He had helped Mari and he had denied Ista. Little did she know he had told Lorlier everything, and when he returned to Fest he would die at Lorlier’s hand.

He barely heard Ista call the guards and send for a scroll. He barely remembered signing his name to the parchment and seeing the carrier leave. He barely remembered being thrown into the dungeon to await the day Ista could control the Red Eye. He barely remembered anything. For the entire time he was living in a body of pain.

Manda watched Lazo tremble by the fire. The past few days her friend had put all his energy into helping her rise from the pain and have hope for the future. She had remained silent and unresponsive. She was in her own dark world, not really wanting to venture out. In the dark there was no hope, and no hope didn’t leave any room for pain or hurt.

Now, as she watched Lazo’s brow bead up in sweat, his hands fumble for water and his eyes move in and out of focus she realized how selfish she had been. She hadn’t even asked why he had left the twins. Now she knew. On occasion Fraul and Aaron mentioned the word Lazo had always spoken with fear in his eyes – the Mar.

Fraul stuck a bowl full of venison stew in front of Lazo, encouraging him to eat. Lazo shook his head, eyes moving with unusual speed. A mournful cry rose from Manda’s chest. Fraul turned toward her, acute gray eyes surveying her with concern. He pursed his lips and turned away. His look didn’t escape her. Fraul didn’t think Lazo would survive the night.

Manda remembered what Lazo had told her about the Mar: no twin had ever survived it; no triplet had ever tried.

Lazo enwrapped his legs with his arms and rested his head on his knees. Even in his compact position she could see his spasms. He pulled tighter, but the shaking continued. Her eyes flickered to Aaron. Aaron’s hawk-like gaze was already on her. The Avenger was a mystery to her. He rarely spoke, but she could sense his thoughts as if he spoke them aloud. The pain in his eyes was unfathomable. The love radiating from him was unbounded. Yet he was extremely distant, not in the physical sense but in an emotional one.

She knew the Avenger lived with the pain and love of all the betrayeds, but she would have thought the exchange of emotions would bring him closer to the avenged. Yet he barely spoke to her. Despite his distance, she felt an unshakable bond with him. When she tried to form it to words she drew a blank. It was neither a bond of carnality nor one of righteousness, neither a bond of love nor a bond of pain. It seemed to be a bond of delicate devotion, but why she had no idea. He knew her every feeling. He was the Avenger. But she had no idea what made him who he was, how he felt, or why he would hold her in such an honorable regard.

She met his gaze without flinching, unembarrassed by his scrutiny, and he in kind did not turn. Aaron was tall and handsome, with a mane of ebony hair and eyes that drank the light. His body was perfection: broad shoulders, narrow waist, muscular build, angular jaw, and large hands. Although she found him handsome, his emotions dominated his features and drowned his affable looks in their intensity. His emotions scared her. She didn’t understand how he could do anything other than drown in them.

Before, she would have been attracted to him. Now the thought of any man frightened her.

Lazo rose and staggered toward the distant tree line, mumbling about making his bed away from them that night. He said he needed the comfort of the surrounding trees. Manda knew the truth. He was leaving them to die.

Aaron and Fraul watched him go. Each wore a concerned look.

“The closeness of twins and triplets is without bounds,” Aaron said. “Without that closeness Lazo’s heart will just stop beating, the pain of separation too great to bear.”

Fraul fingered his goatee and gazed in the direction Lazo had disappeared. “There’s nothing we can do?”

Aaron’s eyes flickered in the firelight. “Nothing.”

Manda listened to their words but tried to deny their truth. She didn’t want Lazo to die. For days Lazo had loved her enough to shove his own anguish aside. For days Lazo had overcome the Mar to help her live.

There was too much pain in this world. Chris may be lost to her forever. She could see the truth of that in the Avenger’s eyes. She could feel it in her own soul. Ren was in dire trouble, fighting something no one understood. Her father had betrayed her. And now one of her closest friends was about to die a horrible death.

Warm arms encircled her. She leaned back into Aaron’s chest. He stroked her hair and kissed her forehead. She didn’t recoil. Something about his magic abated the visions of the rapes. She clung to him, and he held her until she calmed.

Lazo needed this kind of warmth and tenderness. A moan escaped her lips as she thought of the one thing that may be able to save him.

Just the thought drove her back into her blackness. But it was the only way. She might not have to allow it all.

Manda twisted in Aaron’s arms and looked up into his gentle eyes, fully aware he knew her thoughts. Aaron nodded, admitting she was Lazo’s only chance. Manda swallowed back her fear and rose, focusing on Lazo and his friendship. With every movement she felt the bruises, the lacerations, and the deep ache where Bort had entered her time and again. Hands still moved over her body: groping, grabbing, and hurting. She had bathed in every frigid stream they passed but not one had washed the hands away. They clung to her like leeches.

She walked toward the distant trees. Their branches still swayed from Lazo’s entrance. She focused on their movement, murmuring to herself that this time was unlike the others. This time she was saving another’s life. No matter how much it hurt, no matter how many memories it brought, it couldn’t hurt her any more than she had been hurt. It couldn’t even begin to come close.

Manda moved the branches away and ducked under the sheltering trees. The mournful sounds of the night greeted her. A cricket chirped a lowly tune, an owl cooed to a distant love, the leaves fluttered in the plaintive breeze, but her own footfalls tolled of doom. A gust of wind spurred past her, cooling the soreness of her limbs but causing her skin to crawl as if the wind had hands of its own.

She found Lazo in a mossy bed surrounded by trees. As soon as she had ducked under the low hanging branches she realized why Lazo had chosen that particular haven. The branches dipped and waved over the ground, sheltering the inhabitant in a loving embrace.

Lazo was facing her with eyes closed, shivering violently. Before her heart felt only pain. Now it lay broken before her. She closed her eyes, concentrating on the warmth of the surrounding trees and the freedom of her choice. She was free to choose this. Above all else she had to remember that. Freedom made the difference.

She began to undress. Her hands shook but she ignored them. She fumbled at each button until every one popped free. Lazo needed to be as close to someone as he possibly could. If she wasted time trying to ease into it he might die and she would have failed in her task. It was all or nothing, and as she undressed her conviction deepened.

She would do anything to save Lazo. He was her mentor and her friend. At one time she even held a silly girlish notion of being the first to have a triplet fall in love with her. Although she didn’t harbor those foolish thoughts any longer, Lazo would always hold a special place in her heart.

Hearing Lazo’s intake of breath, she turned to face him. The slightest breeze licked through the surrounding shelter, chilling her and bringing the crawling hands back to life.

Her flesh was a patchwork of purple and black bruises. Some of the bruises had turned a jaundiced shade, reminding her of mucus in sick horses.

“Manda.” Lazo turned from the monstrosity she had become.

She knelt beside him. His contrasting eyes looked at her with profound love for her gesture but held horror at the implication. She forced her mouth into a grin, feeling nothing of the blithesome humor she filtered into her voice. “You don’t find me attractive, my friend?”

His mouth fluttered open. He forced his eyes to lock on the branches. “No, Manda, I mean yes. But this can’t be after … ”

She loved him even more for understanding her pain, but before he could resist, she began to take off his robe. He stopped her with surprising strength and peered into her face with his old vigor.

“No.”

Manda cocked an eyebrow and started to rise. “Lazo, you need to be close to someone. Fraul offered his services. I’ll call him if you like.”

Lazo pulled her back down, reddening in embarrassment as his hand brushed her bare thigh. He turned away once again but a small smile threatened his lips.

“Fraul isn’t my type. I’ve always been partial to redheads.”

“Good. It’s settled then.” She reached out again. This time she managed to yank his robe out from under him. When he started to force it back down, she stopped. She had to make him understand. Closing her eyes, she released her façade.

“Lazo, I can’t go on if you die. Yes, this will hurt me. Yes, I’m terrified at the thought. But if you die … ” Her voice broke. She bit her lip and looked into the contrasting eyes that had first attracted her. They were filled with tears, not for himself, but for her. Her conviction grew. “Please, Lazo. Let me help you. Help me help you.”

“I’ll be fine, Manda,” he said as a surge of tremors shook his body. A choking fear rose inside her. With energy she hadn’t felt in days, she tore his robe from him and pried his arms open, forcing them around her. He gave in. He pulled her closer, almost suffocating her.

Rivers of revulsion ran through her at his touch. She gritted her teeth, concentrating on who he was and why he held her until her feelings of repulsion subsided into one of mere queasiness. She allowed her head to sink to his shoulder.

Soon the warmth of his body became soothing. The force of his hold hurt but she didn’t stir, fearing any movement would cause him to retract. She dozed. When she woke Lazo’s clutch was desperate, and he shook with such force his teeth chattered. She was doing little good. She forced him on his side and pulled him closer.

His body was a sheen of sweat. She soothed the hair from his brow and whispered encouragement. She didn’t know if he heard. His spasms became even more violent. His eyes flickered open. The madness residing within was bone chilling.

He managed to say her name. It sounded like a tender goodbye.

She crushed him to her and kissed his head, telling him to hold on. His body was hot, trying to accommodate for the twins’ missing minds with its own warmth. It was futile. Lazo needed what only she could give. Fates, give her the courage!

As her own tears coursed down her cheeks, she found his lips. He was unresponsive, awkward.

She knew Lazo had never kissed anyone, never been with anyone. It was rare when a twin had any desire or opportunity for such things. His lips fumbled over hers. She knew he tasted her tears but when he tried to pull away she wouldn’t let him. He groaned in frustration, but she only kissed him harder. After a time he gave in, crushing her with his weight, drinking in her breath.

Lazo pulled away. She buried her face in his chest, not wanting him to see her pain and repulsion. The memories flooded through her: the ripping, the tearing, the beatings, and the hands. Dear fates, the hands, over and over again.