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Authors: Stacy Von Haegert

Forged of Fire (34 page)

BOOK: Forged of Fire
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Kielyn slammed shut the connection before he could track back the source of it’s sender. She smiled. “Pleasant dreams asshole!”

 

 

****

 

 

The scout flew in and effortlessly transformed from a swooping raven to a purposeful striding warrior. In three paces he was standing in front of Alaric and Stefen. “Your Grace.” He nodded to Stefen’s brother. “The castle is just waking, oblivious to our arrival. Now would be an ideal time to strike.”

 

“Did you get a location on the Fire-King?” Alaric asked.

 

“He is not in the dungeon with the others.” The Angel replied.

 

“The first thing Dante will do if we engage in battle is hide Ash,” Stefen said. “We can’t risk the bastard killing him either.”

 

“Agreed.” Alaric turned and headed back into the thicker brush line, summoning over his first commanding officer as he walked. “I will need to get someone inside the castle walls to locate him.”

 

“Your grace?” The warrior scout spoke up behind them and Alaric turned back. “I overheard two drunk guards by the cellars. There is to be a huge celebration in honor of someone at the castle. I did not catch a name, but apparently their King has gone to great lengths to assure the guest is thoroughly entertained. The festivities are to commence later today.”

 

“He moved up the date.” Alaric paused in contemplation.

 

“Of course he would.” Stefen interjected as the first commander joined them. “Why wait now that he has his honored guest.” He could practically taste the disgust dripping off his last two words.

 

“This is actually excellent news,” Alaric said. “Dante is known to bring out all the prisoners at these events and kill them off one by one. Sometimes it’s just torture for sport, but one of his favorite sports is the gladiator rings where he pits them against each other for fights to the death, much like the grand finale between his two children. This means they will all be in one central location.” He turned to his first commander. “Keep everyone to the forest. We will attack during the games on my word.” The other male nodded. Alaric faced the scout. “Take three of your best and search for any other vital information. I need a visual layout of the stadium, where is the slave entrance, where will Dante and his guest be sitting. Also try and find out a schedule of activities. We know Dante will save the best for last.” Alaric turned back to his leading officer. “We will attack at the pinnacle moment when the excitement is at its peak.”

 

“What about the others?” Stefen interrupted. “Marsala, Dax, Skyler and Marcus? We can’t just let them die before that.” Surely his brother had a plan to get them out before that.

 

Alaric dismissed the other two with a nod of his head then faced Stefen. “Brother, war is sacrifice. You know this all too well.”

 

Stefen stared blankly back at his older brother, or rather, the King, for he didn’t recognize the male standing before him now. “Jesus Alaric! There is no reason that we can’t strike sooner and get them out along with Ash. They are all powerful element manipulators. We could use their skills when we attack.” He waved his hand. “Besides, do you actually think Ash will just sit there and watch his best friend be killed without going all Dragon postal on them?”

 

Alaric stepped forward challengingly. “Listen to me and hear me good, Stefen, you need to remember who is your King and what our ultimate goal is in all of this. I am not here to worry over the lives of four benders and it is up to Ash to control his inner beast. It is not our place to intervene.”

 

“What the fuck do you think we are doing here? Intervening!”

 

Stefen felt his brother’s fist collide with his jaw. “Do not question me!” Alaric growled. “I swore my loyalty to Ashdon LaGoryen, King of the Fire-benders alone! To his unborn child. To the bigger picture. It is not, nor should it be, my concern what happens to the others. Their sacrifice will be rewarded in the afterlife. This mission has only one purpose, to support our ally and secure the future of our kind.”

 

Stefen wiped a trickle of blood from his lip as he turned his head back slowly to face his brother’s stormy eyes. “I was not questioning your ability to rule.” He spit the metallic taste from his mouth. “I will however, question the sibling I know that resides beneath that cobalt mantle and golden crown.” He took a large step back and gave a half bow before standing and drawing his spine up straight. “Your Grace!”

 

Stefen turned on his heel and marched away. There was no use talking. His brother was a King first and foremost. Alaric had worn that dutiful crown long before he had worn his own skin. It was not his brother that was currently in Hell with Stefen, it was the greatest Archangel to ever rule, Alaric…Or as human myth had labeled him, Michael…

 

 

****

 

 

Ash narrowed his eyes at the tailor when the male held out two shiny silver cufflinks with the initials DS engraved in them. “Let me guess,” Ash adjusted his tie, trying to focus on anything other than the damn parade he was about to have to endure. “Dante’s slave?”

 

The smaller Vampire averted his eyes at Ash’s clipped tone but remained holding the velvet lined box. “The King said you were to wear them.”

 

“Yes, just like the rest of this shit material.” Ash brushed off his sleeve, annoyed. He might have to be present for this folly but he damn sure did not have to temper his attitude regarding it. Besides, after he found a way to free Marsala, Ash fully planned on killing Dante once and for all now that he had regained his strength. “What do the initials represent?” He glared down at the Vampire. The tailor looked to the left and then right nervously as if he were unsure how to answer. “I already know.” Ash changed tactics. “I am just curious if you have been honored with the knowledge. Since Dante obviously trusts you enough to dress me.” The other male’s color brightened and sure enough the idiot blushed. Right in front of him. Like some simpering maid about to swoon. No doubt the imbecile wished to be the one laid out on Dante’s bed later tonight. Ash resisted the strong urge to vomit in his mouth. “We both know how rare it is for the King to trust others.” Ash continued. “You must be very special to him.”

 

The Original’s joy slithered off his face, turning into a frown and he looked down at his boots. “It is you that is most special to him as he has chosen you to be his…To be his mate.”

 

Ash put a hand out on the vanity to steady himself. “What!”

 

The tailor’s eyes snapped up. “You didn’t know?” He turned whiter than the sheets on Ash’s bed. “I have to go. I should not have said anything.”

 

He began to turn to escape, but Ash shot a hand out grabbing him by the elbow. “Wait. I won’t let on that I know.”

 

The other male’s eyes darted around worriedly. “You said you knew what the engraving stood for.” He accused. “DS, Dante’s sponsus.” Ash wanted to retch. Dante’s spouse, sponsus in Latin. Insane, Dante had literally lost his fucking mind. “I need to confess my sins to him.” The tailor jerked out of Ash’s hold.

 

“No!” Ash halted him with only his word this time. “He will kill you for this slip.” Ash needed to pretend to remain clueless to buy more time. If Dante knew this simpleton had given away his torturous surprise he would likely cancel the festivities out of anger. No, Dante was clearly saving this secret for later in hopes of Ash’s protest. Protest that would lead to more torture. Ash had to remain as healthy as he could if he were to get Marsala out of here. He had drained two Gilcolm’s after yesterday’s beating and completely healed his wounds. There was no way he was letting Dante weaken him so again. This idiot’s slip of tongue confession needed to stay exactly what it was supposed to be, a secret. Ash looked at the scared Vampire in the eyes. “Listen, if Dante hears of this he will kill you and beat me. We both would lose. I won’t tell him. This will be our secret.”

 

The servant sighed. “Death is better than never being looked at affectionately again by the King.”

 

“What if I could guarantee that you will not fall out of favor with the King?” Ash was literally grasping at straws and he knew it, but he had to make this moron an ally. He leaned in closer. “I do not return the King’s affections. He will grow bored with me overnight.” The male looked up, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “This is a win, win for both of us,” he lied. Dante would never grow bored of torturing him, but this goon did not know that. “He will return to your bed when he realizes how cold mine is.”

 

“You would do that?”

 

“Gladly.” Ash wanted to crush the idiot’s head between his palms until his skull popped like a ripe tomato, but he somehow managed to channel Stefen’s cool facade. At least he hoped he was channeling it as he added. “This will be our little secret. Deal?”

 

The tailor shook his head enthusiastically. “Yes, our secret. You will act surprised when he announces it?”

 

Ah, his little puppet was suddenly a wealth of information Ash mused. Ash grinned and hoped it looked friendly instead of how sinisterly it felt playing across his features. “I will act completely surprised but,” he tilted his head. “It will help me prepare if I know when he is planning on announcing it. So I can get into character better.”

 

The servant smiled. “Right after he announces the victor of the fight between the Princess and the Prince. It is the grand finale.”

 

Ash nodded, pretending to care. “Around what time do you think the finale will be? Is it just to be the one organized fight?” Ash desperately needed to know the schedule of events. He knew these celebrations normally took hours and usually involved a few slave executions along the way. If he were to make a move to free Marsala he needed a clearer picture on how the day might play out.

 

The Vampire began to rattle off the schedule as if he were chattering with an old friend. Ash was pretty sure he hated Dante even more, for the simple fact that he employed such shitty staff. With every finger the prissy tailor ticked off, listing in detail every event lined up for the day. Ash’s mind only stopped fantasizing the tailor’s death when he heard him say benders. “What is happening with the benders?”

 

“The king is going to have them fight to the death.” The Original said.

 

Despite the feeling of blood draining from his face, Ash tried to keep his tone unaffected. “Interesting.”
Had Marcus and Skyler also been caught?
Surely Dante would not go back on his word about freeing Marsala. The bastard wanted Ash to be strong the first time he took him. To do this, Ash would have to force the Dragon down in order to give himself over to Dante freely. None of that would happen if he killed Marsala before that and Dante knew it. But, just like with Kielyn’s release, there were always catches and Dante loved finding ways to torture him. “What sort of benders does he have?”

 

“An Air-shifter and an Earth-Bender,” the servant said. “Their fight is right before the one with the Princess and Prince.”

 

Fucking hell!
There had to be more to this sick plot of Dante’s. The cards were not lining up. Perhaps it was just another opportunity to scare him, remind Ash just how quickly Dante could turn the tables. Or, perhaps Dante had changed his mind and decided he did not need the Dragon to submit.
No, he would not do that.
Ash mentally corrected. The monster needed that high too badly.
What on earth could he be up to now?
Ash schooled his features. “Thank you for this. If will help me with seeming utterly shocked when he announces our union.”

 

The tailor beamed up at him. “It will be a marvelous day!”

 

“Indeed.” Ash turned back to the mirror, clearly dismissing the other male. “See you at the festival…friend.” He could barely keep the bite out of the last word. Ash would make sure the idiot was in his crossfire when he released the Dragon on Dante. All the cockroaches would burn!

 

 

****

 

 

Zander’s eyes shot open and he sat straight up, sweat dripping down his forehead, his heart hammering in his chest.
What the fuck!
He pushed off the rough wool blanket that had pooled around his waist and swung his legs over the cot’s edge. The images in his dream had felt more like a premonition than a random dreamlike sequence. Was it simply his anxiety about having every one of his plans foiled or was it something more. He paced to the cell door and yelled for a guard. One appeared within seconds at the tiny cut out square window. “Go get my sister and tell her it is urgent I talk to her.”

BOOK: Forged of Fire
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