Unleashed Fury (BloodRunes: Book 1) (11 page)

Gryffon nodded to her, obviously impressed by
the amount of knowledge that she did have on the subject, which
sent a glow of happiness through Layna. “I'm not sure that anyone
can give you a reason for his actions, at least not any sane one,
but they said that he was a very powerful mage who got that way by
turning to blood-magic. Many believe that the power corrupted his
mind and made him mad. The reason I mention it is that many of the
people he considered to be unfit for the continuance of the human
race were those who were also very powerful mages. Conveniently,
these were also the ones most likely and able to oppose him.”

Layna made a sound of acknowledgment as she
chewed on this information. “Can you explain to me what exactly
blood-magic is?”

“Remember how I told you that in order to do
a spell you have to open yourself to the power and that in order to
do some of the more complicated ones you had to have enough talent
and enough power had to be available in order to do it?”

She nodded. “I'm not sure if I ever fully
understood the part about it not being available though.” She
scrunched up her nose, trying to recall their previous
conversation. “I remember you saying something about the priests
not teaching you some spells either because you didn't have enough
talent or there wasn't enough talent available, but I don't think
you ever explained that last part.”

“Okay. Let's go back to that for a minute
then. To do a spell that requires a lot of energy you have to be
able to open yourself to enough power, that is, be a high enough
talent to handle it. More importantly, that power has to be
available. Power is just like any other feature of the landscape,
in some places there is more of it than in others. And, the more
that get used up in a certain area, the less of it will be
there.”

“So are there places where there is no power
because it's been used up?”

“Yes and no. If you use up all of the power
in an area it will be temporarily gone, but it will eventually fill
back in to its natural amount. It's kind-of like water in a pond.
You can splash all of the water out of a section if you're really
fast, but it will flow back in from the rest of the pond to fill
the void. And, just like a pond is refilled by rain, the power is
replenished by life energy. All living things give off power,
whether they are talents that are able to use it or not. With me so
far?”

“I think so.”

“Mages who turn to blood-magic don't wait for
the natural course of energy to seep out of a living being. They
rip it from them.”

Layna's eyes widened. “That doesn't sound
pleasant.”

“No. In order for a lot of the energy to be
released, you have to kill the creature. Supposedly there are less
severe forms of blood-magic where the mage can just drain a small
amount of blood from his victim or inflict a non-life threatening
wound, or even use his own blood to store magic for later use and
such. But, it certainly seems to me that those lesser forms of it
would simply be a stepping-stone to more sadistic magic once
they’ve tasted the power and realize that by just going one step
farther they can increase the amount exponentially. The more pain
that is inflicted, the more power you get. Luckily, there are
specific spells that the mage would have to know in order to
capture the energy, the knowledge of which, as far as I know, was
lost. Good riddance.”

“Is that what the book burnings were
for?”

“It's hard to say,” Gryffon answered
evasively. “Since the burnings were very thorough, we really have
no idea the amount or content of knowledge that was lost. But it
was certainly the original purpose. The rebels who overthrew the
King were justifiably terrified of blood-magic and were the ones
who initiated the burnings. There were no confirmed reports, but it
was also thought that the Dark King's Bloodguard secretly
participated in a lot of the burnings as well.”

“The Bloodguard? Wasn't that the Dark King's
personal body guard? Why would they burn them?”

“It's thought that the Dark King was doing
more to the ones he called the unworthy then just eradicating them.
There are rumors that he was experimenting on them, and using them
for all sorts of other atrocities. It's possible that the
Bloodguard took advantage of the fires to destroy any evidence of
whatever other horrible things the King had been doing before they
were ousted as well.”

“What happened to them?” Layna asked.

“They were hunted down and forced to disband.
They were then sentenced to punishments appropriate to their
alleged actions, depending on how involved they happened to be.
It's recorded that one of the leaders was whipped with 500 lashes,
put on the rack, dragged behind a horse, burned, and then finally
his ashes were thrown into the sewers. And this was after they
tortured him for information. The details of his crimes were never
publicly released. We can only imagine what monstrosities he must
have committed to have been sentenced so harshly.”

Layna wrinkled her nose in disbelief; both of
the heinous punishment, as well as the thought of the kinds of
things he must have done to others to have been thought to have
deserved such a grisly death. “What happened to the Dark King?”

“He was never given a trial, at least not
formally. A bloody revolt ended in the storming of his castle. The
crazed mob found him, tried him, and sentenced him to death on the
spot. His body was torn apart by their rage after he had been
beheaded. It was buried in five separate spots so that he could
never reanimate and wreak any more havoc on the land. It's said
that his Bloodguard secretly dug up the remains and buried them
together in a hidden location though. His two sons were spared
because of their innocent youth and the pleading of their mother,
who had not been politically inclined. Eventually they made a pact
to end the bloodline so that their father's madness would not be
passed through any more generations. Interestingly, one brother
died young while fighting in a battle, and the other killed himself
soon after.”

Layna was quiet for a moment before asking,
“What happened with Treymayne? Before the Dark Age we were all one
big country, right?”

“We were,” he acknowledged. “Like with most
things, those who are different from ourselves are often the ones
first ostracized. The eastern part of the country – what now is
Treymayne – was somewhat separated already by the mountain range
and the river, so they had a very different culture despite being
unified as a country. So, I suppose that in the King's mind, who
better to start with when you are performing a cleansing of the
human race than those who have a different culture, and who you
don't entirely understand. Lack of understanding leads to fear.
When powerful men fear something, they don’t usually just let it
be. Apparently, after the revolt Treymayne decided that having its
borders open left them vulnerable, and I guess they've never
rethought it since. They erected the magical barrier, and there it
stands today.” Fly swished his tail and it whipped Layna smartly in
the leg. “But anyway, that may or may not be a viable reason for
why there is so much less magic around today. It is at least a
possibility, as talent seems to be a trait that is passed from
generation to generation. If you kill off all those who could pass
it on, you won't see that trait anymore.”

Layna nodded thoughtfully at him, and they
both fell silent.

After a short while Gryffon spoke again. “So
what is it that’s bothering you?” he asked her, “We’ve been
touching on every subject but the one I can tell is eating you
alive.”

“You’re too observant for your own good,” she
told him, chewing on her lip. She had been trying to come up with a
way to bring up the subject of the risk of their outings, but
hadn’t yet come up with a good way to do it. “Aaron, one of the
other servants, came to see me today…” she started, but he cut
in.

“Oh? And do we like this Aaron?” he asked
her, a bit too casually.

“No,” she replied definitively, and wondered
if the emotion that had flashed across Gryffon’s face had been
pleasure or if it was simply her imagination. “No, he stopped by to
say that people were talking, about us, and that the speculations
of why we are spending time together are already circulating
around.”

“So what?” Gryffon shrugged, “Let them talk.
What are they going to do?”

Layna bristled a bit, for the first time with
Gryffon being keenly aware of the class difference between them.
“Whatever they want, sir,” she added the formality to remind him,
“to me at least. There’re no few stories of servants going missing
when they’ve displeased the lady. And I’d say it would greatly
displease her to hear some of the stories that are bound to be
concocted about us.” She flushed, “If I may be so bold as to say
so.”

Gryffon looked angry, his brow had furrowed
in thought, and Layna looked away, worried about his response. “You
can say anything you want to me,” he said, his voice tight with
anger but at his next words Layna was relieved to realize it was
not directed at her. “But you’re right, that worthless piece of
slim that calls herself a lady is deceptively evil.” He fell silent
once more, a look of brooding on his face. She was about to
apologize for having brought up the subject when he spoke again.
“I’ve been terribly selfish, I hope that you’ll accept my apology.”
He glanced over at her with such a look of concern on his face that
she simply nodded. “You’re absolutely right, I should never have
put you in this situation. Of course it’s not safe for you. Jezebel
thinks she owns me and she doesn’t know how to share. I was so busy
just enjoying your company that I completely overlooked the bigger
picture.” Layna didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing.
Gryffon urged Axe closer to Fly and reached out to squeeze her
hand. “I hope you can still enjoy today, but I promise that after
that I won’t put you in danger any longer. Though I’ll admit that
I’ll probably try and think of a way to see you safely, which I
hope you won’t deny me.” He looked at her hopefully, opening his
dark eyes comically wide and blinking slowly twice.

She laughed, “How could I resist that
face?”

“I’m hoping that you can’t,” he replied and
smiled at her before falling back into thought. Layna wracked her
brain for a way to see him without causing suspicion, but all her
ideas led to them alone in secluded places, which soon gave way to
more intimate and ultimately dangerous thoughts.

They reached the city gates and were brought
out of their reveries by the need to pay close attention to their
surroundings in the busy streets, so as not to crush anyone under
the horses' hooves. They dismounted and left the horses in a corral
at the edge of town, where Gryffon handed a few coins to the stable
boy, and they headed into the marketplace. They made their way into
the midst of the vendors and shoppers, and Gryffon looked around
for a trader who he called ‘the woodsman’. This was, he had told
Layna, the eccentric maker of his bow.

“So what makes him so strange?” she asked him
curiously.

Gryffon simply smiled. “You just have to wait
and see. Rest assured, you'll see what I mean shortly. Just try not
to take anything too personally.”

Layna joined him in laughter, though she was
mystified by this last comment. The two made their way through the
horde of people until Gryffon spotted the man he was looking for.
The woodsman gave them an enthusiastic wave over the heads of the
people in the crowd.

“Do I have arrows for you?” he responded
incredulously when they had worked their way over to him and
Gryffon had made his request. “Do I have arrows for you? What kind
of question is that? Of course I have arrows for you. That's what I
do, now isn't it? Do you think I'm here boondoggling around,
wastin’ my time in this frowzy crowded marketplace because I have
nothin’ to sell ya? I think not, my good lad. Perhaps you should
take a look at your head there, an' make sure you didn' hit it in
no donnybrook.” He grumbled to himself some more, shaking his head
in disbelief as he rummaged through a barrel in the back of his
stall.

Gryffon was watching the man with an amused
expression. He caught Layna's eye and winked at her. “I had to
ask,” Gryffon explained teasingly to the woodsman's back. “I wasn't
sure if you would have had time to make them what with all those
nymphs chasing you around in the forest.”

“Hmph,” came the muffled reply from within
the barrel that the woodsman had his head stuffed inside of to
search. Layna watched him, puzzled, wondering how he could find
anything with half his body inside of it.

He suddenly pulled his head out with a
triumphant, “Ah-ha!” and then reached in to draw out a quiver of
arrows.

Layna was stunned. The barrel was not nearly
big enough to have held the quiver. She couldn't help but stare in
amazement as the woodsman continued to pull other items out as
well, mumbling to himself, “So that's where that was...”

The woodsman turned back to them and looked
at Layna, “What's the matter, girl, never seen a magic barrel
before? Better quit your gawkin’ and close that before a bug flies
in. Not that there are any bugs in this gods-forsaken frozen
wasteland.” He glared around at nothing in particular.

Layna clamped her mouth shut and flushed with
embarrassment as he continued to mumble. She wasn't sure of half
the things he was grumbling, but she got the idea that it wasn't
all complimentary. Gryffon gave her a shrug, and took the quiver of
arrows being held impatiently towards him.

“You know,” warned the woodsman, wiggling a
finger at them, “it ain’t just the nicies in the forest anymore.
Usta be I'd run into a nymph or two in them there woods, but
nowadays, I'm just as likely to be attacked by a dire boar or
worse. Why, just the other day I was out in farm country in, oh,
what was the name of that place again?” He put a hand to his chin,
scratching the tip of it and narrowing his eyes in concentration.
“By the gods, I can't for the life of me recall it!” He looked
disgruntled for a moment but soon continued. “Well, anywho, this
baron fellow came in all high and mighty around from the city
amoanin’ and groanin’ that he'd been attacked by a monster on his
way over. At first I thinks to myself, 'these city folk don't know
nothin' about the country, he was prolly surprised by a coyote and
let his imagination get the better of ‘im but then he pulls open
his fine robes and sure enough there's three gashes down the middle
of him just like some creature made a swipe at him leaving huge
cuts where the unnatural claws gouged out his flesh, farther apart
than any normal creature's would be and going from here,” he
pointed to the nape of his neck, “to here.” He drew a line down his
chest and belly all the way to his groin making a slicing noise as
he did so. “What I want to know is how he survived. He claims it
was due to a healin’ charm, but it musta been one powerful charm to
keep him alive 'cause by gods, that wound was fierce.” He whistled.
“And so was his temper. Those high-born, no tolerance for pain...”
He trailed off for a moment. “That was way up north, though,” he
said thoughtfully, “them parts are full of special things. I don't
know no one who's come back from across the Ferryn Plains.”