Though his heart thundered almost audibly, Blaggard kept his expression bland. “Even in the heat of battle, someone must have seen you inflicting such a wound on one of your own. Your allegiance is exposed.”
A chilling smile bloomed on the warrior’s face. “I’m far too skilled and clever to expose myself in battle. My secret is without compromise. No one in Stone Clan suspects me. No one knows my identity... except you. If anyone were to accuse me, I would know the source without doubt.”
In a blink, Blaggard found the warrior’s blade lying against his throat.
“I’ve made no threat against you,” Blaggard croaked, all effort at pretense gone, ears ringing as blood pounded through the vein in his neck.
“See to it Vindrake receives my message.” Wiping the blade on his leathers, the warrior sheathed his knife. “I want him to know it was me.”
Blaggard probed his neck with his fingers, not surprised to find a few drops of blood. “Should I give Vindrake your name? Are you the only false warrior in Stone Clan?”
The warrior shrugged. “I neither know nor care. Tell Vindrake I won’t stop until both Kaevin and Graely are dead. He will know who I am.”
**********
Nothing existed but pain. Agony. Blistering torment radiated from Alora. Scalding liquid pulsed through his body in a never-ending flood. Never had he experienced anything so excruciating.
Vindrake awoke screaming, tangled in his sweat-soaked blankets. The memory assaulted him, as painful as the actual event... as it had every night since his recovery.
But he had recovered.
His guards, still controlled by their bloodbonds, had carried his body back to Water Clan. Feverish and unaware, he remembered little of the journey. In Portshire his healers had labored to revive him with little success, until one particular woman offered her services. A shaman, rather than a healer, Scornia had but twenty years, and some doubted the wisdom in allowing her to interfere. In fact, Vindrake suspected more than a few who argued in her favor were hoping she would fail.
She did not.
Dark and powerful, her magick renewed him to the strength of his youth. He awakened in a body pulsing with vigor. Even his skin was smooth and free of scars and wrinkles, leading him to wonder if Scornia misrepresented her own age. Yet a thorough interrogation revealed no deception.
Scornia had only recently joined forces with Water Clan, migrating from the Shadow Basin area, where she readily admitted to studying the darkest of magick and bore the purple eyes known to come from its practice. Vindrake could only wonder at the original color, as the lavender tinting obscured even the whites of her orbs.
“Are you not bound to your tutors? Or to the source of their power?” he asked.
“No allegiance is required to practice dark magick, only payment. One pays with blood—a mere drop—to learn untold wonders.”
“You’re not bothered that the magick you practice is considered evil?” Vindrake’s question was more rhetorical than genuine curiosity. He knew with confidence he could act with impunity, using any powers at his disposal, as long as his ultimate goal was God-pleasing. And he didn’t care in the least about the actions of others, except as pertaining to his purposes.
“In Shadow, we learn what some call evil is in fact freedom. To perform dark magick is not some vile act, as many claim, but sovereignty. Only those who wish to assert their dominion over others call this power evil.”
Observing her bondmark, a shining beacon of her allegiance to him, and one she’d accepted with enthusiasm, Vindrake considered the contradiction in her words.
“One would wonder why you would seek out my kingdom, to swear your fealty to me. Why, with your powers, do you follow me? Why accept my bond if you so value your freedom and sovereignty?”
Scornia smiled, her lids at half-mast over purple-hued eyes, enticingly full lips parted in adoration. “In you, Sire, I foresee ultimate sovereignty. For I believe you will some day rule all Tenavae.”
Though he enjoyed the adulation, Vindrake refused to succumb to her flattery, still wary of her purpose. “To rule Tenavae is, after all, my God-given purpose.”
“When that day comes, I wish to be in your favor. I hope to have earned your gratitude.”
“For what shall I be grateful? For your actions to revive me? I expect no less from those who bear my bondmark.”
“No, Master Vindrake.” She leaned closer, lowering her voice to a whisper, so soft he thought he might have imagined her next words.
“For making you immortal.”