XXII

Sir Morryn was on his knees, a blade pressed to his throat. With the weapon there, he didn’t look nearly as afraid as the spiders caused him to be, giving Yoreno the quick impression that Sir Morryn simply wasn’t up to par when dealing with spiders.

But what was worse than having a blade pressed to his throat, was the person doing it. The group of Black Guards stood in a line, their leader at the fore.

“Lord Shane,” Yoreno said, his tone dry and revealing little surprise. Something within Yoreno expected this. But why?

“What?” Dantera asked from behind. She came out of the crack and moved up beside Yoreno and Xanderial. “Oh—what a pleasant surprise.”

Shane nodded in greeting. “Is it not? We meet again, Dame Brennovo.”

She smiled. “I may only be a dame, but at least my honor is intact.”

“Whatever to do you mean?”

“Take your blade from Sir Morryn’s throat!” Xanderial commanded. “He is a knight of court of Kornet and you have no right to threaten him.”

“Do not argue with Lord Shane,” Dantera said.

“What?” Xanderial asked, and jerked his gaze to Dantera. “Why not?”

“The Black Guard…” Dantera said musingly. “Ever the lackeys of their fallen and disgraced prince.”

Lord Shane smiled, giving his slightly gaunt appearance an almost skeletal impression. Yoreno could see behind that feigned amusement. It was in his bruised eyes, the deep seething of hatred and malicious ill will.

“And what of Sir Jerrin?” Yoreno asked. “Did you kill him too like these poor fools dead at your feet?”

Shane’s false smile turned to real and true amusement now as a man behind him and his fellows stepped out into the open. It was Sir Jerrin.

“What is this?”

“You traitor,” Dantera said in a low voice. Yoreno glanced at her, saw that her lip was curling in disgust. “Why?” she asked.

“Why indeed!” Lord Shane asked.

His men grinned amongst themselves in self-satisfaction at their accomplishments. Sir Jerrin’s long silky hair waved as he stepped forward. “What makes you think I was ever a true knight of this pathetic kingdom named after a dying dragon slain by a coward?”

Yoreno didn’t know enough of the history behind the Kingdom of the Blue Dragon to say anything to that. “It doesn’t matter,” Yoreno said. “Because you failed. You most of all, Lord Shane.”

“How is that?” Shane asked.

“You meant to have the spiderling kills us,” he said. “You tried to trap us here.” His eyes went to the long ladder they had lowered into the hole. “But we hadn’t gotten far enough to give it the chance.”

“And now we are going to kill you,” Dantera said.

Sir Jerrin raised an eyebrow and looked at Lord Shane. The leader of the Black Guards laughed. “You have made a fatal error with that assumption, Lord Brendara.”

“What?”

Sir—no, just Jerrin—took something off his back. It was short, about the length of his arm and housed inside of a black felt pouch. He pulled the item out, revealing an ivory scepter with a lustrous red ruby the size of an Aevalin silver mark.

And then it dawned on Yoreno.

“Oh no,” Dantera said, her eyes wide as she glanced at Yoreno and Xanderial.

Her fear did nothing to reassure Yoreno of her superior status to his and Xanderials, as a lump of apprehension appeared inside his throat.

“Oh yes,” Lord Shane said. “We met your ‘Sir Jerrin’ quite by chance when we preceded you to this kingdom, which was long before we ever met you in the hills, Dame Brennovo!” He laughed. “Tell them who you truly are.”

Jerrin smirked as he stepped forward. He undid the small belts on his forearm and let the piece of armor fall to the floor before he jerked up his sleeve revealing the Goat of Saineshal.

Yoreno swallowed.

As he glanced up into the cultist’s eyes, his lids lowered and he convulsed for a moment. Yoreno thought he might drop to the floor and that they would be mercifully grateful to the gods for this sudden stroke of luck.

But instead, Jerrin the traitor opened his eyes, his features becoming gaunt and his teeth almos appearing sharp now—as if the man were hardly a man at all.

“What in the name of the gods are you?” Dantera asked.

“My name…”—his voice inhumanly raspy—“…is Lak’temora.”

“Who?!” Yoreno asked as he narrowed his eyes.

“Gods!” Dantera hissed as she tossed her sword aside to make way for her much smaller rapier Ito Farralia. “You really need to brush up on your bestiaries, Yoreno.”

“Bestiaries,” Lak’temora said with amusement. “Am I a beast? A monster?”

“Yes,” Dantera said, her demeanor utterly sure of herself. “And I will slay you like one—along with every filthy cultist here.”

“Even I know who Lak’temora is,” Xanderial said. He looked at Yoreno, then back to the sorcerer. “In a way, I am honored that you have chosen to die at our hands.”

The sorcerer chortled. Then his amusement increased and he burst out laughing. Behind him Lord Shane laughed with his men like wild dogs.

Yoreno gripped his sword tighter.

“Ah,” Lak’temora rasped. “That was… amusing.”

Spreading his arms, he twirled his scepter about as the ruby lit up so brightly it cast streams of light throughout the chamber.

Dantera took a step back and in a heavy breath said, “He summons the spiderling.”

Still on his knees, Sir Morryn snarled. “Don’t let them leave!”

The Black Guard holding the blade at his throat tensed.

“Don’t!” Yoreno said, pointing a finger. “Or I’ll make certain that you die.”

The Black Guard grinned, glanced at Lord Shane, who nodded.

Xanderial took a step forward. “NO!”

He dragged the knife across Sir Morryn’s throat and blood grouted out of his neck like a fountain as his eyes bulged. Sir Morryn clutched at his neck and gurgled, thrashing on the ground as his life force left him.

“You whoresons!” Xanderial shouted.

Yoreno snarled his frustrations.

“Yoreno!” Dantera hissed quietly. “The spiderling.”

“Kill them,” Lak’temora said and stepped back.

Lord Shane glanced at his men. “You heard him. Kill them. But bring me Dame Brennovo alive.”

Lord Shane’s men ambled forward, their blades hanging at their sides. They were at ease, confident and clearly well practiced at killing and conflict.

Yoreno raised his blade.