Warlord and the Waif by Chloe Parker

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CALDER

THE ONLY TIME I see the Elixir Mines is when the Hyperboreans are present, once every decade.

We take a pod from the bowels of the castle to the mines of Oddí, spiraling down toward the lowest place in the city, where the skies kiss the surface. The vibrations of our descent irritate my tattoos, burning again in Ella’s absence, as Ioni and her retinue watch me with interest. My ears pop with the pressure of our descend as we go, the pod taking us lower and lower.

As we ride, Ioni asks me questions about life in Oddí: how the citizens behave, if we’ve ramped up the punishments for insubordination, when she can expect another shipment of Elixir to the Hyperboreans’ icy home-world. I have few answers for her, but supply them in short sentences and nods, gazing out the window into the fog.

I rarely leave Kaer Idunn, and my distance from Ella grates on my nerves as well as my body. Were the Hyperboreans absent, I would spend the following weeks ravishing her, keeping her in my bed, making her forget the pain of captivity on Myste. I might even consider the prospect of breaking the curse and flying the Fury away from here forever. The delegation’s visit is an annoyance that nearly overwhelms me with ire. But I must go through the motions of my role as warden of this place before their presence abates.

We finally slow to a stop and Ioni stands to right herself, smoothing her skeletal hands over her white robes. I join her as we exit, stooping so my horns don’t scrape the roof of the pod, and step out into the soupy fog of Myste’s surface.

Even after three hundred years, I can almost hear the heated sounds of battle as my crew cut our way across the planet, see the sprays of silvery blood as we engaged them in combat. The witches of this planet were fearsome warriors, known to my people as keepers of Elixir, the most valued substance in the Alpha Worlds. I was told it was foolish to cross them, but my arrogance brought me here to slay them and take what was theirs.

I paid the price with my freedom. And the Hyperboreans swooped in to reap the rewards.

The surface is now covered in mining equipment, plunging into the marsh and draining the planet of its magic. Ioni surveys the equipment and the indentured workers with approval, a thin smile on her face as she sweeps her gaze from bent and broken Earthlings to stooping Merati. They hardly notice us as we walk amongst them, though I see some flinch at my presence.

It isn’t me they should fear, but for centuries, my rule has been all they know.

The silver Elixir runs in veins through pipes above us, collecting in a glowing blue vat ahead, where some of Myste’s old denizens stir their brew. Ioni walks languorously toward it, stepping daintily on the walkways of the marsh and wrinkling her nose at the smell emanating both from the swampland and the people themselves.

“You’ve done good work for us, Warden,” she says approvingly, as if she enjoys the sight of these broken people, “Perhaps, if you produce more Elixir for us, we can expedite the production of a cure to your curse.”

My heart surges at the thought. To take Ella and my old crew away from this planet would be too much to dream.

“Such generosity would be welcomed,” I acknowledge, “My tenure in Oddí has been far too long.”

“And of course, we could find other ways for you to serve us,” she says, “I’m sure that your ship would be an invaluable addition to the Hyperborean fleet.”

The idea leaves a sour taste in my mouth, but I say nothing.

We step toward the vat, the blue light glowing against Ioni’s gaunt features. One of the witches stirring the Elixir, an eight-limbed creature with sharp teeth and glistening blue eyes, lowers her face at Ioni’s rueful glare, stepping backward and extending one hand holding a ladle. These creatures once ruled this planet, protecting its precious resources and wielding weapons with every deadly hand.

Now, they bow in deference to these wraiths.

Ioni takes the ladle and drops it into the blue liquid, raises it to her lips, and sips. The content of the vat is invaluable, Ioni’s single sip worth millions of Chronos. The Hyperborean lets out a sigh of satisfaction at the taste of life-force itself, the wisp of fog on her lips the only trace of the Elixir.

“Is the Elixir to your satisfaction?” the witch asks in a low rasp.

“As delicious as ever,” Ioni confirms.

Her casual tone is at odds with what she’s just done, adding a hundred years to her lifespan.

We spend the afternoon touring the facility, as Ioni surveys the workers and samples Elixir. I can hardly wait to get back to my bed, preoccupied the entire time, irritated with Ioni’s questioning. Finally, we return to the pod and settle into our seats, Ioni flanked by two of her guards. She leans back against the plush seats with a cool stare, a vial of Elixir in her hand.

“The primitive creature, Ella,” Ioni asks, “Did you punish her?”

I steel myself before I respond.

“Yes.”

“Do tell me how,” she says, “I’m devoted to ensuring fealty to our great empire.”

I lean forward, steepling my fingers in an attempt to remain calm even as my tattoos burn.

“My methods are my business.”

“I heard her crying out in the night,” Ioni says, too much knowledge clear on her face, “It sounded more like pleasure than punishment.”

“I have control over my household,” I retort, and Ioni chuckles.

“Perhaps,” she says, “I wonder if she’ll utter such cries when she’s aboard my ship.”

“What do you mean?”

Ioni smiles at me, her eyes narrow.

“I’ll be taking her with me, of course.”

“For what reason?”

Ioni leans back, twirling the bottle of Elixir as if it isn’t the most precious substance in the universe. The guards watch me, one setting his eyes on my clenched fists.

“The creature raised a hand to a Magister,” she says, “Indentured servants have no right to do such things. I’ll need to take her with me, to show her the way subjects are meant to behave in our empire. She’ll be better off without a savage like you anyway.”

If I weren’t confined to this planet, I would slaughter each one of them without hesitation. Ioni stares at me like she can read the thoughts flooding my mind, my desire to rend their flesh and end her here.

But I sit still, barely holding myself together, and glower at the Hyperborean magister.

“You will let me have her one more night to do as I please,” I tell her, more of a demand than a request.

Ioni snorts.

“Do what you want, Skoll warlord,” she says, “Ravish her. Plow her. Show my retinue that you own her in every way.” She snorts. “In fact, it would amuse me to see her as your guest at the banquet tonight. But she’ll be on my ship when I leave in two days time.”

I nod, making it appear that I will accept their terms.

They will not take her.

If it kills me, I will stop them from bringing her on their ship. Ioni is a cruel mistress, and I know I can’t trust her with Ella. And it seems obvious at this point that the Hyperboreans have no intention of releasing me from my contract anytime soon. Our only chance is to get her out of the castle while there’s still time.

Tonight. It must be tonight.

“I will have her at the banquet tonight as my consort,” I say, “In Skoll tradition, I will have my way with her how I wish. I will use her as I see fit. It’s the payment I deserve for improving Elixir production.”

“So be it, savage,” Ioni smirks.

As long as she’s expected to be with me, I can spirit Ella away in the night.

So tonight will be our last together. But I intend on making it one to remember.