Into the Shadows by Linda K Hopkins
Chapter 22
The sun was streaming through the window when Lark awoke, but she pulled the blanket up around her chin, luxuriating in the pleasure of having a bed beneath her and a blanket on top. She felt a movement and turned around, then jumped out of the bed when she saw the Drameara lying beside her.
“What are you doing?” she demanded. “Why are you in the bed?”
He opened an eye to glare at her balefully. “Where else should I have slept?”
She glanced around the room. “On the chair? On the floor? Anywhere but on the bed!”
“Is the bed only for the Cambrian princess?”
“The bed is for the captive!”
“Stop playing the victim.”
“I am the victim,” she shouted. She glared at him as he lifted his eyebrows at her.
“Only if you choose to be.”
“Urgh!”
With a sigh, he sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. His chest was bare, and the dragon rings around his nipples glinted in the sunlight.
“Why do you wear those?” she asked, looking pointedly at the rings.
He dropped his gaze to his chest. “They are a permanent part of me.”
“What do you mean, permanent?”
“They can’t be removed. The silver was melted into my flesh and became part of me.”
“Melted into your flesh.” She stared at him, aghast. “Why?”
“It’s the mark of the Ancient.”
“It must have been excruciating.”
“It was.” He rose from the bed and turned his back to her, pulling on his shirt as he did so. “We leave right away,” he said.
“I thought we were waiting for the Guard.”
“We’ll wait beyond the town. I found their camp last night, so I know from which direction they’ll come. But we don’t want them to come into Dundell.”
“Do you really believe they’ll wreak havoc in Dundell if you’re not here to defend it?”
“I do. And you have heard enough by now to know it as well.”
“They can’t all be like that,” she said. He quirked an eyebrow and ran his finger down a sword. “Will you call the Shadow Warrior?”
“What makes you think I should?”
“You’ll be outnumbered.”
He grunted but said nothing more as he slung his weapons over his shoulders and around his waist then left the room, not waiting to see if she would follow. She gave a sigh, and combing her fingers through her hair to remove the tangles, she followed him into the passage.
The Drameara showed no hesitation in navigating the winding roads of Dundell, and it did not take long to reach the outskirts of the town and head into the open countryside. In the far distance, Lark could see the Obsidian Mountains, mere smudges of purple on the horizon, while in the foreground, the ground was gently undulating, with a small stand of trees a short distance away. A road led into the distance, and the Drameara followed it, past the trees and up a gentle slope. Lark glanced back to see the town of Dundell laying in a shallow valley, with wisps of smoke rising from the town into the blue sky. It seemed peaceful, unaware of any possible danger.
They walked for a few hours, increasing the distance between them and Dundell, until finally the Drameara left the road, heading down a well-worn track.
A building lay in the distance, but as they drew closer, Lark could see that the roof was missing, and the windows were empty of glass. Beyond the building lay a few piles of stone which once were part of a wall. Stepping through an empty doorway, the Drameara led her into the building. Except for a few broken pieces of wood, it was completely bare, whatever furniture that might have once been there long gone. A layer of dust covered the floor, and a pile of ash lay in the grate below a chimney.
“You stay here,” the Drameara said. “And don’t leave until I come and fetch you!” He stared at her pointedly and she sat down on the floor against the wall.
“Happy?” she asked.
He frowned, then turned to the broken doorway. “Don’t leave,” he warned over his shoulder. “If I have to spend time and effort tracking you down again, I will tie you up and gag you for the remainder of our trip. You know that you can’t escape me.”
“Where are you going?”
“To wait for the Crimson Guard.”
“Are you sure they’re going to come?”
“Yes. They will have noticed their comrades’ absence by now.”
“But how many?”
“Not a whole unit. My guess will be around six.”
“Are you calling the Shadow Warrior?”
“You are very interested in the Shadow Warrior, aren’t you? Do you have a yearning to see him again, or are you just concerned for my safety?”
“Neither,” she snapped. He snorted in amusement and headed away.
Rising, she dusted off her pants and went over to the window. She could see him stride across the grass, before he disappeared behind a length of broken-down wall. Heading to the doorway, she sat down in the sunshine and leaned her head against the doorpost. Crickets chirped and in the distance she could hear bird calls. She closed her eyes as the peace and quiet lulled her, but even so, she kept her ear open for the noise of battle. It came sometime later, the sound of metal on metal and the cries of warriors. Rising stiffly, she went back into the house and peered through the window, but she could not see past the ruined wall.
The cries were getting louder, and she headed outside the house to the length of broken wall. A slight vale lay beyond the wall, where men in crimson uniforms were fighting. There was a blur of motion, a figure moving so fast it seemed to be walking on air, its weapons gleaming in the sun as it slashed all within reach. The Guardsmen did not even have a chance, she thought, watching as they were ruthlessly felled by the Shadow Warrior, who moved too fast to even be tracked by the eye. She looked around, trying to spot the Drameara, but he was not evident in the conflict, and she returned her attention to the fight. She could see at least four Guardsmen fighting, but it was difficult to tell with all the movement.
She watched in horror as a man was speared through the chest, covering her mouth as she gasped at the sight. Before she had taken her next breath, however, the Shadow Warrior stopped and spun around to where she stood watching. It was too far for her to see more than an outline, but she felt as though he was staring right at her, and she quickly ducked down, her heart racing. She waited a few minutes before sneaking another peek. When she did, the Shadow Warrior was once more a blur of motion. She slumped back against the wall in relief, then crouched down and crept back to the house, where she settled herself within the meager confines of the building.
The sounds in the distance were growing fainter, and then they stopped altogether. Less than a minute later a figure darkened the doorway, and she scrambled to her feet as the Shadow Warrior stepped into the building. His dark, scaly skin was dull in the low light inside, and his eyes shone yellow-green as he approached her. The tip of a forked tongue flicked the air between a pair of black lips.
“You were supposssed to remain in here,” he hissed. White fangs showed as he spoke, while blood stained his body. Beneath the blood, she could still see the dark marking that decorated his skin.
“I, er …” she stammered. “Where’s Kalen?” she finally said.
“Kalen?” He cocked his head, his yellow eyes holding her.
“The Drameara,” she clarified.
“Ah, the Drameara. Where do you think he isss?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yesss, you do, princessss. Open your eyesss! Stop seeing what you want to see and look at the truth!”
She frowned, trying to make sense of his words as her gaze dropped to his chest. Silver dragons wound around his breasts, stabbing his nipples with their tongues. She stared at them and from the corner of her eye, she saw his tongue flicking the air. She lifted her eyes to meet his reptilian gaze.
“Yesss,” he hissed.
“You’re the Drameara.” She knew it was true as soon as the words were spoken. His eyes held hers as his tongue flicked. “And you’re the Shadow Warrior. Which one is the real you?”
He stepped closer and she steeled herself not to flinch.
“I disssgussst you.”
“You terrify me.”
“You cannot bear to look at me.”
“No,” she whispered.
“I am two sides of the same coin, princessss.”
She dropped her gaze to his chest, where the dark markings seemed to be slithering over his scaly skin. She stared at them, then lifted her gaze as he closed the gap between them. He lifted a black claw to her neck and stroked her skin, and this time she could not suppress the flinch.
“I want to try something, princesss,” he hissed.
“What?” she asked, her voice wavering slightly. His tongue flicked the air before he spoke.
“I want to taste your blood.”
“Why?” She suppressed a shudder.
“It takes a long time for me to return to the form you prefer, princessss. I think your blood will help me change fassster.”
“Why?” Her curiosity was evident in her voice.
“There’s a connection between your blood and mine.”
“What kind of connection?”
“Mine respondsss to yours. It’sss why I could remove the cuffsss so easily. You’ve felt it, too.”
She stared at him dubiously. “How can you know for sure?”
“Like thisss.” And before she could respond, his mouth was at her neck, his fangs sinking into her skin. As his clawed hand slipped around her neck she cried out, but it wasn’t from pain. Instead, an intense feeling of pleasure took hold of her, and she tilted her neck, giving him easier access. He pulled away for a moment and she felt his gaze on her, before he buried his fangs into her skin once more, going deeper as she moaned. She could feel him drawing her blood into him, and she wound her hands around his neck; he lifted his mouth and whispered against her skin.
“That wasss unexpected.”
“What?” she panted as his tongue flicked her ear.
“That you enjoyed it.”
His lips moved to her mouth, his tongue flicking against her lips until she opened them. She knew she should be repulsed, but his touch made her want more; perhaps the knowledge that it was just a guise that he wore helped her to push the image of him away as he slipped into her mouth and kissed her deeply. It was fingers, not claws, that buried themselves in her hair as she kissed him back, slanting her mouth against his. His hands trailed down her back to her backside, and he pulled her closer. She could feel his hard length pressing against her, and she twisted her hips, eliciting a groan from him as he lifted her against the wall, pressing into her. He broke the kiss to look at her, and she saw that his features had returned to normal. His dark eyes glinted, and a small voice at the back of her mind shouted at her that this was wrong, that she should bring it to a stop, but then his lips were back on hers, and the voice grew fainter. His mouth slid back to her neck as his hand caressed her breast. She thought she saw a movement and glanced down at his chest – the dragon tattoo seemed to be moving, slithering beneath his skin.
Suddenly, his mouth disappeared from her skin as a rush of air flowed past her, and by the time she opened her eyes, he was gone.
She leaned her head against the wall, taking a deep breath in an effort to slow her racing heart. Relief and regret raged within her. She had promised herself that she would not allow him close, but not only had she done so, she had done it while he was a Shadow Warrior. But no-one else had ever made her feel so deeply, intensely, passionately, with just a kiss. That did not change the fact that he was still her captor, and her enemy. He served a dragon that wanted to destroy her and all those descended from King Valor. He was ruthless in his service, and merciless to those whom he despised. He would not hesitate to kill her as he did the Crimson Guard. But more than that, he was also the Shadow Warrior. She shuddered as she remembered his forked tongue flicking between black lips, his yellow, cat-like eyes, and his gray, scaly skin. He was terrifying to look at, but the thought of his visage did not horrify her as much as she knew it should. It was a mask, donned to serve a purpose. She ran her fingers over her neck, feeling the puncture wounds from his fangs. It seemed that his theory had been correct – he had changed back to his usual appearance while kissing her. Her blood did something to him, but just what it meant, she could not tell.