Chapter 10
Hyto held tight, the strand of hair still around
my throat. “At any moment, I could break your neck. Suffocate you.
Rip your head off your shoulders. So I suggest you quit
screaming.”
I shut my mouth and waited for death—I knew that
was why he was here. But instead, he reached up with another
tendril of hair and caressed my cheek.
My stomach lurched. “The wards will have gone
off. Smoky will be out here, searching for me.” I struggled to talk
against the restraint, my throat hurting.
“I don’t think my son will be doing any such
thing.” He motioned, and out from behind a towering evergreen
stepped the man Giselle had described. He bowed briefly to Hyto.
“Meet Asheré, my snow monkey. He negated your wards with a blink of
the eye. So nobody’s going to know anything.”
Panic set in. Oh Great
Mother, he’s going to kill me here, and I’ll never have a chance to
say good-bye to my loved ones.
I was about to beg him—Just
let me go and I won’t say a word—when the words died on my
lips. Hyto was beyond reason. He wouldn’t listen to me. He hated
me. And I didn’t beg. My sisters in danger? My friends’ lives on
the line? I’d be groveling on the floor. But I would never grovel
for my own life.
“Nothing to say? No protestations? No begging
for your life?” He looked at me quizzically, then let out a snort.
“Well, no matter. But I can’t go without leaving a calling card.
Asheré—prepare the girl.” He threw me to the ground and I
stumbled.
Asheré grabbed me by my arms and I opened my
mouth to scream again, but with a single word from the monk, my
voice fell into silence and I could no longer speak. I struggled
but another word from him and I couldn’t move, standing still as
night.
We stood there, watching Hyto as he moved to the
side. I felt like I was in a dream—as frozen as one of the icicles
on the house. Images of my sisters flashed through my mind—they
would carry on, but I would miss them so much.
And Smoky, Trillian . . . Morio . . . who would
find my remains? I prayed it wouldn’t be one of them—or my sisters.
Let it be someone who wouldn’t hurt as bad. My cousin . . . Chase .
. . anybody but my family.
Would they mourn for me? I thought of Maggie and
tears began to roll down my cheeks. And Iris—at least I knew she
would be happy now. Even in the midst of this war, she would have a
glimmer of hope.
My thoughts leaped to my father. Would he regret
cutting me off? Would he see my soul statue shatter? Would he hold
the remains in his hands, wondering what had happened to his little
girl? Or would he sweep them away, his heart still as hardened as
it had become?
Moon Mother, I thought,
please, let my end be easy. Let me go quickly.
Let me wander the night with your Hunt, let me find my way to the
Land of the Silver Falls and reunite with my mother.
And then Hyto caught my attention. He focused on
one tree near the beginning of the trail and, with a loud roar that
echoed from deep within his throat, he let forth a stream of flame
from his mouth, setting one side of the fir on fire. As it lit up
the night, he ripped my cape off my shoulders and tossed it on the
ground near the tree.
What the hell? He could
just leave my charred body here as a message to Smoky. That would
do more than the cape.
Hyto caught the question in my eyes. A deep
rumble echoed from his gut. His laugh was like a
sledgehammer.
“A calling card, my dear. Simply a calling card.
Because you are only half of the equation. I want my son to know I
own you. I want to crush him with the
knowledge that you belong to me now.”
No . . . no . . . As I
realized what Hyto was saying, I frantically tried to move, tried
to break the spell, but I couldn’t budge.
He leaned down to stare me in the eyes.
“Remember? I promised you when we first met, Anything my son owns is mine, to use or abuse as I see
fit. When Iampaatar comes to my dreyerie to rescue you, I will
have shattered you so far, so hard, that there will be only little
shards of your life left for him to pick up. And then, and only
then, will I destroy him.”
I began to shut my mind down as I realized that
Hyto really didn’t mean to kill me. Not
yet. No, he meant to take me and break me and tear me to shreds. As
the panic started to build, he gathered me in his arms and we began
to turn, slowly at first, then faster and faster until the world
became a blur and I lost consciousness.
I came to on a pallet. The first thing I felt was
sharp hay poking into my side. The next, a scratchy blanket
covering me. My clothes were still on—a good sign. I wasn’t
paralyzed anymore, but I forced myself to stay still. In the past,
I’d learned that it was better to play dumb until I knew what was
going on. Keeping my eyes closed, I strained to hear every sound I
could.
The wind. I could hear the wind howling. It
echoed, like it was outside blowing past an entrance. A building
high on a mountain? A cave? The air felt thin, too—and that would
back up my guess that we were at a higher elevation.
Shivering, I realized that I was cold, even
beneath the blanket. The chill was icy, far colder than it had been
in my backyard. In fact, the scent of the air . . .
Oh no.
I knew where I was—at least the general region.
I was somewhere in the Northlands. There was no mistaking that icy
haze that hung in the air, filled with magic and the energy of the
ice and mists. Hell. Hyto had meant it when
he said he was going to carry me off.
I listened for any movement but couldn’t sense
anyone else near me, so I slowly opened my eyes and looked around.
Cavern. I was in a cave, near a fire that
burned brightly. I scooted over to it and rubbed my hands in the
heat, then warmed my face near the flames, trying to avoid the
stray sparks.
After a moment, I noticed a pot of liquid
hanging over it and I found myself incredibly thirsty, but I knew
better than to taste it without knowing what it was. For all I
knew, it could be a death potion. Gingerly, I stood, pulling the
scratchy blanket around my shoulders for warmth. My body hurt, and
my head was foggy. I realized that we’d come through the Ionyc
Seas. Hyto would be able to travel through them because he was a
white dragon.
A ring of stones had been sheltering me from a
larger part of the cavern and I hesitantly stepped beyond them,
moving into the shadow near the cavern walls. Maybe I could get
away. Maybe I’d luck out and there’d be an inn nearby? But I
couldn’t stay if there was one. Hyto would figure it out and burn
the place to the ground. No, I had to manage to grab supplies and
run. Run . . . where . . . ?
You’ve been in the
Northlands one time, with Iris. And that was this past week. You
have no clue as to where you are . . . at least not yet.
Irritated with my own logic, longing to run
willy-nilly out of the cave, to put distance between myself and the
freak-ass pervert waiting somewhere around here to pick his teeth
with my rib bones, I crept through the shadows over to the mouth of
the cave and peeked out.
Fuck. Just fuck me hard
now.
Outside the entrance, a narrow ledge covered in
ice and snow wound down the mountain. Narrow, as in so thin I’d be
lucky not to topple over the edge the minute I tried to make a run
for it. And we were at high altitude. I could see the peaks of
other mountains.
I gazed over the panorama spreading out before
me. If I weren’t being held captive, it would be beautiful—a swath
of white that linked glacier to glacier to . . . glacier . . .
Wait a minute. Could it be? I squinted. In
the far distance, I saw something against the side of the mountain
that looked vaguely familiar.
Could that be the Skirts of Hel? We’d been there
with Iris. Granted, if it was, it was still at least a day down the
mountain, and then a good stretch of harsh walking from here. And
no doubt, the path would be fraught with crevasses and avalanche
danger. But if it was the glacial ice field, it was the one glimmer
of hope I could cling to. Because near the Skirts of Hel Howl, the
Great Winter Wolf Spirit, made his home. And he was an Elemental
Lord. He could go up against a dragon, being one of the true
Immortals.
A noise made me jump. Someone was coming. I
hurried back to the fire, managing to lie back down before they
entered the room. I had positioned myself so that I could see who
it was through slitted eyes.
Hyto. Hell and double
hell. From what he’d said, I had the feeling he was planning on
leaving me alive until Smoky got here, but what shape I’d be in was
up for debate. I wondered whether it would be best to continue
playing asleep or prepare myself in advance in case he decided to
kick me or something. I wouldn’t put it past him. In the end, I
chose to roll up into a squatting crouch from which I could either
run or jump away.
He swept in, eyeing me with an impassive
expression. It would have been hard to place his age, though if he
were human I’d put him in his late forties. But he was lean and
towering, like Smoky, and as much as I didn’t want to, I could see
a resemblance in the facial structure. There, the similarities
ended.
His gaze never leaving my face, he slowly
strolled over in my direction. The arrogant smirk on his lips would
have been frightening enough, but the look in his eyes was as
frozen as the ice. No mercy. No compassion.
I slowly stood, backing away as he entered the
ring of stones and kept walking toward me. I wanted to say
something, but what was there to say? Please
rethink this? You’re going to die? Oh yes, that would work on a
dragon.
He stopped about a foot away from me, and his
gaze traveled from my feet up my body, lingering over my hips and
my breasts. The ice in his eyes melted just a little, replaced by a
fiery lust.
Worse, far worse than the
cold, aloof look.
“Still not going to beg for your life? Still not
going to beg my indulgence? You are too insolent for a mortal—be
you half-Fae or not.” And he reached out with a tendril of hair. I
thought he was going to use it to caress me again, but instead it
coiled back like a serpent and then struck, slashing my
cheek.
The sting of the blow caught me off guard and I
gasped, bringing my hand to my face. A warm trickle of blood oiled
my fingers and I began to shake. I took a step backward, but he
caught my wrist with the same strands.
“Say it. Beg me for your life. I will not ask
again.” His eyes spun now, a whirl of mist and fog, and I could see
the dragon rising behind him in his aura, so huge, so ancient that
he’d probably watched mountains be born and die. He meant every
word he said, and I didn’t want to find out so soon just how far
his temper could be pushed.
My knees began to give and I stuttered, “Please
. . . please spare me.” Ashamed, angry I’d given in so soon, I hung
my head as my words came out in a whisper. But the blood on my
cheek was running freely, and the man towering over me could
splinter me like an axe splintering kindling.
“There, was that so hard?” He reached out with
one hand and lifted my chin. “You will learn your manners, Mistress
Camille. You will learn your place in my society. You will learn
what it means to truly serve a dragon.”
And then he pushed me away and I went sprawling
to the floor. I didn’t move—I didn’t want to set him off
again.
“I will have a woman come and prepare you. You
are not properly attired to sit in my presence. You will do as she
says.” He turned and began to walk away. Over his shoulder, he
added, “Oh, Camille? If you’re thinking of trying to escape, I give
you this one warning: If you succeed, I will return to your house
and destroy every single inch of your property. I will raze it to
the ground. I will rape your sisters and that irksome sprite you
keep around. And then, I will eat them.”
And with that, he vanished back into the depths
of the cavern.
I waited until he left, then scrambled to my
feet. What the hell was I going to do? I couldn’t escape—not
without help or supplies. And if I did . . . would he truly carry
through on his threats?
That is not the
question, my gut echoed back at me. You
know he’ll carry through. The question is, will they be able to
stop him before he manages to destroy everything in
sight?
I huddled near the fire, waiting, until another
set of footsteps warned me someone else was coming. It was a woman,
as Hyto had said, and right away I could tell she was no dragon.
She was one of the Northmen, from the looks of her. Sturdy build,
with long, stringy, flaxen hair and muscles that told me she
wouldn’t put up with any shit from anybody. Which meant that unless
I could take her out with a spell, I wouldn’t be fighting my way
past her.
She motioned for me to follow her, and,
silently, I did.
We headed deeper into the cavern, and the
persistent howl of the wind railed around us. The cave was so large
and spacious that I could easily see Hyto changing form here. The
walls were spare and worn smooth, and the supporting stalagmites
and stalactites had grown up thick over the centuries. This cave
had withstood time, and it felt old and hollow and deep.
I cleared my throat and eyed the woman. “May I
speak?” I didn’t want to be on the receiving end of her fists, either.
But she just nodded, seeming to understand me.
I’d spoken in a variant of the Northern tongues—roughly, I wasn’t
that proficient, but I knew enough to get by. It would be useless
to ask where we were, so I sucked in a deep breath and asked, “What
are you going to do with me?”
“Prepare you for the Master. You are not dressed
appropriately. I will bathe you and dress you and feed you.” As she
spoke, her face remained unchanging, but I caught a glimmer of pity
in her eyes.
Hanging my head, turning on my glamour full
force, I nodded slowly. “I did not choose to come here. He
kidnapped me.”
“No one chooses to attend him. At least none of
the women.” Her words were abrupt but clear.
“Why are you here, then? Why are you helping
him?”
She stopped, turning to me. “I will tell you
this once. Remember it. He has my son held captive. I help him to
keep my son alive. Which means I will do anything he asks. Never
forget that. I won’t go out of my way to help the Master, but
neither will I do anything to jeopardize my child. Do you
understand?”
“Yeah . . . I understand.” And I did. She was
protecting her child; she would do what she had to. Hyto had a way
with people, all right. He knew just what buttons to push.
“Good. Follow me and keep quiet.”
We passed through several long chambers, each as
vacant as the last. Either Hyto didn’t share Smoky’s love of fine
living or all of his goodies were in his private chambers. Either
way, the cavern was cold and barren and rough, and right now all I
longed for was my bed at home and a soft cover and my loves by my
side. I missed my husbands and sisters so much that I felt
nauseated. But I kept my wits about me and tried to push fear to
the back. I needed to remember the layout. If I had to hide, I
needed to know where I could vanish.
We entered a smaller chamber to the left.
Finally, here were living quarters—at least for mortals. Several
beds were scattered around the chamber—I counted twelve—and a
steaming pool of water sat in the middle of the room. A natural hot
spring? Not likely. More likely melted snow heated by the huge fire
burning in the fire pit. The room was still cold, but without the
intense chill of the outer chambers, especially when the woman drew
a curtain across the entrance.
“Sit and let me clean the wound on your face.”
She pushed me toward a narrow stone bench. I sat, fingering the
raised gash that Hyto’s hair had inflicted on me. It felt warm, and
I wondered if dragon hair could cause an infection. I sucked in a
deep breath as I heard a rattling coming from the far end of the
chamber.
“What’s that?” I jumped up, looking
around.
“My son. Sit down.” She pushed me back down and
I slowly lowered myself onto the bench again. I squinted through
the dim light of the lanterns scattered around the room. As my eyes
adjusted, I finally saw it: a cage fashioned of iron and leather.
It was situated a good six feet off the floor—hanging by straps
from the ceiling of the cave—and was about the size of a linen
closet turned on end.
Inside crouched a wild-eyed young man of around
fifteen. He had long golden hair but it was matted into dreads, and
so dirty it looked black. Shirtless, he wore a rough pair of
trousers held up by a cord tied around his waist. He looked like he
was wearing a mesh top, but as I squinted further, I realized the
lines I thought were mesh were actually a grid pattern of welts.
He’d been beaten, in patterns, enough to leave permanent
scars.
Visions of Menolly’s torture crept into my mind
as I looked at the boy.
Hyto. It had to be Hyto. He would have no
compunction about hurting a mortal—Northman or not. Child or
not.
I looked up at the woman, who was watching me.
“What’s your name? What’s his name? Did Hyto . . .”
“My name is Hanna. My son’s name is Kjell. And
yes, the Master punishes my son for my mistakes.” Her lip twitched
and she blinked, quickly, but I still saw her push back the
tears.
“He threatened to kill the rest of your family,
didn’t he?” I didn’t have to ask. I knew what kind of creature Hyto
was. He would use every form of mental and physical torture in the
book, and the threat of destroying family was a good way to make
someone obey.
Hanna gently washed the wound on my cheek, then
ran a thin line of some salve along it. “He killed my husband. I
was able to smuggle my daughters away before he got hold of them.
But he caught Kjell and me when we were trying to run.” Another
line of salve and she stood back. “There. Now remove your clothes.
Don’t even think about protesting. You must have a bath. The Master
likes his . . . toys . . . to be clean.”
Toys . . . and there it
was. I swallowed hard.
“What about your son? He’ll see me.”
“He’s locked in a cage. He’s . . . Seeing a
naked woman is the least of his worries. Obey.”
I began to remove my skirt and the turtleneck,
turning away from the cage. The strange boy rattled at the door,
making guttural cries, but Hanna ignored him and I did the same.
There was nothing else I could do but obey. If I struck down
Hanna—and my ability to do so was a big if—I’d have no hope of escaping. I needed her. I
needed to win her help, and to do that, we had to save her son,
too.
As I stepped into the steaming pool, she poured
a fragrant oil into the water. The scent was heavy, spice and amber
and honey—much like the perfumes I used—and the warm heat of the
water began to relax my muscles. I leaned back, as much as I didn’t
want to enjoy the feel of the water. I was tired. So tired. And the
fear and cold had wormed its way through me.
I fought with myself for a moment, then decided
if I relaxed, it would give me a little rest. I breathed in the
steam, welcoming the warmth into my body.
Hanna handed me a cloth and bar of handmade
soap, and I began to wash myself. As I gazed into the steam, I
began to slide into a mild trance. And then it hit me like a ton of
bricks. I might be able to use the Soul Symbiont ritual to contact
Smoky, Morio, and Trillian. To at least let them know I was still
alive.
I closed my eyes and inhaled slowly, then let
out my breath in a long, steady stream, lowering myself deeper into
the trance.
Down, down, deep into the
abyss. Let myself slide. Where am I? In a place of swirling fog and
mist. In a place of eternal snow. And there, there . . . are
sparkles. Tracers. Follow the magic, follow the eye catchers, go
racing through the mists. A whirl of whispers, a flutter of sparks,
and . . . down farther, deeper within, follow the path to the spark
that makes up my inner core, that most sacred of places kept safe
from everyone and everything. And there . . . a pinpoint of light,
the core of the magic . . .
Another breath, another
whirl in the mists . . . go into the light, follow the trail . . .
follow the path . . . and then—one more step and . . .
I was standing on the astral, knee deep in mist.
The very air sparkled with energy, fluttering like a thousand
electrical impulses. Or, what passed for air—on the astral I really
didn’t need to breathe, especially because I wasn’t there fully in
body but only in spirit. Pink, green, yellow,
blue . . . the fluorescence reminded me of the bay at night
when the algae flowed in on the tide.
Not sure where I was, I turned, scattering a
stream of the sparkles. Where were they? Where were their
signatures? I searched, focusing on their faces, holding them
firmly in mind, and began to send out a call as I moved
forward.
I might as well explore while trying to get
through to them. The mist swirled around my legs, a welcoming
presence. The astral made me feel safer—at least my spirit could
escape, even if my body was trapped with a crazed dragon. And that
promise seemed priceless right now.
Smoky, Morio, Trillian—I’m
here! Can you hear me? Can you find your way to me? Help! I’m here!
I’m alive! Smoky!
And then I heard a voice that I had never
expected to hear. It came up from behind me, welcome and yet so out
of the blue that I almost fell, whirling around to see if it was
who I really thought it might be.
“Camille? What are you doing here?”
There, right in front of me, stood Chase.