Kings of Euphoria (Euphoria Duology Book Two) Read online

  Down they marched into the dark tunnel, passing each intersection with caution. Paxis took another Failsea guard out and Silver snaked them past another without a sound before they reached a room that Lorn thought might hold his mother. Samantha picked the lock in short order. Lorn rushed in unable to help himself.

  Inside was a wall of weapons, swords dangling on hooks tacked to the wall, and spears stacked up in neat rows in a rack on the ground. On the left lay a table laid out with bows, and barrels full of arrows sat next to it.

  "What's this?" Paxis asked. "I thought you said you knew where she was."

  Lorn shrugged. "I was sure." He doubled checked his mental map. He found it hard to get straight, the ability was fading, but it still showed her as in their general location and there was nothing but empty hall around them. He didn't understand. "She should be here."

  "Well unless she's hiding in one of the barrels, I'd say you were off," Paxis said.

  Lorn looked around. Silver was guarding the door, and Sam and Connor were looking over the gear. Sam's eyes followed a line of shelves all the way up to the ceiling which set off a light bulb in Lorn's head.

  "How stupid. Of course. She's on a different level. Above or below us, but in this spot."

  "This place could have five floors. Could you narrow it down?"

  Lorn didn't bother checking his map again. He knew it gave him no clue as to depth or height. He tried to think of anything that would give him a direction, but no supernatural solution presented itself. If nothing else worked, a well-told lie would suit him just fine.

  Lorn made a show of tapping at the floor beneath them. Then he stood, stretching to rest his palm against the ceiling above him. He had to stand on his tiptoes, but he managed to scrape against the ragged rock. He closed his eyes hoping they would assume he was listening for her, though all he heard was the grumbling of his own stomach and the breathing of the men and women around him.

  Lorn thought about who had his mother captive. Even though he'd only known Cornelius for a short time it was clear the man was a creature of habit. He was a bully that loved showing off his power, loved spreading his name around. Cornelius made this mountain the Failsea stronghold. He'd captured Oleana and stashed her somewhere. Where would he put her?

  "Up," Lorn declared emphatically. "She's above us."

  Paxis looked at him, his brown eyes scanning for any hesitation, but Lorn stood his ground under the scrutiny. Up was as good a choice as any.

  "Time is wasting," Lorn said, heading for the door.

  "In the middle," Paxis reminded him.

  Lorn nodded and slipped back in line like a good boy. They ducked out the door and through an intersection toward the stairs. They had to hide while two men came down and turned the opposite way down the corridor. Lorn was too afraid to breathe until they were out of sight.

  Climbing the stairs took what seemed like forever. Lorn struggled to keep his balance and tread softly up the winding stone steps. He thought about what his excuse would be if they had to climb every floor with still no Oleana in sight. He wasn't leaving without her, and Paxis wasn't going to agree to search every floor. Lorn was going to have to be even more clever than he'd ever managed before, or he was going to have to find a way to sneak away again and go on the hunt alone. Neither option sounded promising.

  Paxis called for them to hold as he checked out the hall off the stairs. Lorn wondered if he could dart past Silver and Samantha without attracting a lot of unwanted attention from the Failsea guards. The stairs were narrow. He would have to bully his way past and they wouldn't let him go without a fight. There was no way he would make it down the steps without running into more trouble than just facing what was most likely an empty space.

  The line started moving again and Lorn tried to force his breathing to remain even. His hands were shaking, which rendered the probability of using the bow effectively very slim.

  Luckily, the upper floor had the same general layout as the one below, so it wasn't hard to find the same spot. Lorn counted them fortunate because his mental map was a faded ghost image that he couldn't really make out. His capacity to mimic Oleana's abilities disappeared from his conscious mind.

  "Sam, if you would?" Paxis asked moving to expose the large padlock on the door.

  This one took twice as long to pick open, being a more complicated set up. The door was heavy, and cold emanated out from it. Lorn took it as good signs that he'd chosen the right direction after all. He also wished he'd had more time to study under Leith, then he could have done it all by himself.

  After the lock was popped, Lorn and Dexter struggled to push it open. Stealth was impossible as it scraped against the floor. Paxis signaled for them to freeze. After a few tense moments waiting to see if anyone was coming to check them out, the hallway remained empty.

  Frustrated with waiting, Lorn moved into the room and nearly slipped on the slick floor. His teeth instantly began chattering because the room was so frigid. Wrapped up in the action of being freed, Lorn forgot again that he was ill-clad for the cold temperature. He didn't even have the outer layer of armor to help block out the low temperature.

  "By The Twelve, why is it so cold in here?" Paxis asked stepping in.

  Lorn shrugged, his attention focused out the window that reminded him so much of the one back at the Crystal Tower. It was the same floor to ceiling construction giving a panoramic view of the outside. In front of the window sat a chair, although Lorn felt calling it a chair was diminishing it somehow. It was a throne, no way around it. It was sculpted from the same multicolored stone that made up most of the exterior walls in the fortress except this piece had more blue in it than any other chunk Lorn had seen.

  Walking around it, Lorn could see that a cushion was made out of baymar wool and embroidered with binary code that Lorn couldn't decipher. The arms of the chair were sculpted into the shape of a claw that looked to be climbing down the leg of the throne.

  "Uhmm, I guessing this is why." Silver said, responding to Paxis' question.

  Lorn turned to look were the man was pointing. "Mom!" he yelled before he could stop himself. Oleana was trapped in a chunk of ice leaning against one of the walls, secured by tendrils of ice that spread out like a stiff spider web on each side of her. Lorn half-ran, half slid across the room, careening into her.

  He wiped at the ice on her face to get a better view. She was twisted up in agony. Her mouth opened in a trapped scream. It broke Lorn's heart to think about how long she'd been there locked in pain, a trophy for Cornelius to gloat over as he retreated to his room of ice.

  "I'm going to get you out of here," he told her, hands pressed against the ice desperate to touch his mother's face, make sure she was real. "How do we get her out?" Lorn searched the faces around him for answers. Paxis shrugged. Everyone else avoided his gaze. "Come on, how do we get her out?" he wailed.

  CHAPTER TEN: VICTORY

  The yetis were setting up patrols around the two cities they conquered, herding any natives left behind to Cornelius. He was stuffing them into Startis' courthouse since it housed the only jail in the area. The four-cell complex was only meant to handle the occasional rowdy drunk or brawling brothers, but they'd already stuffed in fifty Caledonians. The facility would do until other arrangements could be made. The rest would be Ivar's problem soon enough.

  Startis and Caledonia were targets Ivar wanted to cross off his list. The Failsea warlord wasn't going to be happy without them, so Cornelius let the big, hairy, blowhard have his prize to keep him placated. For the moment, Cornelius needed Ivar to keep the Heirs on the move, and on the defensive. Once that changed, Cornelius wouldn't put up with the needy tyrant.

  Cornelius was tired of sitting around. Victory was nice, and he had taken a moment to savor it, but two cities were so small compared to what he wanted to call his. Fighting for Caledon and Sartis was more to placate Ivar than anything else. It served well to test the effectiveness of the Gaeth troops off their native island. Corneli
us didn't like sitting on the shore admiring his handiwork, as Ivar did. He had bigger plans to implement. When all of Caledon and Arismas bowed to his will, then he could take a moment to celebrate.

  "Does anything wipe that scowl off your face?" Ivar asked, coming to stand in front of Cornelius.

  Cornelius didn't let the big man's looming presence intimidate him. Ivar was a selfish, shortsighted fool. None of his posturing would affect Cornelius one way or the other, but he did remember one thing that had brought him joy in recent months. Trapping that self-righteous, meddling, little vermin of a guardian put a smile on his face. Cornelius chuckled at the memory. And when he captured those self-appointed kings, then his collection would be complete and his world right.

  He wanted to take out Daycia as well. He ran his fingers over the scarred side of his face. No matter what Emmaray said, Cornelius wasn't going to risk their fragile relationship by picking another fight with her only daughter.

  Ivar shoved a woman and her teenage daughter into one of the already overcrowded cells. The haggard pair clung to each other as if separation would mean death. Cornelius thought of his son, Tannin, locked away in Ivar's mountain.

  Tannin suffered massive injuries during his last battle with the Heirs, so Cornelius froze him to give his body time to heal. Periodically, Cornelius poured as much of his energy into Tannin as he could, but he didn't have much to spare. The healing process would be long and slow, but Tannin would be whole again.

  Cornelius shook off the unpleasant memory. "As soon as I know things are secure here, I'm leaving and taking my troops with me," Cornelius replied, staring Ivar in the eye, daring him to object.

  Ivar shrugged. "We don't need you to hold two cities. This isn't my first territory grab. I know how to handle things."

  Cornelius nodded. If there was one thing Ivar was good at, it was greedily holding onto things that he considered his. "It's been fun sharing your mountain, Ivar, but it's time for me to cut a bloody path back to my own. This war of ours is going to take supplies, and getting my factories back on track is the only solution."

  "Then I can move on Darten?"

  Irritation sat in the pit of Cornelius' stomach like a rough stone. He walked away from the huddled masses in the cages, their unwashed stench already permeating the crowded space. Cornelius couldn't deal with them and Ivar at the same time.

  Ivar had no ability to see beyond his immediate desires. While Caledon had been playing nice with Failsea, letting the raids into the Wild Zone go mostly unhindered, Darten had declared war on Ivar long ago. The only reason Ivar didn't go after them first was because his people needed water, and Caledon's Alignment River was a much easier target than any large body in Darten.

  Cornelius' frustration must have shown, because Ivar insisted on defending himself, as they walked together. "You wanted me as your partner because I like to fight, and I have troops that follow the same line," Ivar pushed the wood door open and a cold breeze off the nearby beach wafted in. He stood at the top of the steps to the jail, picking at his graying beard that was in need of a trim. His broad-shouldered shadow seemed to engulf the world around him. "What's the point of keeping me around if you're going to stop me from doing the one thing I'm good at?" he groused.

  Sitting down on the stone steps, Cornelius looked out over his yeti sons and the Failsea troops raiding building after building, looking for people and supplies. It was an awkward alliance they had, an uncomfortable one, but a necessary one. Cornelius didn't like Ivar's use of the word 'partner.' Minion, tool, blunt object to be hurled at his enemy, those described his relationship with the warlord better, but partners they would never be. There was no need to argue the point with Ivar. As the man stated, he liked to fight, and Cornelius had no desire to start a brawl that would only bring temporary satisfaction and cause even more trouble down the line.

  Cornelius scraped his curved nails along the stone step beneath him. Ivar had a point. There was no point in keeping him around if he wasn't fighting. "As you say," Cornelius conceded. "I agree it's time we get back to the fighting. I'll cut my way across Arismas and you gain us a foothold into Darten. Then I'll be able to funnel weapons to you across the border."

  Ivar's dark blue eyes lit up like someone had set fire to his brain. "Keep those would-be kings divided and on the run until we take them all out."

  Cornelius held up a finger, "Capture, Ivar, capture them. We kill them, and they will just pop up anew to bother us again and we'll have to waste years tracking them. No, we put them on ice and take them out of the picture for good."

  Ivar stood and turned, his fur coat brushing against Cornelius' knees. "Yeah sure, capture. I can remember that. Then I can capture that fool Fabian, and you can put him on ice too. Make a nice trophy." Ivar had captured his nearest Caledonian enemies on one side of his boarder now he wanted the ruler of Darten on his northern border. Then all that would be left was the city of Evermore at the heart of the world.

  "Putting the Lord of Darten on your wall sounds like a good idea. I'd be more than happy to freeze him for you. That's if you actually manage to catch him." Cornelius wasn't confident in Ivar's ability to round up the cunning and resourceful Fabian.

  Darten was the richest realm, and rivaled Caledon in power. A lot of that was due to Fabian. He knew how to exploit his land's resources and he didn't get into unnecessary conflicts, unlike Ivar. Fabian wouldn't be easy to overthrow, but Cornelius was more than happy to let Ivar try. If nothing else, Ivar would wear Fabian down and Cornelius could swoop in for the kill when he was good and ready.

  Seth came up the steps, an unconscious man slung over his shoulders. The yeti brushed past Ivar as if the warlord wasn't there. "Perimeter is set," Seth growled. "Patrols have been ordered."

  Cornelius nodded. He'd managed to make twelve talking yetis so far, including Seth. With speech came increased intelligence and self-control, without sacrificing strength or a willingness to kill. Of the twelve, Cornelius liked Seth the most. He was as tall as Cornelius. His grayish white fur was short and coarse, his blue eyes similar in hue to Ivar's, but there was a cunning behind them that Ivar lacked. Seth was no Tannin, but he was the closest the yetis were ever going to get.

  "Then it's time for me to be away from this place. I have some things to grab back in Failsea, then I'll head for Arismas. Seth, I trust you can keep your eye on Ivar while I'm away?"

  The yeti nodded its big, furry head.

  "I'm in no need of a babysitter," Ivar squawked, his round cheeks shaking with every word. "Especially some half-brained beastling fresh into battle."

  Cornelius smiled smugly. Ivar was one to talk about being half-brained. Seth stood still as if he'd heard nothing. That's why Cornelius trusted his inexperienced son over Ivar. Self-control. In the end Cornelius needed that much more than endless greed.

  "If you want my yetis to help, you'll take the babysitter." Cornelius fixed Ivar with a cold stare knowing the other would blink first.

  "I run the group," Ivar boomed, trying in vain to sound commanding.

  Cornelius didn't argue the truth. Seth knew how to handle his own problems. "Until we meet again in Darten," Cornelius told Ivar.

  "Then we can toast yet another victory."

  CHAPTER ELEVEN: RESURRECTION AND DEATH

  The ice around Oleana was thick enough to obscure the features of her face, making her appear ethereal. Chopping her out would take time and effort Lorn couldn't afford. The room was so cold there would be no easy way to thaw her. Transporting her in her current condition was out of the question. She had to weigh at least two hundred pounds with all the ice and wasn't in any shape to be maneuvered down winding staircases or through tight halls.

  "Sire," Paxis said in a low voice. His eyes held such pity that Lorn wanted to smack him. "Is it really worth it to free her body? I'm so sorry for your loss, but we might have to come back for her another time. I hate to be the one to say it," Paxis hesitated. He bit his lip as if the words were too painful to utter. "S
he can keep."

  "How can you..." Lorn struggled to breath. He sucked air through his teeth, fighting against the mound of rage sitting on his chest, choking his words. Was Paxis right? Was he being foolish? Could he have come so far only to find his mother was dead as everyone said? Lorn didn't believe it.

  Her blue lips were frozen in a scream. The stillness encompassed not only her small, ice-coated frame, but the entire room. His eyes told him one thing, his heart screamed something else. It throbbed and sputtered in his chest trying to beat back the darkness. Lorn knew his mother was alive. He would have felt it if her energy was no longer around.

  "She's not DEAD! How can you not see that?" Lorn screamed teetering on the edge of sanity. He could feel the air around him changing, the electricity building along his skin, but he couldn't have a blowout. Not here and now. "She's frozen, yes, but not dead." Lorn slammed his fist into the chunk of ice keeping him from his mother, his face hot with rage, his plea desperate. How did he explain color to the blind? How did he explain something so unique as being an Heir of Eternity to those that weren't? "How do we save her?"

  "Okay," Paxis said, nodding, his hands thrown up in surrender to Lorn's insistence. He looked around trying to find something, anything to use as a tool. "I'm not sure how, but we'll figure it out."

  Lorn knew those were just placating words. Paxis didn't believe him. No one did, but it didn't matter. Lorn would prove them all to be fools.

  "Maybe the ice in the back isn't as thick since she's against the wall," Sam offered. She felt her way long the spider web structure of ice. "We could break these tendrils, lower her to the floor and scoop her out the back."

  Lorn craned around to see if he could get a look at the back of Oleana, but the ice was pressed up against the wall so tight there wasn't a sliver of light to catch. Without a better option Lorn nodded his approval. At least they would be doing something.