Child of Blackwen (An Artemis Ravenwing Novel Book 1) Page 7

  She loved her home, despite the laws against dhampirs. It pained her to continue watching it fall further into a state of chaos. Blackwen City had been peaceful once long ago; its residents kept to themselves and were of a decent nature. Nowadays, her people prided themselves on thievery, dishonor, and unchecked bloodlust. The leader, or “Mistress,” of Blackwen City, Arlina, ruled as a tyrant would: those who opposed her met their end in unspeakable ways. Netira knew those of the Ravenwing clan who were no longer of this world were twisting in their graves because of such changes and behavior. She missed her mentor, Tamina Ravenwing, greatly. Arlina would pay for that as well…someday.

  Netira made her way to City Tower, the home of the Mistress and the center of Blackwen’s operations. Netira needed to speak with Arlina concerning the scouts she’d sent out; as the city’s Second, Netira should have been informed as well as consulted concerning the action, as the purpose of her station was to advise and co-command.

  The Mistress was hiding something, and she was going to find out the cause for all the secrecy.

  Entering the tower, Netira first stared at the lengthy spiral staircase. Scowling, she began to climb it soon after. Numerous doors, as well as traps, lined the walls along the staircase. She wished she could fly rather than walk up the wretched stairs, but not only would that reveal her true identity, she could also set off those horrific traps hidden within City Tower. Arlina had a peverse sense of humor, especially when it came to her guests.

  Netira stopped as soon as she saw the steel door engraved with protective runes. Shaking her head, she climbed several more stairs before cursing at herself and returning to the door. Hesitations aside, Netira pushed it open and stepped inside the chamber.

  Torchlight illuminated the chamber, revealing stacks of parchment along the walls and thick tomes that had seen better days.

  Netira walked toward the black wood desk placed near the windowsill; she sat on it and leafed through the stack of parchment nearest to her. She smiled to herself as she learned they contained spells translated from the old tomes.

  “You’ve been busy these past few days,” Netira mused aloud, returning the parchment sheets to where she found them.

  “I needed to do something in your absence,” a soft, deep voice replied from behind. “It’s not easy, you know…covering for someone the others believe you despise.”

  Netira turned and looked upon the source of the voice: a tall male with lengthy black hair and deep violet eyes. He was wearing a black tunic with black breeches—a common style for the citizens of Blackwen City. He sported several silver rings on his left hand, each with small runes along the bands, and he had a large silver cross earring hanging from his right earlobe. He smiled as he grasped Netira’s hand, rubbing it gently.

  Netira’s smile widened. “I missed you too, Karesu.”

  She stood up to embrace him. Karesu pulled away after the hug, just enough to steal a kiss from her. When he didn’t break it, she did. Karesu chuckled as he caressed her cheek.

  “Ah yes, I’ve forgotten. Not here,” he said. “You do realize Arlina can’t break into the chamber right? She still needs to be granted permission to enter.”

  “Still playing with fire, I see,” Netira teased.

  Karesu kissed her once more. “It is a fun element, my love. It is perfect for describing one’s passion as well.”

  “Speaking of passion, have you noticed anything different with the Mistress lately?” Netira asked as she let go of Karesu. She returned to her seat atop the corner of the table.

  “And there is the dirt thrown atop the flame.” Karesu frowned while folding his arms. “Her erratic behavior hasn’t changed as of late. Why? What did you discover in that little outing of yours?”

  “I followed those two scouts to the Woodland Realm,” Netira answered. “Bad enough that she dismissed my inquiries about them, but to send them there of all places…”

  “As far as I know, she has no interest in the elves,” Karesu explained. “I’m not even sure if the whole council knows—”

  “The entire council doesn’t know shit! Not even the devout Vashti! Arlina does have an interest in the elves,” Netira insisted. “She sent those miscreants to eavesdrop on their local gossip! What does that tell you?”

  “Our Mistress is probably deciding to add more enemies to her extermination list. Or perhaps she’s looking for a new stock of blood to supply those goddessforsaken taverns of hers—I don’t know. Arlina does rather enjoy the whole tyrannical-bitch ploy…” Karesu paced back and forth, stopping as soon as a realization set in. “Netira…do you remember the last time she ventured to the Woodland Realm?”

  “Of course I do,” Netira replied. “Nearly twenty-one years ago. She claimed it was to hunt down traitors, but you and I both know that wasn’t the truth. She discovered blood relatives living within that realm and eliminated them. She…she killed Tamina.”

  “What if Arlina somehow missed another blood kin?”

  Netira’s brow furrowed. “I don’t believe that.”

  “Netira…it makes sense.” Netira shot him a skeptical look, and he sighed. “Bear with me a moment. Arlina firmly believes she is the last of the Ravenwing bloodline. She figures she is an example of a ‘pure-blood’ within our race—”

  “Your race,” Netira corrected.

  “Our,” Karesu stressed, now grabbing her hand.

  “Go on with the point you’re trying to make,” Netira warned.

  Karesu shook his head and continued, “Well, Arlina has her goddess complex as you and I both well know.” Netira snorted, and Karesu suppressed a laugh. “Anyone of her bloodline considered tainted or not compliant with her point of view is immediately executed by her hand. That, and she doesn’t want any opposition to the throne of Blackwen City. If she’s returning to the Woodland Realm, she’s missed something…or someone.”

  Netira’s finally let herself believe. “Another Ravenwing alive…please let it be a woman. Only a Ravenwing woman can hold the throne of Blackwen.”

  “If it is another Ravenwing woman, we can only pray to Avilyne that she survives Arlina.” Karesu flinched when Netira slammed her clenched fist atop the table. “Netira…”

  “This has to stop!” she cried. “It just…it has to stop. There’ll be nothing left of Blackwen City if she keeps this up.”

  Karesu held her; the gesture was welcome. “Neither of us is in a position to oppose Arlina. We knew this, too, when we first made the pact to join her under false pretenses. It is not yet time, my love. If she were to learn the truth of your heritage…”

  “She won’t learn of it,” Netira insisted while trying to calm down. “I must go speak with the Mistress. Arlina will want to know why I left without informing her.”

  Karesu released her. Netira headed to the door and pulled it open. She didn’t want Karesu to see the fear that riddled her the moment he brought up his own fear of discovery.

  “Netira?” Karesu called, which made her stop from leaving the chamber. “You left your charm behind.”

  “I know.” Netira frowned as she saw him pull out a small silver ring with a curved rune engraved within the band. “I was in a rush.”

  He handed it over to her, and she felt his gaze follow her as she moved to the chamber door. Netira stopped once again, sensing a question from him.

  “What is it?” she asked as she faced him.

  “What…whatever did happen to those scouts?”

  Netira tapped her fingers along the doorframe, now looking away.

  “Yes, I thought as much,” she heard him say. “This is a part of the game I hoped for us to avoid.”

  The chamber of the Mistress of Blackwen was located at the very top of City Tower, along with the audience chamber; the chambers provided the benefit of overseeing the entire city, as if it were a nest. Appropriate, considering the name of the Mistress line, the Ravenwing. A throne of carved black marble sat in the center of the audience chamber; torches jutted from the wa
lls, positioned between large onyx statues of the past Mistresses of Blackwen City. A statue of the current Mistress was missing; the honor only came once she passed into the next life and was deemed as a worthy ruler by the new Mistress.

  Sitting comfortably on the throne with one leg crossed over the other, Arlina yawned. Her short red hair curved along the sides of her pale neck; her gray eyes were frigid and struck fear in her people. She donned a sleeveless red tunic and tight black breeches, along with calf-high leather boots with sharp, thin heels. Poking from the top of her boots were the onyx-jeweled hilts of her prized weapons, the sai. Only the Ravenwing women carried such weapons.

  Bored, she clicked her heels against the marble floor, and a couple of servants rushed inside. Arlina could see they were nervous, and she reveled in it; the idea of kindness revolted her.

  Kindness made one weak, and she was anything but.

  “W-What do you desire, my Mistress?” the first servant spoke while doing his best to avoid making eye contact. The last servant who had done so while asking her desire had lost his head…slowly.

  “I hunger in my boredom,” Arlina said, her voice masked with a deadly sweetness. “Bring me a flask of the latest import.”

  The servants rushed out of the chamber and soon returned with a jeweled, silver flask filled with blood—the scent was intoxicating to her. Snatching it from the servant’s hands, Arlina took a sip. She immediately spat it out, and her face contorted in disgust.

  Fuming, she flung the flask, and the contents spilled all over the first servant.

  “You dare to bring me this filth?”

  “N-No, my Mistress!” the blood-soaked servant answered, kneeling before her.

  “At the moment, this is the freshest source of blood we have to offer, my Mistress,” the other servant said while hungrily eying her companion.

  “Imbeciles! That’s what you both are!”

  “Apologies, Mistress!” the servants cried in unison as they fell to the floor on their knees and avoided eye contact with Arlina.

  “Take that shit away from me, and do not return until you can provide me with fresh blood! Understand? Fresh as in minutes after the slaughter!” Arlina demanded. “Useless fools!”

  The servants spewed apologies when they ran out, and she scowled. She sighed after finally regaining her calm. It upset her knowing that there were such lowly full-bloods living in her city. Arlina wanted to dispose of them, but if she did then there wouldn’t be any servants left to abuse for her own amusement. No highborn full-blood would be caught doing a servant’s work. Although…

  Oh, the decisions a leader had to make!

  Arlina broke out of her train of thought as she heard several loud knocks. Doubtful that the source of the knocking came from the idiots she bothered to call servants, Arlina realized it might have been someone of importance.

  It would be refreshing, of course, to have someone with intellect in the chamber with her.

  Ordering her visitor to enter, Arlina saw it was one of her prized scouts, Latos.

  Latos approached the throne and kneeled. Hearing the order to rise, Latos did so and kept his head low. His bright red hair was short and spiked, and he wore tight black clothing beneath his black cloak. Removing the cloak, Latos raised his dark brown eyes to meet Arlina’s. He did not keep the gaze for long.

  She liked that.

  “Netira has returned to the city, Mistress,” Latos reported, his voice deep and scratchy.

  “Has she now?” Arlina smirked. “Tell me, where did she go and what did she do?”

  “She followed the trail of the scouts you sent away two moonturns ago…the ones you sent to the Woodland Realm,” Latos answered.

  “Of course she did!” Arlina pounded a fist on her black marble throne. “I told her the matter of their departure didn’t concern her, and what does she do? She runs off to sate her damned curiosity! What good is it to be Mistress if no one follows orders?”

  “Netira did more than disrespect you, Mistress,” Latos continued. “She killed them. My two best scouts, wasted…”

  “She did what?” Arlina rose from her throne, enraged. “The nerve of the bitch!”

  “Their deaths are a shame, as they were such excellent scouts, but I can assure you it was not in vain, my Mistress,” Latos said. “They may not have known what to listen to, but I knew what you desired. And it appears that your suspicions were correct. There is one of your bloodline hidden in the realm of the forest elves. The very last one, my Mistress.”

  Arlina’s eyes widened as she sat back down. “So those wretched dreams were true…”

  “Pardon?”

  “It is nothing,” Arlina answered as she straightened her posture on the throne. The damned thing proved to be uncomfortable on certain occasions. “This is good. It gives me a better reason to attack Ellewynth. Those woodland elves have defied me for far too long. I can finally rid myself of them.”

  “If I may…?” Latos began. Arlina narrowed her gaze, but allowed him to finish the thought. “Why attack the city outright when we can simply use the fodder for our amusement?”

  “Interesting,” Arlina mused. “You may continue.”

  “By now, the Elders of Ellewynth must have noticed the kills by our scouts. I have no doubt that they sent their own scouts to investigate,” Latos explained. “They’ll learn that our city was behind it; this is inevitable.”

  “I’m growing impatient, Latos,” Arlina grumbled. “Get to the point.”

  “Netira has grown tiresome, has she not?” Latos smiled, revealing his elongated fangs. “And she killed my poor, poor scouts. Why not pin the blame for the other deaths on her as well? Instead of killing her for disobedience, send her to the elves for their own punishment. They’ll see it as a sign of good faith and that you are trying to make amends. Their guard will be down, which will be advantageous for us. When they least expect it,”—he clapped his hands together— “strike at the city and find the blood survivor. Hang the corpse for all to see, as a reminder to our enemies of why they should continue to fear you.”

  “Devious,” Arlina said. “I find myself liking this notion, yet I feel there is more you’re not telling me. What other dark thoughts are swirling in that mind of yours, Latos?”

  “I have other reasons why I prefer to be rid of Netira,” Latos answered. “After all, she is not one of us.”

  “What do you mean she is not one of us?” Arlina’s voice grew louder. “She is a vampire like the rest of us.”

  “I have no doubt that she is a vampire,” Latos said. “Half, anyways.”

  Arlina’s blood rushed to her face. Infuriated, she took a sai from her boot and threw it. The sai narrowly missed Latos’ head. “Explain.”

  “Her true nature was revealed when she found the scouts…wings and all. She also mentioned something about forgetting a charm,” Latos reported, ignoring the fact that he narrowly avoided a sai to the head. “Sacrificing her to the elves would help correct the embarrassment of her being your Second. No one else need know the truth, save perhaps the council.”

  “Indeed.” Arlina seethed. “Now leave. I have much to think about.”

  “And what of the traitor in the meantime?”

  “Tell her she is to remain within the city until I decide to grant her an audience,” Arlina replied. “I don’t want her to have any inkling that we know. I want to…to have some fun with this.”

  “Your will is my life.” Latos bowed and exited the chamber.

  Arlina tried to regain her composure as she went to retrieve her sai. Lifting it from the ground, she stared at the blade. Sliding it back into her boot, Arlina chuckled.

  “First, I’ll be rid of you, darling Netira,” Arlina said. “Then, I’ll get my hands on you, dear little Artemis.”

  My arms were shaking from the strain. I winced as I felt muscles contort in ways I never imagined they could.

  Numerous arrows were embedded in the wooden target; Shadow’s were near or in the c
enter of it. The majority of my arrows rested well outside the testing markers; only three were within them.

  The pain I felt outweighed my embarrassment.

  “One more shot,” Shadow instructed. He too was tired. “After that, we can rest for the day.”

  “I don’t think I’ll be able to manage one more shot, Shadow.”

  “In battle, there is little time for rest, Artemis,” Shadow scolded. “Shall I remind you of the sieges I’ve experienced?”

  I shuddered. “No. Goddesses, no.”

  Resigned, I raised the bow. I tried to remember Shadow’s instructions: spot your target, raise your bow and arrow while pulling the arrow and string close to your face, aim, and then release.

  Aerios blow me. It was easier said than done.

  I felt the breeze pick up, and I groaned. Wind was another factor I had to take into account. Concentrating, I released the arrow. To my shock, it landed well within the testing markers; not quite near the center, but still within a decent area nonetheless.

  “Now there’s a shot!” Shadow grinned. “You may relax, my dear.”

  “Kiare be praised.” I breathed, dropping the bow. I tried to regain sensation within my now numb arms.

  “Get used to it, Artemis.” Shadow laughed. “We start again tomorrow morning.”

  “Tomorrow morning?” I exclaimed, and I pouted. “Shadow…”

  “It was either tomorrow morning or us resuming this later tonight,” he explained. My mouth shut. “Yes, I thought as much. Nothing wrong with building a little muscle in those scrawny arms of yours.”

  “They’re not scrawny! I resent that!” I folded my sore arms. “Were your lessons anything like this at all?”

  “Oh, hardly,” Shadow replied. “You’re getting off easy. I had multiple sessions in the morning alone, followed by several in the evening. Sleep did not exist in my vocabulary then. Don’t ask how many teachers I had.”

  “Unbelievable.”