Born To Rule

Chapter Fourteen

We kept ourselves hidden until the men reached their camp. A large group formed around the party, hounding them to explain what happened and how they found the stallion. I stole a glance at Balis from the corner of my eye, unable to stifle a grin at the elated amusement gracing his features. Their comments on the assumed enormity of the beast that brought down both Harlem and Roe made him chuckle.

I avoided that little detail. Part of me was furious at him for having me believe I was being stalked by a wild beast. But the other part—the part that watched him take down that man in my defense—was willing to accept his explanation and move on.

Balis nudged me on the shoulder and pointed to a spot that offered a better vantage point. I nodded, and we moved around the backside of a hill that faced the northeastern edge of their camp where most of their tents were pitched. I noted every entry and exit, where they stashed their weapons, and their sleeping quarters.

It was clear these men were nomads, possibly bandits, judging by their simple setup. Their camp’s center focus sat at the main square of the village they occupied, spreading through the streets and between buildings. Their presence stuck out like a sore thumb—rough, dirty, and all human. But the village, while simple, was breathtaking.

Each building, once homes perhaps, was adorned with some variation of a dragon’s profile etched into the keystone. The structures’ walls were constructed with small, oval-shaped stones, a beautiful array of red and brown hues. Astonishing craftsmanship. These men were an eyesore in comparison.

“Who are these people? This isn’t one of the human colonies?” I whispered.

“Human colonies?” Balis’ questioning glance surprised me. “There are none in Vylandria.”

My immediate reaction was defensive. “Yes, there are. I read about them when I was younger. The author stayed within the small colonies while he researched various beasts and creatures in the forest.” I grew frustrated by his clear, disbelieving countenance, like I was a child telling a tall tale. Still determined, I said, “The author was,” I paused as my mind made the connection before my mouth finished the sentence. “human.” It was all a lie.

Everything I believed to be true about this place was wrong. That author had probably never set foot in this province. I deceived myself into thinking I had some minuscule understanding of the threats I was exposed to here. But now, that tiny shred of comfort I clung to was gone.

Consumed by a feeling I can only describe as drowning, I swallowed hard, forcing myself to breathe and wiped the shock from my face. I cleared my throat, all too aware of the heat warming my cheeks under Balis’ apologetic stare.

“So, who are they, then? What is this place?” I forced my voice to be as even as a scale.

He pursed his lips but let it go. “This is a Dogu village.”

“Dogu?”

“Dragon people. They worship the Empress—a high god said to rule over the twelve gods of the variants, including Erezos and Aethier. See that?”

He gestured toward the rear of the clearing, extending beyond the thatched rooftops. The area featured a half-finished pyramid-shaped platform. I nodded.

“Every winter solstice, they perform a sacred ceremony to ask the Empress if it’s time to bring them home.”

“Home?”

He shrugged in a noncommittal way. “They think each variant has a purpose, and when that purpose is complete, there’s a transcendence of some kind.”

“These Dogu people, do they look like dragons?”

“The texture of their skin, perhaps,” he said with a chuckle. “Otherwise, they’re similar to druids and humans. They just don’t exude mana the way we druids do.”

“So, why are they here?” I asked, gesturing to the men.

“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “Whatever the reason, it’s not fucking good. This place shouldn’t be empty. Humans could never overrun an entire village of Dogu, nor would they want to. They are peaceful, self-reliant. They have nothing of value to humans.”

We watched in silence, surveying the men as they settled in for the evening. One tied Eiresh to a post near some tents on the outskirts of the village. Some roasted meat on a spit over a crackling fire, others took to drinking themselves to sleep, while another coaxed a partner into his tent with a suggestive whistle. I didn’t have to wonder where that was going.

“So what’s the plan?” Balis asked with hushed, eager focus.

He’s asking me again?

“Wait for nightfall, sneak Eiresh out, then go our separate ways.”

“Hmm. Yes. Yes. And… not a chance.” He shifted, making sure our eyes met. “I’m curious when you’ll grasp the concept—you’re stuck with me.”

I set my jaw. “Clearly, you don’t recognize when a snake is done being toyed with.”

“Venomous, are we, princess?” His voice dropped lower, thick and husky.

I raised an eyebrow, daring him to find out.

“Good,” he said.

He leaned in close and—my gods, that delicious smell.

“I don’t run from wild things—I embrace them, protect them.” His gaze flicked to my lips. “Tame them.”

“Is that what I am?” My heart stuttered, nearly clipping his last word. “Something to be tamed?”

With a surreptitious grin, he redirected his focus to the village.

“I know why the dear captain sent you.” I plucked a few leaves from the bush nearby and tucked them under my knee to guard against the moist ground, paying no mind to his questioning expression. “You’re charismatic, and Eurok thought I’d fall for that bullshit. But I won’t. So you can save your breath.”

He didn’t say as much, but I read the ‘if you say so,’ in his amused smirk. I ignored it, and we entered a long silence, waiting for the sun to fall behind the treetops, and their harbored shadows to consume the land.

“I’d like to use this last bit of light to nose around,” he whispered. “Something doesn’t feel right. Like I said, this village shouldn’t be empty.”

I regarded Eiresh with deliberation before granting my approval with a nod. If I was being honest, I wanted to know more about what was going on here, too.

“Let’s follow the treeline to the southern side,” he said. “See what we can find.”

Again, I nodded, and he took off in a low-crouched stance. I wondered if he wasn’t switching to his cat form for my sake as I followed.

This was familiar territory, prowling unnoticed through the shadows, taking care not to stumble on roots, snap twigs, or alert anyone who might be on watch. It was a practiced art, and yet, despite being twice my size, I was a bull in an apothecary compared to the ease with which Balis moved over the dense forest floor.

From what I could tell, most on this side of camp had already drank themselves into a stupor. They’d be just as oblivious to our presence if we marched, calling out cadence as we went.

We paused as we rounded the last corner before entering the village. One of them held tight to a tree on the edge of the forest, puking up his liquid dinner.

My stomach turned sour. The reek of it, the sickening squelch as his bile splattered the dirt, hurled a deluge of unpleasant memories of my father to the forefront of my mind. I forced them back as the man retrieved his bottle and returned to his tent.

“You okay?” he asked.

I was unsure if he could sense my discomfort or if he was alluding to the fact that we were about to venture beyond the safety of the treeline. I nodded.

As he faced me, he reached into the pouch on his side, then offered me something. I opened my hand, and he dropped a small vial into my palm.

“What is it?” I asked, regarding the metallic-colored liquid inside.

“Diablerie elixir,” he said. “I won it a few years back. When you drink it, it’s supposed to react with any effect you need most.”

I raised it up, inspecting it in the dim light, and resisted the urge to question why he gave it to me instead of keeping it. “So what if someone really needs to get laid?”

“I love a woman with a wicked mind,” he said, his voice low and tantalizing.

Despite my efforts to remain rational, the praise ignited a warmth within me. A devious smile crossed my face as I tucked the vial away and we emerged from the forest, stepping onto the smooth dirt path.

I tightened my grip on the jewel-encrusted handle of my dagger and appraised our surroundings. On this side of the half-pyramid structure, the village was devoid of any signs of life.

We crouched low and fled to the safety of the nearest stone wall, weaving in and out of shadow and moonlight like a pair of fireflies dancing along the edge of a field.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“I want to check some of these buildings, see if they left in a hurry.”

“Okay. I’ll keep watch.”

I pressed my back against the side of a building as Balis forced his way in through an open window. With a vigilant gaze, I scanned the shadows, attuned to the faintest rustle of footsteps or interruption in the cacophony of nighttime creatures.

Nothing.

When he returned, he shook his head, and we moved on to the next.

Nothing.

We combed through numerous households, making steady progress until we neared the lower section of the offering dais.

“There’s no sign of anyone,” he said, dropping to the ground from the last building’s window.

It was impressive how focused his demeanor had become, as opposed to the quipping, smart-mouthed druid I experienced until now. And I couldn’t help but notice how natural it felt to work as a team, something I never dreamt of doing with another soul before. I brushed off the thought and drew a deep breath, flustered by our lack of answers.

A vile, putrid stench assaulted my nose. My hand flew to my face, the scent unmistakable. Death. “Do you smell that?”

His demeanor mimicked mine, and I knew he did. “Where is it coming from?”

My attention was drawn to an opening at the base of the raised platform. Convinced that was where the odor emanated, I rushed over. Balis ran alongside me, showing no intention whatsoever of stopping or discouraging me. He simply followed.

Sure enough, the reek grew stronger the closer we got. The entrance greeted us with an oppressive darkness, accompanied by that putrid odor that threatened to coax a dry heave from my empty stomach.

“Here,” Balis said, reaching toward my face.

I froze as he spread a cool liquid above my lip, his touch gentle and sure. The scent of robust coffee and cinnamon filled my nose, and the terrible redolence of death faded. I absently moved to dab at whatever substance he wiped on me.

“Don’t.” He swatted my hand away. “You’ll wipe it off. It’ll dry.”

If I hadn’t been so concerned with what we were about to walk into, I might have smiled at this seamless comfortability I felt around him, like I’d known him half my life.

“Thanks.”

As he spread the same coffee-scented liquid under his nose, I let myself for the briefest of moments imagine what it might be like to stay. I shook my head as if to shed the distracting thoughts and refocused on the task at hand.

“I know you’re not much of a fire wielder, but do you think you could keep a torch lit?” My chin jerked toward the one secured by the entrance.

An unimpressed leer flickered across his face as the torch ignited in a burst. He grabbed it as we passed, and I took a deep breath to steady my nerves as we ventured inside.

Hundreds of intricately carved pictures covered the walls of the first chamber. Their arrangement suggested they were stories, but I couldn’t comprehend their meaning.

Balis caught what drew my attention and said, “I don’t know how to translate all of them, but I recognize that.” He pointed to one of the more elaborate scenes. “It’s the story of the birth of our variant.”

That word again. Variant.

I heard it multiple times since being in this province. Sidelle said it when she explained Annorah’s sacrifice. ‘The High Witches of the Vylandrian Covens, myself included, freed her soul from her body while allowing her mana to reside in this variant.’

“What is a variant?” I asked.

“Humans might call them realms,” he explained. “Our world exists as one of many planes.” He pointed to another image, which consisted of multiple concentric circles. “A specific god oversees each plane, though they have been known to interfere with others.”

Humans, druids, and now Dogu, all worshiped different deities. “Who is this variant’s rightful god?” I asked.

“I’m no soothsayer or shaman, but it’s said that Erezos was here from the beginning.”

“Not Aethier?”

He disregarded my question and continued on. I huffed an impatient sigh and followed.

The air was balmy and stale here. Every sound bounced off the stone walls, surrounding us in the hollowed echoes of our shuffling footsteps.

I stopped to marvel at this new chamber, staggered by the immense effort put into its construction. These were not the same small, oval stones that made up the village’s buildings. These were massive, rectangular, red-brown bricks that could easily crush ten men beneath them. And there were hundreds, if not thousands, of them, making up the entire structure.

At the other end of the antechamber, a large, gray boulder blocked our path to the dais’ center. The flickering torchlight revealed faint drag marks, indicating it was pushed into place. I swallowed hard against the fear that laced my veins, the gravity of the horrors that may lurk beyond the doorway sinking in.

“What now?” I asked.

Balis stared at it, seeming to weigh options I didn’t see. There was no way I’d be of any help moving that massive thing.

His palm settled against its smooth surface. “I can move it,” he said. “But there’s no telling how loud it will be.”

My jaw fell slack, and I snapped it shut.

“Or I could send a tremor through it,” he mused, “to break it up. It would be quieter…”

“But?” I prompted.

“It would take a lot of time and mana.”

I sensed from his gaze that he was awaiting my decision.

I thought back on Eurok, the power he emitted to end the adraknid—how exhausted he was when it was over.

While druids were capable of wielding immense power, it seemed to cultivate certain side effects, physical exhaustion being one of them. I had no idea what Balis’ limitations were, but if he wore himself out, and the men were alerted to our presence, we would have to fight.

“Drag it,” I said.

He didn’t hesitate. He braced his shoulder against the massive stone and heaved in an explosive shove. The boulder lurched into movement and scraped across the ground, just as we expected. A loud, long groan echoed through the antechamber as he opened a space wide enough to pass through. The fetor of decay hit us in a staggering wave.

The elixir above my lip was still present, but the delicate magic did little to mask this grotesquely inhibiting stench.

“Oh, gods.” My hand clapped over my mouth as I fought every involuntary convulsion in my stomach.

We exchanged a wary glance, then squeezed through the space. Thick darkness consumed the torchlight, leaving me uneasy, as if we stood in the belly of a massive chamber.

Balis handed me the torch. “Don’t move.”

I froze. That whirlwind ensued again, whipping vulgar air against my face. He emerged, teeth and claws, wrapped in black silken fur, his emerald eyes glinting at me in the fluttering torchlight. How anyone could ever get used to this, I didn’t know. He stepped into the darkness as I stood in my halo of flame and safety, waiting for him to return. The bitter bite of my inadequacy gnawed at my pride.

He was back a moment later, his transformation a burst that was faster than the last. “They’re dead.”

For the first time, I witnessed a display of intense anger hewn into his handsome features.

He hesitated, as if the words made him sick. “All of them.”

“H-How? Illness?”

He shook his head, teeth clenched, sending a tense ripple through his jaw. His fingers dug against his scalp as he turned on his heel, pacing.

I tracked every step, waiting for our next move. We were here to save Eiresh, but when he slowed and met my gaze, tension thickened to something tangible.

We needed to end these men for what they were.

Murderers.

“How did fifty men overpower an entire village?” I whispered.

“I don’t know.”

“Let me see.”

His brows lifted, clearly surprised. “You’re sure?”

For a moment, I thought I might change my mind. Instead, I nodded.

After a pensive glance, he raised his hand toward the ceiling. In a flare of amber light, a burst of flame erupted from his palm, illuminating the massive chamber. He wouldn’t sustain it for long. The shadows burned crimson as the firelight danced across the sea of bodies. My blood went cold. And everything—everything inside me collapsed in on itself. The world swayed beneath my feet. Males, females, children. Their throats had been slit and their bodies piled atop one another. Left here to rot.

I recoiled, and Balis’ flames dissipated, leaving nothing but the torchlight. Unable to choke it down any longer, my stomach purged its meager contents onto the stones. I found myself thankful for the veil of darkness as Balis rushed to my side. He retrieved the torch from me as I hunched over, bracing my weight on my knees.

“Who are they?” I asked between staunched breaths.

He placed a gentle, reassuring hand on my back, moving it in small circles. “Poachers.”

I wished the term was unfamiliar. But that black-market bullshit ran rampant in the cesspools of Calrund.

After a moment, he gripped my shoulder, easing me upright.

“Here.” He pressed another vial into my palm. “This will help. Don’t swallow it, though.”

That last bit didn’t sound promising, but I did as instructed. I tossed back the strange, tasteless tonic, then spit. The vile, acidic burn on my tongue and throat dissipated, and my stomach eased completely.

I composed myself and we retraced our steps, leaving the way we came.

“The druid army’s been tracking these bastards for months,” he said, voice echoing throughout the stone corridors. “There must be prisoners—survivors.”

My lips formed a line, letting him sort his thoughts as we trudged through the final chamber.

His head shook, conveying his frustration. “Dogu villages are protected—wards, elemental defenses. They never should have been able to enter with malintent.” Concern tugged his features into a frown.

We emerged into the bright silver light of the moon, and I drew in a lungful of fresh, summer air. “They have some way around your magic—that’s obvious,” I said. “But aside from that, these men are fucking morons.”

Balis inclined his chin.

“I mean, you saw them.” I gestured in the camp’s direction. “Tripping over each other, hollering throughout the whole damn forest, stealing horses—these aren’t professionals, Balis.”

He watched me with strange intrigue. The depth of his stare had me thinking about trees and wanting to climb them. But now wasn’t the time for that. These bastards had to be dealt with, and I was committed to helping deal out their punishment.

“They were hired by someone,” I said. “Let me help you figure out who.”