29. Dagmara

Darting over to the figure, Dagmara dropped to a crouch to examine it closer. “Martine!”

Martine was circling the perimeter of the room, running her hand against the stone to confirm there were no other exits. She halted, immediately at Dagmara’s side.

On closer inspection, this animal wasn’t anything Dagmara recognized. It was the size of a wolf, but its fur was an iridescent silver, and its underbelly was replaced with something scale-like. Its fur had a violet tint. Its jowls were gaunt, mimicking a skeleton, and its rib cage protruded from its chest at an awkward angle. Long talons extended from its webbed paws, and the creature’s eyes were sealed shut.

What was this animal? Was it responsible for the crater or the clearing of the town?

“It looks dead,” Martine noted.

She was right, of course. Its chest was unmoving.

“Then we shouldn’t touch it,” Dagmara replied, shuddering. She rose from the ground, returning her attention to the sentence on the wall.

“Martine, what language is this?” Dagmara asked.

Martine straightened, back on her feet. “It is a dialect of Ilusaurian, usually only spoken in the southern region.”

“Any chance you speak it?”

“It is what we spoke in Nouchenne.” Martine nodded, taking a step closer and squinting her eyes in the dim light.

Impatiently, Dagmara waited. It was no longer than eight words, so it couldn’t be taking her that long to translate. What was taking Martine so long? Would she tell her the truth of what was etched into the stone?

Then Martine snapped her head to Dagmara, her eyes surprisingly wide. “Tell me again why you wanted to come here.”

Dagmara startled. “What?”

“Tell me.”

“I was curious.”

“Enough of the lies, Princess,” Martine demanded, her hand shifting to the sword at her waist. “Why?”

“I saw it circled on a map,” Dagmara blurted out.

“A map?”

“Sabien said it was business for the king, and that’s all I know,” Dagmara said. She gestured to the wall. “What does it say?”

“It says ‘The First Prince will rise.’” Martine’s face was hardened like a soldier, but a glimmer of fear flashed across her eyes.

A pit formed in Dagmara’s stomach. The First Prince. That is who the assassins were connected to. Why would King Claude have this city cleared? Was he the one who wrote the text on the wall?

There was a clatter of hooves above them, and both girls slipped into the shadows, away from the harsh light that cut through the opening in the earth. A shadow raced across the sun, and the loud hooves signaled that there were multiple horses above, moving fast.

“Are there others in town?” Dagmara whispered.

“There shouldn’t be,” Martine replied, withdrawing her sword carefully.

“Did you tell anyone we were coming here?” Dagmara reached into her bodice, finding the edge of her throwing stars, ready to withdraw them.

Martine was quiet.

Snapping her head, Dagmara glared at her guard. “Did you?”

“Shhh,” Martine held out her hand.

Suddenly Dagmara heard a faint noise. It was like a quiet shuffling on the cool floor, or a slight shift of fabric.

It was neither of those, however. It was the sound of the dead animal in the corner catching their scent.

With another sniff, the mysterious hound began to stir. The scales on its stomach seemed to radiate, and its eyes jolted open, revealing glowing circles beneath its lids. It pounced to its four massive paws, standing nearly four feet tall, its jaw opening to release a snarl. Drool fell from its massive canines before it launched itself forward.

Dagmara already held a throwing star in her hands and chucked it at the creature. It raked across the hound’s cheek, causing it to stumble, but it didn’t draw blood.

Martine launched herself across the cave, thrusting her sword underneath its neck. With a slick crunch, the sword went straight through the creature’s throat. Martine kicked the hound to dislodge her sword, and it collapsed onto the stone with a harsh thud.

Martine reached down to pick up Dagmara’s throwing star and examined it meticulously. “Where did you get these?”

Dagmara didn’t have time to answer. She heard more snarls and her attention was pulled to the gaping hole in the center of the room. One by one, the massive hounds began to crawl their way into the open, their talons scratching against the stone. They clobbered into one another, each fighting for the surface.

“Run!” Martine yelled at Dagmara, widening her stance as she prepared to fight.

Nearly a dozen hounds were making their way out into the open, and it was impossible to fight them all. And yet, Dagmara knew she wouldn’t be able to outrun them. However, it was either stay and be mauled to death, or run until her health gave out…then be mauled to death. She prayed her adrenaline would keep her heart in check.

“You can’t fight them alone, come with me!” Dagmara screamed. “Run!” She withdrew the jasny bomb from her belt and chucked it at the center of the room. In one bright explosion, the cave shook, and a few hounds stumbled back into the depths of the pit.

Martine let out a shriek, but used the distraction to take off running toward the exit. They could both hear the thumping of the hounds’ paws on the ground behind them. Dagmara severely underestimated their speed.

“Don’t stop!” Martine yelled before turning around to face the nearest hound. It clobbered her to the ground in seconds. Martine crashed to her back, thrusting her sword upward, and it caught in the hound’s massive jaw.

Skidding to a halt, Dagmara flung another throwing star at the hound who had Martine pinned. Her aim was true, this time lodging into a soft section directly behind its ear. It let out a loud cry before crumpling onto Martine in a heap.

The others were too close. Dagmara made eye contact with the nearest hound, seeing nothing but pure evil in its eyes. She stumbled back as the monster leapt for her, about to dig its talons into her chest. Moments before, a whiz of an arrow pierced through the air. It sliced through the scales of the hound, driving straight through its chest. The monster slammed against the wall and crumpled to the ground.

Glancing over her shoulder, Dagmara saw their rescuers. Claude stood in the center of the tunnel, flanked by his two guards. Pierre, the one who had pulled Dagmara from the balcony on the first day, was still holding the bow that saved her life. Claude wielded his shining sword, and the third man, his large size humorous in the narrow tunnel, wielded a longsword.

The king’s eyes glowed silver in the dimly lit space, and three large dogs manifested.

“Get down!” Claude yelled, his voice booming.

Dagmara obeyed immediately, dropping to the stone as his three dogs leapt forward into the oncoming hounds. Watching in fascination, Dagmara noticed that they were merely a distraction. The monstrous hounds went after the dogs, but they were projections of Claude’s mind and not a physical entity. The real hound’s talons raked through the air, unable to make contact with something that didn’t exist.

The burly guard raced into the chaos first, decapitating the first hound that leapt toward him.

Pierre fired an arrow into another violet creature’s chest before skidding to the ground beside Martine. He shoved the dead beast off her and helped her to her feet.

Claude didn’t race into battle. He strode into it. His dogs distracted the hounds so that Claude could slip behind one of the monsters and kill it in one blow.

Another creature leapt toward Claude, but he knocked it aside with his forearm before slaughtering it.

Blood splattered the walls, thick and black. The dozen hounds were eviscerated in moments. They stood no chance against the Guardian of the Mind and the Ilusaurian guards.

It was both horrifying and mesmerizing to watch how fluid Claude’s motions were as he killed one after another. He wasn’t even wearing armor, but voluntarily fought off the beasts. Dark blood splattered his clothes, his back muscles visible through the garment. Every thrust and stab of his sword should have sent pure fear through Dagmara, but there was an underlying attraction she didn’t want to admit. By the guardians, the Mad King was a force to be reckoned with, and Dagmara wanted more.

After Claude slayed the final monster, the cavern fell silent. His two guards scanned for more threats while he stood still, eyeing the destruction before him.

“You alright?” Martine whispered, reaching underneath Dagmara’s arm to help her to her feet.

“Fine,” Dagmara responded, pulling away to stand on her own. As soon as she was upright, she met Claude’s gaze.

He slammed his sword into its sheath before starting toward her. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Dagmara tried to step away, tripping over a dead hound. She had to think fast.

“I wanted to know why this town was evacuated,” Dagmara admitted, hoping the truth would help her. She couldn’t let him know that she had seen this town circled on Sabien’s paper. Part of the truth was the best type of lie.

Claude’s jaw ticked. “You didn’t think to ask me?”

Dagmara’s mouth parted but she quickly shut it. No, that had never crossed her mind. “Would you have told me the truth?”

“When have I lied to you thus far?” Claude countered.

“I…” Dagmara’s throat tightened, her heart beating furiously inside her chest. Before she had a chance to respond, the king shifted his attention to her guard.

“And you accompanied her?” his voice roared.

Martine dipped her head, not meeting his gaze. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty.”

“When a town is evacuated it means no one is allowed there,” Claude stated. “I should have you removed.”

“This isn’t her fault,” Dagmara insisted. “You could have told her why her family was evacuated.”

Claude jerked his chin back as if the statement offended him.

“She’s the one who warned me,” Pierre blurted out from across the tunnel. “If it wasn’t for Martine we wouldn’t have made it here in time.”

Dagmara’s jaw dropped. She thought she could trust Martine to keep this a secret, but she instead chose to tell Claude’s guard?

“Right?” Pierre asked in Ilusaurian, looking to the large guard for support.

The burly man was busy wiping off blood from his longsword. He shrugged, not even glancing up.

“I’ll decide whether Martine keeps her position,” Claude stated, switching the conversation back to Azuremi. “You two are lucky we were seconds behind you. The hounds seek out anyone who possesses magic. They wake up when they smell magic.”

“They target…guardians?” Martine asked.

Dagmara felt her blood turn to ice. The hound didn’t wake when Dagmara went near it, and she knew Martine had already made that connection.

Claude’s eyes darkened. “They wake when they sense magic nearby.”

He was under the assumption that Dagmara woke the hounds, and he arrived in time. The king had no idea that it was in fact him who had woken the hounds.

“You are not to leave the castle without permission.” Claude pointed a finger at Dagmara. “You are not in Azurem, Princess. Ilusauri isn’t safe to go anywhere you please. I didn’t clear this town for my own enjoyment.”

Then Dagmara noticed Claude’s forearm. His brace was ripped off, revealing his flesh which was raked with a large scratch from the hound’s talons. Claude noticed Dagmara’s gaze, instantly seeing the wound for himself.

Claude cleared his throat and in front of Dagmara’s eyes, the wound vanished.

Dagmara gasped, seeing his forearm perfectly smooth and free from injury. “You can heal yourself?”

“I’m not a Life Guardian,” Claude snapped. “I’ll take care of it later.”

So he hadn’t healed it like Dagmara had watched Aleksy heal his wounds. Claude was only masking the wound—showing Dagmara what he wanted her to see. Claude could hide anything he wanted from her, and she wouldn’t be the wiser.

“Enough of this!” Claude bellowed. “Everyone back to the castle before more of them find us.”

Claude stormed off, and his two guards instantly followed.

Martine approached Dagmara and extended a throwing star toward her.

Accepting the weapon, Dagmara tucked it into her bodice. “Thank you.”

“Of course…Princess,” Martine replied, as if the word was difficult to say.

Dagmara knew she was one mistake away from having her cover blown.