Chapter 14

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

M idafternoon, Kormac found himself in the library, not a place he often visited—nor did anyone else for that matter, judging by the dust on the spines of the books. As a boy, he'd spent most of his time training. Not just training to fight, which every young male learned, but also how to rule. His father constantly dropped tidbits that he only later realized where valuable nuggets of wisdom.

There are always two sides to a dispute, and you must discern which is the more valid.

Taking advice is a good thing, but if you can't make your own decisions then you shouldn't be ruling.

Or his favorite: People might deny it, but they want a firm hand guiding them. At the same time, there is a fine line between governing and tyranny.

Kormac strolled toward a bookcase, the first of three, and read the titles displayed. Guide to Raising Horses in Captivity. The Basics of Husbandry. How-to books on subjects that didn't interest. The lower shelves appeared to be on fighting and warcraft. In the next bookcase there was a large section dedicated to fables and poems. Who knew there were so many? He'd never indulged in fiction. Too busy dealing with reality.

The last bookcase held a history section that proved to be small and crowded with ledgers detailing the territory expenditures and tax collection. A glance through the books dedicated to the past showed them all to be recent, as in the last two centuries or so. Definitely not old enough to explain why they guarded Risead Pass, and none mentioning Airiok.

As he browsed, Fionna entered. He could tell without even turning. She exuded a presence and emitted a perfume that he recognized instantly.

"I see we both had the same idea," she stated, coming to stand by him.

"We did. Alas, I've not found anything useful. None of these books go back far enough to be of any use to our current situation."

"Destroyed, removed, or stored elsewhere?" she mused.

"I don't know. Until now, we had no reason to study the past."

"It would be odd if no one put down an account of what happened. Most cultures tend to keep a record."

He swept a hand. "This is it. Accounts on crop yields. Invoices of sales. Births and deaths."

Fionna craned to look around the small space then, without a word, exited the room.

Where was she gallivanting off to now? Hopefully not back to the dungeon to converse with his charming friend.

He emerged from the library to find her looking at her feet as she paced the length of wall from the doorway of the library to the corner of the hall.

"What are you doing?"

"I'll tell you in a moment." She slipped past him to go back into the library, and he whirled to see her once more watching her feet as she placed them end to end from doorway to bookcase.

"I assume there's a reason for your odd behavior?"

She glanced at him. "Your library is too small."

"Given it still has empty shelves to fill, I'd disagree."

She shook her head. "You misunderstand. The library is twenty of my feet wide on the inside, add another two or so to account for the bookcases, another two at the most to account for the thickness for the wall, giving a total of around twenty-four. However, the hallway is forty."

He frowned, eyed the space around him and exited, glancing from the doorway to the hall that extended much longer until it turned the corner. Despite having seen around that bend his entire life, he looked again, looked at the second hall with no entrance to a room for a good distance.

He returned to find Fionna inspecting the bookcases against the wall they'd both just measured and stated, "You think there is a hidden chamber."

"It seems quite likely given the size, don't you think? And we already know your citadel has secret passages, why not a room as well?"

"Perhaps they bricked it over," he said even as it sounded inane. Why would anyone close off a room? They could always use the space.

"Let's find out shall we," she murmured. Her fingers ran over the spines of the books, boring things about husbandry and crops and even a tome on grass. The one that made no sense was a book on sailing. They had no accessible seas, and while they had lakes and rivers, none required a craft with sails.

She had to rise on the tip of her toes to yank the dusty blue sailing book.

Click.

The noise sent his hand to the hilt of his sword. His eyes widened as a section of the bookcase shifted, revealing a doorway.

She turned a grin on him. "Found it."

Without waiting for him to secure the space, she entered. He quickly followed in time to see her conjuring a ball of light that lifted to illuminate the snug study. A large desk rested against the wall, above it a shelf with a half dozen books.

Fionna blew the dust off the one sitting on the desk and craned for a peek. "The script is faded, but readable."

"What does it say?" He leaned over her shoulder to look and noticed the resemblance between this writing and that in the cave. In other words, a language he couldn't decipher.

"It's in an old tongue no longer in use," she murmured.

"Looks to be the same as the writing in the cave."

She cast him a sharp glance. "Which you never mentioned before."

"I forgot."

"A good thing Lomar remembered."

The dig had him bristling. "I didn't think it important since it couldn't be read. But if you're that interested, Khaal transcribed it in a journal. I can show it to you if you'd like."

"I would like, but first…" She squinted and began to read slowly. "It is a month since we vanquished—" she paused. "There's that symbol again that I don't recognize so we'll assume it stands for whatever threat we're dealing with. He goes on to say, ‘I've been travelling the country, reassuring those who survived, setting in motion the plans for rebuilding, and garnering support for my rule. The people are eager for a sense of normalcy.'"

"The mention of rebuilding makes it sound like it was written by Airiok." Despite not being a scholar, Kormac found himself intrigued.

"And he was quite the penman." She flipped through the book, pages and pages of tight script. "It will take me a while to read through this. Do you mind if I take it to my room?"

"Go ahead. It's not like I can decipher it." He pulled down a slimmer tome and opened it to see drawings. "What are these books?"

"It appears to be a bestiary," she murmured, standing close enough he could smell the soap emanating from her hair. "There's a kreean—fancy name for an oversized rat—and an ogre. What looks to be a salamander, but not the fire-breathing kind."

"There are lizards that breathe fire?"

"Yes. They're much like smaller, wingless versions of dragons. But this one appears to be spewing something different."

He turned a page and there was a maakath. "We see these in the mountains mostly. They only descend from the heights if they're hungry."

Some of the creatures he recognized—bears, wolves—but others…

"This can't be real," he scoffed, seeing a spider depicted as looming over a man.

"Oh, they exist. Or used to. We're seeing signs of them returning all over."

The next page showed a dragon.

She tapped it. "There's been an influx of these beasts all over the continent, even versions of them at sea."

"I saw one," he admitted softly. "It was resting in the pass where we found the cave."

"Where there's one there will be more," she warned. Her finger traced the writing beside the image of the dragon. "It says here that lances and spears with elekium tips work best against them. Aim for the chest or eyes. It also says if you see its mouth open wide, take cover."

"Why?" he asked.

"Because the big ones can spew acid or fire."

While said so with all seriousness, he had a hard time believing it. Animals, even big and rare ones, did not exhale flames. And no, he didn't care what the stories claimed. Fiction wasn't reality.

The next book he grabbed had him hissing and dropping it. "It stung me," he exclaimed, glaring at it.

"Hmm." Fionna didn't touch but did lean over to eye it. "It's been spelled."

"Why would anyone spell a book?"

"So only the right person reads it, I imagine."

"Can you?"

"Perhaps, but I'll need to disable the safeguard on it."

"Can't you just wave your hand and magic it off?"

"I could try but I'd rather not rush to remove the hex on it lest I destroy it by accident. I think I will start with Airiok's book as it might tell me what's in the spelled book before I waste time trying to open it."

The last book appeared to be images and descriptions of items. He flipped through it only to pause on a page with a detailed drawing of his bracers. "I recognize these." He pushed up his sleeves and for some reason shivered when she ran her finger over the metal encasing his forearms.

"They have the same symbols as the medallion Lomar wears, plus some," she murmured. "Strength. Courage. Protection. Warning. And then there's the one I don't know plus two more…"

She traced them and while it wasn't his skin, his mouth went dry, and his cock swelled. Might be time to spend an evening with a willing woman, seeing as how something so innocent had him hard.

More page turns brought them to a picture of the medallion. "This appears to be an inventory of items," he surmised.

"Not just items, but ones capable of detecting and protecting against what is possessing your friend. Have you seen some of these in your citadel?"

"No. We're not one for adornment," he stated as they saw rings and more necklaces. The one that had him staring longest? A sword of great length. He tapped it. "I wonder what happened to this."

"If it's not in the armory perhaps tucked away in a storage room?"

"Possible, although we are not ones to keep things with no use. We tend to repurpose the materials."

"Surely a blade like this wouldn't have been melted down," she murmured.

"If it cracked or broke, then yes, as even the best blacksmith couldn't have repaired it."

"Lomar mentioned a woman in town who might be in possession of some old artifacts."

"Lady Frieda."

"You know her?"

"Everyone does. My father almost married her daughter, but she ran off with a travelling merchant. Which wasn't a bad thing since he met my mother soon after."

"And didn't run away?" she quipped.

He couldn't blame her for the poor impression his mother left. "He admired her strength of will and how she rode a horse. He always said she won him over with her vice-like thighs." Only as he said it did it occur to him for the first time how his father meant it.

His horror must have shown because Fionna smirked. "You look like a man who just realized his parents had sex."

"Of course they did, or I wouldn't be here," he stated, feeling an odd heat in his cheeks.

"Ah, but it's different to imagine them doing their duty versus…" She didn't finish her sentence. Didn't need to.

"Is that how you see sex, as duty?" He tried to flip his embarrassment around.

"I don't see it at all. I've chosen to remain celibate."

With that pert reply, she left with Airiok's journal tucked to her chest.

Left him with the knowledge she abstained from the most carnal of pleasures. Why? Had she simply not had the right partner to teach her what she was missing out on?

For some reason, the thought made him even harder.

He exited the hidden room, and a tug of the book closed it. Fionna hadn't gone far, waylaid in the hall outside by his mother.

He emerged to grumble, "I thought you left."

"And leave you alone to entertain the envoy from Acca?" his mother stated much too sweetly. "I actually spoke to the cook about preparing a traditional meal for her to enjoy. Invited some of the local nobility to join as well."

Nobility. A lofty name for ranchers and farmers who'd done well for themselves. "This better not be some new attempt to marry me off to Horace's daughter. I've already told you I'm not interested."

"But she's a lovely girl with excellent hips," his mother protested.

"With absolutely nothing intelligent to say."

"Who says you need to talk to her?" his mother guilelessly stated.

Fionna coughed.

"Don't tell me you're getting ill. Must be all that fresh air. Such a change from the smelly swamp." His mother sounded nice saying it, but the insult remained.

"Actually, Acca is almost bog-free. Turned out there was a blockage that wasn't allowing the water to drain. Now that it's been removed, the ground is drying up, and we're looking at planting our own crops in the spring."

"Oh." The reply stumped his mother, but only for a moment. "How different it must be to have to see and deal with men. I hear Mystic Keep only allows women."

"The keep is primarily female, but the towns and hamlets are a mixture. You should visit. We could give you a tour."

His mother recoiled. "Visit the witches? Never."

"But I thought magic didn't exist," Fionna said looking quite innocent if you ignored the spark of mischief in her eyes.

Mother's eyes narrowed. "You're a sly one."

"Why thank you. That's the nicest thing you've said thus far. Now about this dinner. When do you think it will be ready? I'm famished."

"I'll go check on it." Mother stomped off, muttering, and Kormac couldn't help but chuckle.

"Now you've done it," he warned.

"I don't think your mother likes me," she impishly replied.

"Fear not, you have company as she doesn't like many people."

"I should put this in my room before the repast." She waved the book.

"Do you want Khaal's journal now as well?"

"Later. This will keep me busy for a bit. I might even need some help deciphering it as I haven't practiced this language in a while."

"How do you even know it?"

"My mentor said a witch should know the language of the ancients even though we only had a few books written in it that survived the flooding."

"Was it worth the effort?"

"Yes, but only because it had useful tips for a witch. While I would like to dig into this tome as soon as possible, I'd also like to visit Lomar tonight."

"Why?"

"Because I need to study him. I've seen how the curse looks by day. I want to see it at night."

"We'll go after the evening meal." And then in case it wasn't clear, "Together."

"Very well. Tomorrow, I'd like to go visit the Lady Frieda. If you could provide me direction?—"

"I'll take you."

"I don't need you accompanying me everywhere. I'm sure you have important warlord duties to attend."

"This is important. If the Lady has artifacts we can use to defend ourselves, then having me along will be more likely to convince her to hand them over."

"You mean confiscate."

"I don't steal from my people," was his cold reply.

She cocked her head. "You really aren't what I expected."

"And what did you expect?"

"A smelly barbarian. People say the Srayth are wild men who are mad about horses and fight all the time."

He arched a brow. "Well, we are intense about our steeds and we do like to fight, but I'd hardly call us smelly or barbaric."

"I'll grant you smell better than expected, but until your women have more rights, savages you remain. If you'll excuse me." She swept off with a swish of her skirts that had him staring long enough his mother returned and slapped his arm.

"No."

"No what?" he asked, glancing down at her.

"No, you can't have the witch."

He really wished his mother hadn't forbidden it because if there was one thing Kormac couldn't resist? Defying her wishes.