Unleashed Fury (BloodRunes: Book 1), page 1
Unleashed Fury
(BloodRunes: Book 1)
By Laura R Cole
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2011 Laura R Cole
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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PROLOGUE
It had been sleeping.
How long? It wondered groggily.
No answer came and it sank back to sleep.
It vaguely felt the world around it, and drank in the energies of those passing by, idly tasting as they changed generations.
But still it slumbered.
Then there was a whisper; A faint echo that tickled the back of its consciousness, stirring the being. Among the pinpricks of life-forces, one stood out; its bright blood-red aura calling to it. The presence struggled to wake, but the vestiges of sleep held tightly to it and it could only manage a dream-like half-sleep.
It tapped into its vast resources to make contact with the aura, but its movements were lethargic. If it waited until it woke enough to be able to command the power it wanted, the aura would be gone. Frustration fueled its resolve, and it managed a feeble attempt.
Elation suddenly flowed through the being. It had drifted back into sleep, but as it felt the aura come closer, its sleep was disturbed once more and it reached out hungrily.
Its thinking became clearer, and it wondered why it had slept so long.
Memories came flooding back, and the anger began. A deep rumbling growl came from within it, growing louder and louder as it remembered, shaking the very ground. It felt the fear of the life-forces around it and it reveled in the sweet taste, feeding off of the succulent emotion.
The anger was strong now, and the being used it to shake off the last remnants of sleep as it willed the places deep within it to awaken.
Its black aura seeped out and spread across the world and the presence felt as hundreds and then thousands of life-forces were extinguished, sometimes one by one and sometimes in large rushes of power.
It fed upon them all.
Its power was growing stronger. Soon it would be able to break free from the bonds that held it, free to unleash its power on the world and seek revenge on those who dared to confine it here.
Soon.
The power built up within it, surging outward like wildfire spreading across a dry field. The pressure was building. It could not be held back much longer.
And then suddenly the fire was doused, and the presence felt sleepy once more as an unseen force pushed it back deeper into its dark prison.
NO! It struggled to withstand the urge to sink back into sleep, fought off the calm that washed over it, but it was no use.
It slept once more.
Seasons passed, years came and went, and the world eventually forgot about the evil that slumbered beneath their feet. But the being didn’t forget. It may have been delayed, but it was not gone. And this time it dreamt. Dreamt of how it would escape.
And it slept.
And it dreamt.
And then there was a whisper…
CHAPTER 1
Jezebel was fuming by the time her carriage pulled through the gates of her manor. The two stone lions guarding the towering archway growled down at her menacingly, and she scowled back.
How dare he? She raged to herself. Usually she had no trouble turning her father's will into her own, but on this matter it was like trying to budge a stone wall. Infuriatingly stubborn old man. It really is too bad he's so healthy. She paused in her ranting as an interesting thought sprang to mind. Not that accidents can't always happen…
She quickly quelled the thought, however, shaking it aside. The simple fact that he was a noble and a man gave him significant power, and he was extremely well connected on top of that. It would be more trouble to have him gone than it was to change his mind. Normally he was quite nicely wrapped around her little finger.
She clenched and unclenched her fists.
Although it would be rather satisfying. The memory of him patting her shoulder condescendingly and saying, “You're like the son I wish I had, but you're still just a silly woman,” burned like acid in her mind. Just a silly woman indeed. Someday I will hold the power; then he'll see just how ‘silly’ I am. Until then I simply have to endure the torment of his ignorance. He does still control the family fortune, after all. She let out an audible snarl and pounded her fist into her leg. I simply must gain one of the Council seats!
The carriage jerked to a halt just then, catching her off-guard. She stormed out, and threw a berating comment over her shoulder towards the driver for his clumsiness, before stomping inside. She slammed the front door behind her, and dropped her cloak into the waiting arms of one of the servants. Without pausing, she stalked down the hallway into the library, and slammed that door as well for good measure.
She sat down heavily into an armchair and sighed.
No matter. I always get what I want; I'll just have to get the support I need elsewhere.
The thought cheered her considerably, and she reached out to take a sip of wine from the glass that stood ready for her, still chilled. A servant had made her wait for her wine once, but only once...her lips curved into a nasty smile as she allowed herself to entertain the memory for a moment.
Focusing her thoughts once again on the matter at hand, she took another sip. In doing so, she noticed a letter sitting next to the glass. From the look of the seal, it must be from Devon. Her stomach fluttered and she grabbed greedily for the note, tearing it in her haste.
“My lady,” it read, “I am pleased to inform you that the possibility that I had mentioned has indeed become a reality. You should be seeing the results presently.” Jezebel sat back slowly, a smile spreading over her thin lips. She had been humiliated, yes, but revenge would be so sweet…
*
Layna flinched as the front door slammed open, but quickly regained her composure enough to hurry forward to take her mistress's cloak. She caught it in midair with cat-like grace as it was shrugged angrily off the woman’s shoulders. She opened her mouth to ask how the visit with Jezebel’s father had gone, but the raging fire in her mistress's eyes silenced her. She deftly swept the cloak out of the way as the woman stormed past, neither uttering a word during the exchange. The footsteps echoed in the long stone hallway and ended in another crash as Jezebel closeted herself in the library to fume.
Movement caught Layna’s eye and she gave Katrina a knowing smile as her friend snuck out the side door to the library with a look of profound relief on her face at having slipped out unnoticed. No one wanted to be in Lady Jezebel’s way when she was in this type of mood. Even on her best days it was like walking on eggshells around her temper, and lately she’d had more bad days than good.
The lady’s time was consumed by her most recent project to advance her into what she felt was her rightful place, though Layna wasn’t sure exactly where she thought that was. It wasn’t enough for Jezebel that she had been born into one of the wealthiest families of the noble class and her father doted on her every whim. Apparently, her rightful place was even loftier than this exalted rank, and she spent every free moment hatching new schemes to get there. They usually involved whining to her father to get him to do something for her; whether it was giving her the money to open a lace shop – which she planned to make a fortune off, until her father stopped paying people to shop there and she realized it was actual work – or buying her way into yet another social group – until they got sick of her constant self-importance, or they had worn out their usefulness and she moved on.
The latest plan, however, had Jezebel’s favorite lackey, Devon, running around at all hours of the day and night. Layna had an awful feeling in the pit of her stomach that something even more sinister than usual was going on. The basement had been getting a lot more use as of late, and she shuddered to think what that meant. The door that led below was the one place that the servants had been forbidden to enter, and one that Layna was quite sure she never wanted to see.
Devon himself was an eerie presence, and she couldn’t help but feel filthy every time he looked at her with his hungry eyes. His leering stare and loping gait, combined with the strange noises that emerged from the basement when he went below, had led more than one servant to the conclusion that he was not fully human. Legends said that the mages before the Massacre could change their form into animals like horses, bears, and wolves. No doubt these legends were what fueled the bedtime stories meant to scare little children into behaving about creatures like werewolves who would eat the unruly child who snuck out after dark. While she didn’t really believe the stories, she could see how someone might imagine Devon as a werewolf. Though if he were really a powerful enough mage to have rediscovered the lost art of shape-shifting, Layna doubted that even the feelings that he had for the lady – which were obvious to everyone but the lady – would keep him in her service. I’d almost say he looks at her with puppy-dog eyes if he weren’t so much more like a pit-bull.
Footsteps interrupted her brooding and she looked up to see Lord Gryffon strolling down the hallway towards her. He smiled a greeting and she bowed her head to him in acknowledgement, a
Her gaze was drawn upwards, seemingly of its own accord, and her heart stopped as his brown eyes met hers. Her breath caught in her throat. She felt as though the air nearly tingled between them as she waited for him to speak.
He looked undecided for a moment, his eyes searching for something. Then he gave her a quick nod and abruptly turned again, continuing on his way.
He exited out the front door, and Layna’s breathing resumed. She closed her eyes and inhaled his musky smell.
Someone cleared their throat noisily, and she opened her eyes. Katrina raised her eyebrows and shook her head slightly at her.
Layna looked away quickly, her face flushing, and she busied herself by hanging the cloak in the closet. She picked up the duster that had been abandoned upon her mistress’s abrupt arrival and continued dusting down the hall, avoiding Katrina’s gaze. Katrina gave her another pointed look when she peeked over at her, but then made her way towards the kitchen without a word.
Layna pushed open another door, revealing a massive and elaborately decorated sitting room, and she sighed inwardly. It was her mistress's formal sitting room, and consequently was never used, but it had so many places that collected dust. Resigning herself to the arduous task before her, she took a deep breath and set to work cleaning away the dirt of a never-used room.
CHAPTER 2
Jezebel would very much have liked to have skipped the evening services tonight just to spite her father. But, seeing as how he had his hand in several of her projects at the moment, she put on a happy face and attended.
The Temple of Naoham was an impressive building; tall stone columns lined the immense structure, each separated by a stained glass window that even on the darkest night seemed to glow with an unearthly light. The intricate patterns tangled around one another in a mystifying and ever-changing depiction of stories told in the scripture, the magic within them undiluted despite the passage of time.
The number three was prevalent throughout the artwork, a testament to the old ways. Many of the commoners still worshiped the Three and performed the old rites, but most of the noble class had realized the true Word was that of the Sleeping God, Nuko, who would return to them once they had achieved enlightenment and were prepared to have a god walk among them once more. Jezebel's family had been one of the first to comprehend the real meaning behind the scripture's words and had helped lead the conversion to the true religion.
It’s only to be expected that we would have been the ones to grasp the god’s true intent, she thought proudly, her gaze resting on the statue devoted to her grandfather and her family.
Jezebel knelt at the threshold and hooked her little finger on her thumb. She raised the remaining fingers to her mouth, briefly brushing them up against her lips and then touching them to her heart before standing to take her place in the row of seats. People shuffled in and Jezebel's father came to sit beside her. She nodded curtly to him and he patted her on the hand. She resisted the urge to snatch it away and took a deep breath. Patience, she told herself.
The priest strode to the dais, and a hush spread over the room. He stood below a gigantic round window at the front of the temple, his hands together in prayer. All at once, the three dragons that were depicted in the glass came to life and swirled around each other in a turbulent whirlwind. The priest could be heard intoning the homage to the Three and they circled tighter and tighter.
The priest threw up his hands and the dragons burst forth from the image, their suddenly very real wings creating a violent tornado of wind around him. He stood steadfast within its maelstrom, and then turned towards the congregation with a look of pure bliss upon his upturned face as his robes flapped wildly around him.
The three dragons merged their twisting forms together and manifested once more as the single gaping maw of the Sleeping God. Flames poured out of His mouth towards the priest, enveloping him and licking at the air around him. Several gasps could be heard and Jezebel peered around curiously to see who it was. Clearly they didn't spend much time coming to the services if they weren't accustomed to this display of the god's power. It symbolized the cleansing of the world and of the priest so that he was ready to pass on the Word. The fire died down and the shape divided, leaving the three dragons to resume their former positions within the picture which slowly dimmed to become simple glass once more.
“Welcome!” boomed the priest, and he launched immediately into his sermon on preparing for the awakening of the Sleeping God.
Jezebel's attention soon wandered. She didn't need a priest to tell her how to prepare for the god; she was ready for Him now.
She found it hard not to fidget, and couldn't stop her finger from tapping incessantly as the priest rambled on. Devon has been working on this project for weeks now, or is it months? I've lost track. The time to act was upon them.
She had been biding her time to work herself into a position of real power, and recently she’d learned that King Edward's untimely demise may have presented her with a unique opportunity to do just this. She had known already, of course, about his little accident: He had gone riding last week and come back dead upon his horse. It had been the hottest topic of conversation in court, with rumors circulating about the possibility of foul play. The hunting party with him claimed that they had seen nothing untoward, however, saying that he had simply collapsed in his saddle in the excitement of the chase. The healers eventually declared the cause of death a weak and overextended heart, and it was determined to be nothing more than a tragic accident. Jezebel had her own suspicions, but that was another matter.
The part that now interested her was what she had gleaned during a luncheon with her cousin the other day. Because King Edward's unfortunate passing had cut short his reign before he could fulfill his duty and produce an heir, it apparently left the Council responsible for choosing the new ruler. Consequently, the entire Council would then be subjected to a vote to renew their position or be replaced. Having all six Council seats up for grabs would greatly increase Jezebel’s chances of gaining one, and could finally put her into a position of authority that she so dearly craved. And so deserve. With her father's influence backing her, Jezebel would have been sure to be voted into one of them. But since he was being difficult and withholding that support, she would have to use…other means.
The outcome of Devon’s operation could potentially solve this little dilemma for her, and he had recently found a new contact. There had only been rumors reported so far, but if even a small portion of what the rumors contained was true...
She stole a glance at her father, and bit back a scowl. She did so hope that it proved fruitful.
*
Jonathan shivered involuntarily as a cold breeze blew over his naked body. He was conscious of the many eyes upon him, their whites stood out in stark contrast to the dark shadows cast by the hooded black cloaks that served to veil their identities. He held his arms awkwardly in an attempt to cover himself. If they were disgusted by his form, however, none made any outward sign and he drew a deep breath to steady himself.
A cloaked figure led him in a solemn procession, past the lines of eyes, towards the altar at the front of the secret temple. His own eyes widened as the figure in front of him stopped at the base, and stepped aside to lay bare the scene before them. A towering sculpture of Nuko, the Sleeping God, stood staring down at him both hands outstretched. One cupped towards him as if expecting something and the other was held palm outwards with fingers spread. Chained to the latter was a beautiful young girl as naked as he, shackled at both wrists and ankles, with a spiked collar encircling her delicate neck. Her head lolled about on the chain attached to her collar, and she watched him through confused, unfocused eyes.
He felt himself responding to her sexuality, and a blush crept up his face as he remembered his exposed state. He fought hard to control himself, and tried to put the embarrassment out of his mind. He knew what was expected of him; he had spent years working towards this advancement. After glancing at his escort who gave him an almost imperceptible nod, he started towards the girl. Even through her drug-induced haze, Jonathan could see the terror behind her eyes, but his advance never slowed. Soon, her eyes rolled back in her head. A single tear squeezed out to trace a glittering path down her cheek and eventually fall upon the floor.
