Seeds of Sorrow (Immortal Realms Book 1)

Travion was waiting for him on the other side of the archway as Draven passed through the Veil into Midniva. Rayvnin tossed his head in protest at the sudden appearance of another stallion and rider before them. As Draven reined him to a halt, the kelpie reared before settling, letting out a snort of displeasure. His black horn glinted in the moonlight, piercing the air as strikingly as a blade drawn in the night. Travion eyed the creature with disdain before looking to Draven.

“Still riding that beast, are you? A simple horse won’t do?”

“Do you remember what happened to the horses we brought to Andhera? You call Rayvnin a beast . . .” Draven merely shook his head.

The horses had sprouted giant black wings and spikes along their necks, which hadn’t even been the worst of it. They’d become ferocious and bloodthirsty. Their teeth grew razor-sharp and their saliva acidic, so any who survived their bite did so only to lose the limb that had been bitten. Training them had been nearly as difficult as attempting to ride a manticore. After the first were-tiger had lost his life, Draven had decided horses were not worth the risk. They’d put them all down, not trusting them to not head into the nearest village on a hungry rampage.

“Bloody Andhera,” Travion muttered bitterly.

Draven would have fought against that curse had he not been presently in Midniva due to bloody Andherian actions. Drawing his kelpie up alongside Travion, Draven pulled out the map from inside his black velvet waistcoat and opened it before him.

“While we have plenty to tackle tonight, you and I will head after the chimera that seems to be guarding the roads leading into Hiregarde. Channon and his pack will sniff out the lamia in the village just a few miles from here. If three bodies are all that have been found, it should only be one creature, but they will make certain of it.” Draven looked to the wolf, who currently stood naked in his human form, blond hair shaggy and ruffled from th​​e wind.

He stepped up to the kelpie and allowed Draven to point out where they were currently situated on the map and where the wolves were likely to find the guilty lamia. When Channon had oriented himself with their position, he let out a grunt of acknowledgement.

“Shall we leave at once, sire?”

Draven nodded and watched as Channon returned to wolf form. While he was often a lighthearted individual, his Captain of the Guard could always be counted on to accomplish whatever mission Draven set before him. With a loud, eerie howl, Channon signaled his pack, and the were-wolves left, kicking up a small cloud of dust in their wake.

“What of the vampires? We haven’t confirmed their location. Are we not better suited to following them?” Travion questioned.

“No. General Ailith and the harpies will track them. They know all the signs of a vampire and will hunt them down and secure them. Meanwhile—”

“Meanwhile, we shall take on the fire breathing hellspawn,” Travion muttered. “I sorely regret not polishing off that bottle of mead in my study.”

Draven looked at his brother and sighed. “I am one of the few able to glamour a chimera. Just don’t get in its way and you should be fine.”

Travion was giving him a look of mild irritation, like one unsure if he should argue a point or simply smack the offender.

“Your Majesty, we’ll be heading out now.” General Ailith stood beside him, her tall form clothed in leather and chainmail, a sword strapped to either hip, and several blades around both thighs.

The other harpies stood off to his left, having landed and stayed in formation. They were prepared to embark on their own hunt, a glint of hunger and determination in their eyes.

“Go. And, general? When the culprits are found, notify me at once. I wish to be there when the final questioning takes place.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.” Ailith bowed her head and then turned back to her squadron.

With a loud beat of wings, the harpies took to the air once more, leaving Draven and Travion with the small infantry of men who had come with their king from Midniva.

Turning his mount to face Travion’s men, he eyed their steady gazes. “It is unlikely that the chimera has wandered too far from where the first bodies were found. When they find a location ripe with food, they seldom leave it. Once we have located its burrow, you will surround the space and allow for myself and King Travion to approach it on foot. It is imperative that you remember: no sudden movements. Their fire isn’t the only part to be concerned about. The serpent head on their back end has a paralyzing bite.”

With those words of warning issued, Travion called for his men to steel themselves, and the troop moved as one unit down the lone road.

“Have you any notion as to what is happening?” Travion kept his voice low so that it was only Draven who would hear.

“I haven’t. It is not uncommon for one creature to attempt sneaking past our watches . . . but this is something I haven’t seen in many a century. This feels larger than mere coincidence.”

“I didn’t want to say it out loud, but that has crossed my mind too.”

They fell silent, each brother falling into his own thoughts on what this could mean for their kingdoms. The creatures of Andhera were well aware of what fate awaited them if they broke the laws and traveled into Midniva to feast on humans. What could possibly be provoking them to ignore all common sense and risk King Draven’s wrath?

Their journey took them just under an hour. As they approached the area where the first bodies had been found, Draven stopped the men and slid off Rayvnin’s back. He could smell it in the air: charred flesh and wild animal.

Raising his arm, Draven motioned for the men to circle out.

“Keep your eyes open for a large hole in the ground. It will have dug itself a burrow to sleep the day away. Now that the sun is down, be cautious. It will be hungry.”

Beside him, Travion shifted a shield onto his forearm and drew his sword from its sheath. Draven met his familiar blue gaze, and silently they acknowledged they were ready to proceed. Unspoken words had always been easy with Travion. After centuries bound together in the depths of their father’s castle, they had learned the innermost crevices of each other’s minds.

Not even several millennia in Andhera had been able to steal that away from him.

With the soldiers fanning out into the woods, Draven followed the smell in the air, his footsteps cautious as he moved deeper into the shroud of trees. All around them was silence, the forest too quiet. A sure sign that there was a predator lurking in the darkness.

“Be cautious,” he whispered. “I believe it is—”

A shriek of pain and terror cut him off, followed by several shouts and a flash of fire that lit up the woods to the left of them. In the flash, Draven could make out several soldiers converging on the large, three-headed beast. Cursing, he ran toward them.

“Back away!” he shouted.

They didn’t listen. One of their own was pinned beneath the front claws of the monster, its lion paws heavy upon his chest, crushing the air out of him. The fierce lion head roared a warning cry at a soldier, who sliced at it with a sword. In retaliation, the goat head that rose from its back opened and shot a stream of flame into the soldier’s face.

Another scream of pain filled the air as the man dropped to the ground, hands beating at his face and chest as the fire melted them away.

The goat head blended into the creature’s lower half, which consisted of sturdy black fur-covered legs and hooved feet. If that wasn’t monstrous enough, the large, scaly tail that completed the chimera ended in a serpent’s head, a bite from which could kill a mortal man almost instantly.

“Back up!” Draven yelled as he came nearer. “Keep your distance, but surround it, so that it is trapped here. Do not get close enough to be hit by its flame!” Draven pressed a hand to Travion’s chest. “That means you as well.”

His brother slapped his hand away. “I’ll be pissed if I’m to leave you to battle that thing on your own. Do what you must, but I am going in with you.”

Draven shot him an irritated look—his brother never seemed keen on doing the things that were best for him. But, knowing there was no arguing with Travion, he simply growled. “Watch yourself.”

Together, they approached the chimera. Draven drew his magic about him and slid into his invisibility glamour. Raising his hand up before him, he sought to find the dregs of the creature’s mind. Travion stepped away from him, moving in the direction of the serpent head.

While his own footsteps were silent, the beast was not so distracted by the feast at his feet as to ignore the dark force approaching its side. Invisible or not, its many heads could scent him on the wind. Draven ducked just in time to miss the blaze of flame shot in his general direction. Rolling, he came up near the chimera’s lion head, and instead of flames felt sharp claws tear down through his side, shredding his velvet waistcoat and flesh all in one go as the chimera sought to find the unseen force bent on attacking it.

Groaning as pain lanced through his side, Draven grabbed handfuls of lion’s mane as his invisibility glamour slid away from him and a wide jaw spread and darted for him. Clenching onto it, he steadied the creature, forearms flexing as it struggled against his hold.

Behind him, Travion blocked a burst of flame with his shield, swinging out at the serpent’s head attempting to lash at him. There was a sharp hiss as the tip of his blade cut through part of its neck.

Pulling his attention away from his brother, Draven looked into the eyes of the chimera, predator staring down predator. With his mind, he reached out to the essence of its thoughts, struggling against the pull of all three heads. At the connection, he felt the overwhelming desire to kill rather than be killed coming from the creature.

Furious at the attack, the chimera rolled, taking Draven with it. As his form hit the damp earth of the forest, he steeled his body to move where the animal took him, keeping his eyes locked with those of the lion. He reached out mentally, pushing against its resistance, fighting to take control of its mind to lull it into gentle submission.

It bucked violently, causing his form to whip into the air. Draven lost the hold of one hand and found sharp fangs latching onto his shoulder. With a roar of frustration and agony, Draven swung his legs up to wrap around the beast’s neck, and with a burst of telepathy, at last pushed through the monster’s inner barriers.

When he felt it staggering, he pushed further, and the jaws unclenched from around his shoulder.

“Kill it now!” he shouted. Eyes remaining locked with the chimera’s, lulling it into a false sense of safety, he saw Travion slice off the serpent’s head while two other soldiers bore down on the beast, piercing its side and attacking the goat head.

The chimera released a low keen of pain. For a moment, its dazed eyes cleared to pin Draven with an accusatory stare before it collapsed to the ground.

Releasing his hold on the large lion head, Draven fell back against the ground, panting a little as his side and shoulder protested the sudden movement. Travion, looking a little singed, shoulders steaming, came to stand over him.

“I don’t remember you being nearly eaten as a part of the plan.” He squinted down at him.

“I wasn’t nearly eaten,” Draven bit back.

“Your body would say otherwise.” Travion extended a hand to him, and Draven allowed himself to be pulled back up to his feet.

“Chop it up and burn it,” he told the nearest soldier. “These bloody things have a tendency to remain alive, too many hearts and heads.” The soldier just stared at him for a moment before looking to the chimera a little apprehensively.

Swiping his forearm over his forehead, Draven moved back toward the road, his hand dropping to gingerly feel out the wound in his side.

“How bad is it?” Travion frowned.

“Better than your beard.” Draven pointed to a patch on his cheek that had clearly caught some of the flames.

Travion chuckled a little. “Damn, there goes my beauty award.”

“Are your men fine to be left here? We should head back to the gateway. Hopefully there will be word from Ailith once we get back.”

“They’re big boys. They’ll be fine.”

There was little time for talk after that, only the sound of their mounts’ hooves thundering on the road back to the Veil. When they arrived, word had come in the form of one of their trained owls. The bird, with three wide eyes and one long sweeping tail coiled around its legs, stared down at them from atop a tall tree near the gateway into the Veil. Whistling for it, Draven held out his arm and allowed the bird to land on his forearm. He untied the note from its leg, then threw it back up into the air.

He skimmed the piece of parchment, and his face became pinched with fury. “Ailith has discovered a small hive of vampires. They’re making their way here with them now.”

“A hive? They had established a dwelling?” Travion eyed him cautiously.

“Yes, which means these attacks weren’t carried out by a fledgling. This wasn’t a lack of control; this was on purpose.”

Draven’s rage only worsened as Channon and his pack returned.

“Your Grace, we found the lamia, as well as a nest,” Captain Channon announced as soon as he had shifted back into his human form.

Draven’s features darkened. “Were all the eggs destroyed?”

“Yes, sire. We made certain she was the only one in the area.” Channon fell silent, but Draven could tell he had more to say. After a moment, he spoke. “She had built her nest beneath an orphanage.”

Draven’s hands tightened on Rayvnin’s reins. Where had all the discipline he had fought so hard to establish suddenly disappeared to? These things were no longer supposed to happen because he had stomped down any and all insurrection. Or so he’d thought.

“Burrows, hives, and nests? By the sea, Draven, what is going on?” Travion growled his displeasure.

“Someone is breaking rules.”

When General Ailith and her harpies landed around them, there were five vampires in their grasp. As they tossed them down to the ground, Draven found that the harpies had bound the vampires’ hands and feet so there was no escape.

Dismounting, he strode up to them and peered at the upturned faces of the beings kneeling before him. From their scent, he could tell some were obviously young and one brand new. He didn’t feel an ounce of regret as he stepped up to the fledgling, placed a hand on either side of his head, and tore it off his shoulders with one violent tug. Tossing the head with its frozen features at the knees of the older vampire, Draven only growled as cries of protest and rage filled the surrounding air.

Channon, once again in wolf form, came to stand on his left side, while Ailith, her hands on her hips and wings partially unfurled, remained behind the group of vampires.

“Braevl was only a fledgling! You didn’t have to kill him!” the elder vampire spat out, tears of fury blurring her eyes.

Draven stooped down enough that his face was inches from hers. “Everyone knows the rules. The penalty for breaking my law is death.”

Draven motioned to the other vampires, looking up to Ailith and nodding. Without a word, she drew her blades and, crossing them over each other, swiftly cut off the head of the vampire before her. Two other harpies stepped up to do the same.

When it was over, only the elder vampire remained, her chest heaving with quiet sobs as her hive lay dead around her.

“You have one chance and only one chance. Tell me why,” he demanded, voice soft and laced with a fury that only mounted the longer he waited.

“Why should I? You will kill me no matter what I say,” she spat out, cheeks damp.

“Yes, I will. But you can choose how slow a death it is.” Draven reached out to grasp one arm and began to pull, fully intending to rip it from the socket.

“I’d tell him what he wishes to hear, if I were you,” Travion grunted off to the side.

Sensing his intentions, the vampiress shrunk back. “It was Lord Capala!” she shouted. “He sent us here to form a hive, to hunt humans and send them back through the Veil for his family!”

Draven paused. “What?” Lord Capala was the head of one of his founding families. While he had protested the implementation of Draven’s feeding laws, which forbade human deaths, his family had always abided by them. “Will you stand by this in the judgment chamber?”

“Yes.”

Draven straightened up, his eyes finding Travion’s. “I must leave at once. It would seem there is treason in my kingdom, and I must flush out those guilty of it before this continues.” At least now he had a name.

Travion nodded. “Should you need aid with anything . . .”

“I won’t. This is an Andherian issue; Andhera will deal with it. Be well, brother. The threats in your kingdom have been slain.”

Without further words, Draven moved to climb back atop Rayvnin. Sensing their king was ready to be on his way, two of General Ailith’s harpies grasped the vampiress beneath her arms and lifted her into the air with them. Draven led his people back through the Veil and off to deal with the remaining threat.

Lord Capala and his family were pulled from their homes beneath the blue night moon and ushered into the judgment chamber of Castle Aasha. Draven hadn’t bothered to change from his time in Midniva. Instead, he had paced the dark chamber, its midnight-black floor and walls only a reflection of the storm brewing in his mind. Blood seeped steadily from the wound on his side, dampening his pantleg and leaving the scent of him in the air.

The door in the chamber’s side sat open, the threat of the pit a looming presence below. Tonight, people would die. It wasn’t a punishment Draven enjoyed enacting, but if his noble families sought to undermine his rule, it would only be so long before others followed suit. This must be stopped before it could spread.

As the vampire lord and his family were brought into the chamber, General Ailith at their backs and the wolves flanking their sides, Draven could see the uncertainty and confusion on their faces.

“Your Majesty, while my family appreciates any audience with yourself . . . might I ask what this is about?” Lord Capala stood, hands clasped in front of him. His wife, a stern looking woman with silver-blonde hair, stayed close.

They had two children: a son who had been an adult when they had made the journey into Andhera and a daughter who’d been just on the cusp of maidenhood. She was now frozen in time, ever a lovely blossom set to bloom.

Draven pointed to the vampiress he’d pulled from Midniva. “Lady Aamanee was found forming a hive in Midniva. A hive which was feeding willfully on humans and bringing others back here to find their deaths at your hands.”

Lord Capala looked startled, and Draven watched him, attempting to read his features.

“You can’t honestly believe—” Capala looked between Draven and Aamanee.

“I confessed to everything,” Aamanee announced. “He killed our entire hive and threatened to tear me to pieces if I didn’t!”

“Told him everything what?” Capala’s features grew dark as anger filled him.

“He is the one, Your Majesty.” Aamanee looked at Draven. “He told me to go into Midniva and feed on humans . . . to make a place for our vampires there, so that we could finally live as we were meant to. It was his plan to form an entire chain . . . Vampires who captured humans in Midniva, others who carted them across the Veil, and then he would sell them to the highest bidders once here.”

“You can’t honestly believe this wench,” Capala protested, distress beginning to form on his face.

“The unfortunate thing, Lord Capala, is that I do.” Draven paced, a hand going through his short-cropped hair. “You have never hidden your distaste for my laws.”

“This is absurd! We have lived for millennia under your rule! Why would we fight against it now?”

Draven was across the room before the other man could move, his hand around his throat as he lifted him into the air. “That is what I would like to know.” His words were a low growl of fury, body seething with it.

“You have no place here!” It was Forstuss, Capala’s son, red faced and hands fisted at his sides. “You rule for the good of Midniva, not for the good of your people. This proves it now! You wish to punish us for what? Longing to feed true to our natures?”

With a snarl, Draven tossed Capala aside, his body sliding across the room. Moving to Forstuss, Draven grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him forward. He had to give it to the vampire: he held his own beneath the king’s glare.

“Were you a part of this? Plotting against me?”

Forstuss remained silent, the muscles in his jaw ticking but the hatred in his eyes obvious.

Leaving no time to second guess himself, Draven pulled Forstuss across the judgment chamber to the wide opening. Capala and his wife both shouted, realization dawning on them.

“For treason, you are hereby sentenced to death.”

Forstuss showed his first flicker of fear and uncertainty as they reached the edge of the chamber, the cool winds from outside reaching in to coil around both their forms. Forstuss’ lips parted, about to say something. Instead of listening, Draven pushed him past the edge, and watched him tumble down through the empty space toward the pit below.

As Draven turned back to the room, Capala was on his feet, surging toward him. General Ailith, however, was faster, and grasped Capala by the arms, pinning them behind his back.

“Lord Capala, you, too, are sentenced to death for plotting human slaughter.” Draven nodded his head to Ailith, who pushed the struggling man forward.

“You will regret this, Draven! Do you hear me?! You will regret this!”

Those were his last words, as the harpy general shoved him out into the air, and Lord Capala followed the same path his son had, down into the afterlife.

Meioral Capala clasped onto her daughter, holding her tightly as they both cried silent tears. Draven eyed them with pity but said nothing as he stepped toward them. Both shrank back from him in fear, which he bore with as much tolerance as possible. He took hold of Meioral’s wrist and forced it up to his mouth. She struggled but didn’t possess the strength to resist his actions.

Draven sunk his teeth into her flesh, drinking deeply of the blood that flowed there. He searched her memories, and when he saw that she had no knowledge of either her husband or son’s activities, he released her and turned away.

Sensing that he was finished, two harpies stepped forward to usher mother and daughter back out of the chamber.

“And her, sire?” Ailith asked, motioning to Aamanee.

“Make it quick.”

Leaving his general to handle the final execution, Draven left the judgment chamber and headed for his study. Tonight would be a night to dive deep into his cups, and laced heavily with belladonna, perhaps he could find some solace.