Divine Blood by Beck Michaels

Author:Beck Michaels [Michaels, Beck]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pluma Press
Published: 2020-06-02T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 24

Von

Brisk wind and conflicted thought accompanied Von out of Landcaster. The future was uncertain, taking from him any sense of normalcy. This day had sent in motion something ominous. There was no stopping the force that was Tarn. He was an imminent avalanche who would bury all in his path if he was unleashed.

Von veered off the road and climbed sloping hills until he came to an empty valley west of the farm town. The tall grass rustled in the night breeze. He reached out and his palm pressed on an invisible, solid surface. Cold and slithering. It glowed faintly at his touch, rippling like water. The ripples spread and curved, revealing a massive, translucent dome.

He pushed against it. The slippery entity resisted at first, then it stuck to his fingers, enveloping his hand and arm. It coursed over the rest of his body, making him shudder. Once the spell determined he was permitted to enter, he passed through its threshold, and the camp appeared.

At the center loomed Tarn’s great tent, rising like a black peak among the hundreds of smaller tents circling it at a distance. Torches spread throughout the camp, speared into the mud. Raiders mingled at small fires, laughing, drinking, and eating out of steaming bowls. Each wore all black and was well-armed.

On the north end of the camp stood the cook’s tent. Smoke filtered out of the opening on top, carrying the scent of dinner. Von strode for it, nodding to the Raiders as he passed. They leaped to their feet, returned salutes, then made themselves scarce. Regardless of how many years they served under him, they maintained a layer of fear. Von didn’t go out of his way to intimidate them, but they had seen how brutal he could be to maintain obedience.

He needed to be hard on them so their master wouldn’t be.

He entered the cook’s tent and found a towering Minotaur inside. At nine feet tall, Sorren filled most of the heightened space. He sported an auburn pelt beneath his stained apron. Only one horn extended on the left of his head, a sawed-off stump rose where his second horn used to be. Gold earrings glinted on his long, floppy ears, and another hung from his snout.

Sorren acknowledged Von with a grunt. He stirred an enormous cauldron over a fire that sizzled and popped. The stuffy space carried the smell of stew, hinted with stale sweat and herbs. Behind the creature was a table stacked with dirty dishes and vegetable scraps. To the right was another table where Von found his subordinates. They raised their heads from their meals when he entered and stood at attention.

Each commanded a different faction among Tarn’s Raiders, and Von commanded them all.

Captain Elon, who led the spies, was indifferent as always. There was no evidence of his confrontation with the Rangers on his person.

Next to him was Lieutenant Abenon, a dark-skinned man with a nest of black curls, and two scimitar blades strapped to his back. The Mirage Desert native led the Raiders.

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