The Chronicles of Starlyn by Craig A. Price Jr

Author:Craig A. Price Jr [Price Jr., Craig A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Claymore Publishing

Chapter Fourteen

Arria awoke in a quiet dark room. One small candle burned on the table next to her bed. She blew out the candle as she smiled with half of her mouth. Darkness, absolute darkness. It had been how she liked it, yet something seemed wrong to her. She couldn’t remember how she’d gotten there. The last thing she remembered had been being in battle, killing kheshlars. Her memory slowly came to her, patching itself back together. She had killed all the kheshlars except one.

Her back throbbed but the arrow had been removed. The pain radiated across her back, fresh, as if the arrow still sank deep. She struggled to her feet, searching for books on healing with black magic. Healing had not been commonly done with black magic; it took serious effort. Death would be much easier.

Footsteps stomped outside her tent. A creature stepped inside. Its eyes crossed when it gazed at her. The creature coughed before dropping to its knees.

“Misstress. I wass noot exxxpecting youu soo sooon.”

“How many did we lose?”

“Misstress. It mayy noott bee wisse tooo bring youu ill newss sssoo ssssoon.”

“How many?”

“Threee hundreed forrty.”

“How many did we kill?”

“One hundreeed thirrty.”

“So many casualties for such few victories.”

“Manny archerss they haad. Wee did capturre threee.”

“There are three prisoners?”

“Yess.”

“Bring them to me.”

“Misstress … arre yoou strrong enoough?”

She bit her lip as she pondered the question. Normally such a question would offend her and she would retaliate with the beast’s head, yet she knew it had a point. She nodded, pulling a pouch of powder from her desk.

“Yes, I will be.”

“Asss yoou wisssh.”

After the creature left, she enchanted a few words, sprinkling the power all about her. She knew the relief would be temporary. She needed to keep guards nearby, but there were a few things she could do to make the healing permanent. It all depended on how the prisoners would act.

She sat on her bed, breathing slow; she didn’t need to breathe, but it soothed her. The tent flap opened as six dragons brought three kheshlars in chains. All three were male, two had black hair and the last had light brown hair.

“I want three guards inside and three outside,” Arria said.

Without argument, three of the creatures marched outside as the other three steadied their curved axes.

“What are your names?”

The men didn’t respond. Arria became enraged, stalking to them, backhanding each in turn. They fell to the ground with bloody lips. They glanced at her from their knees.

“I will ask you one more time.” She grabbed her dagger. “What are your names?”

“Jerrek,” a man with thin eyebrows and pointed chin said.

“Breemurh,” the man with rounded chin, dimples, and thick bushy eyebrows said.

“Lemnur,” the brunette with dazzling green eyes said.

“And you are wood kheshlars?” Arria said.

“Yes,” Jarrek said.

“Where are the rest of you?”

“Why, so you can kill them too?” Breemurh said through clenched teeth.

Arria stepped forward, backhanding Breemurh. Her hand didn’t strike as hard as the first strike. She glared at him. More blood trickled down his chin, but he didn’t wipe it.

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