Rune Knight: Book Two of The Empress Saga

CHAPTER THREE

Ban awoke to darkness, warmth, and pain. His breath caught in his throat as he stirred, every muscle feeling brittle as chalk. Irrationally, he believed that if he dared to move, he would shatter to pieces.

    The warmth came from somewhere to his left. He could hear the fire crackling nearby. Its heat radiated out and blanketed him. That explained the warmth but not the darkness. Only hellfire gave heat without light.

    His chest tightened with fear. The stories of what lay beyond the living realms changed one village to the next. Each settlement, not to mention each kingdom, possessed their own superstitions and folklore of the spirits. However, Hell remained a constant. It was the dark realm meant for the souls deemed too impure to pass through the Ethereum to the Beyond.

    Ban moaned. If he was damned, then Rodrik must have been right all along.

I am a traitor.

    "He's rousing, love," a voice whispered near to Ban's head. A feminine voice, but something was strange about it. Mature and strong, but small. "It's time to make a choice."

    "There is no choice," said someone else. Another woman's voice, youthful. It was a voice made of iron. "What you suggest... No. No, I won't even consider it."

    "Only a suggestion," said the first with a sigh. "Heed it or don't. I want you to at least see the options."

    The second, more youthful voice made hushing sounds, then Ban felt something press against his chest. Gentle and warm. It was a moment before Ban realized that it was a woman's hand. Fingers brushed up his chest and then against his cheek. The mask of bandages covering his eyes was pulled away.

    Ban winced as firelight assaulted his eyes. He clamped them shut until the brightness shining through his eyelids became less piercing.

    "Encouraging," the young woman said. "Responsive pupils... Good. I think the head injury won't have any lingering effects."

    When his vision returned, Ban found himself staring into large, green eyes set within the face of a beautiful girl. Her skin was brown like the tribesmen of the Espalla Dunes, but unlike the Espallans, her long and flowing hair was golden. Ban had never seen a person with coloring like hers. A foreigner, obviously, but from where?

    His eyes cast about in search of the owner of the first voice he heard. No one else was present. Ban was alone in this tent with the girl.

Did I imagine it?

    The tent was a simple one, though quite large. It was hastily stitched together from hide and pelts. Inelegant but warm, much like those used by the goodfolk of Altier Nashal. The fire Ban felt was contained within a wrought-iron brazier in the center, and a hole was cut in the very top of the tent to let out the smoke. Pelts and a pair of bedrolls lay on the floor. It seemed Ban had taken someone's spot— perhaps the owner of the other voice.

    The girl said something, but Ban couldn't hear her through the rushing of blood inside his skull. Whether it was due to his injuries or the unfamiliar surroundings, he couldn't say.

    He was bare to the waist, and the girl was kneeling next to him in a loose-fitting silk shift. Her hand was now placed lightly against the center of his chest, and she was so beautiful as she stared into his eyes. Ban swallowed and averted his gaze.

    He'd had dreams that began much like this, also a few encounters that had been quite real. However, Ban's thoughts were turned only towards Pacifica. He'd never had cause to resist temptation before, and this stunning young woman was as potent a temptation as Ban had ever seen.