Capítulo 2: Chapter 2: Humans and Blind Faith
Mercy Hall
Her brother's wings drape over his shoulders. They fan out behind him, casting shadows to streak across the walls. Long canines protrude from his mouth.
A raging fire grows in the pit of her gut. She's not alone in her anger. Nay, her brother's reactive transformation leaves little to the imagination.
There's no love lost between her and Tanager. She hates the human with every fiber of her being. Mercy didn't trust the slimy human when they were kids. She sure as hell doesn't trust him now. Especially, after he revealed where she and her brother were hiding.
If it's the last thing she does, she'll make him pay for his willful betrayal.
"He can't get to us." Graysen brushes hair out of her face. "He's on the other side of the wall in the long hall." He draws her into a brotherly hug.
"Lucky for him." She reluctantly withdraws from the comfort of his arms. "Because when I encounter him, he'll rue the day he ever met us."
The trapdoor springs open, revealing a lavish room - the king's quarters.
Fine tapestries, belonging to the lords and ladies of the past, line the walls. Hand-carved ornate furniture, covered in deer skins, graces the chamber.
She gazes at a thick, brown-pelted rug that contains the head of a bear. "They call us animals." Empty glass orbs for eyes stare at her.
"You'll not enter." Grasping her shoulder, he stops her forward momentum. "Not like that." He shoves her into the sodden tunnel. "Change, now."
"Why?" Mercy, hands on her hips, defiantly stands. "You're transformed."
"You know why."
"Because of the blood prophecy?" Her nose scrunches in disgust.
"Aye, as if you had to ask." He adjusts the sword on his hip. "Never let the humans see your beast."
"I don't put much stock in that children's fable. Neither should you."
"Whelp, don't argue." A throaty growl of a warning rumbles in his chest. "Do it."
"You're not my sire." The words roll from her lips before their meaning registers in her brain.
"Now."
Mercy's wings drape her like a cloak. "Fine." Skin warming, she transforms into her human form. "Only because I want to."
Avoiding his gaze, she sheds a tear for their fallen sire. He had always ordered her around, but deep down, she knew her father had loved her - wanted nothing more than to protect her.
She wipes the moisture from her eyes. Tipping her head from side to side, she works out some of the kinks in her tense muscles.
Graysen grabs the hood of her cape and covers her head.
"You know, you look more like Mother with each passing day." His hand slides over a lock of her hair. "Right down to her fiery tresses."
"I shall never be like her. Mother's weak - was weak." Mercy slaps his hand away from her face. "No one will ever treat me like a trophy." The tips of her canines pierce her upper gums, and she welcomes the pain. "Never." The distinct taste of blood, earthy with a hint of copper, coats her tongue.
"You have her temper, as well." Black hair slides over his face, covering his dark eyes. "However, I'd wager, you're more pigheaded than she."
"I'm nothin' like her." She observes her brother's form. "I'll never allow a male, human or beast, to strip my will or steal my freedom with such ease. Love. Who needs it?"
"So, you say, now. But remember, one should never spread doubt when love is involved."
A flash of her sire, Baltos, comes to mind. Her brother carries their father's darker looks and height. Whereas, she's shorter in stature - fair like their human mother, Arden. "Nay, love is a useless human emotion."
"There are far worse things than showing one's humanity."
"Such as?"
"Possessing a lack of empathy or humility," says Graysen.
He steps out of the tunnel and into the room.
"Come." He waves her on. "The path is clear."
Slipping past him, she sniffs then stiffens. "Wolfsbane." The scent stings her nose and makes her eyes water.
"What?"
"We're not alone." She crouches and sets her hand on the hilt of her dagger.
The king's guards march out of the shadows.
Graysen steps between Mercy and the humans.
"I see you found your way through the tunnels." Tanager enters the chamber. "Flank them." He motions to three guards. "Remember, no harm befalls the female."
Mercy takes in the opened doorway seven paces away. "There are only four of you and two of us. So, it seems you're at a disadvantage." The corners of her lips tug upward. "I'm going to enjoy this."
"Oh, he is not alone." King Alexander's bear of a frame emerges from the hall and blocks the opening. "For the dragon slayer is here." Armor covers his body from head to toe.
She turns her attention to the king but keeps Tanager in view. "You're no dragon slayer, my lord."
Of course, he's not alone. Tanager never is.
"You are the murderer of innocence. Women and children are your prey. Not by your hand, nay, you leave the dirty work to others." She widens her stance. "Which is why you travel with your guards like a common dung beetle."
"There's the mouth I've heard so much about." The king holds a steel-fisted hand shoulder level as his guards shift behind him. "Wait. Advance only on my order."
The guards stand at attention.
Humans and blind faith. It's something she'll never understand. "You've trained your pets well."
A glimmer of light draws her attention - an opportunity for freedom. Only, Tanager blocks their route to the balcony, to liberation.
"Stand down, my brother and sister." Tanager grips the handle of his sword. "There's no need for additional bloodshed."
"He's not your brother," Mercy hisses. "I'm sure as hell not your sister."
"Well, now," Tanager says, "that hurts my feelings."
"Feelings? Really? We both know you have none." She draws a dagger. "You'd have to have a heart for that."
Graysen holds Tanager's steely gaze. "How much did they pay you to betray me - us?"
"More than I'll get for you, dead or alive." A grin slithers across Tanager's lips. "Now, for her, they'll pay a king's ransom."
Mercy lunges forward. She drags the edge of her dagger across Tanager's ribs, slicing through his tunic. A shallow furrow of blood surfaces and seeps into the off-white fabric.
Tanager draws a hand over the wound. "I'm going to make your brother pay for that one." He sticks a crimson-colored finger inside his mouth and sucks the blood off. "Close in."
Two guards swing double-sided swords overhead.
Both Graysen and Mercy duck. Together, they sweep the men's legs out from under them.
The guards crash to the floor.
With swift movements, her brother breaks the neck of one man then turns around to slash the throat of the other.
A red stream of liquid oozes across the tiles.
Her brother slips, landing on the wet stone underfoot. His limbs twist and tangle with more guards. He's snared into a blood-covered ball of arms and legs.
Two more humans, dressed in the king's colors, close in.
One holds a spear over her brother's chest.
Mercy's heart sinks.
Graysen's bloody hands wrap around the base of the pointed tip. He struggles to push the slick weapon away. "Run, whelp."
"Stand down." King Alexander opens his fisted hand.
The guards relax their stance. "Surrender, now." He waves to Tanager, who readies his weapon. "And I will release your brother."
She glances at her brother then back at the king. "Like you released the others? Like my family?"
Mercy skims a hand over her leather shoulder belt, tracing the outline of the blowpipe with her fingers.
"They trusted you," she shouts, "all of them did."
The four poison-tipped darts her sire carved brush against her fingertips.
"I trusted you." Tears brim her lower lids. "Have you no shame?"
"Concede." King Alexander waves an open palm. His guards take a step forward. "I will not ask again."
Shoving the weapon away from his body, Graysen rolls out from under Tanager's sword. On the floor, he releases a five-inch throwing knife from his ankle and plunges it into the spear-wielding guard's flesh.
"Whelp, I said run."
The weapon pulses in the man's chest, keeping beat with his heart.
Mercy ignores her brother's words - this isn't a fight he can win alone. Palming the blowpipe, she inserts two darts. Lips around the hollowed-out reed, she blasts two quick bursts of controlled air.
The small barbs sail through the air.
One strikes the side of a guard's arm, the other digs in deep and embeds itself in the king's neck.
King Alexander removes a steel glove. "You dare to attack your king." He retrieves the dart. "You leave me no choice." Rolling it between his thumb and index finger, he examines the small object. "Do it."
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