Apprentice of Death
Chapter 8

Cinder pulled her horse up in front of the large black gate of Dominique’s keep, feeling a sense of dread; she had been fortunate to have had two weeks to spend at the werewolf kingdom without coming here.

Sebastian pulled his horse up next to her, thinking, “I will be here when you are finished for the day.Be safe, Cinder. I love you. Remember that you are strong.”

She nodded, looking deep into his golden eyes, thinking, “I love you too, Sebastian.”

With another look at him, she rode forward through the opening gates. She dismounted from her horse and tied him up at the hitching post where he had been. She didn’t wait for Dominique to come to her; she didn’t know if he would. She went straight to the door where she had worked on the prisoners the last time.

She entered the room and began examining the prisoners. Many were weak, and some were even close to death. She focused her efforts on the dying prisoners, using magic to sustain and heal them on the inside first before healing their outer wounds. Two were lost on the tables to her while she attended to the injuries of others equally grave.

She watched the light fade from their eyes, their heads falling slack to the side before she could do anything to help them. She swallowed with deep emotion, her heart breaking at the thought that she had failed them. She was grieved deeply, but she buried it inside her to deal with later; Cinder knew that if she gave into it there, she would be utterly useless, and there were still more prisoners to heal and help. She also refused to allow Dominique to see her that way.

After healing the dying, she needed to move on to the weakest of the prisoners. She took a moment to look around her, to locate who was the weakest and needed her attention first; her eyes roving over the horror of the dark, musty dungeon filled with grimy, bloody bodies. A young girl on one of the tables, who was sleeping, was very weak. Her body would go into shutdown mode rapidly, and if she wasn’t healed quickly, she would die soon after.

Cinder walked over to the side of the table, looking down at the little girl with sadness in her eyes; seeing a child like this broke her heart. She reached out and stroked the little girl’s hair, maintaining her hold to begin healing the little girl. Cinder pushed her magic out into the girl and healed and strengthened her, but allowed her to continue to sleep, by taking away any pain the healing would have caused her.

She then turned and moved to the table behind her. A man lay there on his back, struggling to breathe. The wound on his neck was vicious, speaking to Dominique’s violence when feeding on him; the man’s breathing was raspy and gurgling with the injury. She reached out with her magic and healed the wound on his neck, allowing his breathing to return to normal.

She then examined him with the rest of her magic, reaching out with it to flow it over his body, searching for any more wounds. She sucked in a gasp when she sensed a deep stab wound in his side, above his hip, like Dominique had stabbed him and then fed. She sighed, tired because she had been working most of the day already, but she couldn’t leave him, or he would die.

Cinder slowly reached out with her hand to raise his shirt, so she could look at the stab wound. She hadn’t touched him when his chained hand shot out and painfully grabbed her wrist. She cried out from the pain as he squeezed harder, catching herself on the table with her other hand because of his firm grip.

She looked into the face of the man, with pain written all over hers. He wore a furious expression on his grime-covered face, his green eyes blazing with fury and hatred.

“Release me! I am here to help you! Please! You’re hurting me!”

The man’s anger was too much, and he could barely see reason, squeezing even harder. She forcefully entered his mind and went straight to his core. Where she expected to replace a normal human form, she found nothing. She began looking around for his form, feeling a sense of shock, when she was grabbed from behind by it. She knocked him off her and turned around to see a hooded figure.

He wore all black; his boots, pants, and hooded vest made him look intimidating. His face was shrouded in the hood, completely unseen, and his bare arms were covered in black tattoos. Cinder threw up a cage around him, trapping him now that she was free. She squeezed his mind and forced his physical hand to release hers; his mental strength, while his body was slowly dying, shocked her.

He gasped at her withdrawing from his mind; she had left the cage in place so she could continue to work on him without fear of him hurting her again. She could feel the shock in his mind at her capabilities and how it was an unfamiliar feeling for him. She held him still with her mind as she pulled up his shirt to examine the wound. She blinked, surprised that the tattoos on his core form were also tattooed on his actual body. She looked away from the tattoos to the injury. It was a deep stab wound, probably from a dagger.

“No.” She turned to look at his face, hearing his mentally uttered plea. His green eyes were pleading with her as she stared back into them. “Leave it. Let me die.”

He wasn’t aware she could hear him, but she answered him anyways, “I can’t do that. I’m sorry.” He was surprised at her response to him in his mind. His eyes closed in defeat at her words.

She started healing the deep wound, pushing out some infection that had started deep inside. She then knitted his flesh together, starting on the inside with some of his organs that the knife had pierced, moving upward as she went along. At last, the wound closed at the top, leaving only a pink bump she was working on smoothing over when his hand shot out again to painfully grab her wrist.

She cried out again and looked over into his eyes that were glaring at her. She hadn’t noticed her hold over his mind lessening and was surprised he could move. His fury at her and hatred of her had changed from believing she would harm him more to her helping him, saving him. He didn’t want to be saved; he wanted to die.

“How are you moving right now?” She asked him, still shocked. His lips pulled at the sides as a mocking sigh escaped him.

“You don’t know everything, witch.” He loosened his grip on her with a look of disgust like she was his enemy.

“I am not your enemy.”

His glare returned as he looked at her, snorting, “You work for him, which makes you my enemy. You are serving him and keeping me alive, so the horror continues. You are the enemy.”

She shook her head, pleading with her eyes, thinking, “No, I’m not. I’m forced to do this.”

He snorted out of disbelief and released her wrist, giving up on restraining her. She searched his body for other threatening wounds with her magic and found only some scratches on his shoulder near the bite mark. She turned back to finish healing the stab wound completely, leaving no scar or even the tiniest indication that it had ever existed. She then turned her attention to the deep claw marks on his shoulder.

She was finishing healing him when the door to the prisoner’s room flew open, and Dominique came walking in.

“Cinder! Where is your escort?” he demanded of her in an angry voice. She had forgotten to wait for the escort by her horse when she had arrived. She had been working in the room for hours and couldn’t remember seeing the escort.

“He never showed up outside. I have been working here without –,” Cinder started but was silenced by a stinging slap that whipped her face to the side. Her eyes met those of the man lying on the table next to her as she was forced to catch herself on his table to prevent herself from falling. Her face was on fire, and her eyeball felt like it would explode when Dominique’s granite palm made contact with her face. She shut her eyes, trying to manage the pain in silence, before drawing a deep breath and reopening her eyes.

She ground her teeth and turned her face back to look at Dominique. His angry expression frightened her, and she would have backed away from him if the table hadn’t been next to her. He approached her, grabbed her wrists, and pulled her violently against him. His fangs were showing, and his eyes glowed a brilliant crimson. She leaned back away from him, as far as she could, but he wrapped one chilling hand around her neck and brought her back to him. She sucked in a breath as fear filled her, making her swallow.

He was deciding whether to taste her blood or not in his mind as he looked at her, both angry and aroused. His mind blazed with anger while he salivated at the idea of tasting her; in more than one way. She shivered at his touch and started trembling.

He lowered his face to hers, and she dared not move or breathe. He brought his cold lips to hers and very slowly kissed her as she remained perfectly still. He moved, and his fang, piercing her lower lip, drew out a large droplet of blood. He looked at the blood for a moment, the glow in his red eyes intensifying as he stared at the droplet.

His eyes shifted to hers as he sucked her lower lip into his mouth. It was a painful sensation, him sucking on her lip, drawing as much blood out of the wound as he could. She listened to his mind as her blood hit his tongue; it was like some magical high. Listening, she heard that he knew it would hit his system like that, that her blood was different because she was a witch. The ecstasy he experienced in her blood related to her capacity; the higher the capacity, the more magic flowed in it, and the higher the high he received from tasting it. He could barely remain in control and wanted to sink his fangs into her neck.

He pulled back from her swollen mouth and gripped her to him, whispering, “Do not defy my orders again, do you understand?” She nodded quickly, and he bent to kiss her once more before releasing her. He then turned and left.

She heaved a great sigh of relief when the door closed behind him, and she had to hold onto the table next to her for support as she waved dangerously back and forth. She felt ill, almost like she might faint, as she trembled. She turned around and had to lean over the table, resting her elbows on it, to keep from falling, as her knees gave out. Her hands were shaking in the aftermath of the fear she had been feeling, so she clasped them together to try to give herself some strength and courage. Her breathing was coming in gasps, sobs trying to escape her as she stared at the table, doing her best to manage her fear.

With a clank of a chain, the prisoner’s hand covered both of hers in a steady grip. A small sob finally escaped her as she laid her forehead on his hand, covering hers.

“I see you spoke the truth earlier,” she heard him comment.

He was still suspicious of her but recognized her fear as genuine. He had obviously watched her interaction with Dominique to try to judge whether she had been telling him the truth. His hand turned over, with the sound of his shackles clanking against the table again.

He released her hands and moved his to the side of her face, which was stinging red and bruising from the hard slap. His cold hand held her face gently and helped smooth some of the burning there.

She lifted her face to look at him, and his hand came with it, still bringing her some relief. His green eyes were so defeated and lifeless now.

She placed her hand on the outside of his, thinking, “Thank you. Please, tell me your name.” He pulled his hand away and looked to the side, turning from her.

“Sean.”

Cinder spurred her horse through the gates when it was time to leave and saw Sebastian waiting for her. She didn’t slow or stop; instead, she urged her horse forward as fast as he would go. Sebastian took out after her on his horse but didn’t ask her any questions. Cinder knew she would fall apart and needed to get to her room to do it. Her horse was much faster than Sebastian’s, and she pulled ahead considerably.

She never slowed, even as she approached the gates of the werewolf Kingdom. The guards there barely had a chance to open the gates before she blew past, running her horse through them. She never slowed as she ran Obsidian through the trade center and up into the palace, all the way to the courtyard.

Some of the nobility gave a shout and cleared out of her way as she came to an abrupt halt there. She dismounted, and an attendant rushed up to take the reins of the sweating, frothing horse. She ran as fast as her dress would allow her down the hallway to her room. The guard opened the door for her, and she flew into the room and ran out onto the balcony, where she tried to steady herself on the railing.

A great sob escaped her, and she collapsed, holding herself while emptying all the horror and pain. The smooth white marble of the balcony floor cooled her hurt face as she wailed out her grief. The faces of the prisoners that had died before she could save them, the young girl, and Sean floated behind her eyelids, haunting her, driving on her tears. Dominique’s slap and kisses had her shaking in terror.

Strong arms lifted her off the marble balcony and held her to a broad chest. She couldn’t stop shaking or crying, nor could she stop seeing the faces over and over behind her eyelids as she lay limp in the arms that held her. She felt a gentle hand move her chin to examine her face. It was still sore where Dominique had slapped her and where he had sucked on her lip.

“Dammit!” she heard, the tears still running down her face as her wounds were examined. She closed her eyes even more and leaned against Adrian’s bare chest when his hand released her face. She felt him adjust her weight as she leaned against his chest, her grief leaving her catatonic.

“Should I call for Jenny, or will you heal yourself, Cinder?” Adrian asked her. She shook her head ‘no’ and leaned back against him.

She could feel his blazing anger at Dominique and the regret that she had to go there. She could feel his utter frustration with his inability to protect her from him. He slowly turned, carrying her in his arms, and returned to her bedroom. Sebastian entered her room practically at a run, having just caught up to her at last. Adrian set her down on the bed and looked at Sebastian.

“He hurt her. I’m not sure if she’s healed the worst of it or what. She won’t speak.” Sebastian thanked him with a nod and came over to Cinder’s side. She looked up into his yellow eyes and remembered his words from so long ago about greater evils existing out there; that she would need to steel herself against them if she was going to make it.

She sat up and whispered, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have fallen apart like that. It won’t happen again.” Both of their minds rejected her words.

She rose, wiped the tears from her face, and walked over to her vanity, looking at herself in the mirror. Her lip was cracked and swollen, with a large scab forming where Dominique had pierced and sucked on it. The side of her face was red and bruising along her cheekbone where his granite hand had contacted her cheekbone. She sighed and began healing her face. She knew deep inside that this wouldn’t be the last time she would have to also heal herself.

She ignored both men and dug through her armoire, pulling out her armor. She went behind the divider and changed without saying a word to them. She came out, put her sword and knives on her person, and left them standing there, looking after her silently. She made her way to the practice grounds and began running through some drills and forms to blow off steam, working out the anger and frustration she held within her.

Adrian and Sebastian followed her and now watched her from the balcony above. She had begun sparring with some of the soldiers around that had come up to her. More and more gathered to try their chance at challenging the witch warrior. She was brutal in her technique when fighting them, not using her stunning magic to defeat them, as various hits from her sent them flying with blood splattering the ground.

“Have you ever seen her like this before?” Adrian asked Sebastian, not taking his eyes off Cinder as she kicked a werewolf’s gut to send him flying.

“No,” answered Sebastian. “Even after being attacked by Rhys, she never acted like this,” Sebastian thought aloud.

“Attacked by Rhys?” questioned Adrian. Sebastian pulled his eyes from Cinder, bashing in a werewolf’s face with a reinforced fist, to look at Adrian.

“She was attacked by the warlock who later sent the Hunters to capture me. He intended to rape her, but she escaped, and I found them in the woods, scaring him off.” Adrian’s brow wrinkled with agitation at what Sebastian shared with him. He turned his face back to look at Cinder as she tore through the soldiers coming at her.

Sebastian was studying Adrian, taking in the King’s concern, watching him watch Cinder.

Sebastian whispered, “I would guess she is mad at herself.” Sebastian turned and saw her bloody another soldier.

Adrian watched Cinder fighting and realized that the thought of anyone hurting her, not just Dominique, bothered him deeply.

“She is tearing through my soldiers quickly enough. I’d hate to see her really mad,” joked Adrian. Sebastian laughed with him, replaceing that he enjoyed Adrian’s presence.

“Yes, that would be scary to watch,” he joked back, laughing with him quietly. Sebastian whispered, “In truth, she could kill all of them with a thought if she practiced and wanted to.”

“Should we do anything for her?” asked Adrian while watching her send another wolf flying back from her blade.

Sebastian shook his head, “She’ll talk when she’s ready. You won’t get anything productive from her until she’s ready, just more anger.” Adrian took a mental note of Sebastian’s advice concerning Cinder. He looked at Sebastian, appreciating how close the two were, to the point that Sebastian could offer insights into Cinder. The two men had started forming a friendship over the two weeks they had been around one another.

“Why would she be mad at herself, do you think?” Adrian asked him.

“From the way she reacted. She has tried to harden herself against the evils of this world, to become an Eradicator, and my guess is she feels like she’s failing because she fears Dominique,” Sebastian answered him while watching her.

She heard their thoughts about her and looked up toward them, stilling from the distraction of Sebastian’s words cutting home. The werewolf soldier she had been fighting used it to his advantage and barreled her over, using his shoulder to ram into her, sending her to the ground. She flung herself up off the ground and used the momentum to swing her foot in a high arch that connected with the soldier’s face, whipping him around. Blood pouring from his mouth, he hit the arena grounds on all fours.

Another soldier came at her from behind, managing to get his arms around her, and then held a blade to her throat. She didn’t struggle; she just let him restrain her and acknowledged her loss to him. Her rage had dissipated with the last kick to the other soldier. Seeing him bleeding on the ground caused her pain, and she was disappointed with herself again; she was supposed to be helping and healing, not this.

The soldier behind her released her. She turned to replace that it was the Captain that she and Sebastian had fought the other night.

“Well played, Captain,” she bowed to him.

He gave her a knowing smile, “Hardly. You had already given up before I grabbed you.” He looked around at his bloodied men and appraised her. “You done beating my men up? What got you pissed off so bad, anyway?” he asked her. She smiled at him and looked down, laughing a little in exasperation; the lingering frustration with herself made her shake her head.

“What is your name Captain?” she asked.

“Tristan, Your Highness,” he bowed.

“That is not necessary, Tristan. I am simply a guest without station,” she waved him off with a kind smile.

“My understanding was that you are an Ambassador and now High Advisor to our King?” he asked, looking around, unsure like he had gotten it wrong. She was surprised at the last bit, and her mouth dropped open at his words.

From the balcony, the King answered for her, “That is correct, Captain. You did address her correctly.” Cinder looked up at Adrian, and their eyes met for a moment.

“High Advisor? Adrian, what?”

He smiled back at her calmly, “If you will be helping me at court and giving me insights into others all the time, it’s necessary. This way, no one will question you being near me at court and other official times, interacting with me as you offer your insights. I hope that that doesn’t displease you?”

She was still shocked and amazed at his lavished kindness, “I’m honored and don’t know what to say. I don’t feel worthy or wise enough to give you council; it should be the other way around.”

He laughed out loud from the balcony and smiled at her, looking down for a quick moment before meeting her eye again, “Well, if you give me insights into the minds of others, I’ll give you council. Deal?” His reply was still colored with laughter and gentle teasing. She slightly smiled at him, some color creeping onto her cheeks.

She turned back to look at the Captain. His men had gathered nearby, nursing their wounds.

Looking them over, he said, “You really did a number.”

“I’m sorry, Tristian. Allow me,” she turned, focused on all the soldiers’ injuries, and let her magic flow out to speed up their advanced natural healing. All the soldiers wore confused looks on their faces and then started to examine their non-existent injuries.

“So what did get you so pissed off?” he asked her again. She sighed and looked down.

“Walk with me?” she offered to him.

He nodded to his men, “As you were.”

He fell into step alongside her as she walked toward her room. Tristan was an uncomplicated man in his mind, and she appreciated that; he didn’t hide things and spoke his thoughts as they came, even if it was teasing. He had dark blonde hair and hazel eyes that patiently looked back at her as he awaited her answer.

“An evil vampire overlord hit me, kissed me, and sucked on my blood while standing in a room full of his victims that I was trying to save and heal, so he could continue to use them to feed on. I lost a few of them in the process. One man and another young girl lay there, waiting for their next turn to sustain the vampire’s evil,” she sighed, talking with her hands while they walked. Tristan gave a short whistle under his breath.

“So, just another day on the job, huh?” he goaded her with a smile. A breathy laugh escaped her lips, and she met his smile.

“Hey, Come with me,” he pulled on her arm.

She allowed herself to be led along by Tristan, him holding her hand, pulling her along after him. They walked through the palace hallways to the courtyard and out the gate. She wondered where in the world he was taking her but wasn’t worried. They walked a short way to the trading district outside the palace, down the hill, and entered a tavern.

Tristan motioned to the barkeep and pulled up at a small table in the corner. Cinder slid into a chair opposite him with a smile on her face for him.

The bartender approached them, drying a mug with a towel, “What can I get for yeh?”

“Two ciders, please,” Tristan answered him. Cinder gave him a curious look, so he explained, “Our Kingdom is known for its ales and brews. The cider is best at this time of year.”

The barkeep brought them two frothing mugs of cider and left them to their business. The two spent a few hours in the corner of the tavern, nursing their drinks and talking. Tristan shared with her how he had been born into the Kingdom and how his father had been a soldier before him. His mother was still alive, and he supported her with his position. He had a sister happily married to a Kingdom Mason who made a good living, and they had two young children.

Through conversing, Tristan and Cinder laughed and enjoyed each other’s company. She shared with him what brought her to the Kingdom and her desire to be an Eradicator.

“Well, that explains how you can turn my men into bleeding pups,” Tristan laughed while downing the last of his cider. Cinder gave an embarrassed laugh, blushing, and turned to finish hers.

“You up for some more fun, or do you need to head back?” he asked, standing up and offering her his hand.

“What did you have in mind?” she asked, smiling at him and taking his hand. He helped her up, paid for their drinks, and led her across the street to a larger tavern. The man at the door nodded to him in greeting as they passed; clearly, he was known here.

Inside was a band playing country-folk music, and couples were dancing joyfully while others sat around tables with drinks.

“The brew is better across the street, but this place offers other distractions,” he said, motioning to the dancing.

She laughed at him a little and said, “I’m not exactly wearing a dress, you know.” He shrugged, not caring, and pulled her along after him by the hand.

He pulled her to him and melded into the couples spinning and twirling on the dance floor, making her laugh. Cinder found dancing in armor somewhat tricky, as it didn’t allow for the same ease of movement as a dress, but she managed fine as Tristan led. The pair had to be quite the sight, dancing in their armor and weapons together, even if they still appeared light of foot. He was a good dancer and had her laughing and smiling from the start.

Others gazed on, wondering who the female soldier was, dancing in their midst; with so much werewolf scent on the air, you couldn’t tell she wasn’t one unless you got close. The Captain was known, but they didn’t recognize her in her black leather armor, as the rumors about her, the mysterious witch living at the palace, were of a woman in a dress. Female soldiers were uncommon, but it happened, so they simply assumed she was a new recruit.

The song changed, and the pair joined in on a group dance that had them skipping around in circles and then in rows. Tristan caught her arm in his, laughing and smiling at her, and she realized just how light of heart his company made her feel. Cinder was enjoying herself immensely, having loved dancing for years.

Another slower song for couples came on, and Tristan found her again. The song was a love story about a young couple meeting up on the road and traveling together. Tristan held her close and just looked at her, thinking about what she had told him earlier about herself. His mind also assessed how much he enjoyed her company and how easily he laughed with her. Tristan wondered about her relationship with Sebastian and the King, which surprised her somewhat. What had he seen that would even make his mind go there? He sent her out for a twirl and brought her back in, giving her a kind smile, still thinking about her.

The song ended, and he took her hand, saying, “I guess we’d better get back. It’s getting late, and I must work in the morning.” She followed him out of the tavern, and they walked toward the palace. The gates were opened for them, and they entered the courtyard.

“I assume you can make it from here by yourself?” he teased her.

“Yes, thank you for a wonderful time, Tristan. I will see you around.”

“As long as you don’t bloody my men so bad next time, you’re welcome any time,” he winked at her. She laughed again and headed off to her room.