Scarlet Queen
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BOOK THREE OF THE DARKWOLF SAGA THE Scarlet Queen MITCH REINHARDT The Scarlet Queen Copyright © 2020 by Mitch Reinhardt All rights reserved. First Edition: 2020 No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental. For Sue ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS Developmental/Copy Editor – Alice McVeigh Cover Design – James Egan at Bookfly Design Interior Design – Marina & Jason Anderson at Polgarus Studio Beta Readers – Scott McDonald, Danny Hay, Sue Call, Stacey Call Proof Reader – Alexis Whitney at Sweetheart Author Services CHAPTER ONE Jane’s Escape ow had she gotten here? Biting her lower lip, Jane tried H to remember. There had been some kind of an argument, she knew. The others had tried to force her to go with them. She thought she’d known who they were but still she had resisted. At least, she recalled resisting, even fighting. She had the bruises to prove it. Though obviously she must have lost, having awoken at the garrison of Troll Fang Pass. Brushing back her shoulder- length brown hair, she pulled on the sheepskin cloak she had stolen from the unconscious midwife, hoping, rather guiltily, that the blow to her head hadn’t hurt her much. Jane slipped down the wooden stairs and into the chilly courtyard, heart racing. Outside, everyone appeared to be in a hurry. Heavily armored men and elves were bustling about, packing supplies and making preparations for their march toward the great walled city of Chalon, the trade center of Alluria. The tramping of boots on cobbles mingled with creaking wagons, yelled orders and horses’ whinnying. Keeping her head down and her cloak wrapped tightly around her, Jane slipped unnoticed through the heavy 1 MITCH REINHARDT wooden gates of the battered garrison. Rain must have fallen overnight, leaving a soggy, uneven path. Jane glanced over her shoulder. Nobody was in pursuit, at least, or at least no one that she could detect. Eventually, of course, they would be after her, but this was her only chance and she had to take it. She took a deep breath and bounded down the rocky hillside toward Troll Fang Pass. A few minutes later, she darted across the pass before disappearing into the remnants of a forest. Many of the trees had been damaged by barbarians and ogres during the attack on the garrison. It seemed like a long time ago, but perhaps it hadn’t been. Her memory felt shaky – now and then she even felt dizzy. There had been a huge battle and…she shuddered as a grotesquely misshapen, glaring ogre surged up from the depths of her memory. Something had happened after the ogre had dragged down the garrison wall, but she couldn’t quite remember what. But this was no time to become distracted. Pulling herself together, she started running again. Her breaths lingered in the chilly air for only a moment before dissipating. Her legs soon began to ache, but she knew that she had to put as much distance between herself and the garrison as possible. To the north, where the trees gradually thinned, a snow-capped mountain range emerged into view. By then, she simply had to stop, her chest hurt there were still no pursuers behind her. She closed her eyes and stood for a moment, breathing heavily, trying to remember someone. Yet, each time, just as the face started to form, it slipped teasingly away. Suddenly, she raised her head and smiled in sheer relief. She had forgotten his name. Even his face and the outline of his strong form was only partly clear. However, she was 2 THE SCARLET QUEEN suddenly sure – as sure as if she’d heard his voice. She was heading in the right direction and that he was there, high in the mountains, waiting for her. But then another shudder of nerves ran through her. What if she was captured on the way? What if she never saw him again? What was his name? Zane? Zach? The thought was unbearable. Grasping her cloak tighter still around her shoulders, she resumed her course north. And whenever the sensation that she might be making some fundamental error nagged at her, she pushed the thought away. She had to get back to the one who truly mattered. Nearly a mile further on, Jane suddenly froze. In the distance, almost a hundred yards away, she had spotted the unmistakable shapes of two armored sentries. They were standing on a hillside, their horses, cropping grass, tethered to a nearby tree. If she could only divert the sentries’ attention, she just might stand a chance of stealing one of the horses. How much easier her task would be if only she could ride. Jane moved closer, shielding herself within the dense undergrowth. Yet as she crept near enough to see the sentries, her hopes sank. They were unmistakably elven warriors, casual, graceful, symmetrically featured. Jane frowned. Elvish ears could detect almost anything. She would have to get much closer than felt safe to distract them, or even to use a spell to entangle them with the surrounding trees or plants. With a sigh of frustration, Jane retraced her steps, as quietly as she could, back into the woods. Once there, she picked up her pace, leaping over fallen branches, weaving between bushes and trees. An unexpected rumble of thunder caused her to pause and glance upwards, where roiling wreaths of clouds 3 MITCH REINHARDT foreshadowed a wet night. As the first few raindrops landed on her face, Jane closed her eyes and tilted her head back. “Jane!” Someone was calling her. Jane’s eyes widened, her hand rushing to her throat. She tensed, conscious of a tingling on the surface of her skin and a heavy weight in her stomach. She crouched, poised to run. “Jane!” It was a familiar voice, she thought, just as the rain began to fall harder. She also caught a brief glimpse of movement through the trees. Panicking, Jane whirled and sprinted away. Why hadn’t she remembered to cast the spell that masked her tracks? How stupid she had been! As she ran, she distinguished several different voices behind her, some male, and some female. They were getting closer and closer. Suddenly she recognized the one of the voices. Sawyer, someone called Sawyer. He sounded almost frantic. Perhaps she should try to hide…no, they were too many and they would certainly find her. Instead, she had to keep running. There really was no going back. “There she is!” cried a female voice. Glancing over her shoulder, Jane saw four shapes running toward her. Two beautiful female elves skimmed, with enviable effortlessness, through the forest, easily outdistancing two human males. The taller elf, whose skin was a golden bronze, had dark blonde hair and leather armor. Jane gasped. She had such presence that the trees and shrubs leaned away from her, enabling her to pass without hinderance. The smaller, younger female, who was similarly clad, 4 THE SCARLET QUEEN carried a bow and sprinted in her wake while the two humans crashed through branches and stumbled over rocks in a determined effort to keep up. The taller dark-haired male, whom Jane secretly acknowledged to be well-built and good-looking, wore intricate armor with a sword and scabbard flung across his back. Her last pursuer was less intimidating. He was blond, thinner, and smaller, wearing a simple tunic and breeches which seemed a little too large for him. He kept getting snagged on branches and losing his footing. She was sure she could outrun him. Still, she couldn’t possibly outrun them all, especially the elves. Jane swiftly scoured the area for acorns, slipping several tightly into her palm. If she could just give herself time to get away, she’d be able to mask her trail and she might still be able to find a place to hide. They were closing on her, but she had to try. Briefly pausing, she pointed toward the ground, summoning up the druidic words. “Bar’athel envora,” she said. The grasses instantly lengthened, whipping the air like vibrant snakes, while the trees stretched their limbs in effort to ensnare her pursuers. Sawyer hadn’t noticed what was happening until he was wrapped in a grassy cocoon, as was the smaller, lighter human. Geoff, she remembered. Geoff, of course… But the two elves were far nimbler, especially the one carrying a bow. Her fourth pursuer, however, the taller elf, had only to hold up her hand for the treacherous grasses to shrink back into themselves, overruling Jane’s spell. 5 MITCH REINHARDT Blinking in disbelief, Jane realized that the tall elf was incredibly, shockingly, powerful. No matter how furiously she concentrated, the surrounding flora ignored her. Instead, she watched, in a near-panic, as Sawyer and Geoff were released by the grassy tendrils that she had summoned to hold them. Ariel. Jane groaned, as her memory retrieved the name. Then a flash of movement to her left caught Jane’s attention. The elven archer was also rapidly closing in. “Ana’thel,” Jane shouted as she threw an acorn. However, she had misjudged the distance and the projectile struck a tree behind her target, though its green explosion still rocked the delicate elf off-balance.