Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Angels and Demons ❯ Reminiscing ( Chapter 8 )

A/N: Happy reading! Please review!

 

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Dante moved silently thought the trees. He watched four men clothed in black as they rode down the road. They were nearing the graveyard, and Dramuela's thoughts were panicked.

 

She had seen that they carried silver daggers. Their thoughts whispered of dark secrets from the north, and their steeds looked weather-worn.

 

Dante kept his mind calm as he watched them. He felt one of them seeking for his mind, and he kept it shielded. He knew it would appear that he was merely another mortal, unless the barrier was pressed against. Then the magician, or whatever he was, would be able to feel his inhumanity.

 

He quickly by-passed them, making his way silently into the graveyard. He found Dramuela pacing. She sensed the approaching danger. She did not look at him as he neared, but he saw her ear twitch.

 

“What are they?” she asked, coming to a stop with her back to him.

 

“Magicians,” Dante said, mulling over their auras. “But that is at best. It seems they have been trained in the arts of demon slaying and the like, but they seem novices, or extremely incompetent.”

 

Dramuela looked at him. “What are we going to do?” she asked, her dark eyes shining with fear.

 

“Nothing,” Dante said. He thought quickly. He could handle them, but he couldn't risk them finding out that he and Dramuela were stalking the cemetery. That would cause problems for certain. “You will do nothing. Go, hide yourself. I will face them.”

 

“Alone?” Dramuela asked.

 

He nodded. “I will be fine,” he said. He turned toward the road. “Now go. They are near.” He heard Dramuela turn and run into the forest around the graveyard. He watched the riders come into view. He caught the flash of moonlight on silver.

 

He kept a steady eye on them as they came to a stop in front of him. They all eyed him suspiciously. “What brings you gentlemen out here so late?” Dante asked. He couldn't keep the edge from his voice.

 

One leaned forward. He was a large, burly man, with a scar across his cheek. Around his neck was a large cross. Strung across his back was a bow and arrows, and at his waist was a sword. His clothes were black, and he wore a black cloak. His horse snorted and tossed its head when it saw Dante.

 

“I might ask you the same,” he growled, his voice thick.

 

Dante was silent. He surveyed all of the men. They all were dressed and armed similarly.

 

“Well?” the man demanded.

 

Dante's eyes shifted back to him. They narrowed to a deadly point. “I have as much right to be about as you do,” he said, his voice silent and deadly.

 

“I fear you are up to no good, silver-haired man,” the man growled. “What manner of human or beast are you?”

 

Dante grinned, his fangs flashing. He saw all the men flinch. Their horses pawed nervously. “Is it wise to bother they who would not be bothered?” he asked.

 

“Demon,” the man snarled. He slid from his horse, drawing a sword. “Clevius was correct.”

 

The other three followed his lead. They slid from their mounts, drawing their various weapons. Dante couldn't hide a sneer. Why were humans always so eager to bring pain upon themselves?

 

The leader, the burly man, advanced on him. He noticed that the others were also large, but their auras seemed weak and intimidated. They looked scary, but that's all it was: looks.

 

Dante's eyes followed the leader's sword as he swung it. He easily sidestepped it, feeling as if their movements were too slow. He let the man swing it again, deciding not to move. He caught the blade in his hand, easily holding it inches from his face. He felt it cutting into the palm of his hand, and he saw the blood running down his arm, but it only caused him to grin. He saw the fear on the man's face as he strained against Dante's hold.

 

“Mortals,” Dante purred. He snapped the sword, in half with a flick of his wrist. “So weak.”

 

The man stepped back. Dante could feel his terrorized thoughts.

 

“Why do you persist?” Dante asked, turning to block the second man, whom Dante perceived to be Clevius. He caught Clevius' wrist, a silver dagger in his hand. A cruel light came into his green eyes. “All I need do is flinch and your wrist will be shattered.”

 

Clevius let the dagger fall from his grasp.

 

Dante pushed him to the ground. He let the dagger lie at his feet. He took a step back as he looked at the remaining men. They all were plainly frightened. Their auras confirmed Dante's suspicions. Their intentions had been to slay him, but now they were too frightened. He turned and lifted Clevius off the ground, throwing him at his companions.

 

“Leave,” he said darkly. “Come back when I pose a real threat.” With that he turned and walked away, leaving them standing there, gawking at him.

 

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Amber lay still in her bed. For hours she had been laying there, her eyes closed, but her mind still wide awake. What was she going to say to the Baron? She supposed that if he was truly interested in her, he would allow her more time, but she wasn't sure.

 

She opened her eyes finally. The sun was beginning to appear over the eastern horizon. She sighed. The day brought light, but it shed none on her predicament.

 

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The Baron sat in his parlor. Anxiety twisted in his chest. What would Amber say? He hoped she would say yes. He looked down at the map that lay before him. A wicked smile came to his face.

 

She was a fine prize, and the wealth their marriage would bring was immense. When Lord Ladislas died, he left her all his money, possessions, and Inverleigh. All the serfs that had sworn loyalty to him had now sworn Amber their allegiance. She held more in her delicate hand than she realized.

 

The Baron traced the boundary of her land. Inverleigh was nearly twice the size of his estate, Ikbar. He felt pleased. She had to say yes. She would soon realize that running a large estate was no job for a young girl. He would get his way no matter how long it took.

 

He stood, leaving the parlor. It was time for him to pay someone a visit before he went to Inverleigh to speak to Amber. He pulled his cloak around his shoulders as he walked outside to his waiting horse.

 

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Amber slowly got out of bed. A cough shook her, but it was not bad. She dressed quickly, then picked up Dante's cloak. She thought it odd that he hadn't even mentioned it.

 

She pulled it around her, surprised at the warmth it brought. She left her room and walked down to the dining hall. She took an apple from the bowl on the table, then walked outside to the barn. She took several bites of the apple as she walked to Aato's stall.

 

“Hello, pretty boy,” she said, feeding him the apple. “Wanna go for a run?” She coughed into her hand.

 

His ears flicked back at the sound, but he bobbed his head as he munched the apple.

 

Amber led him from the stall, tacking him quickly. She was eager to go for a ride, and so was he. He danced happily as she climbed onto his back.

 

She turned him toward the road, letting him lope slowly. The wind picked up, whipping his silky mane back into her face. She reveled in the feel of the wind on her face and the scent of the early morning air. It took the tightness from her chest, letting her forget she was sick for a while.

 

They rode along easily until they neared the cemetery. As they came upon it, Aato became jumpy. Amber searched the surrounding wood, trying to find the cause of his distress. She jumped and felt him flinch when a man stepped from the trees.

 

He was a ragged, travel-worn man, and his presence was unnerving. He smiled at her as she passed. He bowed his head.

 

“Milady,” he said quietly, his voice dark.

 

She watched him warily. There was nothing friendly in his smile at all. “Good day,” she said, her voice void of feeling. She felt his eyes follow her as she rode by.

 

Once she reached the cemetery she felt better. She did not know where Dante was, but she felt better knowing she was near him and her parents. She slid from Aato's back and led him into the graveyard. Once she reached her parents' graves, she sat in the grass.

 

The day was cool and breezy, but the sunlight was warm on Amber's face. She spent a good deal of time sitting there, taking in the day and thinking. She decided she would ask the Baron to give her a day or so more. She was confident he would wait.

 

She picked at the grass, lost in her own thoughts. Her hand absent-mindedly went up to grasp the silver whistle around her neck. She had found a chain for it so she could always have it with her. She jumped when a sound echoed through the forest. She looked up.

 

The trees were empty, save for a small silver falcon. It watched her curiously through golden eyes. She smiled as it tilted its head to get a better look at her.

 

She looked at Aato. He looked up from his grazing and turned to look toward the road. Soon the sound of galloping horses could be heard. Amber stayed still as she watched two horsemen ride by. She could feel a tense atmosphere around them. They were clothed in black and rode black steeds. She couldn't tell, but she was certain one looked like the man from earlier.

 

Suddenly the falcon screeched. She looked at it and watched as it took flight. She watched as it circled once, then landed carefully on a nearby tombstone. It watched her intently, tilting its head and shifting from foot to foot. Its silver feathers shone like snow in the sunlight.

 

Amber gazed at it curiously. Was it a falconer's bird that had become lost? She wasn't certain as she gazed at it. It wore no tresses and looked wild. No, she decided, it was not a falconer's bird. It was definitely wild.

 

As if sensing her thoughts, it flapped its wings wildly and screeched at her.

 

Amber's eyes suddenly widened. Gavin had once owned a silver falcon. But, shortly before he left, he sold the bird. He had named it Kane, and he had loved it. They had been an excellent hunting team.

 

As she watched the bird, another thought came to mind. That's why Dante had the whistle. He had kept it. She stared at the bird, then held up her arm. She gave a low whistle.

 

The falcon sat silently, stilling. It watched her calmly, then took flight. It landed gently on her out-stretched arm, careful not to pierce her with its talons.

 

She smiled, stroking its chest. “I knew you weren't really a wild bird,” she said softly.

 

It tilted its head gazing at her through golden eyes. It seemed to look into her soul through her eyes, searching her. Once it found what it was looking for and was satisfied, it took flight again. It landed in a tree, still watching her.

 

Amber watched it a moment longer, then turned to Aato. “Let's go,” she said softly, climbing onto his back.