The Pendant Page 2

  Dean fell into a chair, his legs no longer able to support him.

  “So let me get this right,” he said quietly. “While I have been travelling around this planet, meeting some amazing women, I have stayed true to Sam, whereas she has not only broken off our engagement, she has been sleeping around.”

  “Oh grow up,” Ria snapped at him. “It was different for her and you know it.”

  “Obviously,” he replied sarcastically.

  “She thought you were dead. What did you expect her to do? Spend the rest of her life pining after you. From what I have seen so far, you are definitely not worth it.”

  Her words struck him like a physical blow, knocking his anger out of him. “I think I need to hear the full story.”

  They spent the next hour filling him in on Sam’s life, starting when she first appeared in the field outside of Mama Rose’s cottage. They explained how hard she had found adjusting to her new life and living with the knowledge that she could never go home. This Dean could sympathise with, having gone through it himself. They continued on, telling him about how Sam and Brin met and how they both denied their feelings for a while, despite Hawk’s attempts to make them admit how they felt.

  “It was Brin almost killing her that eventually got them together.”

  Dean stared at Ria. “You have got to be kidding me.”

  She shook her head. “We needed her to scream in agony and he did not trust anyone else to do it, so he shot her in the shoulder with an arrow.”

  “You bloody idiots,” Dean exclaimed. “It didn’t need to be real agony. I faked it and the entrance still opened.”

  Ria and Tor both looked at him. “I think it might be a good idea if you do not mention that to Sam. She might not take it very well.”

  Dal took over the narration, explaining how they had trouble removing the arrow and Sam reacted badly to the pain killing potion Ellen brewed for her, almost resulting in her death.

  “Brin would not leave her side until he knew she was going to live. From that moment on, they were inseparable,” Tor said. “They had their arguments, usually about his over-protectiveness, but they always sorted them out.”

  “She made the decision that he should remain with his people when all of his family were killed. It was the right thing to do, but they both took it very hard. She barely ate or drank anything for days.” Ria sighed. “It was not pleasant to watch. She rarely spoke and would only sleep when Ellen forced a sleeping drug down her throat.”

  “Brin was not much better,” Seth informed Dean. “Hawk flew back to his home each night until the distance became too great and Brin’s uncle, the King, told him that Brin was reacting to the separation in much the same way.”

  “I don’t understand,” Dean said, frowning. “If he loved her so much, why did he let her go, knowing she was expecting his child.”

  “He does not know. Finding out she was pregnant is what saved her. Suddenly she had something worth living for. She is refusing to let anyone tell him.”

  Dean hung his head in his hands. “Okay,” he said when he raised his head again. “I think I am getting the picture. So what do I do now?”

  “Court her,” Ria suggested. “It is going to take her a long time to get over Brin. You could help her do that.” She looked at him thoughtfully. “Does it bother you that she is expecting someone else’s child?”

  “Yes,” he replied truthfully. “But I guess it is something that I will have to get used to. What is my first step?”

  “Apologising would be a good start. Then you need to take it slow. Remind her of how much you meant to her. She talked about you often enough when she first joined our group so we all know how she felt. Her feelings have not gone, they have just been buried. You need to help her bring them to the surface again.”

  Before he had chance to disagree with her, Ria unceremoniously pulled him to his feet and pushed him out of the room, closing the door behind him. “Men,” she said in exasperation.

  He had only taken a few steps towards the stairs when he was suddenly slammed backwards into the wall, a hand almost crushing his windpipe. Desperately trying to pull the hand away from his throat, he struggled to breathe as he felt his body being dragged upwards until his head almost touched the ceiling.

  He began to shake uncontrollably as the face in front of him moved closer and a menacing voice rasped in his ear. “Give me one good reason why I should not kill you right now.”

  Chapter 2

  Hearing the commotion outside, those closest to the door opened it and ran out. “Let him down Hawk,” Tor ordered and Dean was relieved to find the command was obeyed. He felt his feet touch the ground, but the hold this stranger had on his neck did not weaken.

  “You had better have a very good explanation as to why I found Sam curled up on her bed, crying her heart out,” Hawk growled at him.

  “Dean, meet Hawk, our friendly vampire. He does not usually drink human blood, but he may make an exception in your case, unless you can convince him you meant Sam no harm. They have become good friends and he does not like to see her upset, especially at the moment.” Tor was speaking very calmly, but did not instruct the vampire to release him, Dean noticed. “Hawk, this is Dean,” Tor continued.

  Hawk swung his head round to regard the prince. “The Dean?” Tor nodded. He looked back at Dean then slowly relaxed his grip. Dean regarded him curiously. At first glance he appeared to be a normal human, though a little pale. His black hair was smoothed back away from his face, drawing attention to his eyes. These too were black. Not dark brown, like some humans had, but pure black. Dean shivered involuntarily, causing the vampire to smile at him. He opened his mouth slightly, revealing two long pointed fangs. Dean did not dare to move.

  “We have just been bringing him up to date on the Brin situation,” Ria said, taking Hawk’s arm in an effort to pull him away from Dean. “He was just about to go and apologise to her.”

  Hawk grunted and moved out of Dean’s way, watching his back as he walked towards the stairs. Just as he started to climb, Hawk called to him. “One thing before you go.” Dean paused, turning to look at him. “I once told Brin that if ever he hurt Sam I would kill him. I guess the same now applies to you.” Dean nodded his head then continued to climb, not sure if the vampire was joking or not.

  “Is he going to be a problem?” Hawk asked once Dean was out of earshot.

  Tor shook his head. “I do not think so. Once he comes to terms with the fact that Sam has moved on, he will probably do her a lot of good.”

  “Keep an eye on him though,” Ria suggested.

  Dean crept into Sam’s room without knocking. She was fast asleep on top of the bed, still fully dressed. He carefully removed her shoes then searched for a blanket. Finding one in a chest at the far end of the room, he placed it over her before removing most of his own clothes and lying down beside her. As he pulled her close to him, he heard her murmur in her sleep. “Brin.” He winced, but did not remove his arm. He had been hoping to carry on from where they left off, but if that was not possible, then he would just have to start from the beginning again. He had managed to win her heart once, he was sure he could do so again.

  The next morning, Dean awoke to find Sam regarding him critically. He had thrown the blanket off during the night revealing his naked torso. He had changed greatly since his ‘death’. His dark hair was still unbelievably neat and tidy and his skin was still beautifully tanned, but he had become more toned and now possessed muscles in places she had never seen them before. The biggest difference, though, were his eyes. The colour was still a deep brown, but now they shone where before they had been dull and lifeless.

  “Good morning,” he said, unsure of her mood. He was used to being able to read her like a book, even though he could not see her, and did not like the fact that he could no longer do so.

  “You have changed,” she said. He was not sure if this was a compliment or an insult. “The physical demands of travelling obviously
agree with you.”

  “Look Sam, I’m sorry about...” She covered his mouth with her fingers, preventing him from finishing his sentence.

  “I know. We have both been through a lot and are no longer the same people we once were. Let’s take time to get to know each other again. It is good to see you,” she added.

  By midmorning there was still no sign of Patrick so a search party was organised. The next few hours were spent scouring the castle for its missing owner, to no avail. Eventually Ria had the foresight to ask Willard, Patrick’s butler, and was told that he always used to seek out the ogres whenever he was troubled.

  “Ogres,” Sam said doubtfully. “As in big, ugly, man eating monsters?”

  Seth laughed. “Not exactly. You have the big and ugly parts right, though I would not say that in front of one if I were you. But what in the world makes you think they eat humans?”

  Sam shrugged. “Another case of authors from my world getting their facts wrong I guess.” Dean frowned at her. “Just something Bellak told me,” she explained. “He said that rifts appear between our worlds and some of our most famous authors got their ideas by coming to this world before spontaneously appearing back in our world. Mind you, that was during the time he was constantly lying to me, so it may not be true.”

  “Back to the ogres,” Ria said before Sam could say anything more. “According to Willard, a band of them live here on this island and Patrick goes to see them whenever he wants advice. Some of us should pay them a visit in case they know where Patrick might be.”

  “Good idea,” Tor approved. “Volunteers?”

  Predictably, Dal immediately raised her hand, followed by a reluctant Seth. Nobody else was quite so enthusiastic. Ria eventually agreed to accompany them, but only because she had been given the directions to their camp.

  It was a long trek through woodland and the four of them were tired, and a little nervous, by the time they arrived at their destination. Tor had insisted on accompanying them. He was worried about his friend; it was not like Patrick to be absent for so long.

  As they broke out of the trees, the sight before them made Dal gasp. She had been expecting to see caves, or mud huts, but before them were a number of large buildings made from wood and stone, some two storeys high. They were still contemplating what to do when the door to one of the houses opened and an ogre strode out. Dressed in trousers and a tunic, he looked more human than any of them had been expecting. He was wide and towered above Tor. If he was not friendly, they were all in a lot of trouble. Ugly was too mild a word to describe his hairless face. It was almost perfectly round, with a prominent nose and overlarge ears. Dal dropped her gaze and found herself staring at the hairiest pair of feet she had ever seen.

  With only a few steps he was standing directly in front of them. He regarded them suspiciously, then spoke to them in what sounded like a series of growls. “We should have brought Sam,” Ria whispered to Tor. The spell that had dragged Sam from her own world had a strange side-effect; she was able to understand and speak all languages, including those of animals. The previous evening, Ria had asked Brodin if the same spell had been used on Dean and if it had had the same effect. It had.

  Before he could respond, the ogre surprised them by talking. “I speak human,” it grunted. “Why you here?”

  “We are looking for our friend, Patrick,” Tor explained. “Is he here?”

  “He here. He no speak you. You go away.”

  Tor grimaced. This was not going well. “It is vitally important that we speak with him. Not only are we very worried about him, but we also need his help.”

  “You no welcome. You go away,” came the reply.

  Tor was deliberating about what he should do when a voice called out from the top window of one of the buildings. “It is alright. I will speak with them. I am coming down.”

  A few moments later, Patrick appeared in the doorway and strolled over to them. Ria, Dal and Seth stared at him in surprise. He looked normal. They had not seen him looking so neat and tidy since Ellen’s death. Not only had he bathed recently, but he had shaved and trimmed and brushed his black hair. Dressed in a dark blue silk shirt and tight black leather trousers, he appeared to be completely back to normal. Well almost. His eyes still betrayed his heartbreak. Though very dark brown, they usually shone brightly. Even when he was sad, they held a fire within them; a fire he managed to make smoulder when he was seducing a woman. Now they were dull and lifeless.

  “I was told that you had let yourself go to ruin,” Tor said to him when he was close enough. “It is good to see I was misled.”

  Patrick shrugged. “You were not misled. I was in a pretty bad state, but experience has taught me that it is always best to be presentable when visiting with ogres. They tend to not react very well when you smell bad.”

  Tor chuckled. “Why are you here?”

  “I should be asking you that question.” Patrick’s tone indicated that he was not happy about the intrusion. Instead of waiting for an answer, he looked up at the ogre and spoke to it in its own language. It nodded, then went back into the house.

  “I learned to speak to them a long time ago,” he explained. “He has gone to ask permission from the chief for you to enter his house. Follow me.” He walked back towards the house he had just exited. Before he reached the threshold, he heard a loud bellowing. He smiled, opened the door and signalled that the others should follow him.

  The room they found themselves in could have been in any cottage in any village, except for the size. Seeing the visitors stare in wonder, Patrick smiled. “Ogres are a lot more civilised than you realise.” He led them to the back of the house, where they found a number of ogres sitting round a large wooden table. On one side of the room, a slightly smaller one was standing next to a large pot suspended over a fire pit, stirring the contents.

  Patrick pointed to one of the ogres sitting at the table. “This is the chief and his family,” he introduced. “These are my friends, Tor, Ria, Dal and Seth. Each inclined their head when their names were mentioned.

  “Welcome,” the ogre said gruffly.

  “We are honoured to meet with you,” Tor replied formally. He regarded Patrick. “How are you?” he asked.

  It was the chief who answered the question. “Human stupid. Ogre wise. Ogre tell human mate died, not him. Should stop sulking.”

  Patrick grimaced. “Ogres tend to be blunt and to the point. That is one of the reasons their advice is usually worth listening to. He has basically told me that there is nothing I can do to bring Ellen back and it is not my fault that she is dead so I should get over it and get on with my life.” He did not sound happy about the lack of sympathy.

  Tor grinned. “Good advice. Are you going to follow it?”

  Patrick shrugged. Seth, who had been sniffing the air, plucked up the courage to speak. “I know I am being rude, but that smells wonderful. May I try some?” He pointed towards the cook. The chief grunted and a bowl was filled and handed to Seth. The contents must have been some kind of soup, but it was thin and watery, with chunks of meat floating in it. Holding the bowl to his lips, he took a sip.

  “Wow. I have got to know what is in this,” he exclaimed.

  “Dog,” the chief replied. Seth paled and almost choked, causing a deep growling noise to erupt from the chief’s mouth.

  “He is only joking,” Patrick informed the distressed young man, who soon realised that the ogre was laughing. The chief called the cook over to him and acted as translator as the ingredients were listed. While that strange conversation was taking place, Tor took Patrick aside and explained why his help was required. He vaguely recalled the painting Tor described, but would need to see it once more before he could tell the Prince anything about it. After a lot of talking, Tor finally managed to persuade him to leave the ogres and return to his castle, though he failed to extract a promise from him that he would continue with the quest.

  Seth had to be physically dragged from the room; he was busy
comparing recipes with the chief’s wife and did not wish to leave. The ogres handing over a cooking book, with assurances that Sam would be able to read it, eventually persuaded the young man to depart.

  “Wow, you look good,” Sam exclaimed as soon as she saw Patrick. Despite the long walk back to the castle, he still looked remarkably better than he had in a long while. He winced at her comment, but did not speak. He accompanied Ria up the tower stairs to the room where most of his artwork was on display, returning with the required painting in hand. The library did not contain a table large enough, so he took it to the main dining room, gently placing his burden on the enormous marble table.

  “That is heavy,” he complained, clenching and unclenching his fists in order to get the blood flowing properly once more. One by one or in pairs, everyone else made their way to the dining room. The sun had just set, so Hawk joined them before the discussion began. He glanced towards Sam as he entered the room, smiling to himself when he noticed her holding Dean’s hand. His initial opinion of the man may have been low, but if he was able to help her cope with the loss of Brin, then he had his blessing to try.

  Patrick was studying the painting carefully. “I have had this on display in the tower for the last hundred years or so,” he eventually announced. “Though how anyone else knows about it I would love to know. To the best of my knowledge, nobody except me has been in there for decades.”

  “Why not ask Albian when we finish the quest,” Brodin suggested. “He obviously helped with setting up the clues.”

  Patrick smiled. It was a conversation he was looking forward to. “The ‘Shrieking Pheasant’ refers to the statue, which is in the middle of the picture. It was commissioned by the Baron of Inden.”

  “Inden?” Brodin queried. “In Fester?” Patrick nodded.

  “Fester borders Kinfen and Kavern,” Seth whispered to Sam before she could voice her question.

  “Is it still there?” Tor asked.

  Patrick shrugged. “Who knows? This was painted a long time ago.”