Of Thorn and Thread (Daughters of Eville #4) - Chanda Hahn

Prologue

“What’s that smell?” Harken asked, wrinkling his nose.

“Relax. It’s just mold, mildew, and”—Velora closed her eyes and inhaled, breathing out the last word, savoring it—“magic.”

“Magic has a smell?” Harken scratched his scruffy chin as he followed the others down the stone steps. The green mage light barely illuminated the eerie passageway.

“Old magic does,” Velora said.

Crammed together like fish in a barrel, they navigated the narrow tunnel, ducking under roots that protruded from the ceiling. Velora picked up her skirts and kept close to Aspen, Allemar’s apprentice.

Harken missed a step, the heavy pack he carried causing him to pitch forward into Allemar.

“This is the best you could do for acolytes?” Allemar ridiculed, rubbing his shoulder.

Aspen looked upon his master who had only a few months ago regained a human form, his soul having been trapped within a spelled dagger and then transferred into the current body in front of him. The green-gold eyes that looked at him with disdain once belonged to a guard of the Undersea. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to his master’s new appearance.

Aspen cleared his throat. “Harken and Dormir are the best bounty hunters. They served me well.”

“I suppose one mustn’t complain of a donkey if they don’t want to carry the burden themselves,” Allemar replied.

As the five travelers carried on, the steps leveled out, and the passageway opened up to where they could stand shoulder to shoulder.

“The smell of magic is growing stronger,” Velora said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“What are we looking for again, and is it going to make me money?” Dormir asked. His hand brushed the knife clipped to his belt. “I’m tired of traveling all over this forsaken kingdom searching for some vault that’s probably already been looted. There better be gold inside.”

Allemar turned to confront him. “What’s inside is far more valuable than gold. It’s the key to bringing down the kingdom of Rya.”

“No gold? Yeah, count me out,” Harken said, turning on his heel and heading back up the stairs. “I’ve got better things to do.”

“Then by all means, don’t let me stop you,” Allemar sneered and flicked his wrist.

Harken’s head turned with a crack and he slid to the floor. Without feeling or remorse, Allemar stepped over his still warm body. “Sweet dreams.”

Velora, Aspen, and Dormir stilled, watching the sorcerer with wide, fear-filled eyes.

“Anyone else care to share their unwanted opinions?” Allemar asked.

Three heads shook simultaneously.

“I thought not,” Allemar said.

Forging ahead through the cave, a ball of magic lit the way . . . until it stopped and circled in the air, flickering repeatedly.

“It’s acting strange. Is it broken?” Velora asked.

“No,” Allemar said, and his wicked smile grew wider. Velora cringed in response. “I found it.” He rubbed his hands together greedily.

“Found what?” Dormir asked, not learning his lesson of his fellow hunter.

“A door. And behind it a curse that’s been bound for nigh twenty years, growing in power and potency.”

Allemar clapped his hands, and the light flickered once . . . twice . . . before growing in size and illuminating the whole underground cave, revealing the long, twisted roots of the never trees. From above, the heart of the fae court stretched from the dirt roof and intertwined with each other, reaching down to the ground creating a crooked archway. Between the arch was an iron door covered in symbols and a language long forgotten.

Allemar muttered under his breath and ran his hands along the door, brushing off dirt to reveal more symbols and sigils. With a spelled word, he trailed his finger over the door and sigils glowed faintly before disappearing again.

“What does it say?” Velora whispered to Aspen.

“It’s a warning.” Aspen pointed to the symbol nearest Allemar. “To anyone who opens the door. It promises death and destruction.”

Velora rubbed her hands up and down her arms and shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

Allemar mumbled to himself. “Finally, I will break free that which you have bound.”

His hands glowed, light bursting from his fingertips as he placed them over each one of the magic locks. Rays of green light shot from the symbols, washing over the underground cavern, creating a sickly underwater illusion.

Allemar continued to chant, his face a mask of pain. His arms trembled under the strain, his voice rising to a crescendo.

First, the tremor was barely perceivable. A mere shake, but then the earth rolled over, and the quake grew. Dust fell from the ceiling, the sketchy path beneath their feet rose as the rocks pushed forth from the