Page 1 of A Vow of Wrath and Ruin

PROLOGUE

Two figures cloakedin shadow stood in front of a roaring fire. Across the flames, a band of mercenaries waited for their assignment, arms folded across their chests, feet tapping the frozen snow impatiently.

Erissa paced back and forth; her silk robes dragged behind her. A hood covered her mangled face.

“You’ve been called here because you are the best at what you do—oathbreakers.”

The mercenaries grumbled under their breath. Once fearsome warriors, they killed for their kings—won them vast territories only to turn against their masters. Now, they lived in the shadows, hunting those who needed to disappear.

“Get on with it, witch,” one of the men grumbled, his dark hair knotted with thick pieces of fat—tall and broad-shouldered, with pale skin, piercing blue eyes, and fangs marking him as vampyr.

“I’m not a witch,” Erissa snapped, pulling back her hood to reveal her half-melted face. Where once porcelain skin grew, now only bone and mangled flesh remained. The light of the fire caught on the bumpy skin, revealing her for the monster she was. “I’m a mage—a priestess of the highest order of Eris.”

An audible gasp rippled through the mercs. Half beauty, half monster, they could not look away.

Replacing her hood, she crossed the gap between her and the vampyr. Summoning her power, her eyes turned a glowing white, and a mysterious wind swirled around the two. She lifted the massive man off the ground, clenching her fingers yet not touching him. The mercenary grasped at his neck, eyes going wide as the air slowly drained from his lungs.

“Speak to me that way again, and I will cut off your manhood and use it for my spells.”

The man nodded frantically, and she lowered him back to the ground.

Rubbing his neck, he fell to his knees, chest heaving.

“Oh, don’t act like you need air to breathe, vampyr. You’ll be fine.” Erissa wiped her slender hands on her wool cloak. “Now.” She cleared her throat. “Here’s the job. Whoever brings me one or all of these three originals, I will pay you their weight in gold.”

The mercs’ eyes glimmered with the thrill of the hunt.

Erissa passed around rough sketches of three figures. The mercs examined the parchment.

“And where will we find them?” one asked.

“One is the Alder King, the other is his lover, and the third is a prince of the Stormlands.”

Half the mercs threw the sketches into the fire.

“The Alder King? You tryin’ ta get us killed?” a slender woman with eyes like sapphires and skin the color of moonlit snow asked. “The Wild Hunt will string our teeth to make new breastplates. Nah, I love the thrill of the chase, but this is suicide.” She turned and headed into the darkness. Many of the others followed until only two remained. One male, brawny with dark wavy hair and tanned skin. The other a woman with deep tan skin, a hooked nose, and bloodred hair.

Erissa clicked her tongue. “Of course, it would be a Barbarian and a Rasa to be the only two up to the challenge.”

The mercenaries eyed one another, sizing up their competition.

The man growled.

“Kita. I should have known you’d be here.”

“Always a pleasure, Alwin.” She folded the parchment, placing it in the fire.

Alwin shook his head. “I can’t wait to see the look on your face when I bring these bastards in.”

“Alive,” Erissa interrupted.

Both mercenaries nodded.

“You’ll use this talisman to alert me when you have secured one or all of the targets.” She handed each mercenary a silver talisman inscribed with ancient runes. “Do not alert me if you do not have the target secured. Is that clear?” Her words bit like the cold.

The mercs nodded again.

“Good. And be warned. These are not your average targets. They are cunning and powerful. More powerful than either of you could comprehend.”

---