Treasured Lies Read Online Free Page B

Shyain would whisper off his tongue with his first breath of the day and it would be the last word he spoke before he succumbed to sleep at night. When Nox wrapped his fingers around Shyain’s scrawny neck and squeezed until his eyes bulged red, he’d repeated that name over and over like a medieval chant. Once the deed was done, there was no need to utter that ridiculous name ever again.
    That was the first time Nox had ever killed a person. And the ease with which he did it surprised him. There was no emotion, just pure analysis of the situation and outright satisfaction of retribution once it was done. Even the dilemma of getting rid of the body unfolded with ease. The hardest part had been lifting the lid off the stone crypt. He did it though. Driven. That’s what he was. Even as a child he knew how to harness the power of determination.
    To this day, some twenty-nine years later, no-one knew Shyain’s body, though most likely nothing more than dust by now, shared an ancient crypt with Robert The Wise. It was an ironic resting place for a stupid little boy. But so be it.
    The bulky ring on Nox’s finger caught his attention, drawing him decades forward to his current crisis. He knew what the ring contained. Poison. Poisonous mushroom powder to be exact. He’d made it himself. The ring was a clever design. A passing inspection would miss the little hinge that served to raise the jewelled lid on a hidden compartment. The ring was at least seven hundred years old. It had been personally designed for Crisofora della Revere, a thirteenth century Italian aristocrat who apparently had as many enemies as he had children.
    Nox wondered if just a mere taste of the powder, maybe a small spattering on the tip of his tongue, wound take the edge off his pain. All it would take was to pop the lid and dip his finger in. The magic potion may be his saviour. He licked his cracked lips, weighing up the idea.
    But as much as he wanted to, a niggling command in the back of his mind told him to save it. He had no idea what he was up against, and it may be very likely his poison would come in handy soon. He’d been in worse situations before, granted he’d never been in so much pain before, but he was a survivor.
    When Nox found the antique ring, it had been used to secure an ancient scroll. That scroll, and in particular what was written upon it, had been driving him for decades. And now as he lay in agony and apparent neglect, he directed his attention to the scroll and finding the Calimala treasure listed in great detail upon it. Sometimes, when a ray of light hit the ring in a certain way, the three red jewels in the lid glowed. Almost as if they were reaching out to him, trying to tell him to have faith. But right now, in this dingy room it was lifeless. A perfect reflection of the gloomy darkness trying to engulf his spirit.
    An unusual noise caught his attention. A low hum like a nesting wasp. But it wasn’t a wasp, it was too consistent and gradually growing louder. It was an engine. Not as heavy as a car engine, but something smaller, like a motorbike or scooter. As he drilled in on the noise, he knew it was drawing closer. His breath shot in and out in frantic gasps as relief mingled with a fresh sense of panic.
    â€˜Help.’ His voice was nothing more than a broken whisper. He rolled his tongue around his mouth, trying to produce moisture.
    â€˜Help me.’
    The noise was louder now, but it was still some distance away. When the noise stopped his mind raced over dozens of questions, none of them easy to answer. Fear shattered like tumbling rocks in his stomach. He heard a series of thumping noises followed by a scraping noise akin to something being dragged over rocks. That soon stopped and was replaced with sounds of footsteps crunching on what must be gravel.
    His breath snagged in his throat as he stared at the gap under the door, both dreading and equally desperate to see who was about