Edge of Darkness ~ A Darkness & Light Novel Book Three Page 14

  Bolin gusted out a sigh of relief. The power of the Imperial bloodline was tied to the land. The immensity of the Goddess's power, even if she did nothing other than appear, would have been felt for hundreds of leagues by any of pure, royal blood. Dain acknowledging it lent credence to the actuality of the event.

  "Beautiful and unnerving. That's a very accurate description of the woman herself." Bolin struggled to get the next words out. Even with Dain's corroboration, it felt like a dream. "It was the Goddess you felt."

  The Emperor's jaw dropped open to the same degree his eyes widened. The briefest flicker of doubt crossed his face before being wiped away by awe. "In person?"

  "Aye."

  Dain blinked and looked away, his focus pulling inward. Bolin let him work through it for a time, for both their sakes.

  "You could have saved me a sleepless night by telling me what you were about when you left."

  "It wasn't planned. At least, with you feeling her presence, I know it wasn't merely a conjuring of my imagination." Bolin rubbed his forehead to ease the steady throb behind his eyes. Lack of sleep, he supposed. "You know, I've never claimed the Goddess to be my mother because I never knew for certain. It was an assumption made by those who knew what I was, based on a legend of unknown origin. The sisters from the Isle never told Nialyne who my parents were. Maybe they didn't even know themselves. They merely handed me off to her, and asked her to raise me."

  "Did you ever ask them directly?"

  "I did. I went to the Isle more than once, combing the archives, questioning anyone who may have been involved. It got me nowhere. There were tales, of course. The same as everyone heard regarding the Sciathian bloodlines. But history? Actual records of any sort?" He shook his head in mingled disgust and resignation. "I finally had to accept there were parts of my life that would remain forever hidden from me. Up until now, the Goddess has never spoken to me any differently than I assume she talks to anyone else, which is rarely and obscurely, by means of vague omens or visions. She has never chosen to show herself to me before."

  "I didn't realize," Dain said, and his face puckered in thought. "I'll admit to always being a tad envious, thinking you had more of a relationship with the Goddess than anyone else. Given the fact she has never done this before, I have to ask, why now?"

  "Beyond her desire to verify my parentage and point out my character flaws?" A hint of bitterness crept into Bolin's voice.

  "That last has been done by more than her."

  Bolin slanted a glower at the Emperor.

  "Sorry," Dain said, but the apology lacked sincerity.

  The silence that ensued bore a striking resemblance to the expectant stillness between a strike of lightning and the rumble of thunder. Bolin chose not to interrupt it, and for a long while the Emperor respected that choice. The fact neither of them increased their horse's pace to close the gap between them and the column foreshadowed the quiet's imminent demise.

  The front of the column rounded a curve, bringing the gold and green draped carriage into profile. How long, Bolin wondered, would the barest breath of thought regarding Nialyne rip through him with such pain? He and death were no strangers. He had doled it out too often, had faced it himself as many times, sat on the doorstep of the Halls, had lost friends, brothers-in-arms, and not all in times of war. Having a life span far greater than most, meant watching the people around him grow old and die.

  Bolin drew in a long breath. "It was a warning," he said on the exhale. "She spoke of a threat against the empire. An ancient enemy she called Darkness." His duty dictated he warn Dain of any possible threat. Something else caused him to hesitate. Some tiny pin-prick of mistrust urged him to withhold some of what the Goddess had said. "She feels it will attempt to use me. To turn me against you. That it…"

  "Already has its touch upon you," Dain finished when Bolin faltered. "It seems Thadeus and the Goddess are of like mind in this instance. He spoke to me of his concern regarding your recovery from what happened at the Oak. He worried something lingered. Some darker power."

  "Which would suggest Donovan's witch is one and the same as Darkness. That's impossible." Bolin stared off between Sandeen's ears. The connection seemed too implausible to give much credence. "Donovan would certainly have known the depths of her power. He'd been swimming in it. Wielding it as his own. If the witch had been this ancient threat, wouldn't he have known? How could he have possibly controlled her on any level?"

  "It's not so dissimilar from Ciara," Dain said.

  The comment caused an irrational spike of anger, and Sandeen tossed his head at the sudden change in his rider's demeanor. "In what way?"

  Dain either didn't notice or, more likely, chose to ignore the terseness in Bolin's question. "From all you've told us, the power she holds began as something completely unlike what it is now. The being we know as Andrakaos was nothing more than a presence in the ethereal. As Ciara began to embrace that power, to become more comfortable in its use, it grew. He grew. His true form began to take shape."

  "You're suggesting Darkness inhabited this witch without her knowing?"

  "Dominion priestess," Dain corrected. "It's an important distinction, I think. Admittedly, Thadeus knows far more about the Dominion than I. He and Nialyne spent some time discussing it. One thing both agreed upon, is that the magic the Dominion possessed has never been anything other than evil. Or perhaps, that's all they every used it for. That's a theoretical debate I don't care to engage in. In any case, if Darkness sought entry into this world, what easier way could it have found than someone who already embraced what it offered?"

  "So, even the witch had no clue what she possessed?"

  "Possibly not. Perhaps Darkness merely used her as a vessel."

  "I still have a hard time believing it would have gone unnoticed. Donovan bound the witch to him."

  "Tell me you couldn't have done the same with Ciara's power, before it became what it is now."

  Bolin couldn't argue that. That power had called seductively to him from the very first. He could have, and nearly did, claim it for his own, on the pretense of protecting Ciara. Donovan had even used Bolin's desire for it to very nearly break him. Now here was something potentially greater than even that, something Bolin had already tasted. If the Goddess was right, something that ran elusively through his veins.

  "Or perhaps," Dain said, interrupting Bolin's thoughts, "the priestess was using Donovan."

  "There was never anything to suggest as much. She didn't care for being at Donovan's beck and call. That much was obvious."

  Dain gave him an arched brow appraisal. "Exactly how much contact did you have with her?"

  "There were a few instances. She was a means to an end."

  "And now, it would seem, you are hers."

  Bolin rubbed a hand along his jaw. "Then, you're willing to admit I may not have been imagining her presence in Broadhead?"

  "Knowing you're not going mad is of little comfort in this instance."

  "Perhaps it would be wise for you to return to Nisair," Bolin said. "Take a handful of the men and go. I'll take no slight from it, and would feel better with you safely within the city."

  The Emperor shook his head. "You always did have a particular penchant for changing the subject when it ventured too near something you'd rather it didn't. A valiant effort on your behalf, I will grant you that."

  "You're too tempting a target," Bolin said. It was his best argument. "If the Goddess is right--"

  "Then you will need me by your side. Whether you want me there or not is of little consequence."

  He does not trust you. A breeze caressed the side of Bolin's neck as the words slithered through his mind, and he jerked his head around, seeking the source. He fears you seek to take his crown. He would control you just as the Goddess would.

  "Bolin?"

  Sandeen's ears flicked back and he skipped sideways with a snort, tossing his head. Dain looked a question Bolin's way, and then found himself forced to bring his
own horse under control as it pranced beneath him. A sudden shift in the line ahead told of more horses reacting to something none of the riders had yet to spot.

  I have such plans for you.

  A horse in the center of the group let out a shrill whinny and reared, causing a minor flurry as the soldier spun it to bring it under control, forcing other riders to shift out of his way.

  "Hold ranks," Everyn called out.

  Bolin signaled the rear guard forward to flank the Emperor. "Stay here," he told Dain, then spurred Sandeen forward to meet Everyn, who had already started down the column toward him.

  "Any ideas?" Everyn asked.

  Bolin shook his head. At Sandeen's unrest, he had immediately opened his awareness, sifting through all the bits of magic surrounding them. The Emperor's now flowed outward as Dain also searched for the source of the disturbance. Stray bits of wild magic dotted the landscape, and several of the men possessed a small bit. The haze of mage magic that enveloped Nialyne's carriage, remained strong and undisturbed. Nothing seemed out of place.

  Bolin jerked his head skyward. A dark shape, looking like nothing so much as a ragged cloak caught on the wind, darted beneath the gathering clouds. Dain's power burst outward, meaning he spotted it as well. The thing flipped in mid-air, spiraled higher, then dipped low again, a high pitched keening slicing the air. Dain sent another bolt of power its way, forming it into a wide net. The creature tried to drop beneath it, but its mid-air contortions were of little use. The glimmering net settled over it and drove it to the ground with a long, drawn out screech that sent a fresh wave of panic through the horses as it crashed into the woods some distance from the road.

  "Stay with the Emperor," Bolin said to Everyn, not taking his eyes from the spot where the creature had disappeared into the foliage.

  He nudged Sandeen toward the sounds of thrashing. As they drew close, the stallion's haunches bunched and he sank back as he prepared to rear. Bolin whispered softly to calm him as he dismounted and drew his sword. He edged through the dense underbrush, the creature's continued floundering leading him on. When Bolin drew close enough to see it, the creature swung his way. Fear and doubt slammed into Bolin as though he'd walked into a wall. He hesitated, head angled to the side, mouth suddenly dry. Images flitted behind his eyes in rapid succession: childhood fears, things he kept hidden even from himself, nightmares that had haunted his sleep as a young man, things he dreaded and prayed to the Goddess would never come to pass. Each one sharp edged in its intimacy and intensity.

  Bolin's steps faltered, and the tip of his sword dipped toward the ground. The images spiraled so quickly they were impossible to fully comprehend, leaving only terror in their wake. It pushed against Bolin. Weighed down his limbs. Pulled the breath from his lungs in harsh gasps as it squeezed in ever-tightening bands around his chest. His mouth worked in an effort to create enough spit to swallow past the constricting of his throat. He swiped a shaking hand over his damp brow and took a step back, muscles poised to turn and flee, or crumple to the ground in a quivering heap.

  Sandeen's whinny caught his ear and pulled his attention around enough to break the spell, and Bolin scowled. He shook his head, lip curling in disgust, as much at the ease with which the creature had immobilized him, as at the creature itself. A wraith. The twisted, blackened soul of some long dead being. They used dread and despair to prey upon the unsuspecting, exploited weaknesses to subdue their victims before dragging them into their deadly embrace.

  Bolin sheathed his sword and turned back toward the wraith, fingers splayed. He gathered the Emperor's power, flipped his hand and clenched it into a fist. The netting collapsed around the wraith, smothering it, shrinking down until the creature couldn't so much as twitch against the restraint. A word of power slipped from Bolin's lips just as someone called his name, and a drawn out screech sliced through the air as the wraith vanished.

  "I thought I told you to stay with the Emperor," Bolin said, turning to find Everyn behind him. Another soldier stood a short way off, holding Sandeen.

  Everyn frowned. "And so I did. Right up until he ordered me to come find you. Not my place to tell the Emperor no."

  "It is out here, if I give you an order to the contrary."

  "In times of war, General. Are you suggesting that's the case?"

  He questions your authority. Does not give the obeisance you deserve.

  "I'm suggesting the next time I give you an order, you follow it."

  "As you say, General," Everyn said, with no real conviction, one grey brow arched and a twist to his mouth.

  He should bow before you. He deserves death for his insolence.

  Bolin drew his focus inward. He knew the voice whispering in his ear, even if he also doubted the possibility of such a thing. It glided beneath his skin with the bit of Dominion magic. The bit of Darkness, if the Goddess spoke true. He needed to silence it, but found doing so no easier than catching the wind.

  "General?"

  Bolin waved a gesture toward the road as he went to reclaim Sandeen from the other soldier. "Let's move out, Captain."

  "Aye." Everyn's gaze flicked to the patch of broken shrubs and flattened grass. "What was it?"

  "Wraith."

  Everyn shuddered and darted a quick look skyward. "Heard tales, never come across one, though."

  They returned to the road. Dain's focus remained locked on the sky, his power spread across the entire length of the column in a shimmering ward. Bolin wondered if any of the men even noticed. For his sake, the opalescent glow filled his vision, and the strength of it refreshed him as surely as a deep breath of clear, spring air. It scattered the remnants of the wraith's momentary hold as though it had never existed.

  "Was it alone?" Bolin asked as he swung into the saddle.

  Dain nodded. "Appears so. They rarely travel far from their barrows though, and I know of none close by. I'd have to assume it was sent. I don't supposed you got any sense of its purpose?"

  "No. And I didn't ask."

  "So what did happen?"

  "I unmade it."

  "Just like that?"

  Bolin turned a frown on the Emperor. "What would you have preferred I do with it, then? Set it free? Invite it along for the ride?"

  "No, but we could have perhaps sent it to its final rest."

  Bolin smirked. "Exactly what I did."

  "That is not what I meant."

  "By the unholies, Dain, it was a wraith. As malicious as they come. Driven by evil and the desire to destroy, and in no way deserving of our mercy."

  "Through no fault of its own."

  "We don't know that, and I wasn't going to take the time to question it on its history. You've been too long behind Nisair's walls. The world isn't as forgiving as you seem to think."

  "Maybe the opposite is true," Dain said. "Perhaps you have been too long outside the walls. You have forgotten your humanity."

  Bolin snorted but clamped his mouth shut on any further response. A dull throbbing vibrated in the back of his skull, persistently working its way through the euphoria of the Emperor's power. Some of the memories awakened by the wraith resurfaced from the shadows. They trickled along through his thoughts like the cloying odor on the breeze that told of something dead and rotting.

  It is the scent of victory, the voice teased. Of our enemies lying dead upon the field of battle, ripe for the carrion crows to feast upon.

  Bolin pressed his fingers against his temple to ease the ache.

  "You surely don't think it coincidence?" Dain asked. "The wraith's attack, I mean."

  "I'd hardly call one wraith an attack."

  "What would you call it then?"

  "A scout, perhaps. A threat."

  A promise.

  Bolin ignored the whisper. "In any case, we'd best keep our attention skyward. It would be nice if we could make it to the Greensward without further mishap, but I'm not sure that's a reasonable expectation."

  Habit had Bolin throwing that hope to the Goddess in the
form of a prayer, but he stopped himself and tossed it to the fates instead. They couldn't be any colder a mistress than the Goddess.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  True to his word, Ferris roused Ciara before the sun cleared the horizon. He had a light breakfast waiting for her, and busied himself with getting the horses ready while Ciara ate. As soon as she finished they resumed their trek, twisting once more through the trees. They halted briefly at midday, but Ciara resisted the urge to ask Ferris any more questions. Mainly because he found a way to keep himself occupied any time they stopped.

  As afternoon crept toward evening, the trees began to thin, and the land transformed into rolling waves of tall grass. Ferris kept to the edges of the vast grassland, and rarely took his eyes from it. Even a horse length back Ciara felt the tension radiating from him, echoed by the way his horse danced beneath him, its ears in constant motion.

  "What's wrong?" Ciara asked, when she couldn't take the building unease any longer.

  Ferris glanced at her, eyes shadowed, and tipped his head toward the open lands. "This is the edge of Barrowdowns."

  "Oh."

  He gave her another, longer look. "You've no idea what that means, do you?"

  "Sorry, no. I've never travelled much."

  "Never had much instruction in history either, I take it?"

  "Some, though I admit to not being the best student."

  Ferris frowned and looked past her again. His horse shied at something unseen and he absently brought it back under control, stroking its glossy black neck. "Barrowdowns is a land of great power. Not so great as Nisair or the Greensward, and far more… random. Darker as well. Many ancient battles were waged here, so a great deal of myth and legend has sprung up around it. One story that is fact, however, is that the Elderpriest's met their match here. For that reason, despite the lushness of the land, no one will abide here. It is said nothing but wraiths and nightshades dwell here now."

  Ciara followed his gaze. League upon league of slender grass waved and whispered in the quiet breeze. The land rolled and dipped in soft undulations so that the swaying of the grass made it appear as though it moved of its own accord, like a vast sea of green bordered on three sides by forest. The fourth side, Ciara couldn't see.