Edge of Darkness ~ A Darkness & Light Novel Book Three Page 8

  "I don't think so," Ciara said, a bit too quickly, and then tried not fidget beneath the weight of Ariadne's scrutiny. Andrakaos's shadowy form still circled the spire on the north tower, and, though he remained a feather-light touch against the edge of Ciara's awareness, he'd been gone for several days. "So, this Ferris, is he a soldier?"

  "Not exactly," Ariadne said, giving Garek a quick look Ciara couldn't interpret. "I retain his services from time to time, when I have need. He is extremely loyal, and very skilled in many areas. He also happens to be one of the few remaining of the old Sciathian bloodlines, and so will be able to keep you quite safe. You will have nothing to fear in his company."

  "Sciathian? I thought the Sciath were all… " Ciara faltered. She had thought the entire race to be something of a myth until Donovan told her of Bolin's identity as one of the Sciath na Duinne.

  "There are a scant few still living who can claim direct lineage to the Sciath of old," Ariadne said.

  "I didn't know."

  "Very few do. The Sciath were hunted for many years. Persecuted by those who thought them a danger. As such, they have gotten quite adept at keeping their identities a secret."

  Ciara glanced Garek's way. The commander's expression remained somewhat sour. His dislike of magic was well-known. "Is that why you don't like him?"

  Garek shifted. "Past history between him and I. Nothing that should color your perception. As Lady Ariadne says, he's a good man."

  Ariadne stood before Ciara could give voice to the hundreds of other questions whirling in her head. "I've preparations to see to." She took Ciara's hands in hers and gave them a reassuring squeeze. "Try not to worry overmuch. This will all work out, I promise you."

  Ciara managed a smile. She only wished she could be as confident as the Emperor's sister. It seemed, ever since her Aunt Meriol's death, Ciara had been on the run. First from Donovan and the old crone in the swamp, then from Donovan and his witch, now the Council of Mages. Nisair should have been a safe haven, but now even that had crumbled around her because of him. Perhaps it would be for the best, being out from under the scrutiny of the Imperial Mages. Without them and Nisair's wards to worry about, Ciara would be free to help Andrakaos find Donovan.

  As the door closed behind Garek and Ariadne, Ciara closed her eyes and tipped her face toward the ceiling. The link between her and Andrakaos glimmered in the darkness behind her eyelids like a bit of spider silk spun with silver and black threads. It vibrated ever so slightly, assuring her that Andrakaos existed. Somewhere. So long as that thread remained between them, Ciara knew she could reach him, no matter how far apart they were.

  As she drew her consciousness back to the physical, Ciara caught a glimpse of something else within the ethereal, and with it came the vague brush of curiosity. She turned more fully toward it, but it was gone, leaving not a trace behind.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  It spoke well of Donovan's attempts to reorder his power that he felt the priestess's approach well before she actually arrived, giving him time to prepare himself. She spared a glance for the witch light he had conjured as she stepped into his cell. If its presence surprised her, she did not show it. Donovan did not bother to hide it, any more than he concealed the fact he had regained control of a sizeable portion of his power. Exactly how sizeable a portion, however, was a line he intentionally blurred.

  "Well done." The priestess circled Donovan where he sat cross-legged in the dirt. She leaned over behind him, putting her hands on his shoulders and her mouth close to his ear. "And what is it you intend to do now? Challenge me? Kill me? Reclaim your freedom? "

  "Is it not what you, yourself, would do, Priestess?" he asked.

  She laughed and skipped around to squat directly in front of him, her violet eyes glittering with a fevered glow. "Of course. It is why we are so well matched, you and I. Why I haven't killed you. We are not so different, Dark Prince. Tell me, what will your first move be once you have totally reordered your power?" She waited only a heartbeat. "Let me tell you. You won't strike out at me. That would be foolish. Even though your arrogance urges you not to believe it, you have glimpsed the power that is mine. Were you at full strength, you could not hope to best me. So you will seek to escape me. But then what? How will you defeat me? You will need allies. Powerful ones. And yet…" She held out a hand, palm up, her expression becoming almost sad as she studied it. "You have none."

  Donovan remained silent.

  "So, you will go to your enemies and hope to make allies of them." She continued to stare despondently into her empty hand. "For here, in this one instance, your interests and theirs coincide. But how will you convince them of your sincerity, I wonder?"

  She lifted her gaze back to Donovan's face, waiting for his answer. When he gave none she shrugged, then stood and paced slowly away.

  "Let us forego the games, Prince," she said without turning to look at him. "I am much more than you ever suspected. In a way, I suppose I owe you a debt of gratitude. Had you not attempted to bind me, I may not have fully woken. The old woman's power you harbored called to me." She tipped her head back, drawing in a long breath through flaring nostrils. "That one…. she could have been so much more. She could have been me, had she wanted it badly enough. Sadly, as strong as she was, part of her still belonged to the Goddess. She wouldn't admit it, of course. Had she done so, she would have been able to put it behind her, and then nothing would have held her."

  She sighed and gave Donovan a lingering look. "Would it stroke your ego if I told you that you could have been me as well? I don't think you realize how incredible your control of the old woman's power was. Had you been able to truly master it, there is no saying what you could have done. You may have done so, in time, if you hadn't been so distracted by vengeance. But, we all have our weaknesses. They keep us from reaching our full potential. Yours is arrogance and narrow-mindedness. You hold yourself above all others, and desire only to defeat the Goddess. "

  "Is that not what you intend to do?"

  "No. I plan to take what's hers. What once was mine. I do not destroy."

  "What, then, is your weakness?"

  She smiled. "I enjoy toying with creatures. I am a sated cat forever looking for mice to occupy my time."

  "And I am a mouse?"

  "You shouldn't be insulted by that. You hold my interest and, occasionally, surprise me. It's what keeps you alive."

  "So, what is it you intend to do with me? Besides play?"

  "Give to you all you desire," she said. "Your freedom. Power the likes of which you have only dreamt of. The Goddess's head, or the Goddess herself, whichever you should wish. I will even, should you choose, elevate you to the position of emperor."

  "And in return?"

  She smiled; a wild, hungry expression. "You will give me all I desire."

  "Which would be?"

  She turned, gesturing, and Donovan's lip curled as an image of the general wavered into view. He had not intended for the man to survive their latest meeting. Obviously, the general had been too much for the mages, or too deep in the Goddess's good graces. He had quite a long history of avoiding death, and it was starting to annoy.

  "I told you once not to underestimate that one," Donovan said.

  "Hmm. Tell me, do you know the history of his kind?"

  "Most of it."

  "I know all of it. I have been studying it since first I put my mark upon him. Did you know there were many ancient tomes in the lower levels of the fortress you claimed in the Nethers?"

  "It would not surprise me. It was once a place of learning."

  "Which you should have treated with more reverence." She snapped the words out with surprising rancor, giving Donovan an angry look over one shoulder. When she turned back to the conjured image, her demeanor softened once again. "I stumbled across a treatise written in a language very few would now recognize. It talked of the days before." She kept her attention riveted on the general's image. "His kind have been all but wiped from existence. R
elikys the Tormentor made a name for himself in shattering them. A sad fate for such an intriguing creation."

  "He found a way to confine their power," Donovan said. "I believe it resulted in madness."

  "Aerglishka brazsk dern frkleschz." She turned back to him and the conjuring vanished. Although Donovan did not recognize the language she spoke, a touch of ancient power vibrated through the words. "In translation it means something similar to 'removing the glow from their reach'. The treatise touched on it only briefly, and at first, I thought the tome worthless. Then I saw the secrets penned lightly in the margins. The notes made by Relikys's own hand, but meant to be hidden from those not worthy of them. The secret to aerglishka brazsk dern frkleschz."

  "You intend to use it against the general?" Donovan could not keep the disbelief from his voice.

  "Yes."

  "It drove them mad." He enunciated each word carefully, to be certain the priestess heard them.

  "Are we not all just a bit mad? Besides, what can be done, can be undone."

  Donovan shook his head. He had tried to break the general more than once. Wished, even now, for the man's death just to be rid of him. It would not pain him in the least to see the great Sciath na Duinne reduced to a whimpering shell. Madmen, however, were often more dangerous than those who claimed sanity. They were far less predictable and harder to control.

  "You doubt," the priestess said.

  "I have a long history with that man. You would do better killing him outright."

  "And waste such a precious resource? Such incredible power?"

  "His love for the Goddess is resolute."

  "Ah." She lifted a finger. "There you are very mistaken. From the first moment I tasted him upon my tongue, I felt a thrill. Oh, he has been the Goddess's for these many years. Light created him. Light molded him. Light shaped him. But Light does not hold him. Did I not tell you how he dances on the edge? He will never admit it, but as much as once you desired the Goddess, he desires Darkness."

  Donovan shook his head. "I think you will find you are mistaken."

  "Truly? Tell me, Prince, is he not a ruthless man? Cold? Hard?"

  "Honorable, loyal, just, fair." Donovan's lip curled. "Yes. All these things."

  The priestess studied him a moment, then threw her head back and laughed. "You despise him more than the Goddess. He is everything you wish to be."

  His sneer deepened. "He is nothing I wish to be."

  "Strengths can be weaknesses, Dark Prince."

  "Even so, a madman will do you little good."

  "He will not be mad for long. I will incapacitate him. You will see him brought to me by whatever means you choose."

  "Why not go and claim him yourself?"

  She gave him a wide-eyed, almost childlike, grin. "What's the fun in having power and position if not to make others do your bidding?"

  "Why me?"

  "You know him. You can predict his moves." She shrugged. "If that does not suffice, call it a test of loyalty. I will free you, return your power to you, you will bring the Sciath na Duinne to me."

  She hiked up her skirts and straddled Donovan, lowering herself onto his lap. He settled his hands on her hips, his body responding to the intimacy more strongly than he liked. The dark, enticing scent of her filled his nostrils, more intoxicating than the strongest drink. He pulled her closer, and she came willingly.

  "You will see." She dragged her fingers through the grimy tangles of his hair, and knotted them together behind his skull to tip his head back. "It is far better for you to be at my side than to stand against me. A hundred allies would not be enough to defeat me."

  Donovan caught her lips, giving in to the base desire spiking through him. His mother once thought him worthy of sitting at the Goddess's feet. Standing beside the priestess bore little difference in his mind. He had not been given power to use it in the service of others, but to rule others and, one way or another, he would see his ambitions met. If that meant abasing himself with carnal acts, so be it. No worthy prize came without cost.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  A steady, icy rain pelted the shutters in the study of the north tower. Even though Ciara had pulled the heavy tapestries closed as well, the chill seemed intent on working its way into the room. Her sleep the night before had been fitful, fraught with dreams she couldn't remember, that left her feeling unsettled for no reason she could name. She tried to push them aside, busying herself with packing and repacking a small travel bag. Ariadne had told her they would need to travel light and fast if the time came.

  No, she corrected herself. When the time came. She definitely said 'when', not 'if'.

  So Ciara packed an extra pair of loose britches, a spare tunic, and a woolen smock. She made sure she had her healer's kit as well, which meant a trip to the kitchens to replenish those herbs she found herself short on. It turned out the castle cook had no use for healing herbs, and when she asked where she might find some, he merely shrugged and suggested either the barrack's infirmary or Nisair's Healing House, then went back to hacking a large piece of meat into more manageable chunks.

  A hasty trip across the yard, bundled in a thick cloak, took her to the vacant barrack's infirmary. She hunted around until she found their meager supply stores, only to find them in even sadder shape than her own. That left the Healing House as her only option, but when she asked one of her guards to take her there, he insisted they check with Commander Garek first.

  "I'm sorry, lass," Garek said when they finally tracked him down in the armory. "Lady Ariadne said you're not to leave the castle grounds. Best not to rile the Council any more than it already is. If you like, you can make me a list of what you need and I'll send one of the pages to fetch it for you."

  Ciara frowned but thanked him and made her list, adding on extra items for the infirmary, then wandered back to her rooms.

  Another gust of wind pounded against the shutters and Ciara blew out a sigh. She added another log to the fire before settling onto the thick fur before the hearth with a copy of Majikal Theory and Practikal Applikation by Simmionne of Raster. The title proved to be far more interesting than the tome itself. The author spent far too much time on theory, and not nearly enough on application. He did include a short section on spells, most of which Ciara already knew in one form or another. He mentioned the elymentuls, and spent at least ten pages naming them and describing their properties, but never telling the reader how to go about actually calling them.

  A knock on the door brought a welcome distraction, and Ciara snapped the book shut, dropping it on the table as she went to answer it.

  "I bumped into Garek's page on the way up," Ariadne said by way of greeting as she entered the study and handed Ciara a small pouch.

  The man who followed her in closed the door quietly behind them. Rain dripped from the heavy cloak slung over the crook of his arm, and plastered his short dark hair against his head. A smile toyed with the corners of his mouth as Ariadne gestured him forward to make the introduction.

  "Ciara, this is Ferris."

  "A pleasure, m'lady." His soft voice carried a thick, northern accent, similar to Bolin's but much more pronounced. He bowed from the shoulders, catching Ciara's hand and raising it to his lips to brush a respectful kiss across her knuckles.

  Ariadne said he wasn't a soldier, but his bearing, the leather armor decorated with a familiar knot design, and the weapons at his hip, made Ciara think otherwise. Something about him reminded Ciara of Bolin, enough for her to guess they were related. She supposed they would be, both being of Sciathian blood and so little of that still in existence. He stood about as tall as Bolin, though not as broad, clean-shaven, and with dark blue eyes that glittered warmly.

  "I wish I could say I'm glad to meet you as well," Ciara said. "But given why you're here, I'm going to guess things aren't going well with swaying the mages to our side."

  "That would be an accurate assessment, I'm afraid," Ariadne said. She went to stand before the fireplace, turning
one way and then the other to catch its warmth. "I hoped to stay the Council for a few days, mire them down in defending their positions and explaining their actions, but they're insistent on warding you and Andrakaos both. Honval is convinced you have no control over your power. Thadeus and I should be able to keep them occupied for one more day at the least, after which, I am certain they will be calling for you to appear before them again to see it done. Which means, you're going to have to leave tonight."

  Ciara nodded glumly. Even though she'd prepared for the moment, she held a fool's hope the Council would give in to Ariadne. "Will they send someone after me?"

  "Undoubtedly. Vaedryn isn't the type to let something like this go, and he needs to take full advantage of Bolin's absence."

  "Are you sure it wouldn't be wiser to stay and face them?" Ciara asked, even though the thought of it made her recent meal feel like a rock in her stomach. "If I have something to answer for, then I should do so. Running and hiding won't help me, or Bolin."

  "Trust me," Ariadne said. "It is, at the moment, the best course of action." She tipped her face toward the ceiling, a distant look in her eyes. When she lowered her gaze back to Ciara it held a question. "Where is Andrakaos?"

  Ciara feigned nonchalance. "Sleeping, I suppose. Or sulking. He can be quite the child at times. I don't think he's very happy with being left behind."

  Ariadne's chin lifted, and her cerulean eyes shaded to a darker blue than normal. Out of the corner of her eye, Ciara saw Ferris shift his stance. The Emperor's sister folded her hands in front of her, awarding Ciara a look of equal parts demand and question.

  Ciara held the steely gaze for a moment, before giving in with a resigned sigh. She spread her hands to the side. "I don't actually know where he is. Honestly. He's here, but not here. If you know what I mean."

  "I am afraid I do not."

  Ciara rubbed her palms on her thighs. "Well, he's" --she circled a hand through the air above her head-- "Here. There. On top of the tower. And I sense his presence as always. But he's not… here. Exactly. And I'm not entirely sure where he is."