A Dark Tide (Book of One) (2 page)

Her words became a dry echo in the air as Ehlena disappeared, wisping away with a gust of wind.

"Elric is a coward and a traitor, but I am saddened by the news that he has suffered," Borrican said. "Who was that girl? She was most strange, and she has a scent of power."

"There is little doubt that she is very powerful," Vale said. "She claims to be the Lady Ayra, but there is much that is different about her from what I know through the wisdom of my line. It is most strange."

"She is Ehlena Valamyr, a princess of one of the five houses of Maramyr, and, if she is to be believed, then, like my uncle and now Calexis, who gained the power of a god, this girl Ehlena has somehow become one with the Lady goddess," Ariana said.

"The Lady?" Borrican was astounded. "Truly? Many consider her the goddess of luck. If this is true, then perhaps luck is on our side."

"I wonder what has become of the other gods," Ariana said.

"It seems the gods have returned, and for some reason they have taken different forms than those of old," Vale commented. "Borrican, will you and Ariana stand guard over the clutch? I must speak with my mother about this, and I will not be long."

"Yes, of course, Vale," Borrican said, glancing awkwardly over at Ariana.

Vale took off at a run and leapt into the air, shifting into her dragon form and, with several powerful beats of her wings, she soared up into the sky and disappeared between the rocky crags that loomed high over the gorge. Borrican stepped over to Ariana and put his hand on her arm.

"I am sorry," he said.

"What are you sorry for?" Ariana snipped. "It wasn't your fault."

Borrican was suddenly confused, not sure whether Ariana was referring to Vale's clutch or whatever it was the Lady Ehlena had shown her that had made her so upset with Aaron. Whatever it was, Borrican was still not sure what to say about things between him and the two women, or women and wyvern, and he put those things aside, now worried about his friend Aaron, who it seemed was foolishly walking into danger.

"Whatever it was that made you angry at Aaron, you know he is honorable, and you have seen the fearsome power of this dark god. It is a fool's quest for him to face such a power alone," Borrican said.

"I know," Ariana replied, and the heat of her anger faded away as tears began to gather in her eyes once more. "I just don't know what to think right now. It is too much, Borrican. I don't know what to do."

"Well, to be honest, I don't know what to do either, most of the time," Borrican said, taking her in his arms. "But I do know that whatever it is, you will do what is right, when the time comes."

Ariana sighed, letting herself lean against Borrican's chest. It was a brief moment of reprieve from the world and she wished they could stay that way forever, but there was so much that needed to be done, so many responsibilities that were piling upon her shoulders, and now she had the confusion of what she had just learned about Aaron to add to it all. It was overwhelming, and Ariana wanted nothing more than to forget what she had just learned. She knew had to focus on the matters at hand, and as angry as she was about what she had seen in the vision Ehlena had shown her, she was still worried about Aaron, for what he must be going through and the danger he would surely face.

*****

Ehlena stood for a moment on a ledge of rock a short distance away, where she had stopped shortly after leaving Ariana and her dragon companions. Though her power was slowly beginning to return after what Stroma had done to her, after traveling such a distance, she desperately needed rest, but there was too little time. She caught her breath and once again flew upon the wind, like a fleeting wisp of cloud, soaring over the heat of the lava, through the smoke and ash that whirled in the cold northern sky. Ehlena was disappointed that Ariana was unwilling to help Aaron, but she hoped the princess might reconsider. If Aaron was to stand any chance at all against the dark power, he would have to overcome his doubts and the feelings of guilt that stood in his way. It was frustrating to her, for the knowledge of the goddess had revealed many things, and Ehlena wished she could simply share what she had learned, but that was not the way. Aaron would have to learn certain things for himself if he would survive, not just the challenge of the dark god and the power of the shadow, but his own power as well, which she knew could easily destroy him should he falter.

The power of the goddess allowed Ehlena to hear many things in the world, and even though she could not listen to every single sound, since doing so would overly occupy her thoughts, especially now that she was weakened, many things were carried on the wind that caught her attention. Her focus now was split among a number of different things that were happening in the world. She could hear Aaron, who was foolishly walking toward the shadow, the Ansari, who were still discussing whether to involve themselves in matters outside of their desert, the legions of Darga, who were moving west, through the Maramyrian lands on their way to Elvanar, and the dark god, who now inhabited the Xallan Queen, Calexis. Ehlena also followed the voices and the rumblings of the mages in various places in the world, and the many ships that were setting sail from the pirate island, and the footsteps of a young warrior who rumbled the earth with the power of a god, and others who she hoped would play a part in stopping the power of the shadow. So preoccupied was she with so many things, that Ehlena nearly missed the sound of steel upon steel, clashing below her among the lava flows.

It was perhaps the movement and the flash of metal, more than the sound of their battle that caught her sight, and she noticed something strange about the warriors, who battled among the wavering heat, that there was some kind of magic about them that made them difficult to sense with her power. Ehlena floated downward and she quickly recognized the two women who were fighting against a group of strange looking warriors. They were covered in dark markings that Ehlena recognized as ancient symbols, from the memories of the goddess. Ehlena was surprised to discover that the glint of metal she had noticed was what she had thought, for the warriors also carried weapons and wore armor that were crafted from the rare metal known as silvergold and yet they did not appear to be of ancient make, which she found very curious.

Margo and Keira were hemmed in by Dala and a group of six villagers, she led in pursuit of the two women. They had chased them through the lava flows, and while the jewels and the armor protected them from the heat, with the smoke and steam billowing about among the rocks and cliffs, it had proven difficult to see any distance ahead. Moving quickly, and without knowing the land, it had not taken long before they had found themselves blocked by the terrain. Dala and her people surrounded them and attacked and even though Keira and Margo were able to fend them off for a time, their strength was beginning to flag. They readied their blades, preparing for another attack, when a gust of cool wind blew the smoke and heat away, and in the few paces between where they stood and the villagers, who were about to attack them, a pale young woman in white suddenly appeared. She smiled at Keira and Margo, then she turned toward the larger group, arrayed around her.

"Why do you fight each other?" Ehlena asked, her voice echoing with power, soft like a whisper but with the force of a gathering storm.

One of the villagers, a young man with pure white hair, dashed forward, with blinding speed, his blade arcing through the air but hitting nothing as it passed through the girl as though she were an apparition. Ehlena shook her head and stepped toward him, then she whispered in his ear and several of the symbols inked upon his body began to glow. With a brief look of surprise, the man fell to his knees and bowed his head.

"What is the meaning of this?" Dala demanded. "Who are you?"

"You wear my mark," Ehlena said. "You are sworn to me."

"Tell me who you are," Dala said, readying her dagger.

"That you must ask such a thing means you have become lost," Ehlena said with a sigh. "It is the travesty of time that you have forgotten, but with a word you will remember."

Ehlena uttered a word, a sound from an ancient and long forgotten language that was not so much a word but an echo of power, and the symbols on the warriors began to glow. One by one, they knelt before her with their heads bowed. Dala was the last to kneel, and, unlike the others, she kept her eyes fixed defiantly upon the girl in white. Ehlena smiled and turned to the other two women.

"You are also of my order, and though you are not sworn to me, I know you keep to the old ways, for I have heard your words on the wind."

"Who are you?" Keira asked.

"I am a friend to all of you," Ehlena said, smiling at the two groups, then she closed her eyes and her lips moved as though she were speaking, but there was only the faint whisper of wind, for her words were heard elsewhere. A moment later, she opened her eyes. "Your queen, she will come presently, with dragons at her command."

"Dragons?" Dala growled. "You claim to be a friend, and you have some sort of power, yet you would bring such creatures down upon us?"

"Yes," Ehlena said, shaking her head. "It appears you have forgotten many things. Perhaps it is time you learned the truth of fire."

A screeching roar sounded in the distance, and the wings of a dragon appeared from the smoke overhead. Storm landed heavily upon the ground and bowed his head in deference to the goddess whose power had given such speed to his flight. Ariana leapt down from atop his neck and when she saw Keira and Margo, she broke into a run, greeting them warmly, though she was obviously not so pleased to see Dala and her people.

A moment later, several other dragons appeared, led by Borrican, who shifted his shape as he landed upon the ground. He now wore a black shirt and trousers, with leather boots, his bearing regal and imposing, as his dragon essence filled the air around him. The only other sign that he was a dragon was the flames that flickered in his eyes.

"Welcome," Ehlena said. "I thought you might find these people interesting."

"Why have you called us here?" Borrican asked. "Who are these people?"

"They are Kandarans, Prince Akandar," Margo said. "They are Watchers."

"We are watchers of the fire," Dala said. "We are defenders of the land."

"If you are defenders of Kandara, then you should know it has fallen to the shadow," Borrican told her. "I will have need of fighters if we are to regain my realm."

"You are the Akandra?" Dala asked.

"He is your lord," Ehlena told her. "You are sworn to protect the Akandra and the people of the land." Ehlena looked at one of the markings on the woman's body that signified the truth of it. "It is one of your oaths, is it not?"

"We watch and we guard, lest the fire return," Dala said, then she lowered her eyes. "It is true, we are sworn to Akandra."

"Then your duty is as mine, to the people Kandara," Borrican said. "I will need your help."

With his hand resting on the pommel of the jeweled sword that hung at his waist, the weapon an unwanted gift from a king who was now dead, Berant slowly made his way through the dark, stone corridor. With every ounce of his will, he fought each step, though his feet carried him forward regardless, for there was an irresistible urge compelling him from within. Calexis had summoned him, and she would be obeyed. Still, the Lord General was surprised that his thoughts remained his own, or more precisely, his thoughts had returned to him a short while after the dark magic had flashed through the entire city, and, after having been lost in the shadows that had taken over his thoughts, it was as though he had awakened from a dark dream to a living nightmare.

The spell that the mage priests had cast using the crystals from the temple had affected everyone in Maramyr, all of them now enslaved to the will of the god, their thoughts mindless, and their life energy slowly draining from them through the crystals that were spread throughout the city. That power now belonged to Calexis, and Berant could feel the force of her will drawing him toward her, using the magic to compel him. He wondered if others were like him, trapped inside their bodies, no longer in command of themselves, but there was no way to know the extent of the magic. All the people with whom he had spoken appeared to be completely under the spell of the dark power, except for the Darga, and the queen's half-Darga son, Draxis, though it mattered little, since the lizard men were obvious willing partners in Calexis' plans of conquest. It seemed to Berant that he was alone with his thoughts, and they were of little comfort, for he was as much a dead eyed slave as all the others, and he pressed his hand against the jeweled hilt in frustration at his walking captivity, not noticing the dark energy that had begun to swirl within the glittering stone.

As Berant neared the royal apartments, a very large lizard man with wings tucked behind his shoulders, exited the door, adjusting his sword belt, which held a blade with a jewel in its pommel, similar to the one Berant also carried. The Darga ignored him and carried on down the hall as Berant rapped on the heavy, wooden door. It opened immediately, and when Berant entered he was shocked at what he saw inside. The royal apartments were all but destroyed, and it looked as though the stone walls and floors of the palace had been melted like wax, hollowed out and opened into a much larger space that now looked almost like a cave of some sort that extended into other rooms of the palace. Berant could see the remains of the royal bedchamber off to the side, and he was surprised that much of it had been spared, given the drastic change to the rest of the rooms. On the floor, next to the bed, he saw a crumpled figure and he recognized the face of his former king, Cerric, whose flesh had grown pale, and it was obvious that he was dead. The smell of rotting flesh wafted toward Berant as he walked into the chamber and, further down one of the tunnels, he saw movement in the darkness.

Like a snake emerging from a dark hollow, Calexis slithered toward him, her body shifting in the shadows from that of a lizard to the form of the Xallan Queen, though she looked different from when he had last been in her presence. Her pointed teeth glistened sharply in the torchlight when she smiled at him, and the way her eyes looked at him made Berant feel like she might just open her mouth wide and swallow him whole.

"Lord General," she said, her voice rich and seductive as he remembered, but fuller, and more powerful as her words echoed in his thoughts. "Good of you to come."

"As my queen commands," Berant replied, bowing his head, respectfully.

"Yes, I did command you here. Tell me what news of the army."

"As your highness surely already knows, an advance force of several thousand Darga prepared to leave city under the command of Lord Draxis and the main army will be ready to move out by first light on the morrow."

"And what of our new captains?"

"They have all presented themselves and are ready to serve," Berant told her, not mentioning the three who had disappeared, since the matter was already known to Calexis, and he did not want to risk her ire by reminding her.

"Excellent," she said. "There are several thousand more Darga traveling from the east and they should arrive here soon. Once they are accounted for, you will take the main army and follow Draxis to Elvanar."

"Several of them have already made it to the city, my queen. The winged ones brought word of the siege at the fortress of White Falls. They have offered to assist, if her highness so desires it."

"I thought we sent soldiers to deal with that problem," Calexis said with a scowl.

"White Falls is well defended and difficult to attack," Berant told her. "The commander suggests that it may require a lengthy siege."

"Nonsense!" Calexis hissed, then she walked over to a stone table where a bottle of wine lay next to a jeweled goblet and poured herself a drink. "White Falls is a thorn in our pride, but it is an insignificant place. Command the winged Darga to lay waste to it with fire from above. Kill everyone inside and make an example of them."

"Yes, highness," Berant said. "There are also several dozen prisoners, mostly farmers from the surrounding countryside, who were caught trying to make it to the fortress."

"Order them put to death," Calexis said, then she sipped her wine and reconsidered. "No, send word that they are to be scourged for their insolence, then have them watch as White Falls in burned. After that, release them, so they will spread the word of what will befall any who would defy my rule."

"Yes, highness." Berant bowed his head. "Is there anything else?"

"Of course, my dear Lord General," she said, smiling widely at him, baring her rows of sharply pointed teeth. "I am in need of some gentle pleasure, for I grow weary of these Darga. Perhaps some time with a weaker creature such as yourself will renew my vigor."

"Yes, my queen," Berant said, feeling a pressure on his thoughts, like a cold hand crawling up his back, compelling him to do as she wished.

"Come," she said as she turned and walked toward the shadows of the misshapen corridors.

Berant felt himself move, compelled to follow her into the darkness. After a few moments, his eyes began to adjust and, as they continued further into tunnel, he saw that the carved passageway led downward, cutting through various floors of the palace, rooms he vaguely recognized from what they had once been, and ending in a large, stone cavern that was littered with round, oblong rocks of varying size. As he followed Calexis into the larger space, Berant could see a faint light emanating from some of the rocks, and he saw that they were set in pools of melted stone, many of them with surfaces still slick with some kind of dark, bilious looking liquid. He quickly realized that they were not rocks, but large eggs of some kind, nearly opaque, but not so much that he could not see the shapes of what might be inside. There had to be several hundred of them, and Berant wondered where they might have come from, but he suspected he already knew the answer. Calexis turned toward him and he felt her clawed fingertips press into his undersides of his arms, drawing his hands toward her.

"Obedience is its own reward, my dear Lord General, wouldn't you agree?" she said with a cruel grin and began to unbuckle his belt. "Now take your reward and give me what I desire."

"Yes, my queen," Berant said, and even though he tried as hard as he could to resist, as his sword belt fell to the floor with a dull clatter, he felt his thoughts succumb once again to the dark dream of shadows.

Deep in the dark recesses of her thoughts, in the small place she had made for her private thoughts, Calexis watched as her other self, the person the dark god had become, took control of Berant, toying with him and using him for her pleasure and amusement. Once, not so long ago, she would have done the same thing without even a thought, and she knew that as much as the will of the god had consumed her own, it was her thoughts, her essence that defined what was happening now, and Berant was not the first, nor would he be the last to serve her pleasure. Calexis herself had done as much, of her own choice, but now that the god used her power, and used her body, it was different, and even though she was trapped, hidden the secret place in her mind, she could still feel everything, and she could see through her eyes, and Calexis felt a pang of sympathy for Berant, for he too was now subject to the will of the god, and she knew that he would not have chosen for this to happen. While the god that had become Calexis saw only another pawn, an object of her desire, a slave to her will, subject to her whim, the part of Calexis that remained and looked out through the eyes that were once her own, thought she saw a glimmer of revulsion and sorrow in the eyes of the Lord General, even while his flesh betrayed him. It was a look she recognized, for she already knew how Berant felt about her, and while she had once teased him for her own amusement, fully aware at how uncomfortable it made him, she found that she could no longer laugh at his discomfort.

In her hidden place, Calexis felt something she had never felt before, something far worse than the horrors of what the god had done with her, something that cut far deeper, for it arose from the knowledge that she was indeed no better. For the first time in her existence, Calexis learned the meaning of shame, and in the throes of passion, amid the moaning and laughter, the god that had become Calexis did not notice the tears that glimmered for but a moment in the dark wells of her eyes.

*****

Stavros was both angered and saddened by the tragedy of what he saw before him as he and the two younger mages walked through the blue grass of the island. So many corpses littered the ground, all of them robed in black, and all of them appearing to have had the life sucked out of them. Even though their faces were gaunt and leathery, stretched tightly across their bones, Stavros recognized many of the dead mages as former colleagues and even a few friends. Doubtless, Willem and Calthas might also have known a few, and the three of them were glad when they reached their destination.

They entered the library and found a lone, solitary figure, sitting at a table and reading by the light of a single candle, his face covered by the shadow under the cowl of his black robe. Dakar did not bother to look up from his book when they entered, but he sensed their approach, feeling the familiar magic of an old rival, one who did not bother to conceal his power.

"Stavros," he rasped, still staring at his book. "I knew you would come. Are you here to end my miserable life?"

"Dakar," Stavros said, and after a moment, the black robed mage finally looked up, from under his cowl.

"What do you want, Stavros?" he asked.

Calthas and Willem both gasped at the sight of the mage, his features deathly and gaunt like the other mages they had seen, all of them long dead, but his eyes still glistened in their sockets and the intensity of his stare was unmistakable. Stavros took a deep breath and let out a sigh, then he moved a chair from the table and sat down. From the folds of his robe, he pulled out a bottle and four silver goblets, then he uncorked the wine and poured a measure for each of them. Calthas and Willem sat down on the other side of the table and Stavros slid a cup in front of Dakar.

"You look a little parched, Dakar," he said. "Have some wine."

"Your sense of humor always had a dry edge to it," Dakar said as he picked up the cup and looked at the dark, red liquid that swirled within it. "I wonder if I can even drink this. My body is barely alive, so a mere sip of wine could mean my death."

He smiled at Stavros over the cup, his lips stretching tightly across his teeth, then he took a drink and swallowed the wine.

"Apparently not," he said. "An excellent vintage as well. I would not have expected such from you."

"I am not here to torture you, Dakar," Stavros said. "If anything, I pity the state you are in, though my sorrow is even greater for those who may no longer enjoy the simple pleasure of a sip of wine." He glanced at the black robed figures that littered the library floor.

"I have not decided whether I envy them or not," Dakar said. "But I suppose I should be glad that I am able to decide things for myself. Now, I thank you for the wine, but you have not answered my question. What is it that you want?"

"Answers," Stavros said. "You might be of some help in stopping the dark god."

Dakar laughed dryly and his voice cracked into a rasping cough, which he quelled with another sip of wine.

"There is no stopping the power of the god," he said. "The shadow is far too powerful. I have been sitting here, reading books to pass the time, patiently awaiting Cerric's arrival, when he will finally come and destroy this place."

"Cerric is no more, Dakar," Stavros told him. "The god has taken hold of the Xallan Queen, and she now rules in Maramyr, consuming the people with a dark magic."

"That is interesting, though it changes little," Dakar commented and he slid his cup toward Stavros. "A little more wine, if you wouldn't mind. I would like to drink a toast to the death of the only greater fool than I."

"Enough talk," Willem said, with uncharacteristic harshness that surprised both Calthas and Stavros. "We came here for answers, and we do not have time to sit and chat, making pleasantries."

"Calm yourself, Willem," Stavros said. "Dakar is not going anywhere, and in this place we have all the time in the world."