The Purifying Fire: A Planeswalker Novel (20 page)

The goblin finished his meal first. He gave a satisfied sigh, and shifted his position so that he could lean against the wall of the hut. After a few minutes, he fell into a peaceful doze. Chandra knew this because he snored.

When she could endure no more of the grub soup, Chandra set her bowl aside and looked at Falia, intending to thank her. That was when she realized that the girl was staring at Gideon again—this time, with a look that could only be longing.

From what Chandra had seen, there were few men in the village. Undoubtedly, Falia was evaluating Gideon’s fitness as a mate. Though seemingly young for it, Falia clearly was ready for marriage. Chandra realized abruptly that
the girl could well be several years older than she looked. Who knew what effects this blood ritual for the passing of wisdom had on an individual, to say nothing of her diet.

Even supposing that Falia was the same age at which girls on Chandra’s native plane typically married, it was unsettling to see how she looked at Gideon.

Chandra wondered whether he was aware of her keen interest in him. Gideon simply ate, his gaze lowered all the while on the food. If he was aware of the girl’s perusal, he didn’t acknowledge or return it.

When he finished eating, he set aside his bowl, and thanked Falia, who seemed to awaken from a trance.

She smiled. “Now what have you come here to ask me?”

“Has it always been nighttime on Diraden?” Gideon asked. “Forever?”

“Ah.” She nodded. “You’ve come to ask about Prince Velrav’s rule.”

“Yes. Did the endless night begin with him?”

“It did.”

“What happened?”

“When my grandmother was a child,” Falia said, “there was day
and
night here. King Gelidor ruled Diraden. He had three sons. The youngest, Prince Velrav, was wild and dissolute.”

The girl was a good storyteller, and the tale flowed smoothly, but the heart of the story was simple. The young Prince Velrav had engaged in various scandalous and destructive indulgences until his father banished him from castle and court.

Furious over his exile, and more ambitious and vengeful than anyone had ever guessed, Prince Velrav studied black magic and consorted with the darkest blood demons of the realm to plot against his father.

“You tell the story well,” Chandra said when Falia paused.

“Thank you,” said Falia, smiling at Gideon as if
he
had delivered the compliment.

Jurl snored peacefully as the girl continued her story.

“When he felt ready to carry out his nefarious plan, Velrav returned to his father’s castle. He presented himself as a humbled, penitent son, reformed in his ways and seeking forgiveness. The king welcomed home his wayward son, and never thought to protect himself from him.”

“Which was evidently a mistake?” said Chandra.

Falia nodded. “In the dead of night, while the whole castle slept, the prince crept into his two brothers’ bed chambers and murdered them both, along with their wives. Then he went into the nursery and slaughtered the three children whom his brothers had sired.”

“He slaughtered the children?” Chandra repeated.

“Then he went to his parents’ chamber,” Falia said, “where he beheaded his mother with one heavy blow of his sword.”

“He killed his
mother?”
Chandra blurted.

“He’s very wicked,” the girl said prosaically.

“He beheaded her,” Gideon mused. “Interesting.”

“It’s not
interesting”
Chandra said. “It’s disgusting! His own mother!”

“And then he murdered the king?” Gideon asked.

“No.” Falia shook her head. “He fed on the king.”

“He
ate
his father?” The grub soup churned unpleasantly in Chandra’s stomach.

“No, he fed on him,” Falia said.

Chandra said, “What’s the diff—”

“And that didn’t kill the king?” Gideon asked.

“It might have, of course,” the girl said. “But he also fed the king of himself.”

“Fed him of himself?” Chandra said with a frown. “What does that mean?”

Gideon asked, “Is the king still alive?”

“Of course not,” Chandra said dismissively. “This happened when Falia’s grandmother was a child.” A man who’d had grown sons and grandchildren that long ago wouldn’t still be alive now.

“Yes.” Ignoring Chandra, Falia nodded, holding Gideon’s gaze. “The king lives still. And since the night Prince Velrav killed his family and turned his father into a sickly shadow of what he himself had become,” Falia said, “daylight has never again come to Diraden.”

“How can the king still be alive after all this time?” Chandra wondered.

“Blood magic,” Gideon said.

“Fierce
blood magic,” Falia said, her nostrils flaring. “Wicked.
Dark.”
She made the words sound … seductive.

Gideon said to her, “That’s what the ‘hunger’ is.”

They looked to Falia for confirmation. She nodded.

“Why did he feed his father his own blood?” Gideon asked. “He’d killed the rest of the family. Why keep the king alive?”

“To curse him,” said Falia. “The king lives in the darkest, deepest dungeon of the castle. He is fed only blood. He is left alone, in terrible solitude. No one speaks to him or sees him, except for Velrav, who visits him once in a great while and tells him about all the torment and suffering he is inflicting on the king’s realm.”

“And this has been going on since your grandmother was a child?” Chandra asked, appalled.

“So that’s why Velrav made it perpetual night here,” Gideon mused.

“I don’t understand,” Chandra said.

“Some blood drinkers don’t like daylight,” he said.

“You mean they don’t want to be
seen
drinking blood?” she said in puzzlement.

“No, I mean the sunlight burns them,” he said. “Like fire. Those who choose blood magic, those who decide to embrace the power it holds must guard themselves at all cost against the powers of light.”

Fire
. The word reminded Chandra of their predicament.

“They don’t like fire, either,” Gideon said. “They’re vulnerable to it.”

“So he uses the veil of false night to block sunlight
and
red mana,” she mused.

“And that same sorcery winds up blocking
all
mana, except black,” Gideon said.

Falia said, “Yes, my grandmother says there once used to be other mana here. Other colors in the æther. Other kinds of magic.” She gave them both an assessing gaze. “You are not from Diraden, are you?”

They both went still.

After a moment, Gideon said, “No.”

“Where did you come from?”

“Someplace very far away,” Gideon said. “And we can’t go back there while Velrav’s power holds.”

“And you would
like
to go back there? Together?”

“Yes,” said Gideon. “We would.”

Falia said with certainty, “The prince will not help you or give you permission to go.”

“No, I didn’t think so,” Gideon said. “Tell me about this veil of night, Falia, this shroud. It blocks mana and light, but it also keeps things alive, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” she said. “Just enough that many things aren’t really alive here anymore, yet they don’t really die.”

“That’s a tremendous amount of power. Can he do that all alone?”

“No,” the girl said, “his companions work with him to maintain the veil.”

“His companions?” Gideon asked.

“They are the blood demons who helped him develop the power.”

“And blood is what feeds their power?” Chandra asked.

“Yes,” Falia said. “When they feel the hunger, they seek more blood to sustain them. To empower their dark work.”

“How often do they get hungry?” Chandra asked.

“Often.”

“And then people are taken.” Gideon said.

“People. Goblins. Creatures. Animals.” Falia paused. “They like people best. But any blood will feed the hunger. People, though … those thrill them.”

Gideon studied her. “Do people with power thrill them in particular?”

Falia nodded.

“People with power,” Chandra said, “such as a menarch?”

She lowered her eyes. “Yes.”

“You’re in danger?” Gideon asked quietly.

“Always,” Falia said.

F
alia offered them water to wash their skin and damp cloths to wipe away the worst of the grime and dirt from their garments. She loaned them a comb and got one of the village men to lend Gideon his razor. After they were clean and tidy, she suggested they all get some rest.

She was willing to share her hut with them … but not with Jurl.

“Goblins are treacherous,” she said. “Even with his hands bound, I wouldn’t feel safe sleeping in the same dwelling with him. We should put him in a secure place.”

Chandra thought that made perfect sense, so they woke Jurl, who was cranky about being disturbed, but became more so at the prospect of being locked up while the rest of them slept in relative comfort.

One of the huts in the village had originally been built to protect livestock at night. However, most of the livestock on Diraden had long since died and now the building was empty. There was also a large, sturdy cage in the hut, which Falia said had formerly been used to keep wild boars being fattened for the annual harvest feast. There had been no harvests since Prince Velrav came to power, obviously, and
it had been some time since the villagers had even seen a wild boar.

They locked Jurl in the cage. He was hotly opposed to the idea, and it took Gideon some effort to get the goblin into the thing. Afterwards, Falia took Gideon back to her hut to clean the scratches that Jurl’s claws had left on his skin.

Chandra remained behind in the livestock hut and said to the goblin, “Stop that snarling! We can’t let you go, and that’s your own fault.”

“Bad,” said Jurl.

“Nonsense. You’ll be perfectly comfortable in here.”

“Village eat goblin,” he said ominously.

“What?” She realized Jurl must have heard her dinner conversation with Gideon. “Don’t be silly. We were joking. They won’t roast you.”

“Stranger,” Jurl said bitterly. “Stupid.”

“I consider the source,” Chandra said, “and feel unmoved by the insult.”

She left him sulking and made her way back to Falia’s hut.

Predictably, perhaps, the girl had convinced Gideon to remove his tunic, and she was making a lengthy and intimate task out of tending what were only a few negligible goblin scratches on his chest. Chandra gave the two of them a dismissive glance, then went over to the bedroll that had been provided for her, smoothed it out on the floor, and lay down. While doing so, she noticed in passing that Gideon had a broad, hard, mostly hairless chest, and his arms were well muscled. There were several scars on his left arm, and another on his stomach.

At length, Falia ministered to his wounds. Then she offered to comb his hair for him, which was still rather tousled.

Chandra snorted.

Giving no sign that he had noticed Chandra’s derision, Gideon smiled kindly at Falia and assured her he was accustomed to doing it himself. “But thank you for the offer.”

Rosy-cheeked and glowing from within now, Falia looked quite different from the pale, hollow-eyed girl whom they had first met. “Please make yourself comfortable in the other bedroll,” she said to Gideon. “I must go and get another.”

“Am I taking yours?” he said. “I don’t want to deprive you of your bed, Falia.”

“Please, you’re my guest. It’s my pleasure that you should sleep in my bed!”

I’ll
bet
it is, Chandra thought.

“I’ll get another bedroll for myself from my aunt’s hut,” the girl said. “I’ll be back shortly.”

As soon as she left, Chandra said reprovingly to Gideon, “She’s a
child.”

“Actually, she’s probably older than either of us, Chandra.”

“You think?” She propped herself up on her elbows and looked at him in perplexity.

“One of the typical effects of blood magic is that it slows or even halts the normal aging process.”

“But surely she’s not a blood drinker?” Chandra said.

“No, I think she’s exactly what she says she is: the village menarch. You heard what she said. The wise woman passes her wisdom to her successor through a blood ritual.”

“Yes, I did hear that.” Chandra lay down again and stared at the flickering light from the candles as it bounced off the ceiling. “The wise woman passes along knowledge and wisdom through her blood, and maybe some power. And part of the power involves ensuring that the next wise woman remains the exact same age she is at the time of
initiation … until it’s time for her to turn the duty over to her successor?”

“It seems necessary,” Gideon said. “She remains young so that she can marry and bear children, but that could take a long time considering how few people are in the village. I imagine mortality rates among infants is high in this kind of environment.”

“I think she sees you as a potential mate.” Chandra thought it over. “How old do you think she is?”

“We’d probably be able to make a better guess if we met the aunt who was the wise woman before her.”

“Well,” Chandra said, “no wonder Falia seems so, er, ready for marriage.”