The Darkling Child

TWELVE

REYN REMEMBERED LITTLE OF WHAT HAPPENED NEXT. THE strong arms guided him through the dark and the rain to where an airship waited and then helped him aboard. His body was battered and bloody from the pummeling he had taken at the hands of the Fortrens, and exhaustion and weakness combined to cloud his thinking. He stumbled several times and almost fell off the ladder once, but eventually he was settled in a corner of the vessel beneath a canopy, and wrapped in blankets with his head pillowed. Drowsiness overcame him, and he was asleep almost instantly.

But just before consciousness faded, he was aware of someone else moving over to sit next to him. Soft hands loosened his clothing, and wet cloths were applied to his injuries. A voice whispered, soothing and low, and he was infused with a sense of peace.

He remembered, too, the sound of the airship powering up and lifting away, of the rush of the wind and the whisper of the rain continuing to fall, and finally of terrifying images of men turned into human torches.

After that, he slept. In his sleep, he dreamed and his dreams were dark and haunting. He was fleeing once more, pursued by a nameless terror, a black wraith cloaked and hooded that appeared each time he thought he had left it behind, thwarting his every attempt at escape. It neither spoke nor acted against him, yet he knew it was evil and intended him great harm. He fought hard to evade it, to place obstacles in its path and hide from its coming. But nothing worked. It was an inexorable force intent on crushing the life out of him.

At one point, men tried to stand against it. And as it was with the Fortrens, they were set afire and turned to ash, their lives extinguished in the blink of an eye.

When he woke again, it was dawn. The first of the new day’s light was just a faint glow on the horizon. The airship had landed, and the diapson crystals were silent within their hooded parse tubes. The light sheaths rippled and flapped softly in a gentle breeze. The rain had moved on. Overhead, the sky was clear and offered the promise of a sunny day.

He lay where he was for a few moments, not wanting to disturb the feeling of comfort that cocooned him. Hints of his injuries surfaced when he tried to move, so he chose not to. Not right away. He began thinking of what had happened the previous night, the horrific images resurfacing as his memories returned. He had been chased and hunted and nearly killed before the black–cloaked stranger had rescued him and the Fortrens had all burned …

A shadow fell over him, a pair of slender arms reached out, and soft hands began to stroke his face. “Wake up, Reyn,” a voice urged. “It’s morning.”

The girl eased down next to him, moving into his field of vision. Her smile was radiant, filling him with such wonder and happiness he could barely keep the tears from his eyes. She was beautiful in an exotic, almost otherworldly sort of way. Her skin was white and flawless. Her hair was a rich toffee color, streaked with gold that suggested threads woven within. She was tiny, and her features hinted at the presence of Elven blood, although it was clear to him that she was not the product of a single Race, but of mixed heritage. Her green eyes held him mesmerized as he fought to say something.

“That was you next to me last night?”

She nodded.

“You dressed my wounds, took care of me?”

“I did. How are you feeling?”

“I’m all right. But I wouldn’t have been if not for …” He paused. “Well, I guess I don’t know his name.”

“Arcannen,” she said. “He thinks very highly of you. He believes you have great promise. He also believes your magic places you in serious danger.”

“I suppose it does. Are you his daughter?”

She laughed. “I am his assistant. If I serve him well in this capacity and demonstrate promise, he will teach me his skills. He is a great sorcerer.”

Reyn took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “He told me he understood. He knew about my singing. He said he could explain it to me. He could tell me its origins.”

“If he said he could do so, then he can.”

She adjusted his blankets and eased him into a more comfortable position. He liked the feel of her hands on him. She made him feel safe.

“Where is he?”

She smoothed his hair back from his forehead. “He’s gone into the city to find supplies for us. He will be back soon.”

“Where are we? What city?”

“Sterne. On the outskirts at the edge of the public airfield. He has enemies here, so he must be very cautious. As soon as he returns, we will leave again.”

“Leave for where?”

She smiled and reached over to stroke his cheek. “I believe that depends upon you.”

She rose and left him then. He wanted to call her back, to tell her to stay with him so they could continue to talk, so that he could feel her hands on him. But she was gone too quickly for that, whispering as she left that he needed to rest and she would be back later.

Surprisingly, he was asleep in minutes. This time there were no dreams, and he slept undisturbed.

When his eyes opened again, the sun was overhead and he could hear birdsong and the rustle of leaves. A breeze cooled his face, and the air smelled of woods and grasses.

The girl was sitting next to him, looking down, smiling. “Much better, are you?”

He nodded. “Much.” He tested his arms and legs. There was some achiness, but the pain was minimal. “Can you help me sit up?”

She reached down for him, put her arms around his body, lifting him as he scooted back into a sitting position. She was strong for all her delicacy. She seemed to know exactly how to lift and position him, as if she understood how his body felt.

“Who are you?” he asked when she was done.

“I’ve already told you.”

“No. What’s your name?”

“Lariana,” she answered.

“I’ve never heard of another with that name. It’s beautiful. How long have you been with Arcannen?”

“Not long. I had to talk him into taking me with him. He was resistant at first. He didn’t believe I could be of service to him. I think he is used to being alone.” She smiled. “Are you like that?”

He shrugged. “Probably. I never thought much about it.”

“But your magic sets you apart, doesn’t it? It makes it easier if you keep to yourself. Then you can avoid questions and the need for explanations you don’t want to give.”

“I suppose it does. Mostly, I’ve spent my time trying to feed myself. I’ve been alone since I was ten.”

And just like that, he was telling her the story behind the deaths of his parents and his subsequent flight from his home and efforts to make his own way in the world afterward. She listened without interruption, her expression shifting with each new revelation, her interest complete. He found it easy to talk to her because she was so responsive, and he never once thought to ask himself if revealing so much would in any way prove detrimental.

“You’ve had an interesting life,” she said.

“Tell me of yours.”

She shrugged. “There’s not much to tell. Like you, I was alone early. I came to the Southland and lived right here in Sterne for several years while I tried to find a way to make a living. It wasn’t easy. A young girl on her own doesn’t have many choices. But I found a way. Eventually, Arcannen met me and I asked if I could come with him. We agreed on the bargain I already spoke about.”

“Can you do any magic?”

She gave him a sly look. “Not so you would notice. I’m pretty good at healing injuries, though.”

He laughed. “I guess I’m proof of that. How did you learn healing?”

“Just another skill I picked up along the way. Are you hungry? Would you like something to eat?”

He decided he would, so she reached down inside the small storage compartment of the Sprint and brought out cheese, bread, and ale for them to eat. They sat together in the midday sun, enjoying their food and continuing their conversation. Reyn told her about Gammon, and how he had been almost like a father to him during his stay in Portlow. She told him, in turn, about a year she had spent with an elderly man in Sterne, looking after his affairs, caring for him as his life leaked away but his good humor and kindness never wavered.

“I was lucky to find someone like that,” she said. “There were others who treated me much differently. There were times when I didn’t have any choice but to let them.”

He studied her face, thinking that he would never treat her badly. She spoke of it almost matter–of–factly, with no bitterness or anger, without any hint of self–pity or weakness. It did not seem as if she expected anything else from life than what she had encountered. She appeared to have no illusions about how difficult it could be or how demanding. He understood that. He had seen and experienced enough to have developed a thick skin and a cautious sense of trust.

But he believed Lariana was more mature and better equipped to face life’s hardships than he had ever thought of being.

They finished their meal, and she cleared away what was left. Sitting next to him, she sipped at her ale contemplatively, pressed close.

“When did you first discover you had this magic Arcannen talks about?” she asked him finally.

He thought about a moment. “I was almost eight. It was an accident. I became angry with this other boy and yelled at him. My voice changed register; it grew more intense. I could feel it when it happened. Suddenly this boy was picked up and thrown backward. I never touched him. He was so scared he got up and ran away. Nothing came of it. I didn’t tell my parents, and he didn’t tell his. But when it happened again, there were other people around. You know the rest.”

“You get so angry you can’t control it?” she asked. “But you must have some control.”

“I do. It’s just not always reliable. I have to make myself stay calm. I can’t allow myself to get angry. I just keep it inside, bottle it up. I can use it on purpose, though. But mostly it’s better if I don’t. Better if I not let anyone know I have it.”

“But you sing for a living. You’re a musician. You have to use it then. You have to let people know about it.”

“Except they don’t know what it is I’m doing. Mostly. They just like my singing and playing and don’t pay attention to anything but how good it makes them feel or how sad or whatever emotion my voice arouses in them.”

“But Arcannen knew.”

The boy nodded. “He’s a sorcerer, right? So he must have sensed what it was.” He paused. “What does he want with me? Why did he bring me with him?”

She gave him one of her dazzling smiles. “I imagine he will reveal that to you when he returns. But he didn’t tell me.”

Then she leaned in suddenly and kissed him–a soft, lingering pressure of her mouth on his before pulling back.

“But you’ll tell me when he does, won’t you?”

He nodded solemnly. In truth, he would have promised her anything.

When Arcannen finally returned, arriving in a cart laden with supplies and driven by an old man, he climbed down and walked over to where the boy and the girl sat together in the shade of the canopy at the rear of the aircraft. Lariana rose immediately and went to him, and he directed her down off the vessel to help the old man unload the supplies from the cart.

Reyn started to rise to help her, but the sorcerer reached out quickly and held him back. “Not yet, Reyn. You need to rest a bit longer, recover a little more of your strength. Lariana can manage the supplies.”

The boy leaned back again, glancing past him momentarily to where Lariana was disappearing down the ladder. “I’m well enough already.”

“She’s quite remarkable, isn’t she?” the other asked, arching one eyebrow. “Did you have a nice talk?”

“She says she is your assistant. Is that so?”

The sorcerer nodded. “She applied for the job, even though I wasn’t offering it to her. She is quite persuasive. I agreed to take her on because I like her determination and confidence. How did she do with caring for your injuries?”

“She did well.”

“Did she tell you who I am?”

“Arcannen. You’re a sorcerer.”

“I am a practitioner of magic. Which is why I wish to speak with you. It’s very important that I do. I thought I made it clear that you should remain at the tavern until I returned. Apparently, you lost faith in me.”

Reyn shook his head. “A pair of Druids came to find me. Gammon told them I had already left, but he thought I should get away before they could find out the truth. So I tried to sneak out the back door, but they were waiting. One of them attacked me. What was I supposed to do? I ran; I tried to get away from them. But the Fortrens found me.” He paused. “Why did you set them on fire?”

Arcannen gave him a look. “I warned them to leave you alone.” He shrugged. “They were trash, anyway. And trash should be burned.”

Reyn almost said something critical in response, but decided against it. He didn’t know Arcannen well enough to question him too closely, and he couldn’t ignore the fact that the man had saved his life. How he had managed it wasn’t something Reyn cared to question too closely.

“Did you tell Lariana about yourself?” the sorcerer asked.

“We talked about a lot of things.”

“Why don’t you tell me a little of what you told her? When did you first find out about your magic? About what your singing could do? Tell me that, and I’ll tell you what you don’t know about both.”

So Reyn told him of his past, relating pretty much the same details he had revealed to Lariana. He wanted to discover what Arcannen knew about his magic, thinking that this might be his one chance to learn something useful about its origins. He took his time, pausing now and then to see if the other had questions. But the sorcerer said nothing, letting him do the talking.

“Have you tried using this magic in other ways?” he asked when Reyn finished. “Besides singing? Have you attempted to do other things with it? Experimented with it?”

Reyn was confused. “No. What sorts of other things?”

The sorcerer ignored him. “Has anyone ever instructed you on how to use your magic? Have you been taught by anyone?”

“Is that what you want to do? Teach me to use my magic? Is that why you’ve been after me?”

Arcannen looked at him as if he were an idiot. “I would be interested in teaching you to use magic, yes. But I am much more interested in finding a way to help you stay alive. Or did you miss that part?”

Reyn flushed. “I know what you did for me. I’m just trying to understand what’s happening.”

“All right.” Arcannen gave him long look. “Let me keep my part of the bargain and tell you what I know about your magic. Then you can decide for yourself what you want to do about it. But first we need to leave this airfield. I’ve been here too long already.”

He signaled to Lariana, who was just finishing up with loading their supplies, and she moved immediately to begin the process of attaching the radian draws and raising the light sheaths. Because the Sprint was small, the work went quickly, and within short minutes they were lifting off, turning east from Sterne. Arcannen was at the helm with Lariana left sitting aft with Reyn. Sprints were small; the three of them pretty much filled up the cockpit.

Reyn, left to his own devices for the moment, began conversing with the girl once more. “Do you know where we are going?”

She shook her head. “He didn’t say. Why don’t you ask him?”

But Reyn didn’t want to do that. He didn’t care where they were going; he just wanted an excuse to talk to her. “I can wait,” he said.

The wind swept back her caramel hair, and the streaks of gold that ran through it flashed brightly in the sun. She lifted her head and closed her eyes, reveling in the feel of it. She was, in that moment, the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.

“I love flying,” she whispered, her eyes still closed.

He smiled. “I’ll tell you a secret, if you want.”

She opened her eyes again and looked over. “Of course I want. Tell me.”

“Until last night and now, I had never flown in an airship. Not once.”

She held his gaze. “Aren’t you glad your first time was with me?”

Finding the right words to answer her proved impossible.

Farther north, within the ragged cradle of the Dragon’s Teeth, Paxon and the Rock Trolls who had accompanied him to Portlow in search of the bearer of the wishsong bore the black cylinder in which Avelene was imprisoned down off the clipper and into the recesses of Paranor. There were other members of the Druid Guard there to meet them, and within minutes Isaturin had come down from his tower quarters for a look.

It was nearing midday by now, the journey home again having taken the travelers the remainder of the night and most of the following morning. Paxon had managed a few hours sleep aboard ship, but had spent most of his time keeping watch over Avelene. It wasn’t as if he could do anything further to help her, but with the edge of the Sword of Leah placed against the hard side of her prison, he could banish the darkness long enough to look inside and let her look out at him and know that he was there.

In truth, she seemed calmed by his presence, aware that he was taking her somewhere, trying to do something to help. They could not hear each other–though they had both tried speaking through the cylinder walls–but they could find reassurance in knowing that there was a link between them and both were handling the situation in the best way they could.

Isaturin examined the cylinder, spent a few minutes touching it and bending close to listen, then used his own magic to turn the enclosure clear enough to see his Druid inside and to give her a few quick signs with his fingers that she seemed to understand.

When the cylinder went dark again, he had it picked up and carried to one of the workrooms. “It’s magic–generated,” he told Paxon as they followed in the cylinder’s wake. “Likely this is Arcannen’s work. It is sophisticated and, as you had assumed, a trap. Any forcible effort to free Avelene would cause the walls imprisoning her to collapse, crushing and suffocating her.”

“He would have been counting on that,” Paxon said angrily. “He would see tricking me into killing one of the Druids I am sworn to protect as a fitting punishment for what I did to him five years ago.”

Isaturin smiled. “But his plan didn’t work. You’ve grown less impulsive over the years. Now let’s see about getting Avelene free without harming her.”

The big man moved ahead, speaking now to another pair of Druids he had summoned, presumably to help with the unlocking of the cylinder. Paxon hung back, content to let them take the lead. Isaturin appeared to know what he was doing, and since Paxon’s fears about using his sword were confirmed, it was best to let the Ard Rhys find a way through Arcannen’s magic.

Once within the work area, the door was closed and barred by Druid Guards. Isaturin had the cylinder placed on a workbench. Stationing the two Druids who had accompanied him on the far side of the bench, he stood across from them. Together, the three began to weave separate spells, using fingers and voices, each deep in concentration. Paxon stood back, watching carefully. The air began to thicken, turning misty and dark, taking on a substantive appearance. Streaks of color emerged and then vanished again. Smells were emitted–some like burning, some like oiled metal. The cylinder began to pulse softly, its opaque appearance lessening, Avelene’s frightened face coming into sharper focus within.

It took them a long time to accomplish what they were attempting, and at more than one point Paxon began to worry that they couldn’t manage it. But finally the surface of the cylinder began to split apart, a jagged seam opening vertically down its middle. A rush of foul air exploded from within, turning black as it did so, morphing into dozens of insects. Isaturin sprang backward, warding his face and gesturing heatedly. One of the other Druids collapsed into the arms of the second. For a few moments, everything was in chaos.

Then Isaturin’s countermagic took hold of Arcannen’s, scooping it up and shrinking it down to nothing. The insects disappeared, the air cleared, and the black cylinder melted away, leaving Avelene lying wide–eyed and shaking atop the workbench.

Without being asked, Paxon rushed forward and covered her with his cloak. He lifted her off the bench, cradling her in his arms. He could feel her trembling.

“I thought I was dead,” she whispered, clutching him to her. “I was certain of it.”

“Paxon,” Isaturin said, coming up beside him. “Carry her to her room and put her to bed. She needs rest. Give her as much liquid as she can hold before you leave her. Just water, nothing stronger–nothing to stimulate her system. Wrap her in blankets. She’s shaking as much from the cold she’s feeling as from what she’s been through. Hurry now.”

Without a word, Paxon carried the young woman from the room and down the hallways of the keep to where she slept. He had to ask her how to get there because he had never been to her chambers, but she managed to direct him without once looking up from where she nestled her face against his shoulder.

“He caught me by surprise, Paxon.” He could hear the bitterness in her voice. “That never should have happened. I was so intent on watching you cross the roadway and then disappear behind the tavern–so certain you would call for my help …”

She trailed off, her voice breaking. “You aren’t the first to have that happen,” he said quietly. “I’m just grateful you’re alive. I was scared to death for you.”

“What happened to the boy?”

Paxon grimaced. “He got away in the confusion. We’ll find him later. First, we have to get you well again.”

She was silent for a long time. “I don’t know if that’s possible,” she whispered. “You can’t imagine what it was like inside that container, everything dark and no way to get free. If you hadn’t–”

“But I did,” he said, interrupting her with a hushing sound. “Just try to forget about it. Just think about sleeping now.”

When they were inside her room, he laid her on the bed and poured water from a pitcher on the dresser into a glass, holding it for her while she drank it down. He stayed with her while she finished it, then brought her a second glass and held her while she drank that one, too.

“So thirsty,” she mumbled.

He put the glass on the bedside table, took off her boots, and pulled back the bedding, easing her beneath the covers. He rose and walked toward the door. “Go to sleep now. I’ll see you when you wake.”

“Paxon!” She called his name with some urgency, bringing him back around. “Don’t go. Don’t leave me just yet. Please.”

He came back over and sat down beside her. He could see the fear in her eyes. “I’ll stay if you want.”

“I just don’t want to be alone right now. I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right.”

“Would you lie down beside me? Would you just hold me for a little while? Until I stop shaking?”

He did as she asked, snuggling close to her and putting his arm across her so that she could feel his warmth. She scooted back against him, burrowing close. “Thanks,” she said so softly he almost missed it.

She was asleep before long, and the shaking stopped. He stayed with her anyway, wanting to make sure. But he also stayed because he liked holding her, liked being close. And for the first time since Leofur, he found that he needed the comfort of another body.