The Darkling Child

TWENTY

“BOY, WAKE UP!”

Hands were shaking him, bringing him out of the dream he was having. In the dream, he was with Lariana. They were flying over a countryside filled with flowers, the hues forming an intense pattern beneath where they stood at the bow of an airship. The colors were brilliant and lustrous, shimmering in the sunlight, an endless blanket covering of the earth below. He was smiling as he looked at Lariana, and she was smiling back at him with such love, such desperate want, that he could barely believe how lucky he was.

“Reyn! Now! Get up! They’re here!”“

The dream vanished, and he opened his eyes, his vision blurry and dim. The room in which he had been sleeping was still mostly dark, lit only by a single candle in one corner. He sat up slowly on his sleeping mat and looked across the room to where Lariana, occupying the bed, was just waking, as well. The whole experience had a surreal feel to it.

“Who’s here?” he asked.

“Who do you think?” Arcannen snapped, turning away, heading for the door. “Be quick!”

“What is he talking about?” Reyn muttered, blinking rapidly.

“Those men sent to kill us. They’re here.” Lariana was sitting on the edge of her bed in her nightdress, looking over at him. “Remember?”

He did, although he hadn’t thought about it much in the days he had been training to master his use of the wishsong. “They’re here?” he repeated, not quite awake yet.

“Get dressed,” she told him, rising to snatch up her clothes before moving into a shadowed corner. She turned away from him and stripped off her sleeping garments.

He looked down self–consciously, although it didn’t seem to bother her that he was in the same room. Turning away, he began pulling on his own clothes. Those men sent to kill us. What was he supposed to do? What did Arcannen expect of him?

He worried about it as he finished pulling on his boots and found a fully dressed Lariana standing in front of him, waiting. “Ready?”

To do what? But he didn’t ask. Instead, he simply nodded, rose, and followed her from the bedroom to the central living quarters of their underground lair, where Arcannen was waiting for them.

“They were here last night, testing to discover if we were in residence, and apparently they decided that we were. They believed themselves quite clever, coming at us from the ocean side, thinking I would not bother putting up wards on that approach. So they tripped them, as I had intended they should, but they don’t realize we know this.”

He moved close to them, his eyes intense. “Now listen carefully. These are dangerous men, and they will not hesitate to kill any of us if they have the chance. I am quite certain they’ve killed before and more often than once. They know exactly how to carry out an assignment of this sort, and they are probably confident that we will not be able to stop them. But their confidence is misplaced. They are overmatched here. We will show them a quick finish.”

“I don’t want to hurt anyone!” Reyn blurted out in dismay. “You promised me!”

Arcannen took a moment to study him. “I know what I promised. And I know how to keep my promises. I will do what needs doing to rid us of these vermin. But remember, boy. Sometimes things don’t work out as you intend. No matter how good your intentions, they aren’t always enough. Promises can get you only so far. If one of these men gets past me or behind me, what are you going to do? Stand there and let him kill you? Or worse, kill me?”

He waited for Reyn’s answer. The boy shook his head. “No, but I don’t want it to come to that. If I don’t stop hurting people now, I probably never will.”

The sorcerer sighed. “How confident are you that you can control your magic? Is your confidence solid enough to tell me you can? No exceptions or excuses?”

“I can control it.”

“Good. Then I have a plan. But it depends on you being able to make your magic work the way you did last night. Can I depend on you?”

Reyn nodded. “What sort of plan?”

“A simple enough one, really. Simple plans always work the best. You will create images and bring them to life. A series of them, if you can manage it. You will point your creations against these intruders to distract them, and while they are busy fighting off shadows, I will dispatch them. You needn’t do anything to help with that.”

He turned to Lariana. “I want you to remain here, inside. This fight isn’t for you. You would distract the boy, and he doesn’t need that. What you can do is keep an eye on the rear entry, just in case one of them finds an opening and comes through behind us.”

He handed her an arc flash, one of the newest of the new breed of handheld flash rips. She took it, studied it a moment, and looked back at him.

“Can you use it?” he asked. “Do you know how?”

She nodded. “But I think I should go with Reyn. He’s used to me being there when he uses the wishsong magic.”

“That may be true, but it is also true that you cannot always be there. Especially in situations like this when you would be at as much risk as he will. So you will remain here. Are we clear?”

“He’s right,” Reyn told her. “I would feel better knowing you are safely away from whatever’s going to happen outside.”

She gave him a look, but nodded wordlessly. He could tell she was upset and worried, but he didn’t want her with him when he left with Arcannen. He looked back at the sorcerer. “Where are these men now?”

Arcannen tightened his cloak about his shoulders and gave him a wink. “Let’s go find out.”

They departed the room through the heavy protective door and stepped into the hallway that led to the outside of their safehold. Arcannen took the lead, moving swiftly and confidently. No trace of concern over what might happen was evident from his face. When they reached the outer door, he extinguished the smokeless lamps at the opening and turned to Reyn.

“I will leave this door unlocked. If things go wrong or become too dangerous for you to remain outside, come back through here. Throw the locks on this door and the one leading into my home. If I don’t appear within the hour, take Lariana and go out through the rear door. Make your way south to the village of Corrin’s Kirk. It’s no more than five miles down the coast. Don’t bother looking for me; I won’t be coming.”

“I’m not leaving you,” Reyn said at once.

“You will if I tell you to, and I am.” The sorcerer’s face was carved in stone. “Don’t argue with me; I am better able to make these decisions than you are. I don’t think any of this will happen, but you need to be prepared if it does.”

“Lariana won’t leave you, either.”

Arcannen smiled. “She will do what you ask of her; just as you will pretty much do what she asks of you. I see what’s happening between the two of you. A blind man could see. So do what I say. Go, and take care of each other afterward.”

Reyn shook his head. “I don’t like it.”

“You don’t need to.” Arcannen stepped over to the door, drawing the boy after him. “The weather warmed during the night, and the rains stopped. The mist is so thick you can barely see your hand in front of your face. I don’t know what we will find out there. I don’t know how many of these intruders there are or where we will encounter them. So it would be better to keep moving rather than staying in one place. We may become separated. I will try not to let that happen.”

He paused. “Just remember. If you get in trouble and I can’t reach you, don’t panic. Use your wishsong. Do whatever you must to protect yourself. I don’t like having to ask this, but life doesn’t always give us the choices we would prefer.”

The boy hesitated. “When this is over, will you continue to help me learn about the magic and not give up on me?”

“Give up on you?” Arcannen laughed softly. “I never had any intention on giving up on you. Never. No matter what happens, I will be there to see you through this.”

He gripped the boy’s arm and pulled him close. “Are you ready?”

Reyn nodded.

Arcannen raised the heavy crossbar and threw the locking bolts on the door leading out. A wall of heavy gray fog, thick and swirling, greeted them as they went through.

Elsewhere in the nearly impenetrable soup, Mallich was leading his hunters in their search of the ruins. He paid no attention to the wards that might be in place now, made no effort to hide their arrival. The plan was simple–find their quarry, corner it, and kill it. With the oketar doing the tracking and the crince given over to The Hammer’s care (it mostly required sheer strength to control the beast), the outcome was a foregone conclusion. Arcannen, Mallich believed, would try to escape rather than stand and fight. That effort would fail because the animals would find him wherever he went, corner him, and bring him down. Even if they couldn’t, the men would be there to finish the job. Simple enough.

Usurient wasn’t so sure.

He trailed the others, doing what he had promised himself he would do–hanging back to let his companions manage the killing so he would be free to clean up the mess when things were over and done with. He was far less convinced than the others about how easy this would be or what their chance of success was. The others were confident in their strength and experience as predators, but the Red Slash Commander was equally convinced of Arcannen’s uncanny ability to survive. He had seen it before, when the odds were far greater than now. The sorcerer had a gift for detecting traps and turning them back on those who set them. He was not at all sure it would be any different here.

His sole source of comfort came from the weapon he had concealed beneath his Federation army jacket–a handheld flash rip rapid–fire that could bring down an entire squad of attackers in seconds. It was the newest development in the Federation efforts to expand their military capability, the weapon of the future that would eventually put the Federation atop all the other nations and Races. He had one because he had managed to bargain for it a few years back–by which he meant he had used blackmail and threats against a weapons developer. Not very fair of him perhaps, but very effective when you wanted something as badly as he had wanted this weapon.

His eyes fixed for a time on the crince, watching as it slouched along on the far end of The Hammer’s chain. The beast was incredibly ugly–a huge, misshapen animal possessed of a massive body and thick, heavy limbs. Its head hung so low to the ground it seemed to be dragging. It was not intelligent; its senses were not keen. But once it locked on the prey it was sent to find, there was no stopping it. A crince would go right through a wall of spears to get its jaws on a kill. Even if damaged. Even if dying. You could stop it by dismembering it or cutting off its head, but with an animal of this size and ferocity coming at you, who had time for that?

He pictured it with its jaws around Arcannen’s smug face and found momentary pleasure in the image.

Bael Etris skittered up to him from one side–a teasing, taunting gesture–then darted away. He kept glancing at Usurient, an open promise of what he would like to do to him mirrored in his dark eyes. Usurient knew he would have to watch the other closely. If he gave the little vermin half a chance, he would find his throat slit. But he had dealt with men like Etris before, mindless killers with no discernible moral code and no respect for authority. He knew how to keep them at bay while making use of them.

Which wouldn’t be for all that long in this instance. Etris would be the first one he would dispose of when this was over.

Ahead, Mallich slowed. They were at the edge of the ruins now, close to where the real search would begin. The hunter stood waiting for the others, motioning them closer before speaking.

“We split up here. Two groups.” His voice was a whisper. “Hammer with me, Etris with Usurient. The animals go with me. Hammer and I will come in from the land side; Bael and Dallen will go in from the coast. There’s got to be ways in and out of whatever remains of the village, passageways carved into the rock. That’s where the sorcerer will be. If he doesn’t come out to meet us, we find one of those ways and go in after him. Mostly, we have to keep him in front of us. We don’t want him to slip out and get around behind us.”

“Or escape us altogether,” Usurient added. “If he does, he will come hunting us like we hunt him.”

“He’s already hunting you, though, isn’t he?” Bael Etris sneered.

Usurient glared at him. “Something you’re going to put a stop to if you want to get paid.”

“Oh, that’s right. I’m supposed to save you. I wonder why that doesn’t much interest me?”

Mallich gave him a look. “Enough. There will be a door hidden somewhere on the coast side. If you find it, go in. Kill everyone. Don’t stop to think about it.”

“Don’t you worry.” Etris was still looking at Usurient. “I know how to kill a man better than most.”

“Let him go on his own,” Usurient said suddenly. “I’ll stay with you.”

Mallich started to object, then thought better of it. He sighed wearily. “All right. You come with me and Hammer. Let’s be quick about this. Remember. If Arcannen gets the upper hand, we won’t live out the day.”

They separated then, Bael Etris peeling off from the others and disappearing into the gloom. The other three stood watching for a minute, then Mallich beckoned. They started forward into the ruins, spreading out as they went. They kept one another in sight, although Usurient, on the far right, at times lost sight of The Hammer, on the far left. He kept Mallich in view because he was the one who mattered. The oketar roamed ahead, straining against their leashes, noses to the ground, sniffing at rocks and debris. As hunters they were without peer, but they were killers, too. The urge to engage and take down prey was instinctive, and if there were living creatures anywhere nearby, they would find them.

Usurient peered into the haze doubtfully. He couldn’t see a thing. It would have been better if they had gone in last night in the pouring rain rather than risk an encounter in this fog. Maybe they should have waited. But he knew that wasn’t possible with these men. Waiting wasn’t something they would tolerate. He picked his way through the rocks cautiously, trying not to make any sound, grateful for the roar of the ocean in the background, hiding everything in its white noise.

Then, abruptly, something appeared in the gloom ahead of them.

As they left their shelter and stepped out into the mist and gloom, Arcannen leaned close to Reyn. “Don’t try to see in this fog. Try to hear. The ocean doesn’t muffle sound as much as it might seem.”

Reyn nodded. It seemed to him that the ocean crashing against the rocks drowned out everything, but he did his best to try to hear through it. Arcannen was moving ahead, wrapped in his dark cloak, head bent to the rubble. The boy followed, working hard at keeping upright on the slippery rocks, watching his footing carefully so he wouldn’t fall. He was thinking hard about the images he would need to create, the distraction he would need to cause. Perversely, he found himself wishing he had never put himself in this position–even if it had meant giving up his lessons in learning to control the magic. But he couldn’t have stood losing Lariana. She mattered too much to him. She was the real reason he stayed with Arcannen. To keep her close, he would have endured almost anything.

They had gone only a short distance when Arcannen abruptly stopped. He hesitated a moment, apparently listening. Reyn listened with him, but heard nothing.

Arcannen glanced back at him, gesturing to his head and then his mouth. He was ready for the images the wishsong would provide. He gestured a second time. The intruders were just ahead. He waited to be sure Reyn understood, held up a warding palm to tell him to remain where he was, and disappeared into the roiling mist.

Reyn watched him go, suddenly chilled to the bone. He was alone now; the sorcerer was no longer there to protect him. All he could do was obey the other’s instructions. He formed an image in his mind of several men, a clutch of armed attackers, holding them carefully in place, waiting to see what would happen. As he had with the creature he created to frighten Arcannen earlier, he gave his creations more than visual characteristics; he made it possible for them to be smelled, tasted, heard. He gave the beasts tracking them a reason to think they were real beyond what their eyes would suggest. He found it easier today–more familiar, less challenging. He knew he was getting more proficient at using his magic. He built his protectors piece by piece and held them at the ready like guards at the gates of a city.

Then he waited.

And waited some more.

The images in his mind did not waver. Time slowed, then stopped.

Abruptly a nightmarish creature surged into view, a thing so impossible that the boy almost fled. The four–legged beast was as big as a koden, all bristling hair and jagged teeth and claws, angry piggish eyes fixing on him, head lowered close to the ground as if it were too heavy for the creature to hold erect. A man appeared behind it, the beast connected to him by a chain gripped in his massive hands. The man was as huge and terrible as the beast, a mountain of muscle and bone, his features scarred and ridged and twisted.

They saw each other in the same instant, and Reyn only just managed to release his images and send them careening toward these monsters to intercept them. The images responded as he had hoped they would, moving swiftly and purposefully ahead, attackers that clearly threatened. The man slowed at once, but the beast roared in challenge and jerked hard at the chain. Reyn conjured and dispatched another three attackers, all of them spinning out into the mists like the ghosts they were. But it was hard to tell they weren’t real with the haze swirling around them, and the beast seemed confused and angry.

The boy cast about in desperation. Where was Arcannen? He had created a distraction. Where was the sorcerer?

Abruptly, the big man released the chain, and the beast surged forward to attack the images. As they disintegrated under the force of its attack, it grew even more crazed, whipping this way and that in a futile effort to get its jaws around them as they surged past. It could see, smell and taste them; why couldn’t it touch them? Reyn sent two more, but he could feel his grip on things loosening. All he was doing was delaying the inevitable if Arcannen didn’t appear.

Then two further beasts surged out of the mist–things that looked to be a crossbreed of several species, not so big and imposing as the first, but dangerous nevertheless. They attacked the images, as well, caught up in the maddened behavior of the larger creature, and quickly the trio became mired in a frenzy of snapping and tearing at empty air and phantoms.

A shadowy figure emerged from off to his left, less imposing than the giant and the dog, but clearly a threat. Reyn dropped to one knee, trying to think what to do. The man was coming for him, running now, knives in both hands.

In desperation, he invoked a fresh image, shadowy and faint like the others but still real in appearance, and sent it charging toward the three beasts. The animals were on it at once, but their efforts to bring it down failed as Reyn caused it to veer sharply away before they reached it. Fleeing, with the animals in pursuit, the image folded itself about the man with the knives, and the two merged and became one. The man slowed, confused, aware that something had happened, brushing at his face so that if felt as if he had walked into a spiderweb. The merging was done so swiftly it would not have appeared real to humans; it would have seemed the trick it was. But to the beasts it was very real. Reacting instinctively and without hesitation, all three charged the image that had become the man and tore into it.

At the last moment, the man turned, realizing something was wrong, hands lifting his knives defensively. Too late. The largest beast was on him so fast he had no time to react. He was brought down instantly, screaming as the terrible jaws closed about his face and ripped it off. Arms and legs thrashed futilely, blood spraying everywhere. Tossing aside what it had savaged, the beast began tearing at what remained, joined by its companions. In mere seconds the man was reduced to a lifeless husk.

Kneeling in the mist–slickened rubble, Reyn cringed in dismay. He hadn’t meant for this to happen. He had only been trying to divert the attack. He had just reacted. Arcannen had said he would be there to help him, to prevent him from killing anyone. But the sorcerer had failed him.

Now the first man was coming for him, a huge battle–ax raised overhead. He was like a juggernaut bearing down on the boy–massive and unstoppable. Reyn scrambled to his feet to face the giant, trying to conjure an image to deflect the attack. But panic enveloped him, freezing him in place, stripping away all control, all reason. There was no image that would save him from this.

Where was Arcannen now?

He began backing away, trying to escape, knowing immediately that he wouldn’t, that he was too slow. He cried out for Arcannen, knowing that this, too, was futile, that he couldn’t hear him and wouldn’t come …

Behind him the door to the passageway leading into Arcannen’s lair opened, and Lariana appeared, a vision that seemed born of another conjuring. She advanced through the opening and braced herself, arms extended, her small flash rip pointing.

“Get down, Reyn,” she called out to him.

He threw himself aside, the giant almost on top of him. Lariana’s weapon made a snapping noise–quick and piercing–and he caught a glimpse of strange fiery rope passing above him at tremendous speed. He heard the sound of an impact on flesh, and heard the giant grunt. When he looked, the huge man was down on his knees, his entire chest opened up as the flaming rope twisted around inside him like a live creature.

The giant’s eyes were glazed and staring as he pitched forward and lay still.

Reyn staggered up, and Lariana raced toward him. She flew into his arms and held him against her, and in that moment of gratitude and relief he knew with a certainty as sharp as a blade’s edge that he would never let her go.