The Darkling Child

TWENTY‑FIVE

THE BOY AND THE GIRL WERE STILL LOCKED IN THEIR EMBRACE when the door opened and Arcannen walked in. He gave them a momentary glance and continued on into the tiny kitchen area, where he began rummaging around for something to eat. “I hope this helps your preparations,” he said.

Reyn did not reply, pulling back from Lariana, immediately intimidated. The girl just smiled. “Of course it helps. It’s called motivation.”

Arcannen shrugged, putting together some cheese and bread before carrying his meal over to the little table and beginning to eat. “You delivered my invitation?”

“Directly to his personal aide.”

“Who didn’t know who you were?”

“Who barely got a look at me. I was wrapped up and my face was dirt–smudged and covered. I was a street kid so far as he could tell.”

The sorcerer nodded. “Then we’re ready. Do you want something to eat before we go? Either of you?”

Neither spoke. Reyn was looking down, trying to find a way to keep his courage up. He was scared out of his wits, knowing what was coming, what he was expected to do. He hadn’t discussed the specifics with Lariana, but Arcannen had made it plain enough. He was to be responsible for rendering the Red Slash vulnerable to whatever form of rough justice he had decided to mete out. The sorcerer hadn’t revealed exactly what he intended to do, but the boy was certain of the end result.

He was also certain that he wanted no part of it. But trying to get away with Lariana at this point was impossible. Arcannen would not let him out of his sight from here on in; they only had a few hours until dawn, when the confrontation would occur, and he would stay close to them. But even if Reyn had thought to challenge the other, he knew he lacked the confidence to use his magic against him. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to. It was his reluctance to engage in a life–and–death battle with the sorcerer. It was his fear that at some point he would falter, his distaste for what he was attempting strong enough to cause him to hold back, and against an opponent like Arcannen any hesitation would almost certainly be fatal.

He wished he were made of stronger stuff. But his only use of magic against others had been fueled by threats to his own life, which had caused an instinctive lashing out in self–protection. Any attack on Arcannen at this point would not be like that. It would have to be an aggressive, deliberate strike, and as such it was not something he was convinced he could manage to sustain.

Besides which, he was not at all sure he was the other man’s equal, even with the wishsong to aid him. Arcannen was more experienced and likely better able. And he would be putting Lariana at risk, as well. Better, he believed, to bide his time and wait for the right opportunity. He would recognize it when he saw it. He just needed to be patient.

Even knowing, as he did, that time was running out.

Even knowing he had no idea what sort of opportunity he needed.

“Maybe you should eat something,” Lariana whispered to him, echoing Arcannen’s suggestion.

But he wasn’t hungry and didn’t think he could keep anything down even if he tried. It was taking everything he had just to hold himself together long enough to try to get through what lay ahead. His mind was working madly, his thoughts running rampant, as he fought to stay calm enough to think about what he might do if he was given even the smallest chance to stop what was going to happen. Whatever he did, saving Lariana was his main concern. Setting her free from the sorcerer’s domination had to be the end result of anything he might try.

I love you enough that I will give up my life for you, she had said to him.

She would, too. He knew she would. And he would do the same for her, if that was what it took to save her.

Arcannen rose and came over to where they were sitting, dragging over a chair to join them. He sat down heavily, but his lean face was wreathed in a smile. “Time to examine the larger picture, children,” he declared.

The boy and the girl exchanged an uncertain glance. “Oh, don’t worry,” he continued. “It isn’t anything you probably haven’t already considered. I just need to reaffirm for you what the purpose of today’s exercise with the Red Slash will mean in the days to come.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, assuming a decidedly vulture–like look when hunched over in his dark robes. “Word will travel quickly when before the day is out. It will reach every city, hamlet, and village in the Four Lands. The mighty Red Slash, pride of the Federation army, has been destroyed! Not by another army or even a smaller force. But by two men, each a powerful wielder of magic, each a determined antagonist to those who would prefer magic banned throughout the world and see those who practiced it brought to their knees. The message will be clear. You come after us–those rare few of us with the skills and talent to use magic–at your peril. You lack the grit and the experience and the means to harm us. Hunting us down will only bring an end to your lives, not to ours.”

“If we live out the day,” Lariana interrupted. “There is every chance we won’t, given what you intend to try doing.”

“Ah, but you don’t actually know what I intend, do you? The fact is, the odds are so completely in our favor that I see no real obstacle to our success. I have kept the details from both of you so that you wouldn’t have to think on them until it is time. I leave nothing to chance. I take no unnecessary risks.”

He paused. “Assuming that Reyn can indeed control his magic as both of you have led me to believe, we will be successful. And you can do that, can’t you?”

He spoke directly to Reyn, who looked at the floor, saw his chance for saying otherwise slip away from him like a shadow before light, and nodded. “I will do what is needed.”

“There!” Arcannen sat back. “The amount of magic required is extreme, but not beyond your capabilities, and the whole plan should take no more than a handful of minutes. We will work as a team, you and I. We will feed off each other’s energy. But the best is what will come later. Because this doesn’t end here. No, this is where it begins!”

As Lariana warned, the boy thought. Of course it begins here. Of course it will continue. And it won’t end until I am dead, killed one way or another. Which will not be at a time of my choosing. All the choices will be made by him.

The sorcerer was already talking again. “Your training will begin in earnest after this. I will take you on as my apprentice and show you all the wonderful things you can do with your gift. Lariana will be my helper and your companion. We will be a family, the three of us–one bonded not by blood, but by common purpose.”

“To what end?” the girl pressed. “You have a larger goal in mind, do you not?”

“I do. I would finish another matter long left in limbo. I would gain control of the Druid Order and see it become the force it was always intended to be. It is an accomplishment that I almost realized once before. This time, when I pick up the loose threads, I will see it to a successful conclusion. I will see the Druids placed under my leadership or I will see them destroyed.”

“I don’t want any part of this!” Reyn blurted out, unable to stay silent any longer. “I don’t care anything about the Druids!”

Arcannen nodded patiently. “Of course you don’t. Right now you don’t. But that will change. You will come to see them for what they are–rapacious, controlling, self–centered, and dictatorial. They want all the magic for themselves, all that exists or might one day exist, and they will do what they need to do to gain possession of it. There will be no consideration given for you or me or anyone who is not a part of their precious Order. What care they for the likes of us? You’ve seen how they are already. They almost killed you back in Portlow. They’ve hunted you ever since. Look at Lariana! She was fortunate to be able to escape them before they could hurt her! If we hadn’t made plans for that eventuality, they might be using their dark arts against her right this moment!”

His eyes shifted. “Isn’t this so, Lariana?”

She nodded slowly. “I was fortunate to be able to slip away from them when they weren’t paying close attention.”

“Because you knew, as I did, that they would have used you against Reyn!” he snapped triumphantly.

At one time, Reyn Frosch might have believed this. But not now. Not given what he had come to realize about Arcannen. Whatever their intentions, the Druids had done nothing to threaten or harm Lariana in any way. She hadn’t said much about the details of her journey back to Sterne with them, but he was convinced it wasn’t anything like what Arcannen was suggesting.

“How soon do we leave?” he asked abruptly.

The sorcerer gave him a sharp look and then stood. “Why not right now? Come, children. Let’s make history!”

And together, they left their hiding place and went out into the night.

Paxon and Avelene approached the Red Slash barracks cautiously, noting from some distance away the activity taking place. It was early morning now, less than two hours before sunrise, and normal people were sound asleep in their beds. Not so these soldiers. The entire compound was brightly lit and alive with sound and movement. Shouts and cries and a rolling out of weapons and gear signaled ongoing preparations for a major mobilization. The Druid and the Highlander could see what was happening from the rise on which they stood, looking down over the buildings and parade yards, watching the men and women of the company as they hauled and loaded and fell into their perfect formations, one by one. Something was surely happening.

“What do we do now?” Paxon asked Avelene.

She pursed her lips. “We go in. We find Usurient and talk to him.” She gave him a glance. “Don’t worry. We aren’t the reason for all this. We don’t have anything to fear.”

He wasn’t so sure, thinking back on the encounter at Arbrox. But there was no way to reach the Red Slash Commander other than by walking through the compound gates. A conversation of some sort was necessary, if only to give warning that he and his soldiers were in danger.

“We could just wait and watch,” he said slowly, musing on it. “We could shadow him and find out what he’s about. It should become clear soon enough.”

“Wait too long and we risk losing Arcannen yet again.” She shook her head. “I think we need to speak with the commander before he does anything precipitous.”

Paxon shrugged. It wasn’t his place to make this decision, and his purpose in being here was to protect Avelene. He would do what that required.

They left the rise and proceeded to the front gates, which stood open waiting to disgorge the soldiers and their equipment. It was an awful lot of personnel and armament for an encounter with one man, a boy, and a girl, Paxon thought. Either Dallen Usurient knew more about the magic capabilities of the three than Paxon, or this was about something else entirely. Whatever the case, it felt like there was an element of real fear involved. The air was thick with the taste and smell of it; the frenetic behavior of the soldiers testified to its presence.

Scared men were dangerous men, Paxon thought as they reached the gates. Avelene had better watch herself.

Guards stepped forward to intercept them, weapons raised. “The compound is closed to outsiders. Turn around,” one said.

Avelene ignored the command, stepping forward to confront him. “Tell Commander Usurient the Druid and her companion from Arbrox are here to speak with him. Tell him we have information he needs.”

The guards looked uncertainly at each other. “Do it,” she snapped, her tone flat and hard.

One left immediately, hurrying away. The other stood where he was, blocking their way and looking decidedly self–conscious about it. Avelene held her ground, standing right in front of him, refusing to give way. Long minutes passed, and finally the first guard returned, his face stricken.

“Come this way,” he said when he was still ten feet away from them, almost as if he was afraid to come closer.

He turned away at once, not bothering to look back to see if they were following him. Paxon and Avelene glanced at each other and set off in pursuit, surprised at a reaction that seemed equal parts fear and revulsion. These were hardened soldiers, not inexperienced boys, and time in the Federation army usually gave them an advantage over whoever or whatever they might come up against. So it was a surprise to both the Druid and the Highlander that the soldiers they had just encountered should seem so intimidated.

“Watch yourself,” Paxon whispered to Avelene at one point.

He was uneasy about this entire business, but more so now because of the reaction of the soldiers. As they made their way through the mobilized compound, he kept shifting his gaze, taking everything in, looking for any suggestion of a potential threat. But everyone seemed so caught up in their efforts to organize whatever effort was under way that almost no one even bothered to glance at them.

When they reached a large building at the center of the compound, the guard opened a door leading in and stood waiting for them to enter. Once they were inside, he closed the door behind them.

“What is it you want?” a disembodied voice demanded. “Haven’t you caused enough trouble?”

Dallen Usurient walked out of the shadows at the rear of the room to face them. His visage was clouded by displeasure and frustration, clearly annoyed to have to deal with what he saw as just another distraction.

“You seem to have recovered from your experience at Arbrox,” Avelene observed. “I assume you know how much danger you’re in?”

The Red Slash Commander made a dismissive gesture. “None at all. I have to inconvenience myself with this sorcerer and his grandiose plans for my demise, but that won’t require much effort. Unless you’ve come to pick up where you left off in Arbrox, I don’t have to worry and we have nothing further to talk about.”

“You tried to kill us back there,” Paxon pointed out.

“I didn’t know who you were!” Usurient’s voice was shrill. “I saw what Arcannen did to my companions and I panicked. I should never have gone along on that trek in the first place. But I thought I might be able to help. Or at least keep the men I sent from making fools of themselves. I was wrong. Is there anything else we need to discuss? I have a lot to do to get ready for sunrise.”

“What happens at sunrise?” Avelene asked.

He looked at her in surprise. “You don’t know? I thought that was why you were here.” He fumbled in his pocket and produced a crumpled piece of paper. “He sent me this earlier tonight.”

He passed the paper to the Druid. She took it, unfolded it, and read its few words before passing it to Paxon. “Where is this Horn of Honor?” she asked. “What is it?”

“It’s a monument to fallen soldiers that sits in the Federation burial grounds, out on the bluff above the city.”

“Have you secured it?”

“The moment I received this note. What difference does it make to you? You’re not invited to the party.”

Avelene shook her head. “You should let this invitation go unanswered. You should step aside and let Paxon and myself handle it. We’re better equipped to deal with Arcannen.”

“Step aside? For one man? I should have taken the Red Slash back to Arbrox and squashed him like a bug in the first place! I wasted my time on those hunters. Now get out of here!”

Avelene never moved. “Do you know what he intends? Because we do. He intends to wipe your Red Slash off the map.”

Usurient stared at her. “That’s ridiculous.”

“He has a boy with him who has command of a very powerful magic called the wishsong. He can affect anything if he decides to use it. We think Arcannen holds you responsible for the deaths at Arbrox, and he intends to avenge those who died by eliminating their killers.”

“Soldiers, not killers,” he corrected her. “And what he intends and what he can accomplish are two entirely different things. He is an enemy of the Federation, and I have been charged with bringing him to the proper authorities to answer for his crimes. Or, if he decides to make a fight of it, to be sure he doesn’t ever do so again.”

“I repeat,” Avelene said, “let us take care of this. If he thought you had any chance of stopping him–even with your entire command backing you–he would never have come here and offered you this challenge. He is very dangerous. Much more so than you think. We have faced and fought him twice now, Paxon and I. So let us use our skills and experience to stop him. Don’t risk your soldiers.”

The Red Slash Commander hesitated, and Paxon could tell he was bothered by what she said. He had enough experience with the sorcerer to know that Arcannen was nobody’s fool and not given to rash behavior. He would have a plan. But then his demeanor changed, his anger resurfacing to sweep aside all other emotions and bury every consideration but one–putting an end to his enemy once and for all.

“Tell you what. You go back to mixing potions and sacrificing lizards and I will go back to soldiering.” His eyes were suddenly empty and dangerous. “Now get out of here. I don’t want you underfoot when things become unpleasant.”

Avelene straightened; her slender form was rigid as she glanced at Paxon. Then she looked back at Usurient. “You are making a mistake, Commander.”

“Yes, well it’s my mistake to make and answer for. I’m prepared to do both. But you’re not going to be satisfied with my answer, are you? You’re not going to accept it.” He shook his head. “Wait here.”

He walked to the door and called out. Seconds later an entire squad of soldiers had crowded into the room, all of them carrying weapons, all of these weapons pointed at Paxon and Avelene. The Highlander gave no thought to drawing his sword. It was pointless to think of fighting where there was nothing to be gained by doing so.

“Take them to the guardhouse and lock them inside,” Usurient ordered. “Relieve this one” — he pointed to Paxon — “of his blade before you do. If they try to escape, stop them. An hour after sunrise, you may release them.”

He gave them a critical look. “I don’t trust you. Or Druids in general, for that matter. You constantly interfere in things that don’t concern you. You might try to interfere in this. You have that look about you. So, yes, I’ve changed my mind about letting you leave. I need to be assured that you won’t get underfoot. And, yes–before you question it–I can do this. You may have diplomatic immunity from our beloved Prime Minister–as I suspect you do–but it doesn’t extend to this base and my command. Here, there is only one law, and it’s mine. Now good–bye.”

They took Paxon’s sword, and then he and Avelene were escorted back outside on a short walk to a solid stone–and–iron structure that could hardly be mistaken for anything but a prison. They were led inside and placed in one of the cells, a cramped space empty of everything but a cot and a chamber pot. A heavily barred window let in light through a two–foot–square hole. The soldiers backed out carefully, closing the heavy iron door behind them and sliding the crossbar into place.

In the ensuing silence, the Druid and the Highlander faced each other.

“They don’t really think they can keep us in here, do they?” Paxon asked.

Avelene gave him a look. “Who knows what they think? What they think doesn’t matter. Only what we think matters.”

“Well, I think we can walk out of here anytime we want,” he said.

“But that isn’t the trick, is it?”

“No? Then what is?”

“The trick is to leave without them knowing it.”

He nodded. “That stands to reason. Unfortunately, I don’t happen to know that trick.”

She gave him a wink. “I do.”

The Horn of Honor was a huge stone monolith engraved with the names of those soldiers stationed in Sterne who had perished committing particularly memorable acts while in service to the Federation army. The memorial stood at the far end of a broad plateau that overlooked the city proper and the broad sweep of the Prowl River directly below. The plateau itself served as the resting place for all of Sterne’s Federation soldiers, whether or not their names were engraved on the Horn, if at some point they had been stationed in the city. All were memorialized by small squares of white marble that bore their names and beneath which their cremated remains were preserved in tiny boxes.

This night, the plateau was filled with members of the Red Slash. They stood in loose formation all across the bluff, gathered by squads and brigades, filling the open spaces between the stone markers, surrounding the Horn on all sides. The entire command was present, save for those few left behind to maintain a presence within the barracks.

At their head, standing just apart and facing toward the head of the roadway that led upward to the bluff, was Dallen Usurient, resplendent in his scarlet dress uniform, his posture erect and rigid, his hands clasped behind his back to conceal the handheld flash rip he was hiding within the sleeve of his great coat. He wanted to appear unafraid at the prospect of a confrontation with Arcannen while at the same time remaining prepared for it. By now word of what they were doing and on whom they were waiting had spread through the ranks. A few, perhaps more, would be frightened, if only by the rumors they had heard. So he must do what he could to keep his soldiers calm; he must set a good example.

He glanced around briefly, taking in the spectacle of the entire Red Slash standing ready to fight. They bore weapons of every sort–blades and crossbows, spears and darts, flash rips and rail slings–strapped and sheathed or drawn and held ready, a formidable challenge to any enemy. They provided a spellbinding sight, a tableau worthy of an elite fighting unit. Torches burned at the perimeter of the burial ground, their uneven spray of firelight casting shadows in all directions, layering the landscape with intricate patterns. The faces of his soldiers glowed red and yellow; some were colored almost brown by the flames. It gave them an otherworldly look, an alien appearance that brought a shiver to his spine.

Where are you now, Arcannen Rai? How will you react to this when you come face–to–face with it?

He was anxious to find out, eager for the first time since he had received the other’s note, confident that whatever the sorcerer sought to do by arranging this confrontation would end badly for its instigator. This would be no Arbrox. This would not be a repeat of what had happened to Mallich and his men. No amount of games and tricks would fool this many experienced men and women into reacting foolishly. No type of magic would cause them to turn and run.

No, it would end here. It would end with Arcannen’s long–overdue death and the slow disintegration of his corpse after it had been hung from the city walls.

He was looking forward to it. He was anxious to watch it happen.

He started at sudden movement on the roadway before him. Shadows appeared. Three figures, faceless black forms, emerged from the night. The firelight illuminated them with its inquisitive flicker as they approached and revealed their features.

Dallen Usurient smiled.

Arcannen Rai was here.