The Darkling's Kiss: Part Two: The Daemon Unleashed (The Daemon's Descendants Book 2)

by Charlie Richards

  “Well,” Kalylle said with a smile. “Let’s see how organized our friend was.” Kalylle opened one of the tomes, scanning the first couple pages. King Corak did the same with the second tome. “These lists give dates messengers were sent and to where, along with when they returned.”

  “So does this,” the king stated. He flipped to the end. “It’s completely full. These entries are from several years ago.” He set the book back onto the table and picked up a scroll.

  “This book picks up where yours left off and runs to current,” Kalylle said, flipping through the last couple pages. “There aren’t any entries for messengers to the elves though.”

  The king frowned, his bushy brows drawn into an angry scowl. “So he took the sword and then didn’t send the messengers to the elves, so we wouldn’t find out that they hadn’t taken it. If I ever get my hands on that dwarf…” He left the threat unfinished, silenced by Kalylle’s upraised hand.

  “Please, I seriously doubt he’s the mastermind behind this,” Kalylle told the king. He continued to peruse the tome before him. “Faldor often ran errands himself. Perhaps on one of those errands, he ran into whoever coerced him into stealing the sword.” Kalylle looked at the king. “I’d like to take this tome. Is that okay?”

  The king nodded. “Go ahead.” He stood quietly for a moment before adding, “My people won’t be satisfied with this answer.”

  “Continue on as if you’re still going to war,” the wizard advised. “Just go slow. I need time to figure out who’s behind this. If you refuse to go to war then whoever planned this may not surface again for a while. We need to stop him or her now,” Kalylle finished, his voice taking on a hard edge.

  King Corak’s eyes held surprise. “Of course.”

  “I’m going to leave now,” Kalylle stated. “There’s not a moment to lose.” The wizard rose, the king following. After tucking the tome under his arm, he reached for the door. “I’ll return as quickly as possible with more information,” he assured.

  The king nodded. “If this war can be averted, you will have saved countless lives.”

  Kalylle nodded curtly, understanding. He held the door open for the king and followed him through.

  King Corak turned to a bodyguard. “Take Master Kalylle down to the east tunnels.”

  The guard saluted before nodding to Kalylle.

  Kalylle bowed to King Corak before turning away from him and following the silent guard. His horse stood waiting when he reached the tunnel’s end sometime later. As he slipped the book into his saddlebag, he noticed his supplies had been restocked. He smiled. Sometimes it’s good to be a diplomat. When he led his mount out, he noticed dusk was setting in. Mounting the animal, he hurried to get a few miles behind him.

  Many days later, Kalylle galloped through the gates of Xebean, the city of knowledge where students learned the magical arts. The local wizards’ homes were clustered around the base of a massive keep. Tall stone spires stretched high above them, rising over the other buildings like fingers reaching up to brush the sky. Some were used for summoning, group spell-casting, and weather monitoring, but most spires were used as classrooms for new students. The wizards had discovered it easier to cast spells the higher in elevation one was. So they’d created magically enhanced stone towers to aid new apprentices in learning their art. The students lived in the keep on the highest floors of the building proper. Only lessons were done in the spires, and no students were allowed in them unless heading to or from a class, or if accompanied by a Master.

  Those wizards serving the Council also resided in the keep. The council members lived on the second floor, while the teachers and other aides lived on the levels between the council members and the students. The bottom floor comprised of a massive conference chamber as well as three smaller chambers along the east wall. The main chamber also served as a place to test new students when they felt they were ready to move to the next level in their training.

  Kalylle skidded to a stop in the cobblestone courtyard. He dismounted as a young boy came running. The youth took the trailing reins of his horse as he unstrapped his saddlebags. After Kalylle tossed them over his shoulder, he headed toward the keep. The doors opened automatically at his approach, which was something most of the doors in the city did unless they were locked. He strode down the hall and turned right.

  He entered the nearest small conference chamber. Chairs lined the circumference of the room, and two wizards sat in a pair of them. Their heads were bowed as they spoke together. Seeing Kalylle, they broke off their conversation and joined him in the center of the room.

  The woman opened her arms and offered him a hug. “You’re back so soon, Kalylle! That’s wonderful! Has the situation been resolved?”

  After Kalylle released her and took a step backward, he shook his head. “I’m afraid not, Cyntina.” He hesitated, grimacing, before admitting, “We’ve run into some problems.”

  The older wizard offered his hand, which Kalylle accepted. “Welcome back, Kalylle.” His gray brows furrowed as he cocked his head. “What sort of problems? And where is Philippe? He did agree to travel with you.”

  Kalylle smiled at his longtime friend and mentor. “Philippe did at that, Vednor. We visited the dwarves and then the elves. After that, we split up. Philippe headed to Crood, following evidence left behind by a group of mercenaries that attacked us on our way to the Ssilliar Mountains. Philippe said the information pointed to a criminal ring operating out of that city.”

  Cyntina’s brows shot up. “Really! Are we aware of a criminal ring in Crood?” she asked, turning to look at Vednor.

  Vednor shook his gray-haired head. “No, we’ll definitely have to look into that.”

  Kalylle cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Well, according to Philippe, there are several small rings and two large ones,” he revealed. “According to him, they’re very well established.”

  Cyntina frowned. “Who is this Philippe, and how did your friend know about them?”

  Vednor coughed, cutting off Kalylle’s response. He glanced from Kalylle to Cyntina. “I’m sorry. We can’t discuss that right now,” Vednor claimed with a shrug.

  Cyntina black brows furrowed, a surprised scowl on her face.

  While Kalylle figured they’d offended the woman, he couldn’t fix it without going against his mentor. He hurried to change the subject, saying, “Philippe’s supposed to meet me here when he’s done in Crood.”

  “So what’s the problem with the dwarves?” Cyntina asked testily.

  Kalylle met her blue-eyed gaze. Her eyes vastly contrasted her short black hair, which stood out in tiny spikes around her head. As it had on more than one occasion, the question of how she got her hair to do that pushed its way into Kalylle’s mind. Banishing the ridiculous notion, he focused on Cyntina’s question.

  “Someone stole the Sword of Brindle,” Kalylle revealed. “While the dwarves blame the elves, Philippe and I believe they are innocent. There is no reason, nor any evidence, that connects them to the crime. Unfortunately, the dwarf nation doesn’t agree. I have King Corak convinced, and he’s agreed to slow things down.” Kalylle glanced between the pair before saying, “I’ve advised him to continue with his plans, so we can flush out whoever’s behind this.”

  The two wizards Kalylle spoke with nodded. “Do you have any leads on who really stole the sword?” Cyntina asked.

  Kalylle nodded. “I believe a dwarf named Faldor took it. He’s the captain of the messengers. When I tried to question him regarding that morning, he disappeared. We believe a wizard coerced him into doing it.” He spoke the last sentence barely above a whisper. Although they were alone in the room, he didn’t know who might be listening nearby.

  Vednor and Cyntina remained quiet for a long moment. Finally, Cyntina asked, “What evidence do you have of this?”

  Kalylle clenched his jaw for an instant, then admitted, “Nothing that I could use to point a finger, yet. We encountered a massive storm the night after the mer
cenary attack. The evening after that, trolls attacked us. They were well out of their territory.”

  “I don’t understand how the troll attack could be attributed to wizardry, nor the storm,” Cyntina stated flatly.

  Kalylle understood her skepticism. He didn’t like the idea, either. “It wasn’t a natural storm,” he insisted, recalling the unexpectedness of it. “It came out of a clear sky. Like a great force, it descended. It looked like a tornado had hit the clearing where we’d tied our horses, and when Philippe investigated, he found that the animals’ ropes had been cut. The horses had been stolen. The day after the storm, Philippe and I took a side road to a small town to pick up another set of mounts.” He held Vednor’s gaze steadily, hoping to silently express the surety of his claims. “It was along that stretch that we fought with the trolls. After we purchased new horses, we traveled back that way. It was only a day later, but we couldn’t find any trace of the attack. It had been wiped clean by magical means. Someone with a great amount of power is behind this.”

  “Relax, Kalylle,” Vednor soothed, holding up a hand. “I believe you.” He turned to the dark-haired woman next to him. “We’ll need to report this to the rest of the Council.”

  Cyntina nodded. “Get some rest, Kalylle,” she ordered. “You’ve been on the road a long time, and it looks like you will be again soon. We’ll call the Council just before sunset.”

  Kalylle nodded and turned away from them, intending to head to his room. Knowing it to be a place of solace and relaxation, he looked forward to meditating. Surprise filled him when Vednor fell into step next to him. The old man’s gray eyes were almost the same shade as his hair. His wizened lips turned up into a smile.

  Vednor eyed Kalylle. The look he gave him reminded him of when his mentor was assessing him while planning to ask a leading question about his studies.

  “What do you think of your traveling companion?” Vednor finally asked.

  Kalylle remained silent for a moment, contemplating the question. He could think of several times when Philippe had been a danger to his own person, others, and Kalylle himself. The darkling seemed to live by his own ethical code, taking pride in his work, even though it was clearly illegal. He shared information only when it pertained to their task, but he’d saved Kalylle time and energy several times in their travels. His abilities intrigued the wizard.

  “I like him,” Kalylle admitted, although he didn’t plan to tell his mentor just how much.

  Vednor chuckled.

  Choosing to continue, because Kalylle knew his mentor wouldn’t allow him to leave it at that, he continued, “Philippe shares information about our situation. If he plans to answer my question, he does it honestly. Otherwise, he changes the subject.” He paused, wondering just how much to share. He knew Philippe was an intensely private man and for good reason.

  Vednor noticed Kalylle’s hesitation. “Is there something about him that bothers you?”

  “He has poor control over his temper,” Kalylle explained slowly. “I do worry that it’ll get us into trouble at some point. He also has no qualms about manipulating those around him.”

  “Really? In what way?”

  “What’s strange is that the manipulation isn’t always for his gain.” Kalylle glanced over at Vednor and shrugged. “Not unless his own comfort is what he wants to gain, which is entirely possible. For example, while at the elf capital, he manipulated me into revealing more information about my past than I’d intended after I lost my temper with someone.”

  “You must have been very tired, Kalylle,” Vednor commented softly. “It’s not often that you lose your temper.”

  Kalylle nodded. “I was tired.” He frowned. “Somehow Philippe knew, so he drugged me to get me to sleep.”

  Vednor’s eyes widened. “Drugged you?”

  Kalylle nodded.

  “I’m surprised that he managed to drug a wizard. He must be very devious indeed.” His voice took on a speculative quality as a troubled expression etched across his features.

  “I don’t think deviousness is all it has to do with,” Kalylle hurried to explain, needing to defend the man he found himself interested in. Vednor’s eyes asked an unspoken question, so Kalylle revealed, “He has innate abilities. Very powerful, innate abilities.”

  “Really.” Vednor shrugged. “Being of mixed heritage the way he is, I’m not surprised.”

  Kalylle’s brows rose in surprise. “How many others know his heritage?”

  “Not many. We’re trying to keep it under wraps. It’s pretty well known that we don’t deal with beings from the Mists.”

  Glancing at his mentor, Kalylle confided, “He calls it the Innerworld. Do you think he knows it’s the same as the Mists?”

  Vednor remained quiet as they paused at a door on their left. Kalylle pulled out a couple of rune stones and murmured a quick spell to unlock it. He entered his room and turned, watching Vednor follow him. The door automatically closed behind him.

  Vednor sighed, then told him, “We don’t think Philippe knows much about that side of his heritage.”

  “How is that possible?”

  “I suspect his mother either hid much from him, perhaps thinking if Philippe didn’t know he had daemon and angel blood in his veins, he’d turn out more normal.” He shrugged and smiled. “Or maybe she didn’t know.” Vednor shook his head. “Either way, Philippe is a thief with gifts that make him dangerous to those around him.”

  “Even so, he’s a good man,” Kalylle reminded his mentor.

  The corners of the older man’s eyes wrinkled as he smiled. “That’s high praise coming from you, Kalylle.”

  Hesitating, Kalylle decided to share, “Philippe has the ability to enter the Mists. He says he’s seen souls in there. Could we have been mistaken about that place? Maybe it’s more like purgatory than a jail for daemons and their spawn.”

  Vednor’s jaw tightened for a few seconds before he let out a harsh breath through his nose. “You’d best keep thoughts like that to yourself, Kalylle. That kind of comment could get you into trouble.”

  “I suspected as much.” Kalylle huffed a sigh. “Don’t worry. I won’t start an uproar.”

  Vednor nodded. “Good. People aren’t ready for an idea like that.” Then he smiled and held up his hand. “I will take my leave, Kalylle. You need to rest before you report to the Council. I’ve a feeling that they’ll drill you for information.”

  After nodding at his mentor, Kalylle watched Vednor disappear out the door.

  Kalylle knew Vednor was right about many things. The currently held belief was that the Mists were a sort of prison for daemons and their spawn. To find out that people’s spirits could end up there instead of in the Clouds…well, that could cause one hell of an uproar. Kalylle certainly had no desire to rock the boat without proof, and how the hell would someone get proof of that?

  Opening his saddlebag, Kalylle pulled out his meditation rug. He spread it on the floor and sat down on it, crossing his long legs under him and closing his eyes. The rug’s design was made of many vibrant colors all swirling together to the center of the rug. Kalylle sat in the middle, directly on the focal point. It helped amplify the meditation, creating greater clarity and focus, and accelerated rejuvenation.

  After the keep’s bells rang several times, signaling the approaching sunset, Kalylle rose feeling relaxed and refreshed. He enjoyed meditation and wished he could do it more often. Knowing he had little time before his meeting with the Council, he pulled some dried bread, fruit, and meats from his dwindling supplies and quickly ate them. He washed them down with water from his canteen, then headed down to the main chamber on the first floor, ready to stand before the Council.

  The men and women of the Council were already assembled when Kalylle arrived. He’d appeared before the ruling body of wizards so many times, and yet he always felt impressed by the many colors of vibrant robes and the massive chamber they filled. He stood in the center of the room, benches rising around him. Dozens o
f wizards filled those benches. From each art of wizardry, ranging from botany to necromancy, a half a dozen wizards were elected to be the voice of that art. Those six chose one from amongst them to speak in Council meetings.

  Kalylle took his place, standing in the center. A short, slender woman stood. “Welcome back, Kalylle, Wizard of the Second Order. What news do you have for us?”

  “I am honored to come before the Council today,” Kalylle stated formally. “I’d like to share with the Council some things that have happened on my journey.” He pulled four rune stones from the pouch at his belt. He held them up. “With your permission?” The slender woman, who acted as the voice of the Council, nodded. Kalylle began to chant. Green light flared up around him and slowly began to expand, like fog creeping through the room. As it came to each council member, they joined Kalylle’s chant, until the whole room sang as one.

  A scene coalesced above Kalylle’s head. Whispy forms of Philippe and Kalylle rode through the woods, escaping an ambush. Kalylle’s memory played out over their heads. He showed the Council many of the things that had happened on his journey with Philippe…the sudden storm, the attack by the trolls and the minotaur, the audience with King Corak and King Salvador, as well as the discovery of the messenger dwarf’s deception.

  Sometime later, the chanting stopped, and the green haze dissipated. Sweat dripped down Kalylle’s face and neck, plastering his hair to his skull. It trickled down his back under his robes, making his shoulder blades twitch. He ignored it, standing patiently as the Council processed all they’d seen, whispering amongst each other.

  Finally, the slender woman rose again. “How do you interpret these events?”

  Glancing around the chamber, Kalylle stated, “I believe someone may be buying the services of a rogue wizard. Several of these events required powerful magic. I’d like to be granted access to the summoner’s symbols and travel archives.”

  “What purpose will this serve in your investigation?”