The Mark of Gold

by A. S. Etaski

  Gavin was silent.

  Then, “Kurn will be with them.”

  Soul Drinker chuckled; it was listening intently. My mouth stretched; I wasn’t sure if it was a smile, a grimace, or a sneer.

  “I know,” I said. “This is too big for us, and we have no time to hire mages from Augran before the siege. There are two other mages close by, and we know what they want. Kurn may draw out a third.”

  “What do you mean? The Deathless?”

  “No, the aura you sensed in the canyon. It hasn’t followed me here. It must be the Hellhound it wants.”

  My ally sounded deeply skeptical. “How would you bargain with them?”

  “I have the red ruby, the vials, and the relic. The men must have the former, yes? They cannot return home without it.”

  “Hm, I’d forgotten.”

  “And Amelda will not want me to keep Soul Drinker, stolen from her sire. Yet as with you, she cannot command alliance. The relic chooses, not her.”

  *So true…*

  Gavin grunted. “And you say there is no evasion. Only delay and pursuit.”

  “Correct. If we cannot purge the warp rot alone, we are flanked by dangerous foes and insanity. There is no truce. Only victory for the boldest of us.”

  I hadn’t been ready to claim that stance until I witnessed the true scale of the warp rot, but the red rune blade squealed in delight to hear me say it. The death mage made a noise of acknowledgement but not agreement, so I added to my argument.

  “The Ma’ab want us intact. We want them dead. I have my guardians back, and you have your black blood. Meanwhile, they lack their will-bender stone or anything to trap your Vis for their masters. We have the advantage.”

  “I imagine they have thunderstones,” Gavin countered. “What is your proposed response should they surprise us with one?”

  I scowled. I hated those things, and I didn’t have a convincing answer.

  *Prevent it,* Soul Drinker suggested.*Use the ruby on the fire mage who makes them. Compel him not to. It’s only fair, broken one. He tried to rape your mind as the others raped your body. Hold the stone in your bared hand, and I can show you how to use it.*

  My heart was pounding in my ears while an ill trickle of interest and excitement entered my thoughts.

  “Sirana?”

  “I’m thinking,” I said. “What would happen if they use blade or fire on you?”

  “The same as if you were struck with such methods,” Gavin replied with a tight tone. “I recover from injuries faster, but I will still be injured before that with all the consequences of such.”

  So I’d witnessed when he cut himself. “What would it take to trap your Vis for the Ascended?”

  “You say this twice now. Where did you hear it?”

  “Cris-ri-phon. He said Amelda had nothing she could use against you in such a way, so it was better to keep us both in Troshin Bend while Kurn and Castis sought the warp rot with the vials.”

  “He spoke this in front of you?”

  “No. I was listening outside with Osgrid. He was waiting for me.”

  Gavin grunted and answered my question. “She is not a death mage, so she would need an object of power designed for this exact thing. Aside from the rune dagger, I did not sense anything else in my time inside his office, nor as I walked about the town.”

  “That is good. You sensed Soul Drinker?”

  “Yes. It is a Vis trap. A strong one, and the only object she could have used against me.”

  “Huh.” My thoughts on her motives for chasing us shifted. “Then it is for more than her sire’s pride she wants it back.”

  “I imagine so.”

  “The dagger claims even the Ascended can’t speak to the dead taken by it.”

  “Boastful. I would not believe that on its word alone.”

  Soul Drinker snickered, enjoying this conversation, but nudged me again. *The red stone. Tell him. Unless you have a better idea?*

  I tried to think of one. Those damned thunderstones. Other than demanding that the Ma’ab hand them over before we entered the forest—?

  *Come now, broken one, that won’t work. You cannot win if you do not use your greatest weapons.*

  ~That would be you and the ruby?~

  *Much more. The mind magic that is your own. I’ve not enjoyed such clear banter and resistance in a long time. Most minds are like mashed dung wrapped in fog compared to yours, Blue Eyes. We’d enjoy learning how you came to be this way. You are a worthy wielder. We will help you.* It hissed. *Tell him.*

  “For the thunderstones, I could…”

  Gavin waited after I stopped. “Yes?”

  “Assuming we make a bargain,” I added, “then I could use the ruby to compel Castis to give them to me and not make anymore.”

  “Can you?”

  “The dagger claims it can teach me.”

  My ally considered. “Hm. Kurn and Amelda would protest.”

  “I’d not ask their permission,” I griped. “They did not ask mine.”

  “True.”

  Gavin was quiet for some time as Soul Drinker and I waited with me guiding the horse. It was then we exited the last line of brush and arrived at the beginnings of the road heading South. Most of the senseless noises I’d been blocking from my thoughts had retreated into the depths of the warp rot forest behind us, and the overcast had returned to a familiar grey turning to its darkest shadow as the day was ending.

  “Very well,” Gavin agreed. “Let us follow the road. We will meet them head on by dawn.”

  In the middle of the night, we took a brief break. I had to stretch; I needed to eat and drink, not having done so since late morning. This had been the longest I’d gone without since reaching Sarilis’s Tower. I could not help but worry, had I hurt my unborn going so long?

  *Wouldn’t the Deathless be disappointed about that?* Soul Drinker remarked snidely. *And, no, warrior. I have been feeding what you need to maintain your body as you are. Your Deathwalker does the same with his horse. Such as it is with those who understand the intimacy of transference. You should rest in Reverie, however. While you can.*

  ~You can’t ‘feed’ me sleep as well?~

  *Indeed not. Sleep is the only base need of mortals not based in their immortal essence, their Vis or Vitas. I call it the mortal essence, for it cannot be captured or kept before shriveling like a collapsing thought. A curious state of suspension. Every mortal mind of this world needs sleep. Some serve beyond themselves by doing so.*

  The demon was in a conversational mood. I glanced up from where I leaned against a slightly unusual tree, grinding my last mouthful of nuts and fruit for the night as I took a swig from my waterskin. Gavin was writing in his grimoire, his focus wholly inward.

  ~An example of one who serves many?~

  *Desert Elves, for certain. But you know this, yes?*

  I rolled my eyes. ~Fell straight into that ditch.~

  Soul Drinker chuckled. *Go on, Davrin. Take Reverie. We’ll attune you to the ruby after you wake. We’ll be waiting.*

  Gavin glanced up as I removed my belt and laid it beside me, so the relic would not be in direct contact with me or lying on top and visible. My spiders returned from their hunting then and gathered under my hair at my nape.

  “Wake me if anything concerns you,” I said, waiting until the man nodded before settling down, tucking my arm beneath my head, and closed my eyes.

  I dropped into Reverie suddenly, as fast as if someone waited for me and I knew I was tardy. In vain I tried to steer where I landed, braced against ever-tightening walls, helpless to slow the relentless pull of the world. A scattering of glowing, red runes swept by and around me; at first, I wondered if I had fallen “into” Soul Drinker again.

  Then I spotted the altar in the center and struggled to keep my last meal.

  The Forming Pit. No!

  The hidden room in the Sanctuary where the Conceiver had dragged me with he
r two sons, her Sathoet and her tainted Consort, after magically paralyzing me. The latter had been intended to impregnate me while Kerse watched as punishment.

  But he rebelled.

  I backed onto the path lined with scarlet-lit carvings, the only shield against the Abyss, trembling as I wished fervently to wake again.

  ~I don’t want to sleep!~

  Someone shifted behind me. I whirled in place, slapping my waist for nonexistent weapons. I saw three cages with iron bars, unreasonably tight and narrow against the stone wall. Facing the center one from the outside, a long-haired, entirely blond bua grasped the black metal as if his hands were melded to it. He was naked and shaking, head bowed in despair.

  Phaelous?

  No. He was shorter and too young. He didn’t know I was here, and I watched him uncurl the fingers of his left hand and reach through the bar to touch the stone wall inside. His fingers sank in as if rock had become the softest clay, a shimmer of gold light surrounding them like a glove. With effort, he reached deeper into the stone, turning his slim body to the side to wedge it between the bars and extend his touch.

  I watched in open-mouthed silence until his hand submerged to the wrist. Every muscle from neck to calf strained before I saw the effect: a magical aura pressed outward, creating an uneven hole in the Deepearth by sheer will.

  Beyond on the other side, I saw stars in a night sky, and the glimpse of a too-familiar firebird flying by.

  Goddess…

  The voices began talking again; I knew the words that would come, although the naked bua wasn’t shouting just yet.

  “Help me, Uncle! Please!”

  “I can’t stay. I must return later with aid.”

  “Take me with you or you won’t find me again!”

  “What are her plans?”

  “Free me, Uncle, and I’ll tell you…”

  “How do you claim this? I never knew you existed…”

  I stepped closer, peering through the glimmering opening, wondering if I would see my face as I remembered this dream, or…

  Black hair and beard, a much younger face, and a foreign uniform.

  It was him. The Human General of the Desert Queen.

  ~Cris-ri-phon.~

  The Davrin bua was startled as he seemed to hear me. The gold light vanished as he pulled his hand away before the stone would have crushed it. The hole closed, and he looked over his shoulder, one golden eye peering at me like a reptilian predator about to defend its lair.

  I stepped back, my hands out and forward. He blinked, turning around to where I could see his bare chest and taut belly. My gaze had drifted to his naked haunches and white thatch crowning his penis before I looked up again.

  The bua’s eyes had changed to a normal color, a lovely scarlet which calmed me in an instant. Instead of yellow eyes and hair, he had only one blond streak leading from his temple.

  I knew him.

  “Auslan,” I whispered.

  His smile captivated me. “Sirana.”

  I followed the path of protective runes to approach him, unsure what I would do when I got there, and he pushed stiffly up from scraped knees to stand. He opened his arms first, showing me what he wanted, and I swept him into my embrace as tight as I could maintain, astonished at how good this felt. It wasn’t simply that he was naked, that he felt and smelled like peace and pleasure.

  The last time we’d seen each other, the iron bars had prevented this.

  Now I didn’t want to wake up. Not yet.

  “I am glad to see you.” He sighed in relief. “It has been dark lately.”

  I replied dryly. “It’s the Deepearth.”

  Quietly he laughed, his nose buried in my neck, and all was quiet in the Forming Pit where he’d been made. We both ignored the altar to the Abyss standing like a barren stump behind us.

  “I haven’t seen you in the sun market,” I said.

  He clung harder to me. “I am sorry. I… stopped dreaming.”

  “But I’ve seen Toushek again,” I continued. “After you warned me.”

  He leaned back, his palms resting light on my shoulders, blinking. “Be careful, Sirana.”

  “Who is he?”

  Auslan shook his head. “I do not know. He watches me sleep. Now he is watching you.”

  “Hm.”

  I tried to ask something else. Anything else.

  About the Valsharess.

  Nothing came.

  Absently, I ran my gloved hands along his flanks, and he shivered, his eyes half closed. His drifting expression made me smile, and I leaned forward to kiss him. He groaned in welcome, returning it, arms sliding around my shoulders again as I held him close, dropping one hand to cup his rump. He grew hot and erect against me, only my black uniform separating us. Inviting him to merge with me still seemed possible without letting him go to undress.

  “I know you cannot speak of Her,” he murmured after our lips reluctantly drew apart. “Of how you are to serve. You come to me now… This is enough. This is clean, even if it is here.”

  I stroked my hands down his back, massaging, tightening my arms as he exhaled because I was unsure what to say.

  Clean.

  Not where I’d last fallen to rest. It was corrupted.

  “I seek my Sisters where the Sun touches,” I said, testing if I could. “I must know what they are tasked to do. If they die trying. I can’t… turn my back now. I am too close to one of them.”

  Auslan nodded, leaning to meet my eyes again. “I am glad, yes. Seek the Sisters. That is what you must do.” His gaze drifted sideways again. “The strain builds again and where it bends next, I cannot see yet. But many ancient eyes are… rising. Waking.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  My Consort’s bright eyes blinked and focused on me as concern etched his face. He looked toward the jump circle, his fingers digging into my biceps. He whispered earnestly, peeling away from me.

  “Sirana, escape! Hide!”

  The Forming Pit grew quite cold, and I listened to a mortal Gavin as he’d warned me, just before he died: For the sake of your unborn, hide!

  I obeyed without question, skimming along the walls to enter the shadows. Behind me the familiar, magical suck of air signaled the arrival of another in the Pit. The Abyssal hiss told me whom to expect the moment I discovered a passage through which I could escape, a last shimmer disappearing though the stone remained open.

  “Ahhh, a pleasssure to find you here, Shhyntre.”

  Shyntre?

  Before climbing out, I glanced behind me.

  There, dressed in blue mage’s robes, his hair cut short and uneven, was my wizard facing the Drider Keeper in her wild Davrin form. Hands fisted, shoulders squared, every line screamed his stubbornness to resist whatever happened next.

  Meanwhile, my Consort was gone.

  “We knew you would come here eventually.”

  “Throttle yourself in your own web, Auranka.”

  “Ohhh. You first. Deliciousss bua.”

  Stay.

  Help him.

  “She’s alive up top, isn’t she?” Shyntre taunted loudly. “The Valsharess won’t do anything about that. And I know why.”

  Auranka cackled like Soul Drinker. “Only a matter of time, bua. There isss no escape from the web we’ve woven. You know that. How often you’ve tried.”

  Escape.

  Prove her wrong.

  I turned and dove into the passage left open for me.

  I sat up in a rush, my breath hitching from stabbing soreness in my shoulder and hip. I massaged the former, took a deep breath and knew I was surrounded by plants of the Surface, catching the scent of night air. No painful light, no headache.

  “Hm,” Gavin grunted from several body lengths away.

  “What?” I croaked, blinking to bring him into focus.

  “Dreaming?” he asked. “Or some connection like you’ve described with the Deathless? It
was not with me.”

  The former monk was glad for that, no doubt.

  “I, uh…”

  I paused, comforted and apologetic as my guardians crept cautiously out of my hair with a quiet chime. They’d hung on to me tightly as Auslan had down below. Had that been a portent in any way, not merely all my fears from this turn lumped together?

  It felt real.

  I glanced where the red rune dagger lay hidden beneath my equipment, quiet for the moment but I recalled what it had said of my “greatest” weapons.

  The mind magic that is your own. We’d enjoy learning how you came to be this way.

  “Dreaming, yes,” I answered Gavin. “A connection. Someone I left behind.”

  The Deathwalker was unhurried, meticulously packing up his things. “What sort of connection?”

  I shrugged, my face warming. “The sire.”

  Gavin nodded, cinching up his pack and getting to his feet while I donned my belt and weapons. “Frequent?”

  “No, not that often. But I was… glad to see him.”

  He turned his inverted eyes on me. “Why?”

  I blinked, baffled. “He is alive.”

  “Interesting.” Gavin moved over to the mare to secure his pack. “Was he in danger of death when you left?”

  “Yes. Much. Maybe worse than death.”

  “From what threat?”

  “The same… events which sent me here.”

  Finishing up, Gavin tilted his head toward me. “Sounds like exile.”

  “Or a trial.”

  “Ah, yes. Your offer to return with me to challenge Sarilis for the Ley Tower. You intend to head that way at some point.”

  “Before winter, yes.” I considered. “I suppose my offer is still viable.”

  Perhaps he and I even stood a better chance, now.

  “Very good.” One corner of his mouth quirked. “I wager your pregnancy is somehow unsanctioned yet was allowed to continue, though you were sent away for some unfathomable service.”

  I folded my arms to cover the discomfort in my middle and stared at him. Gavin was almost smiling, as if he were genuinely amused.

  “Hm. That explains your interest in my mother.” He paused. “And my Lady’s mention of you.”