‘I don’t know, Farrell. How about get someone else to go to Kalaya. Stay here and be with your family. Put us first for once.’
‘Everything I do is for us. That’s why I have to be the one to go to Kalaya. You know it’s the only option.’
‘No, I don’t know, Farrell. I don’t know anything anymore.’
‘Leila.’ He stroked her hair and attempted to pull her into a hug.
She tensed against him. ‘Just leave me alone.’
He didn’t like the finality in her voice. ‘Darling, please. Don’t push me away. Don’t do this.’
Leila put her hand on his chest and pushed him back. ‘No, Farrell. I’m not the one doing this to us, you are.’
She stormed away and he could only watch her, wishing Stone Haven could have been enough for everyone.
***
Something disturbed Rathnor’s sleep. He didn’t stir in bed but opened his senses and quested out into the darkness, looking for any sign of alarm. He felt his bodyguard’s heartbeat, slow and rhythmic in sleep. ‘Useless swine,’ he thought, but then another presence caught Rathnor’s attention.
He sped back to his body and found the intruder in his room, creeping towards the bed.
Rathnor lay still, giving no sign that he was aware of the danger.
The assassin moved with stealth, but his silent footsteps were not enough to hide him from Rathnor’s magic. He allowed the lad to draw closer, smiling into the darkness.
The assassin was at his side, ready to strike with the gleaming dagger in his hand.
Rathnor waited a moment longer, and then seized the assassin’s mind and stayed his hand.
He sat up and smirked at the surprised assassin. ‘Fool, to think you could come into my home and kill me.’
The lad’s eyes widened, the only show of fear his paralysed body was able to convey.
Rathnor probed the intruder’s mind. ‘So the Sentinel is behind this.’ He laughed. ‘She sent you here to die, boy; I would’ve thought she’d have known better.’
The young lad strained against his hold.
Rathnor toyed with his victim, allowing him an inch of movement. The lad could have attempted to run, but instead he thrust forward and the dagger juddered closer. Rathnor laughed again. ‘Oh, I like you. I can see why the Sentinel chose you. It’s a shame for you she underestimated me.’ He twisted the spell, forcing the young assassin’s hand to turn and angle the dagger towards his own body.
‘Stop.’ The lad forced out the word. His face was red with the effort of trying to fight Rathnor’s hold.
Rathnor stopped the pressure and the dagger hovered between them.
He heard his bodyguard stirring in the room below, and leant in close to the paralysed assassin. ‘I’m afraid the fun’s over.’
Sitting back against his pillows, Rathnor used his magic to manipulate the assassin’s arm. The blade edged closer to the young man’s chest. He resisted, every muscle straining and fighting his own body. The sharp dagger slowly penetrated his chest, sinking deep into the soft flesh between his ribs. His face contorted in agony and his mouth opened in a silent scream.
Rathnor released the boy from the spell and watched as he fell, convulsing on the bed, staining the sheets crimson.
He looked down disdainfully at the corpse splayed across his legs as the bodyguard appeared in the doorway, looking stricken.
‘This is what happens when you sleep on the job.’
‘Sorry master,’ the guard said, cowering as he stepped into the room.
Rathnor kicked the dead boy to the floor. ‘Get in here and clean up this mess.’
He threw a robe over his nightclothes and moved down to his den, smiling to himself. It was time to go spirit hunting.
***
Callisa travelled through the Astral Plane, rushing through the mists. Her flight was fast and careless. She knew she didn’t have much time.
She spotted Benon’s spirit up ahead and shouted his name. He spun around and faced her, confusion written across his face. Then the realisation dawned and his expression fell. ‘I didn’t make it, did I?’
‘I’m so sorry, Benon.’
He hung his head. ‘No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I failed you.’
‘There’s no time, it’s coming for you.’ She grabbed Benon’s hand.
‘But I’m already dead.’
‘The Soul Eater preys on spirits. You have to hurry; I have friends waiting to help you.’
Holding hands, they fled across the Astral Plane but Callisa could feel the dark presence of evil at their heels.
‘My Spirit Guides will lead you to safety,’ she said, pointing to Rike and Garrick as they materialised in front of them.
Then she began to withdraw, desperate to escape her part in this moment.
‘Wait!’
She looked back at Benon’s handsome face, crushed by the knowledge that he’d died at her command. ‘Benon, please...’
‘Rathnor can’t be killed unawares. He can sense the magic so he must be tricked, a diversion, something he won’t expect.’
‘You don’t have time, Benon,’ Callisa said desperately, as the Soul Eater closed in on them.
‘You have to try again…’
‘I don’t know if I can.’ She looked into his earnest eyes and felt her heart break. ‘How can I ask someone else to risk their life on my word?’
‘Sentinel, you must. His evil must be stopped.’
She sighed heavily. ‘I will, now go.’ She pushed him towards the waiting Spirit Guides. ‘Be safe,’ she whispered.
Rike nodded solemnly at her. Garrick slung his arm around Benon’s shoulders and led him to the magic source.
Benon turned back to her and their gazes locked, before the three of them disappeared along another path.
Callisa swallowed her emotion and waited to face the Soul Eater. It wasn’t long before the creature arrived and stopped in front of her. The shadowy figure of death had few discernible features; it was just a silhouette with pointed claws, which forced the imagination to fill in the terrifying details.
Callisa’s skin crawled, but as she looked deeper, she realised it was all an illusion.
‘It’s you, you’re the Soul Eater!’
The writhing mass of shadows stopped in front of her, contracting and expanding with the regularity of a heartbeat.
She still feared the creature who had plagued her childhood, but now she knew it wasn’t real. ‘You failed, Rathnor. Go back to your lair.’
Rathnor reverted to his earthly form and grinned savagely at her. ‘You can’t save every soul, my dear, deluded child.’
‘One soul at a time is good enough for me.’
‘I took the life of your pathetic excuse of an assassin and I will continue to thwart every attempt to kill me.’
‘You’ll destroy Kalaya if you keep killing its people.’
‘Who was the one who ordered an assassination attempt?’ He thrust a finger in her direction. ‘His death is on your conscience, not mine.’
‘I do what I must to protect the island magic.’
‘Silly girl, you send a child to kill me when even Gohan would rather die than face me.’ Rathnor smirked at her.
She hardened herself and sealed away her pain. ‘I’ve always wondered why you bother,’ she said. ‘What use will you have for a dying island stripped of its magic?’
His smirk widened. ‘Don’t worry about my plans; you won’t live to see the outcome.’
Callisa made to leave, needing to be away from his poisonous presence.
‘Wait, I still have to thank you.’
She paused and turned back to face Rathnor.
His lips twisted into an evil grin. ‘Thank you for giving me the perfect motive for war.’
Callisa retreated to the sound of his laughter, bitter tears falling hotly down her cheeks. How could she have been so stupid? Now Rathnor had the excuse he needed to initiate war on the exiles.
Rather than save
them, she had doomed them all.
Chapter Eighteen
Brogan shuffled along the path winding through the settlement as the exiles retired for the night. Few lights remained in the small stone buildings, but the moon shone bright above to guide him. His body was in dire need of rest but his mind refused to shut out thoughts of the last few days. He couldn’t focus on normality when the world he loved was falling apart around him. The attempted murders at Fenga Village still shocked him, and had had a profound effect on the exiles. They were scared and angry, and the Elders ruling banning them from leaving Turrak had only inflamed the people rather than reassured them. Despite his role in saving the exiles, there was still a lingering feeling of mistrust from the people he encountered, and Brogan had never felt more alone than at that moment.
Tei had left the meeting hours ago to speak with the Sentinel and then much later he’d spotted her paying a visit to Mara. He hoped the two friends could help each other overcome the horrors Mara had suffered, and guessed he wouldn’t get the chance to speak with Tei until training the next morning.
Brogan sighed heavily as the quiet and lonely night stretched in front of him. He found himself heading for the stables and decided to check up on Biscuit after the hard ride to get back to the mountains. The mare was his only link to his former life and, right now, he craved her familiarity.
He trudged up the slope to the stables on leaden legs, his body begging for reprieve. The stable-yard looked deserted. He lit a small lantern and secured the lid. Guided by the tiny flame, he walked along the packed stalls; after the rush to return home, many of the horses had needed extra care. He assumed the rest of Turrak’s herd would be out in the paddock below.
Brogan walked along the stalls until he found Biscuit. She came to him, nuzzling his hand and snorting a greeting.
‘Well, girl, that was quite an adventure, wasn’t it?’ He stroked her across the stall door and then looked for a grooming brush. Her coat was already smooth and silky, but he enjoyed the task nonetheless. As he gazed absently over the other aisle of stalls, he spotted the grey tips of a small pony’s ears. His heart fluttered as he rushed over to get a better look.
‘Bluebell!’ The little pony lifted her head and nuzzled his hand. ‘I don’t believe it, how did you end up here?’ His voice cracked as he spoke, memories of Beliss riding the tiny blue grey mare filling his head.
He heard the shuffle of footsteps and spun around to see Conall standing in the entrance.
‘She arrived at Turrak this morning,’ the stable lad said as he set down the empty pail he’d been carrying.
Brogan didn’t question why the youngster was out so late; Tei had told him of Conall’s bond with the horses so he knew the boy wouldn’t have been able to rest until he’d seen all the animals taken care of. He’d felt the same about his own herd of horses. The thought brought him back to reality and he patted Bluebell’s scrawny neck. ‘She was on my farm before...’
Conall nodded in the awkward silence. ‘She’s doing alright, though she’s tired and malnourished. One of her hooves was getting an infection, but she plodded on despite the pain.’
‘She’s a fighter,’ Brogan said, his voice catching.
‘She told me she had to save the girl.’ Conall looked uncomfortable admitting to his talent, but Brogan didn’t react as the lad’s words registered.
He stared at Bluebell and then rounded on Conall. ‘Beliss... Beliss is alive?’ His whole body tremored, and he gripped the stall door, fearing his legs would give way.
Conall nodded solemnly. ‘Beliss came here with an old woman. They were both weak with exhaustion and the Sentinel had them taken to the mountains to be looked after.’
Brogan’s mouth opened, but no words came out. He patted Bluebell to thank her and then he rushed towards the exit, thrusting the lantern at Conall as he passed.
‘Was there news of anyone else, her parents?’
Conall followed him out into the moonlight and looked at the ground as he scuffed the toe of his boot in the dirt. ‘No, I’m sorry. Bluebell told me they’re gone.’
Brogan’s fleeting hopes sank, but then he focused on the miracle that their daughter was still alive. ‘Where’s Beliss? I need to see her.’
‘I assume they’re still being cared for by the physician. I can take you to them.’ The boy doused the lantern and they left the stables and headed back down into the silent valley settlement.
‘Won’t you get in trouble wondering around at all hours of the night?’ Brogan asked.
‘I crept out of the window when my parents went to sleep.’ Conall looked down at his feet and they walked a few more minutes in silence. ‘You’re Tei’s protector now, aren’t you?’
Brogan nodded, sensing something in the way the lad spoke. ‘You knew her last protector.’
‘Undren, he was a hero. He was going to teach me to be a warrior.’
‘He was an extraordinary man from what I’ve heard; I’m sorry I never had the chance to meet him.’
They traversed the winding slope to the mountain entrance in silence. As they approached, a shadow detached from the mountain wall.
‘Brogan?’ A woman of advancing years looked down at them, her grey hair highlighted in the moonlight.
‘Yes.’
She smiled at him as they drew level. ‘I’m Morane; Beliss sent me to find you.’
Brogan’s step faltered as he still struggled to grasp the idea that Beliss was alive.
Morane took his arm. ‘Don’t worry, she’s fine. And desperate to see you.’
Brogan turned to the stable boy. ‘Thanks, Conall. Now get back home before your parents notice you’re missing.’
With a cheeky grin, Conall turned tail and sprinted back down the path.
The woman steered Brogan into the mountain tunnel. Once they’d passed through the large entrance and walked into the tunnel, he noticed she hadn’t let go of his arm. Her grip was tight and she was breathing rapidly.
‘Do you need to stop and rest?’
Morane shook her head, her face faintly blue in the lighting. She gazed up at the roof of the tunnel as it gently sloped closer to their heads and grimaced. ‘I don’t like these caves much.’
They marched as fast as she was able. Brogan would have run but kept mindful of his frail guide.
‘When Beliss woke up, she was overjoyed to sense your return and refused to rest until she’d seen you. She wanted to come and find you herself, but I promised I would get you if she stayed in bed,’ Morane said after a few turns through the maze of tunnels.
He pictured Beliss pouting but compliant, with those eyes so full of knowing and mischief. How would she be after all she’d suffered?
Brogan’s heart pounded as Morane stopped outside a wooden door.
‘We’re staying here.’ She kept her hand on the door and looked back at him. ‘Beliss is still very weak, so you might have to wait until the morning to speak with her.’
He nodded, desperate to see inside the room, just to know that Beliss was alive and this wasn’t part of some cruel joke.
The door swung inward and Morane stepped back to allow him admittance. It was dim inside the room, the light from a lantern shining on a tiny figure lying in a bed of furs. She stirred as he entered.
‘Uncle Brogan!’
He stood on the threshold, soaking in the sight of Beliss, and then he broke into a grin and rushed over to her. He swaddled her in his arms and kissed her head. ‘Beliss, oh, Beliss,’ he whispered, choking over the words.
‘Don’t cry, Uncle Brogan.’
He burst out laughing and squeezed her tight. ‘Oh sweetheart, I’m so glad you’re safe.’
She hugged him back and he sat on the bed, cradling her in his arms.
From the corner of his eye, he saw the nursemaid who’d been guarding Beliss get up out of the chair and nod to Morane as she left.
Without a word, Morane climbed fully clothed into her own bed and seemed to promptly fall asleep.
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Brogan held Beliss and rocked her to sleep. Even as she slept gently against his shoulder, he couldn’t bear to put her down. He never wanted to leave her side again.
***
‘Last night an assassin broke into my home and tried to kill me. It was only my quick reflexes that saved me…’ Rathnor paused dramatically, allowing his words to sink in as he gazed across the Assembly room.
‘Who among you will be next? In your beds, on the streets, anyone of us are potential victims of the exiles.’
Rathnor felt the level of alarm in the room intensify. ‘We cannot allow this to continue. We cannot let them rule us with fear. We are the power on Kalaya and they must be made to face our justice… or pay the ultimate cost.’
A shocked hush pulsed around the room.
‘What are you suggesting?’ Ellas rose from his seat, meeting Rathnor’s eye with challenge.
Rathnor grinned inwardly. Ellas had taken on Brogan’s mantle since his disappearance, but he was a weak fool and didn’t have the same fighting instinct Brogan had. Rathnor ignored him and contemplated the others in the room; there were few left to oppose his plans now.
Finally, he returned his attention to Ellas. ‘Very well, I will speak plainly. We must drive the exiles from the mountains and force them to abide by our laws.’ Rathnor gauged the reactions in the room; everyone hung off his words.
‘We’ve suffered too long at the hands of the exiles and I say it stops now. The time has come for war!’ He punched the table in front of him, the sound reverberating around the room.
The action sparked a chorus of agreement and men took to their feet, chanting for war.
‘To the vote then,’ he called, using the momentum building in the room. ‘Those in favour of war against the exiles raise your hand.’
He reached skyward, tempting his flock to the slaughter. Righteous hands filled the air in a declaration of war against magic.
Rathnor allowed the Assembly its moment of triumph, and reclined in his seat to enjoy the results of his laborious scheming. Amongst the jubilant celebrations, he glimpsed Ellas quietly slipping from the room. Rathnor grinned to himself; it looked as though Ellas would provide some welcome sport for Nadan and his men.
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