* * * * *
Far west and, as they were, heading north.
"Where are we going?" He asked of Valaira.
The woman was sitting with her back against his, riding a horse that they had borrowed from the kingdom of Kaldus. "To find Estophicles."
"For what?"
"I want the two of you to speak. If you are truly going to seek vengeance upon Jeralyle, then we have to get rid of his group first. And your most trying task will be Grahamas. Estophicles has information on him you may not."
"Tell me something. Why is Grahamas so important to you?"
She leaned further, then rested her head on the space between his shoulder blades. "He... is not. He simply has things that I want, and he's very hard to kill. I am hoping, within that dark, beautiful mind of yours—combined with his knowledge—you will figure out a way how." Valaira pulled up, sat straight, then swiveled on the horse to face his back, wrapping one slender arm around his broad shoulders.
This time he did not pull away. "Then how is it that we are riding, when only hours ago you yanked me halfway across the world in a blink?"
"It takes magick to do such things, Carsis, and I do not have an unlimited supply...yet." The man could only chuckle. "What's so amusing?"
"Nothing. Just that Lornya said almost the same thing."
Valaira growled deep in her throat. "Lornya...tell me about her."
"What do you want to know?"
"As much as you do."
"Very little. Only that she on many occasions called upon nature around her, and did so with seemed ease."
Valaira sighed, idly dragging her fingers along his chest. "That I already knew. I want to know how to kill her."
"And that, I could not tell you."
The woman did not expect him to answer, but she seemed oddly at ease with his lack of information. "Patience... they will fall, one by one if need be." She uttered, but it appeared to him that it was said more for her own peace.
"And then?"
"The world is ours."
"Jeralyle is mine. No matter what. Even if he has something you want, even if he insults you or scars you. He will die by my hands. Understand?"
Her nails dragged along his chest, then dug into it, another growl coming from her throat, but this one surfaced for a different reason. "Understood. And what of Merial?"
Carsis waited a long time to answer, and when he did, the man lacked conviction. "Her you can do with what you wish."
Valaira picked up on a slight thread of affection in his voice, and she bit back her distaste. Her hands wormed into his hair, and her dominating, hateful nature had envisioned yanking his head back and reminding him who was in charge. It was only when she gazed at where her fingers tread, did her mind ease. His normally red hair had stained a purple-tint at the roots, and spread out. Though she would not tell him just yet, fearful still of him straying. His aura was so strong, his darkness so deep that it was affecting his appearance. Valaira was desperate to make sure that side of him remained dominant. She had waited a very long time for him and refused to let remorse or guilt take him away now.
Her freedom, her very life depended on it.
Since her release from Urvagh—over three decades ago—she had searched for a way to release the bind on it completely. The first ten she spent speaking to every dark prophet and every scholar, every written legend and folklore to find it. She had even—on occasion—traveled to Kaldus and sifted through the countless tomes it stored. In that decade, through unending research and stories she was able to piece together a tiny fragment of the legend. From that, she could discern what was required in breaking the barrier. Three items each described in three different sources: A soul so empty, it drains those around it to survive. A mind so dark, its aura stains the earth and brings destruction in its draw. A heart so corruptive, it inspires others to chaos, growing shrouded with every act.
It didn’t take much to determine she was the Soul. At first, Valaira believed the Mind to be Idimus. But he was too frail and lacking of vision to be such an influence. Her first encounter with Carsis revealed such. She began to see the requirements in a much more literal sense. But even with that information, she could not surmise what she was looking for in the Heart.
And as she thought upon it more, tried to delve further into the riddle, a strange sensation overtook her. One of purpose. An indirect whisper that it would be found. Her connection to the world, and the magick that seeped from it felt heavy—controlled—directed by a powerful, unseen force. An entity that was entwining these events to make sure she succeeded. Though she knew not how, she had the impression it was why she was released initially; to set these things in motion.
It was a sensation she had not encountered prior. Now, the closer she came to Carsis, the harder she pushed him, the sharper those instincts became.
Pulling from her thoughts, she reached up and allowed her pale fingers to disappear in his hair again—like ivory daggers carving through a crimson ocean. His stature remained unchanged, and his attitude more directed at their task than her obvious affection, but she knew eventually he would turn.
Now, it was only the Heart she needed to worry about.
"How do you know we're going the right way to get to Estophicles?"
"He communicates through use of magick."
Carsis simply nodded, but directed his gaze instead to the east and where the group was.
"Do you miss them?" Valaira sounded oddly sincere.
"...No."
She did not believe him. "Do you think, then, that they miss you?"
"I do not know, nor do I care!"
"Tell me... did you leave anything behind?"
"Several things. Why?"
"When we stop, I will show you how to use that magick I’ve mentioned so that you may truly know." Carsis grew curious, and thereby slowed. "Patience, dear one." She thumbed through his hair staring at the dark roots once more. "We have all the time in the world."
In A Time Of Darkness Page 93