A Time of Darkness (The Circle of Talia)

by Lister, Dionne

  The panther, with urgent steps, made his way down the gradual incline towards the docks, Arcon behind, battling to keep up on the uneven, pebble-strewn path.

  As Sinjenasta sauntered to the end of the long timber wharf, sailors and merchants ran to get out of the way, and Arcon was reminded that to everyone else, the giant panther was a lethal nightmare come to life—Arcon was glad he was on their side. On reaching the end, both stared out to sea. They watched as two ships, one larger than the other, sailed out of the harbor, one tacking to sail north, the other continuing east. “I don’t suppose you can follow the scent over the water?”

  Not usually, but I might pick up the trail if the wind is blowing in our direction. I don’t like our chances; those ships are too far ahead. I think you’ve got some investigating to do.

  Arcon retraced his steps back along the wharf and stopped at the first ship where an overseer was supervising the unloading of live yamuks and cows. The overseer gesticulated with his pen, punctuating each number as he counted. He wore a too-big shirt, and his wispy hair refused to sit politely on his head, sticking out at odd angles and making him look like a slightly demented orchestra conductor. “Excuse me, sir?” He kept counting, so Arcon spoke louder and waved a hand in front of his face. “Hello. Excuse me.”

  The man shook his head as if startled out of a daydream and held his hand up towards two leather-skinned men who were facilitating the unloading. “Stop!” he shouted. He looked at Arcon, blinking rapidly. “Can I help you?”

  “Yes. Sorry to bother you while you’re in the middle of everything, but did you see who was on the last two ships that left the harbor? I’m looking for a young woman with long dark hair. I think she would have been being carried.”

  “And what’s your business with this young woman?”

  “She’s my niece, and she’s been kidnapped.” Arcon didn’t think it would do to make up stories at this stage, and he hoped the terrible situation would create enough sympathy that anyone would be eager to help.

  “How much is the information worth?”

  Arcon rolled his eyes. “You’re kidding, right?”

  The overseer attempted to smooth down his hair, which sprang up immediately and dashed any hope he had of looking serious. “No, I’m not kidding. How do I know you’re telling the truth? If you’re desperate enough, you’ll pay.”

  Arcon sighed heavily. “How much?”

  “Two silvers.” Arcon would usually haggle in a negotiation—it galled him to pay more than something was worth—but in this case, the information was worth the cost and more. It didn’t stop him being disappointed that no one was willing to help just because it was the right thing to do. He reached into his pocket and found two silvers.

  The supervisor jangled them in his palm, feeling the weight. “Your niece is on the smaller vessel—the Rapture. A fellow, who goes by the name of Morth, carried her. He arrived this morning and was quick to hire the first boat he could get.”

  “Was he alone when he arrived?”

  “No. He had a cranky, older woman with him and another young girl. Couldn’t tell you who they were, though. I saw the old lady slap him on the back of the head once when he must’ve said something she didn’t want to hear. It’s just not right, when a woman intimidates a man like that.”

  “Thanks….”

  “Glad to do business with you. Now I’d better get this boat unloaded before I pay penalties for late delivery.” He turned and raised his hand, palm towards the workers, before sweeping it down in a rush and yelling, “Go!”

  Arcon shook his head. He’s a few scales short of a dragon.

  He sent to Sinjenasta and Avruellen—Sinjenasta having stayed at the end of the pier to avoid causing havoc when Arcon was trying to find someone who would talk to him. We have to leave now, Av. Morth has got her, and they’ve sailed into the distance. Will that captain of yours be ready to sail soon if you tell him it’s urgent?

  Avruellen, who had been desperately waiting for some contact, answered immediately, Dragons’ balls! I wish you’d killed him when you had the chance. As for the captain, I’m sure for enough money he’ll sing and dance the whole way too. We’re coming down now. Blayke’s loading our belongings on the horses, just in case. I’ll be there shortly.

  Arcon walked to where Sinjenasta waited. “This is my fault.”

  How so?

  “First of all, I should have killed Morth when I had the chance. I should have hunted him down and finished it. And secondly, in all the excitement of seeing Avruellen, I stopped shielding. That’s when Morth, or whoever he answers to, found us again. So, when Bronwyn rushed out from under your protection, they were already waiting nearby. You’d think I’d be a better realmist by now. I can’t believe I made such stupid mistakes.”

  Sinjenasta’s tail twitched. We all make mistakes or bad calls in judgment. If I hadn’t been so eager to please a god, I would be at peace by now.

  “So you regret your bargain?”

  There are times, yes. I’m hoping Drakon sticks to his promise this time.

  “What promise is that?”

  Sinjenasta warded their conversation before he answered, What would you want if you were me?

  With a melancholy smile, Arcon answered, “I’d want to be human again. If he’s betrayed you once, he could do it again.”

  The bitter laugh Sinjenasta sent to Arcon sounded human enough. Let’s just say I’ve got something up my fur. I think for me, it might be worth sacrificing civilization as we know it.

  Arcon gasped. “You’re waiting till the end to play your hand?” When he looked into Sinjenasta’s eyes, he saw a new danger, but he couldn’t blame him; all he could do was pray that Drakon kept his promise. Stupid bloody gods, he thought just before he felt a weight descend on his shoulder. He jumped and clutched his chest then realized it was Phantom, not Drakon smiting him on the spot. He laughed.

  Someone’s highly-strung this afternoon, said Phantom.

  “Well, unlike someone I know, who’s been sleeping all day, I’ve been trying to find Bronwyn. Morth has her, and even though he was using Blayke for bait last time, he might kill Bronwyn. I hate not knowing anything. I just wish I knew who he was working for.”

  The only way to find out is to catch him.

  “Thanks for that intelligent conclusion. Ouch! What in Drakon’s name was that for?” Arcon raised his hand to his ear and touched a drop of blood.

  Phantom hooted a chuckle. Stop complaining, Arcon; it was only a little nip. I’m here to make sure you focus and don’t get lost in that silly human drama of self-pity. It helps no one.

  “There’s not one day that goes by that I don’t regret bonding you.”

  Why, thank you.

  All banter ended when Avruellen swept to the end of the wharf. When Arcon saw the thunder in her eyes, he almost felt sorry for Morth—almost, but not quite. “The captain is gathering his men now. We should be ready to go within two hours. He said we should wait onboard. Follow me.”

  A deckhand escorted them aboard. As he walked up the gangplank, Arcon remembered something, and his heart sank. Oceans and the realmist didn’t mix—the last time he had traveled on a boat, he was vomiting before they left the harbor. “If anyone needs me, I’ll be in my cabin.”

  He cursed Drakon one last time and gritted his teeth.

  Avruellen called out, “Wait.” He stopped and she caught up to him. “We haven’t had a chance to talk about retrieving the book. As soon as we kill Morth and get Bronny, we’ll have to go straight to the Isle of the Dead Souls. Time’s running out. If we don’t find the information we need, we won’t be able to unlock the quartz. Oh, and I forgot to tell you about some rumors floating around Carpus.”

  There were so many things Arcon could have said, but didn’t. There was no point in stating the obvious—what if Bronwyn were already dead, what if the book wasn’t there. “What rumors?”

  He had a feeling he wasn’t going to like what she had to say.
/>   “I think I know where the gormons are.”

  Arcon huffed out a defeated sigh. “I thought you might say that. Haven’t we got enough problems at the moment?”

  “Apparently the gods think not. The townspeople have told me they’ve heard people have been going missing at Blaggard’s Bay. They’re not sure of numbers, but at this stage, it’s around five. The only remains found of any of the victims is blood spatter.”

  “That doesn’t mean there are any gormons there.”

  “No, but that true dream I had felt like somewhere around there. There have been sightings apparently, and the description sounds too close to be just a fantasy. ‘An ugly type of dragon, twice the size of a man, with black skin that radiates a green glow.’ It sounds as if it’s attaining adult status already.”

  “Don’t jump to conclusions. I still don’t think we have enough to go on, and you know how things get distorted when people start panicking. Once we’ve found the book, we’ll discuss going to Blaggard’s Bay.”

  Avruellen put a hand on his arm. “They’re there: I can feel it.”

  Arcon placed his other hand on hers. “One thing at a time.”

  She nodded, letting her arm drop when he walked away. It was time to find someone to talk to; she didn’t want to wallow in the what-if’s of whether Bronwyn was still alive. She went to find Flux and wished she had a better way of gaining luck than just crossing her fingers.

  Chapter 15

  Leon sat on the edge of the king’s bed: his bed. He smiled and reached over to caress the face of his new bride as she slept, strands of golden hair splayed enticingly over her dark skin. So far his plans had gone better than he could have hoped—other than those two traitors escaping, but no matter; he had something more valuable now and would enjoy exacting his revenge.

  He pulled a white shirt over his head, and then laced up knee-length boots before going to the thick crystal mantelpiece over the fireplace. It was unexpected—such a delicate decoration to have in the king’s chambers, but Princess ... no, Queen Tusklar, he corrected himself, explained it was a portal of power. She didn’t think it had been used since before the Gormon War, or so Inkra’s history books said. In the hopes the palace’s library would give him information on how he could use it, Leon was having the place turned upside down by scholars. A crystal stand, which appeared to grow out of the mantelpiece like a small tree with a trunk and two branches, held the crowns for the King and Queen of Inkra—one on each branch.

  Leon picked the larger crown off the tree, placed it on his head and looked at himself in the gilt-framed mirror that hung above the mantle. Thin veins of gold filigree traced complicated runes just below the crown’s surface. He surmised the only way to have put them there would be by using Second-Realm magic. Admiring the way the gold tracings complemented his yellow-flecked brown eyes and sandy-brown hair, Leon smiled a smile so devoid of warmth that even he noticed. I am what they made me. Now it’s time to show them who that is.

  Striding the black-tiled halls towards his captive, he contemplated his recent dreams. Ever since his marriage and coronation a week ago, when he had worn the crown for the first time, the dreams started. The first few nights he dreamt he was asleep in his new bed, shrouded in the black of night. In his dream he woke knowing something watched him. He stared into the darkness, feeling a summons and repulsion. As depraved as Leon was, he knew whoever or whatever watched could create suffering beyond his imaginings.

  Last night, when his dream-self woke and looked into the gloom, he saw a hulking impression of a menace darker than the blackness—a space devoid of light, hope, and time. He smelled the rot and loneliness of death. A fear he had never known seeped from his pores, but there was nowhere to run. As the shape bred more detail with every dream, he knew that one night soon he would confront his future. For the first time since he was blessed with awareness, he questioned what he was getting into. He had a feeling it was already too late to go back.

  He reached a heavily guarded door. The sentries bowed, eyes downcast while they opened the door. Leon’s boots made no sound as he walked through the antechamber into a sizeable room furnished with a large, gaudy bed, the head a slab of polished, white stone. Attached to the base, four thick, white pillars rose to the ceiling and supported a purple-fringed, black canopy. He didn’t think he’d ever seen an uglier bed. The Inkrans seemed to equate taste with ostentation—something he would enjoy beating out of them.

  On the other side of the bed, next to the fire, dozing on an armchair—the leather apparently dyed to match the purple fringing—was his niece, or was she his daughter? He crossed the room and studied her. Her pale skin was her mother’s, but he knew her brown eyes and fair hair were his. Finally, he was taking back what was his. He would kill his brother and take Gabrielle for his own—how it should have been from the start. He would rule two kingdoms and have two wives. In fact, why not make it three? He would have as many as he damn-well pleased. It would be a shame his brother wouldn’t be around to see Leon own everything that used to be his.

  She must have sensed his presence, for she woke. As soon as she saw him, a scowl came over her face, lines of anger exaggerated by the dwindling fire’s wavering light. She unfolded her legs and stood. “What is going on Uncle Leon? Those thugs you sent to get me let slip that you brought me here. Why? When my parents find out about this, you are going to be in so much trouble.”

  “What, no hello, nice to see you, Uncle Leon?” Verity crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I did it for your own good, Verity. Dangerous times are coming, and you’ll be safer here. If I told Edmund about it, someone else may have found out, and then your life would be at risk.”

  “What danger?” She narrowed her eyes. She didn’t trust her uncle—even though her mother never said anything, she could see her tense whenever he came into the room. Something wasn’t right.

  “The gormons are coming back to Talia, and the first thing they’re going to do is kill any ruling families.”

  “Gormons? They’re just a myth, or at least the stories don’t sound real. Even if they were here before, that was so long ago no one can even say for sure they were here.”

  Leon laughed. “They’re not a myth, my darling princess, any more than the dragons are a myth. I’ve been doing some research that suggests they might even be related to the dragons. Now get dressed. You’ll find some clothes in the adjoining dressing room.” He nodded at a door next to the one he had entered. “When you’re dressed, you can come and meet my new wife, the queen.”

  At sixteen, Verity hadn’t learned to school her features to neutral. Leon enjoyed seeing the surprise and questions in her eyes.

  “You’re married? But I thought Inkra already had a king.” Understanding grabbed her by the shoulders and shook away her naiveté. This time she pretended she didn’t think he was a murderer; surely he didn’t, wouldn’t, couldn’t?

  “I am Inkra’s king now, and you are the heir to two thrones; at least until Queen Tusklar and I have children. What do you think about that?”

  Verity didn’t know what to think except that the fervor in her uncle’s eyes was that of a dangerous man. She decided to play along, because even she could see that any resistance might mean she would never escape. It was important to work out why she was here. She had to let her father know what was going on. “I’m surprised, to be honest, but then you were always very clever and handsome. It’s a good thing the princess agreed to marry you and form a stronger bond between our countries. I’m sure when father finds out, he will be pleased.”

  Her smile was the one she gave to unappealing suitors who attempted to woo her at dinners and balls—sufficiently pleasant without being overbearing, and since she’d had a lot of practice, it was believable.

  Leon considered her for a moment. “I’m glad we’re in agreement. Now choose what you wish to wear, and I’ll send a servant to take you to bathe. I’m glad you’re here and safe.”

  He kissed the top of h
er head and left. She loved him; of course she did—he was her uncle. Despite how he treated others, he had always been good to her, but something was off, like when your food had a subtle taste of strangeness but not enough to stop eating—a few hours later was when you paid the price. She ignored her fear and went to choose a dress, hoping the price they were all going to pay wouldn’t be settled with blood.

  Chapter 16

  Bronwyn woke, the bitter taste of vetchus in her mouth—it felt like her tongue had been dried and coated in sand. Opening her eyes, she looked up to see the underside of a dark-timber bunk bed crowding over her. She heard breathing near her ear and turned her head, feeling the bed dip and rise. Slapping one hand over her mouth, she held her breath for a moment before she removed her hand. “Drakon’s balls!”

  “It’s nice to see you too.” Corrille, the best friend she hadn’t seen since Sinjenasta had taken her away, leaned over and gave her a hug. “Are you okay? You’ve been unconscious for more than a day. Those bastards who kidnapped us gave you some kind of drug, I think.”

  Bronwyn slowly sat and shifted her legs over the side of the bunk so her feet touched the floor. With her elbows resting on her thighs, she buried her head in her hands. “I don’t feel too well. Where are we, and how did you get here?”

  “We’re on a ship—the gods know where.” Corrille sat next to Bronwyn. “The day after that giant thing took you, I had a fight with your aunt. I went for a walk, and that’s the last thing I remember before waking up in the back of a covered cart. Oh, my goodness, Bronny, I never thought I’d see you again.” Corrille wiped her eyes with her palm.

  “I never thought I’d see you again either, or Aunt Avruellen. But I did see her before I was kidnapped. Do you know who they are?”

  “The man is called Morth, and the ugly woman is his mother. I think she looks like a man, and she’s more scary than he is.” Corrille whispered, “She bosses him around. Sometimes I don’t know who’s in charge.”