The Darkest Sword

by Samantha Kroese

  “Why? What is there for you?” Ashiyn tilted his head, curious.

  Sia straightened up, then scowled. “Nothing. Nothing at all, Prince. I have many books to organize now. Why don’t you go and find that sword you’re so eager about? I know Soryn stole my book from me.” Sia held out a hand and the tome Soryn had stolen appeared in it. “I trust you’re done with it?”

  “Yes,” Ashiyn grumbled. He had memorized the location of the sword.

  “Then I must insist you leave,” Sia said, and with a forceful gust of magic, Ashiyn found himself back at Rhadamanthus’s castle. Ashiyn shook his head. Well, the chronicler was full of surprises.

  To Ashiyn’s disappointment, he found out that Rhadamanthus had just given Rurik a mild rebuke. He did not understand the relationship between those two. But at least it had bought him time to do what he wanted. Though he regretted that he had not also had time to visit Soryn.

  He shook his head as he heard Rhadamanthus call for him. He hurried down the hall to see what his Master wanted. He was not sure what to do with Soryn right now anyway after the last time they had met.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Ashiyn went back to taking Annalysa to his bed every night. She did not try to press him again with questions. She just settled for enjoying their time together. He let her linger too long after their fun. Longer and longer, starting to enjoy the way she held him. Comforted him. Comfort was foreign to him, and he found it addictive. He craved it, especially after a bad day with Rhadamanthus.

  Dangerous. He knew that. Every time he was with her, he felt like someone had thrown him off a cliff and he was falling. The adrenaline rush was also addictive. And now that she had decided to be his, it seemed she was determined to draw that feeling out of him. Obsession perhaps. He craved her touch, the smell of her hair, the feel of her body against his. It was more than the sex.

  “What are you thinking so hard about?” Annalysa asked as she reached to smooth worry lines out of his forehead with her fingers. Her gentle soothing touch made him close his eyes.

  “What my life might have been like if this were not a dangerous game we are playing that will end in our deaths,” Ashiyn mumbled.

  She tensed briefly, then rested her head against his bare chest, her hair tickling his skin. “You would have still been a ruler, I think. That is ingrained in you. Your family was probably royal, so it’s in your blood.” She said as she traced circles around his chest with her fingernails. “You would’ve had a wife who adored you.”

  “How do you know?” Ashiyn asked, looking down at her with a scowl.

  “You’re irresistible. It’s impossible not to love you,” Annalysa said softly as she rubbed her cheek against his chest. “I hated you. I wanted to kill you, sat there thinking of a dozen ways I could try. You’re arrogant, cruel, dangerous, selfish. But I can’t get enough of you. I’m addicted to you. I can’t help but love you.”

  Ashiyn ran one of her auburn waves through his fingers. “I need to let you go, Annalysa.”

  She sat up, alarmed, frowning. “What? Why?”

  He swallowed the lump in his throat that had suddenly formed. This was not supposed to be difficult. He was not supposed to care. She was just a bed slave. He was not supposed to love her. “I will be the death of you, Annalysa. Loving me will get you killed. My loving you will get you tortured first. I can’t protect you. I can’t save you unless I send you away.” As he spoke, he grew more determined. He had been thinking about this for a while now. “I will let you go. Somewhere Rhadamanthus will never look for you. You can start over-“

  “No,” Annalysa whispered and threw herself across him to cling to him. “I can’t leave you, Ashiyn. Not now.”

  “Annalysa, all you will find with me is death,” Ashiyn insisted with a frown.

  “You don’t understand, Ashiyn. I’m with child. Your child,” Annalysa whispered into his ear.

  The words shocked him into silence. The only other child he had was Ember. He had not even thought about it, or the consequences, until now. Panic filled him. Rhadamanthus had been enraged about Ember, but Harm had been able to protect the child. Ashiyn could not protect Annalysa or their child. Not here. He was not strong enough to kill Rhadamanthus yet. “You can’t be. We can’t, Annalysa. Rhadamanthus will kill you for certain if he finds out. The child will not be immortal until it’s born.”

  Annalysa put her finger to his lips, making a soothing sound. “Ashiyn, relax. You told me you found a blade that will make you powerful enough to free yourself. Just go get it. Then you can kill him, and we will all be safe.”

  Ashiyn pulled her away from him then ran his hand over her flat smooth belly. There was no sign yet but he knew how it worked. And he’d seen what Rhadamanthus had done to slaves that he got pregnant. “No, no. I have to send you away, Annalysa. It’s the only way.” He rose from the bed and started to dress with haste. “You don’t understand what he’ll do to you.”

  “He tore apart my family in front of me,” Annalysa reminded him, her voice cold. “I know what he will do to me. Don’t you think he will suspect something if you were suddenly rid of me, Ashiyn? How can you even get me away from here without him knowing?”

  Ashiyn ran a hand through his long hair to untangle it, then scowled at her. “I don’t know, yet but what is the alternative? Let him kill you?”

  “Go and get the sword. He has taken no notice of me for weeks now. We’ll continue as if nothing has changed. When you are strong enough, you can kill him and seize the kingdom. You will be king. I can be your queen. We can raise a family. This is a crossroad for you, Ashiyn. This is the choice that will determine the rest of your life.” Annalysa said with a frown. “Which path will you choose?”

  “You will die,” Ashiyn said, the anguish in his voice surprising him. He turned away from her to gather his armor and his blade.

  “I will die no matter what, Ashiyn. I am not an immortal,” Annalysa said as she got up. She came over to him to run her hands over his back, leaning against him. “Don’t give up, Ashiyn. Let me try to give you the life that was stolen from you. Don’t let him steal it again.”

  “It won’t work, Annalysa,” Ashiyn whispered. Her attempts to quell his despair only made it worse. She painted a beautiful picture of hope. Love, family. And part of him wanted it. The rest knew that it was impossible. Stupid. It had been stupid of him to keep her.

  “Don’t do this to yourself, Ashiyn. Don’t let him win,” Annalysa said, as she pulled back and dressed. “Go and get the sword. I believe in you. Believe in yourself. Where’s that arrogance when you need it?”

  “Just stay safe until I get back,” Ashiyn muttered then opened the door to call for Sark to escort Annalysa back to her cell.

  “Have no fear. He will not take another child from me. If he comes for me, perhaps I will solve your problem for you,” Annalysa said, her eyes hard. Then she smiled at Sark and let the lizardman escort her away.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Rhadamanthus had a knack for suspecting when Ashiyn wanted time to himself it seemed. Days passed before Ashiyn had opportunity to sneak away from the castle. Finally, Rhadamanthus was in a meeting which Ashiyn could not attend that would likely last the entire day. Ashiyn fled to the stable to retrieve Illusion. The cave where the sword was said to be hidden was half a day’s ride. He dared not travel through the shadows in case there were magical traps inside. So, he saddled Illusion and burst out of the castle at a full gallop, Illusion also eager for the chance to run.

  The horse was obstinate and spirited. Sometimes the stallion obeyed him and other times, it had a mind of its own and Ashiyn would have to coax it into obedience. Ashiyn figured the creature’s duplicity just indicated how intelligent it was. Illusion seemed to sense his urgency today, though, and eagerly took direction as long as Ashiyn let the horse have its head for the run.

  Ashiyn slowed the lathered, snorting horse as they came to rubble. Whatever had stood on this ground had deteriorated to no
thing but dust and fallen stones. As Illusion picked his way through the debris, Ashiyn noticed bits of broken statues: a hand, a finger, even part of a face with an eye. Then parts of feathered wings. All sculpted from the finest white marble but destroyed, pulverized. A heavy feeling of doom lay over the area almost as solid as the mist that wisped through the air. It seemed so much darker here than it had outside the ruins, and that had nothing to do with the giant trees that surrounded the area.

  Suddenly, Illusion squealed and shied to the side, almost unseating Ashiyn from the saddle as they came to a crypt that was simply more rubble surrounding a pitch-black hole in the ground. Ashiyn fought to soothe the horse, then as soon as he could manage it, he slipped from the saddle. Deciding Illusion would be safer at the edge of the grove, he walked the stallion over to tie him to a tree. He made sure to tie it loose just in case something unforeseen happened. He wouldn’t want the horse to die just because it couldn’t pull away if it needed.

  Ashiyn pulled his blade from its sheath on his back. A chill worked through his spine as he walked back to the dark entrance. Whatever had spelled this place had certainly wanted to keep people away he had to fight the urge to run away with every step. Unfortunately, unless he was willing to watch Annalysa die, he had to do this. He would never be free himself without the power of this sword. If it even existed.

  Ashiyn shook himself and clenched his jaw. He was immortal. What’s the worst that could happen, really? It was not as though he had not already died countless times. Summoning the boldness born from his arrogance, he attempted to descend into the crypt. He had been born with uncanny night-sight for a human but it was so dark even that did not help.

  After stumbling down a few stairs, he growled and used his magic to summon a flame above one hand to light the way. The long flight of stairs ended at the entrance to a huge room. As he sent the flame ahead of him to light the room he could see massive statues lined each wall. One side held beautiful humans with feathered wings, the other side held demonic creatures with bat wings and horns. Each statue was carved to look like they were weeping. He used the flame to light the torches set up around the room.

  An impressive stone altar stood in the middle of the room. The hilt of a massive broadsword protruded from the stone. The handle alone indicated the sword might be as long as Ashiyn was tall. How would he wield something that large? He would figure it out, he decided, as he started forward.

  Each time he passed a set of statues, they let out a horrifying wail of anguish and blood poured down from their eyes like tears. The first set unnerved him enough he stopped to look at them, expecting a trap. But nothing happened beyond the continued flow of blood tears. Giving the next set an annoyed glare when they cried out, he continued to stalk forward. He could sense power beyond his comprehension. It lay dormant, sleeping, within the blade. Unlike anything he had ever felt before. Ashiyn trembled a little at the thought of wielding that much power. If he could unlock it, Rhadamanthus would be no match for him. This blade had drunk the blood of the immortal celestials, perhaps even more than their blood. Dark magic flowed through the blade like blood through veins.

  Come. Free me. I have long waited a worthy master. Release me and I will give you all that you desire.

  Ashiyn balked at the deep baritone voice ringing through his head. He looked around, but there was no one there. Just the blade. It could speak? It was sentient then. The blade wakened and black magic in the form of lightning licked over its hilt, filling the crypt with residual electricity.

  As Ashiyn walked closer, the statues came to life, screamed in fury, tried to grab onto him, to stop him. Yet, instead of touching him, they curled back in horror to cower in their spots.

  Come. They cannot stop you. It is what must be. You were born to free me. The sword’s voice rang out again, sounding almost amused.

  Ashiyn glanced at the statues. He did not like talk about fate and destiny and things that had to be. But nothing else explained why the statues could not touch him. He ignored the rest of those he passed. As soon as his foot stepped onto the pedestal, the sword’s lighting lashed out and caressed him. So much power. He dropped to his knees in awe of it. His magic tingled and made him shiver with ecstasy far more than any woman ever had. The power was maddening, addictive, and he craved it. It would be his. He growled, launched to his feet, and grabbed the blade’s hilt.

  All the statues screamed in horror at once as the blade broke free. Once in his hand, the lightning from the sword lashed out and disintegrated the statues. Then, as it raced back over him, Ashiyn jerked and fell hard, leaning on the sword for support. The magic racing through him, binding to his own, felt like fire in his veins.

  Rise, for I have made you a god. Go and take this world. All shall bow to your power. The sword promised as the pain faded away.

  Ashiyn got to his feet, unsteady. He could feel the power, but it was weakened. Blood. The sword needed blood to fuel its power. He would have to kill to strengthen it again. He slid his old sword off his back and left it lying in the dust. He picked up the heavy scabbard next to the altar and strapped it on, then slid the new blade into it. The blade weighed nothing despite its massive size. It felt as though it had been created just for him.

  He stomped over the dusty remains of the statues and stormed back up the stairs to where Illusion patiently awaited him, even though the reins had dropped free. The horse watched as Ashiyn stalked over to the edge of the grove, mounted, turned the horse, and let Illusion take them home.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Ashiyn could feel the power in the blade thrumming through every part of him. His mind still rang from the magical bond, and he felt connected to the being inside. The sword’s voice had silenced, and it had fallen dormant again, but soon he would waken it with blood. Then the world-ending cosmic power inside it would be his.

  When the blade’s magic was recharged, Ashiyn would kill Rhadamanthus and all who were loyal to him. Ashiyn would take over the castle. Sark and Annalysa would be free and remain at his side. Ashiyn would take Soryn from Rurik to live with them. He and Annalysa would raise their son, possibly have even more children. Then he would have everything he had always wanted, and no one would be powerful enough to stop him.

  The sword’s magic stirred in warning just before Ashiyn’s own did. Ashiyn slipped on the slick stone of the hall and looked down to see bloody footprints leading away from his chambers. His heart started to pound in his chest as he stared. He knew they were Rhadamanthus’s footprints. He could see drips of blood alongside of them, no doubt from the monster’s weapon. Annalysa? Ashiyn fought panic, frozen in place. Part of him wanted to run forward, but he knew it was pointless. Whatever had happened was over.

  “Sark?” Ashiyn called, his voice breaking. He heard a squeaky wail from the direction of the cell. He burst into a run toward the sound despite everything in his being telling him to flee the other way. The floor was slippery with the blood, and he had to keep righting himself as he stumbled.

  As he turned the corner to the cell, he slowed to a stop, stunned. There, nailed to the door of the cell with massive spikes, was Sark. The elderly lizardman hung limp, eyes gouged out, blood running down his snout. His body was broken and twisted grotesquely. “Master!” Sark wailed.

  “Sark,” Ashiyn whispered as he hurried over to the lizardman. “Sark, I’m here.” He went to release his servant, then realized no matter what he did, Sark was going to die there in front of him. Sark was too far gone.

  “I tried to save her, Master. I tried,” Sark gasped, miserable, his serpentine voice fading. “Forgive….me…” the lizardman jerked with one final choking breath, then fell limp. Ashiyn growled and struck the door next to the lizardman with his fist, repeatedly, until it hurt. Until the pain drove away the grief. He had not realized how much the silly old lizard meant to him until now. Sark had been his servant since Ashiyn was first brought to Rhadamanthus’s castle.

  Ashiyn took several ragged breaths, trying
to prepare himself. The blood from the room leaked out from under the door. He knew Annalysa was dead. Their child was dead. Did he really need to see it? He knew what his Master did to women who displeased him. He’d seen it before. He didn’t think he could take it if he saw her. He could just turn around and walk away. Tell the servants to clean it up. Remember how she’d been just hours ago. Warm, glowing, happy. Perhaps he could convince himself she’d been a dream. She hadn’t existed. He didn’t love her.

  But, Ashiyn was no coward. He wanted the sight of her burned into his memory. He wanted her death to fuel his rage. He wanted to hate Rhadamanthus with every fiber of his being until he found the strength to destroy his master. With a deep breath, he steeled himself and mumbled an apology to Sark, then pushed the door open.

  The scene before him was worse than he could even have imagined. A sob escaped his throat despite his efforts to control it. He caught his breath to stop any more. Annalysa lay in a pool of her own blood on the bed, shredded to ribbons. She had clearly fought like a beast as Rhadamanthus ravaged her. Pale and lifeless, she looked so broken and frail now. Her hand hung over the side of the bed, still dripping blood. He had been just moments too late.