They’d almost reached the main chamber when an enraged scream split the silence. In a blur of motion, Marsolwyn dropped to all fours and ran ahead. Ashayna’s heart surged into full gallop. Without thinking, she pursued Marsolwyn. The main chamber was devoid of life, but a glimpse of motion lured her to another passage. Darting into the new tunnel, Ashayna ran blindly until her eyes adjusted to the dark. Ahead, a lupwyn guard was running fast, pulling farther away with each stride.
Another scream echoed off the walls, high pitched and angry—a bird of prey’s cry. Her Larnkin roused at the sound. Sorntar needed her.
Several paces in front of her, the guard came to an abrupt halt. She didn’t know what—short of a wall—would stop his momentum so quickly. He hung in the air a moment, then suddenly flew backward. She braced herself against the nearest wall as the hapless guard flew past. He continued until the tunnel forked and he hit a wall with the grisly sound of flesh meeting stone.
A half breath later, another winged fury rushed past, this one in complete control of his momentum. Sorntar ignored her and continued to stalk the fallen guard as if she wasn’t standing within touching distance. He reached down for the dazed guard. One hand closed on the lupwyn’s shoulder, the other disappeared in the thick ruff of fur around his neck.
“Sorntar, no!”
He glanced over his shoulder, and then back to his victim.
That one short look was enough to confirm her fears. A killing rage darkened his eyes.
Words from her first magic lesson, just days old, returned in her moment of need.
One bondmate couldn’t harm the other.
For the love of the gods, let it be true.
Ashayna burst into motion. She hit him with a full body tackle and drove him off his prey with a combination of surprise, momentum, and a lot of luck. He stumbled a few paces, then caught himself and turned towards her. His feathers quivered with rage. Even his eyes glowed with it. A rumbling hiss issued from his mouth.
She backed away, retreating toward the more spacious council chambers. If they were going to fight, she wanted more room.
Sorntar echoed her motion.
What had they done to him? Even when he’d been bitten by numerous wardlen, he hadn’t lost control so badly.
Just as Ashayna led Sorntar from the dark tunnel and back into the council chambers, a mixed group of guards and elders arrived. A rising tide of magic burned along the back of her throat, the pulsing power strong enough to steal her breath.
“The Priestess overstepped her station.”
Another’s thoughts invaded Ashayna’s mind. They were not Sorntar’s, but strangely familiar all the same. Magic’s scorching scent increased another notch. A sudden lack of moisture in the air warned her Sorntar’s Larnkin was about to launch an attack.
“Sorntar, no. No!” Even as she called out to him, she desperately summoned her power and let it flow outwards to where he stood. When the first wave touched him, it didn’t calm him like she hoped. Still, it gained his attention, drawing him from his lethal awareness of the others. It took all her stubborn will to meet his gaze.
“What did they do to make you strike out at your own kind?” Conviction thickened her voice, though she kept it devoid of accusation.
“They assaulted my host, caused him pain, and sought a way to take knowledge from me.” His mental voice, though still harsh, was somewhat calmer, some of his deadly intensity receded.
“They merely wished to determine if it would be safe for us to be trained as mages.”
“They burrowed too deeply, damaged my host.” His offended growl caused the guards to shift their fighting stances ever so slightly in readiness.
With hands held palms up, empty of any weapons, Priestess Halnora stepped between Sorntar and the guards. “Crown Prince Sorntar, I ask forgiveness for any insult I offered. Your Larnkin is close to waking. His volatile magic forced me to probe deeper than was wise, but we needed to find the truth. In the end, I touched the source of your power and found nothing of darkness.” She bowed until her crest brushed the floor.
Sorntar pushed past the priestess.
His gaze locked onto Ashayna’s. His thoughts touched hers for only a few heartbeats. But it was long enough to learn they had been bonded once before. To banish any doubts others may have had about his conviction, he released another wave of power which dripped off every feather and danced along his skin.
The sight, though formidable, was one she had seen before. Of greater concern was what he had revealed to her with his words and thoughts. His allusion, to having known her Larnkin at some point in the past, contradicted what Queen Talnarra had said about her possessing a young Larnkin yet to be bonded.
The stranger wearing Sorntar’s body stepped closer. No one moved to stop him. With his power raging around him, there was no one who could sense the difference—this wasn’t about guidance or protecting a host, it was total possession. She shot a questioning look at Halnora.
“Priestess?”
Halnora glanced at Ashayna. “Sorntar will not harm you. A newly awakening Larnkin can cause one to act out of character; even one with a gentle spirit can inflict much damage if enraged.”
The priestess’s words confirmed her fears. Even powerful council members were blinded to what lay in front of them. They could not feel what she felt—that something other than Sorntar stood before her.
A now-familiar power reached out to her, like a warm blanket cocooning her from the other minds in the room.
“Larnkin, what are you doing?”
“I never could hide anything from you,” he whispered into her mind. “But the priestess is correct. I would never harm you. I simply wish for a private conversation between the two of us.”
“You may not harm me, but you’re manipulating Sorntar.”
He studied her with an unblinking stare until Ashayna fought an intense urge to look away. She focused on his chin instead while she waited for his reply.
“I did not intend to force Sorntar to do my bidding. The priestess invaded my host while I slept. I acted in defense. Forgive me. I see now isn’t the time for our talk.” His countenance softened, he took a deep breath, head bowed until his chin nearly touched his chest. When he looked up again, it was Sorntar looking back.
When Sorntar’s gasp of surprise would have betrayed them, Ashayna threw an arm around his shoulders in a show of support. His wings, combined with his greater height made for an awkward stance. She managed to stroke his back and murmured nonsense to him as if he were a skittish horse.
Looking into Sorntar’s panicked eyes, she sent him her thoughts, “We will talk later about what happened with your Larnkin. I value my freedom. If you value yours, say nothing to the others.”
Too shocked to reply, he only nodded his head.
The phoenix king approached them. “If my son isn’t going to attack anyone, Talnarra and I have other matters to attend.”
Sorntar stiffened at Kysoran’s dry comment.
The queen stopped a pace from her son and looked him in the eyes. Sharp discomfort crossed Sorntar’s face. “Your strong reaction at having your mind invaded, while rare, is not unheard of. You and Ashayna have both passed the test. I hope in the future you will have an easier path.”
Ashayna wished for nothing more, though doubted her luck would hold. For now they were safe, saved by equal parts luck and sheer stubborn will. In the future, she could see only two options, to bargain with the Larnkin or tell the others. Neither choice seemed very promising for her continued freedom.
While she was thinking those unwelcome thoughts, the room emptied, leaving them in the company of the large portraits. Growing uneasy, Ashayna motioned for Sorntar to find somewhere else to talk.
Sorntar led them out of the chamber, using the same dark corridor they had entered from. This time he conjured a mage globe to light their way. Ashayna wished they had continued in darkness.
More paintings of the Twelve covered the walls. Unlike
the portraits, these showed the atrocities of war in vivid color. The first depicted a terrible battle between an army of light and an army of shadow. The army of light was led by several figures, their features indistinct. She guessed them to be members of the Twelve. Opposite them, out of shadows, a towering figure came.
Shadows cloaked the creature in a suggestion of leathery wings. The artist had been vague on that, for darkness bled out across the land, threatening to cover the entire battlefield. Upon the creature’s brow swelled three curving horns. His lips pulled back in an expression of either pain or pleasure. He wielded a vast double-bladed battle axe easily five times the height of a man. In the next, he pressed the army of the Twelve hard. Disaster struck in the third painting. The Judge had been captured by the Dark One and his talisman, a staff crowned with the likeness of a falcon, lay broken beneath the Dark One’s clawed feet.
The next panel showed the Judge chained down upon a slab of rock in a cavern of stone. Ashayna would have called it a torture scene, had there been some instruments she recognized.
It showed two images; one was a phoenix, with a paler form hovering slightly above him. It took her a moment to realize she was looking at an artist’s rendition of a Larnkin. A tormented phoenix lay chained to a stone altar with strange runes cut into his flesh. Saliva dried in Ashayna’s mouth. The Larnkin’s expression showed pure agony as the Dark One poured power into it. Sorntar moaned softly as if in pain. She reached blindly for him. After a fumbling attempt, she came in contact with his side. A layer of sweat slicked his skin. At her touch he jerked back in surprise, but swiftly locked their fingers together.
Unable to stop, Ashayna took slow steps forward, dragging Sorntar along behind her. The next panel continued telling the story in gruesome detail. The army of darkness had returned to face the Twelve’s army. At the head of the Shadow army rode the one who had been captured, much changed. Where his feathers had been blue, they were now inky ebony, and his eyes shone black. But the most startling change was his skin. Once a dark bronze, it was now milky pale with black tattoos carved into his skin.
The second to last panel pictured a haggard Destroyer, as if she had suffered alongside her bondmate while he was tortured and transformed. The ultimate cost of the bond became clear to Ashayna. The Destroyer in the painting was one of stoic bearing and had buried her grief to face the shadowed one in battle. Ashayna could not even fathom such strength, and she had thought she had seen every kind.
The final panel showed a horror greater than all others. The Destroyer, her face etched with pure anguish, held her bondmate to her, her sword buried in his chest. Ashayna’s throat tightened, but the look of relief he bestowed upon his bondmate in his final moment twisted at Ashayna’s heart.
“Sacrilege,” Sorntar choked out the word. “It cannot be true.”
Marsolwyn rushed into the tunnel, saving Ashayna from having to find words of comfort. Words she did not have.
“Oh, young ones, you should not have had to witness those for many, many years. I am so sorry.” Marsolwyn looked down the length of the tunnel with a stony expression. “Magic should have hidden these from your sight.”
“It’s a falsehood placed here to test ones faith, isn’t it?” Sorntar, perhaps thinking what they saw was some trick, no longer stood hunched over, but had fallen back on his deep-seated discipline to stand straight, undaunted in the face of horror. “No one can break our most sacred law. To kill one’s bondmate…I can’t fathom...the pain of such would destroy a person.”
“It would do more than destroy a person,” Marsolwyn confirmed. She took a deep breath as if to fortify herself. “The one called the Destroyer did kill her bondmate. By such an act, she destroyed herself, body and soul. She had no choice. She could not match powers with him; to touch her vast magic at all would open her up to his darkness, to be remade like him. Nor could she take her own life. He would only heal whatever damage she inflicted on herself. So she stopped him the only way she knew how. The act destroyed them utterly. Never again will those ancient two be reborn to lead the Twelve. It happened long ago and is best not dwelled upon. Besides, most of the council believes two new leaders will be created, should there ever be need.”
Marsolwyn led them up higher into the city before continuing. The bright sunshine helped to dispel some of the despair that had followed them from the lower reaches. “Some councilors speculated Sorntar was the next leader and when we first noted your likeness to the Destroyer…but fear not, you are not they. It isn’t so strange that you should bear a resemblance to those two—power is a trait passed down through bloodlines. While we don’t know the Destroyer’s bloodline, Sorntar’s is no mystery. Those ill-fated Leaders of the Twelve did bear children, a girl and a boy of the same birth. Sorntar and all his siblings are direct descendants of their line. Sorntar is not the first to bear a close resemblance to the Judge.” The lupwyn urged them into a brisk walk, like she was trying to guide them away from their memories of the appalling paintings. Ashayna doubted the ploy would work on Sorntar.
“Priestess Halnora, and we of the council, are able to recognize power.” Seeing Sorntar’s doubtful look Marsolwyn added, “Besides, you lack the Mark of the Twelve.”
“The mark, Sorntar mentioned that.” Ashayna slowly released the breath she had been holding, and then glowered at the lupwyn when Marsolwyn laughed at her obvious sigh of relief.
“I wouldn’t want to be related, no matter how distantly, to the Destroyer.” Even as she said it, a small part of her soul respected the Destroyer. For that long-ago woman had done what was needed to preserve her people. Though respect wasn’t enough to prevent a shiver running up her spine at what those images told.
* * * *
Queen Marsolwyn kept them company on their way back to the Great Hall, claiming she didn’t want Sorntar to challenge anyone else to combat. Ashayna expected the truth was more complex. Sorntar was like a son to Marsolwyn, and she was unwilling to leave him so obviously distressed.
Sorntar walked with his eyes down, shoulders hunched, wings clamped tight to his back. Even Marsolwyn’s attempts to draw him into conversation had no effect. The lupwyn’s ears pitched forward and back.
“Sorntar.” Ashayna said his name gently. “This whole situation could be much, much worse….”
“How so?”
“We could hate each other.”
He laughed, a harsh, clipped sound, devoid of humor. “Honestly, how much do you resent me for bringing you here?”
“I don’t resent what had to be done. I’m coming to accept, for now, this is where I need to be. Besides, I’m starting to think of you as a friend.”
“Friends…that doesn’t sound so terrible.” A faint smile touched his lips, but he returned to studying the ground.
“What? That’s the best you could do?” Marsolwyn spoke in Ashayna’s mind. “I see I’ll have to intercede.”
Marsolwyn arched her neck in Sorntar’s direction and made a show of sniffing the air. “Ah, newly-born camaraderie. Embellish that a little and maybe the persistent one will leave you alone—unless you actually enjoy her courtship.”
“What?” Sorntar halted, his face twisting with fury. “I…how could you think…Lylantra and I…..never.”
His appalled denial made Ashayna grin. While he might not be back to normal, he did sound less like an old man. Ashayna hesitated a moment before joining in. “See, there you go. You knew who she meant.”
“This isn’t...she’s not,” Sorntar stammered. “You were there. You saw.”
“Well, she was rather persistent—kind of like someone trying to rekindle an old flame.”
Sorntar inhaled, his nostrils flaring. Ashayna cut him off. “Oh, don’t try to protect my delicate sensibilities, I grew up living among rows of camp tents and have heard and seen just about everything. I’ll not be shocked in the least to hear you’ve got a few lovers stashed around this huge city. Not that it’s any of my business.”
“I assure yo
u, I have never suffered such a lapse in judgment as would be required to court Lylantra. Phoenixes are not like humans…”
“Hmm, ‘courting’ is it?” Ashayna rolled the word in her mouth, pretending to think about its meaning. Then she laughed and said, “Oh. You’re just shy.”
Over on Sorntar’s opposite side, Marsolwyn laughed, her entire body shaking with merriment. She composed herself after a brief struggle. “Oh, he’s not shy, likely just confused. When Sorntar said a phoenix isn’t like a human, he wasn’t being evasive. They are not particularly fertile and ritual courtship can last years. Personally, I think the problem is too much manipulation of their bloodlines by the Larnkin. For what other creature can actually choose to either lay a clutch of eggs or give birth and suckle their young?”
“Thank you, Marsolwyn, for letting me know I’m not shy…just odd. I’m sure Ashayna found that fascinating.”
While he might not be back to his normal lilting tones, he sounded less fragile. She was about to thank Marsolwyn when the smell of food reached her nose. They rounded a corner and the Great Hall’s doors stood open and welcoming. As far as Ashayna was concerned, they’d arrived just in time. She didn’t want the conversation to dive into her own lack of relationships.
Chapter Eleven
“Some scout I am.” Ashayna stopped at another branch in the tunnel and frowned down first one corridor and then the other. After six damn days, including two with Sorntar acting as guide, she’d felt confident enough to venture around on her own. Everything had been going well enough, until now, when she’d somehow gotten turned around in these older tunnels. They all looked identical.
She could have done without the embarrassment of needing rescuing. With a sigh, Ashayna squinted down another length of corridor as she debated whether or not to swallow her pride and just send out the much needed mind-call to Sorntar to come and rescue her.
There was a rustle of fabric and the rattle of a sword coming out of its scabbard just behind her. She spun around in time to see a cloaked and hooded figure step from an alcove on her left. Battle readiness flooded her body as she sized up the newcomer. “Don’t suppose you’re my rescuer?”
Betrayal's Price (In Deception's Shadow Book 1) Page 12