by Ben Hale
Hawk did not spare them a glance. Renowned for their skill with the fae blades they favored, they could kill him if ordered to. The threat of their weapons did not cause him to hesitate. If Tess had somehow survived, she needed him.
His throat tightened as he recalled hearing the news. He'd been standing in one of his alternate guildhalls in Europe, marshaling his forces with the disbanded battlemages. Then one of his contacts had rushed in and whispered what had happened to Tess. For the first time since his nest had been killed, he felt cold within his heart. He'd stopped to tell Tess's parents about her death, and then came directly here.
The guards wove their way through the elaborate tunnels of the queen's palace until they reached the main hall. Few worshiped the old gods anymore, so he was unsurprised to see a lack of decorative spiders, vipers, black reavers, or deep dragons. In their place were detailed lightcast models of great warriors, dark elf priestesses, and strange creatures.
The main hall itself rivaled the grandeur of any he had seen. Metals unknown to the surface world were kept fluid, and constantly shifted to form ever-changing depictions of life in the deep. Light and shadow had been added, enhancing the lifelike effect. Although beautiful, the forms were fashioned of hundreds of entities, and doubled as a lethal defense.
"Son of the Ancient," the queen addressed him from her dais. "I believe we agreed your life would be forfeit if you returned."
Backed by the sweeping wings of a slain deep dragon, Queen Lorasith presented an imposing figure. Unlike her predecessor, she loathed political intrigue, and had taken a much more direct form of rule. Rigid, and at times brutal, she was as smart as she was deadly.
"We did," Hawk replied with a short bow.
She peaked an eyebrow and rose to her feet. Then she stalked towards him. "So you have come to pay the debt to our people, and my ancestor?"
A wicked dagger appeared in her hand and she flicked it idly at him. It struck him in the chest and shattered, sending shards of light tumbling to the floor. Her gaze carried a grudging respect as another blade—a real one—appeared in her hand.
"You do not flinch," she said. "Are you so ready to die?"
"I will be ready when the time comes," he replied. "But I have need of your aid before that day."
She laughed, a scornful sound that echoed around the chamber. Some of the entities took on a mocking pose. She stalked closer.
"You have the audacity to come in here with a request?"
Without warning the fluid metal arced to him, and morphed into a dozen lithe soldiers. Their spears touched his body, ready to pierce his frame if the order was given. She came to a halt several paces from him.
"I should have your remains dropped into the Well."
Her tone was sharper than the blade in her hand, and Hawk knew that his life hung by a thread.
"I did not say my request was for myself," Hawk replied.
She cocked her head to the side, and the liquid spears withdrew a few inches. "Who?" she demanded.
"The Oracle has fallen into the Dark."
The queen's eyebrows lifted, and she regarded him for a long moment. Hawk did not question that she knew about the Dark, and everything else that went on above her realm. The dark elves had always been adept at gathering information.
"Then she is dead," she stated. "And it appears your sole hope in defeating the Dark has perished with her."
"I believe she still lives," he said.
"She nearly died at your first encounter with the Dark," she said. "An event at which I understand even you were overcome."
"I want you to send a patrol to find her."
"To find her body?" Her eyes narrowed with understanding and she glided close. The liquid blades followed her in. "You, who have lived for senteniums of time, have always remained aloof. You scorned one of my own blood and damaged our home, and yet you care for Tess like a daughter." She smiled without mirth. "This is unexpected."
"She can stop this war," he said.
"A war I care not about," she replied. "The surface races would slaughter each other in its absence, and must I remind you that we are impervious to the Dark?"
"But not what the Dark turns humans into," Hawk said evenly. Her features tightened, but she didn't refute it. Hawk pressed her silence. "I'm sure you've surmised what they become. They are like the fiends from The Second Draeken War. When Alice has taken over above, you can be certain she will turn her attention below. You need the oracle to be alive as much as we do. Do not forget how we allied in that conflict."
"You think that because we allied before we can do so again?" Her voice hardened. "Or have you forgotten our banishment? You ask for what we are not allowed to give."
"And yet it is necessary," he replied.
Her lips curled into a sneer, but she didn't argue. Turning on her heel she stalked to her dragon dais. "One patrol," she cast over her shoulder. "To retrieve her corpse."
He bowed and turned to leave, but paused when she added. "The blood debt awaits to be paid, Hawk." Her voice was quiet, yet conveyed a simmering threat. "My assistance has a price. You have one year to return and relinquish your life. Or is yours not worth the chance of saving hers?"
"It is."
"Then I will see you soon Hawk."
"If I am alive in a year, my life is yours," he replied.
This time she allowed him to leave. When he exited the palace Urilian appeared at his side. "You're alive." He sounded surprised.
For now. Hawk didn't answer, and after a while Urilian continued.
"Did you achieve what you sought?"
He thought of Tess, and his desperate hope that she was alive. It was a vain hope, and yet one he clung to. If she had died because he'd allowed her to stay in Auroraq, his guilt would kill him before the queen could.
"I hope so," he finally replied.
Or we are all lost.
Chapter 2: The Mage Without Magic
Tess dreamed. Like lightning bugs of thought the images flashed in her mind and then were gone. Easily forgotten, they meant little to her. A few times she thought she opened her eyes, but there was nothing to see. There was only darkness.
For a long time she dreamt of falling, but it felt more like floating. Fleetingly she recalled casting a desperate gravity spell, but had no way of knowing if it had held. At some point she struck something hard, and her thoughts scattered. After a while faces and words flitted into her mind, but were gone before she could register them. Some she recognized, others she did not. She felt cold, but then something burned within her, warming her flesh.
Then the whispers began.
At first they were faint, and she strained to hear their words. After a time they grew louder, until they were veritable shrieks. They spoke of fear, weakness, and regret.
The words dredged up memories, and she saw herself ignoring her mother when she was a child. She'd placed a knife in a sink of water, and it had cut her mother when she'd gone to do the dishes. The blood had darkened a towel as Kate had tightened it around her hand. Tess knew it had been her fault, and she had hid.
The next image came, and Tess was older. A boy had teased her relentlessly, until she'd snapped. She could still feel his nose break under her fist. The crunch caused her to shudder, the sound grating and harsh. After that many of the kids were afraid of her. They teased her behind her back, and she had fewer friends.
The view shifted to when she had told Kate she wasn't her daughter. The hurt and disbelief magnified, and Tess yearned for the image to go away. It did not. Amplified by the whispers, the sight elicited a wave of guilt. She tried to flee, but there was nowhere to go.
Then Derek appeared before her. His body was torn and bloodied, his face twisted in a final agony. She screamed and knew it had been her fault. She had failed to protect him. Beside him other bodies appeared, each broken and lifeless. Jack, Kate, Rox, Iris, all had died because of her. Faster and faster the bodies appeared, until it became a sea of corpses. And she stood at the h
ead of it all.
"You could have saved them," Alice said, her voice hollow and mournful. "I tried to save them. You sentenced them to this."
"You summoned the Dark!" Tess yelled, but her voice echoed hollow.
Alice's gaze never left the landscape of death. "I sought to teach them peace, but they would not have it." Then her gaze settled onto Tess, causing her to wilt. "They would have accepted me . . . but you led them to war."
Alice took a step closer. "I was the harbinger of peace, daughter. You are to blame for this massacre."
Tess recoiled and her strength failed. She images felt real, even if she could not recall them. Her mind crumpled, the pain of her choices causing a deep stab in her chest. She cried out for relief, and the whispers spoke of succumbing, of allowing herself to be changed. The agony of loss and regret would end, and she would never face them again.
Tears poured from her eyes but something within her refused. The words stuck in her throat, causing the whispers to get louder. Rising with urgency and need, the voices became deafening.
She wanted to clasp her hands over her ears and scream, but instead she begged her willpower to stop fighting. Her resolve waned, struggling to hold firm. The erosion begun, it spread quickly. Relief flooded her, and she reached a hand out to accept the promise from the whispers . . .
But they had faded. As she'd struggled with herself they had grown faint, then silent. The ache in her chest had evaporated with them, and she never voiced her willingness to relent. She sighed, and slept.
***
Tess woke to the smell of charred meat. Weak, she pushed herself into a sitting position and looked about. She'd been lying on a rough blanket, but had no idea where it had come from. The light was dim, but not dark, and revealed some sort of clearing. Rebuffed by a small fire, the darkness created a dome above them. Trees trunks were visible but their canopies were not.
Her scattered thoughts gradually focused until she recalled what had happened. Alice had struck her, and she'd fallen into the Dark. She sucked in her breath as she realized where she was, her eyes frantically searching the gloom. Her fear proved unnecessary. The Dark did not advance upon her.
But something did move.
Almost invisible near the fire, a figure turned at her gasp. He rose to his feet, causing her to recoil. Tall and broad shouldered, the man wore blood-spattered body armor over combat fatigues. A shotgun lay cradled in his arms, while other guns were strapped to his back and thighs. Pockets for ammunition dominated his vest and filled the duffel bag that rested nearby. Spots of blood and dirt layered his face, enhancing his grim expression.
"Glad to see you've come around," he said.
In contrast to his appearance, his voice was surprisingly mild. She swallowed, and answered in a hoarse cough. "How long have I been out?"
"Couple of days," he replied, and turned back to the fire. "Thought you might be hungry if you woke up."
"What is it?" Tess asked in spite of herself. Her mouth watered at the smell.
"It's the last of my beef," he said. "The cities are crawling with Twisted, so I haven't been able to find more."
He rose to his feet and stepped in her direction. She flinched, but when he reached toward her there was a tin plate with a charred slice of meat on it. The juices still sizzled, appetizing and inviting. Her gaze flicked from him and back to the food.
He frowned in annoyance. "I admit I'm not the best cook, but it's all you've got."
Her stomach overcame her caution, and she accepted the plate. He reached to his side and casually drew a large combat knife. Flipping it in his hand, he offered it hilt first. The ease with which he handled the weapon caused her gut to tighten, but she accepted the gift.
"Are you a soldier?" she asked. She took a bite, and then another. It burned her tongue but she didn't care. Its lack of seasonings did nothing to detract from the taste. She settled in to eat.
"In another life," he said, and sank into a seat by the fire. He didn't look at her as he turned the spit.
"So what have you been doing since then?" she asked.
He threw her a look. "Ten years in prison for murder. I'd still be there if this hadn't all happened."
The food had gone cold in her mouth, and she slowly removed the bite. She glanced around, searching for an avenue of escape. She mentally berated herself that she hadn't thought of using her magic first.
Subtly, she sought to warp the gravity around the man to trap him. If he noticed the attack, he gave no sign. Then he rose to his feet and stepped to his bag to retrieve a second plate. Astonished that her spell had failed, she tried again.
Panic engulfed her as she realized it was not working. The gravity failed to move at her call. Drawing deep within, she tried to lift herself off the ground—and jumped into the air. She squeaked in surprise and came to a halt several feet off the ground.
He looked at her. "So you are a mage. I suspected as much the way you came down."
The number of questions was rising, but she settled back to the ground and asked the most important one.
"Who are you?"
"Robar," he said. "Former US Navy SEAL, and resident of the Black Dolphin Russian prison for the last ten years." He raised an eyebrow to her, which she took to mean it was her turn to share.
"Tess Oliver," she said. "Student at Tryton's Academy of Magic on Auroraq."
"What magics?" he asked. He removed a second knife and sliced off a haunch. Tearing a bite from it, he paused when she answered.
"All of them."
"You're the oracle from Mt. Elbrus." His eyebrows shot up.
She nodded, and he looked away, lost in thought. "How do you know about magic?" she asked.
A slight scowl creased his features, but it displayed more regret then anger. "My parents and brother were mages. I was not."
"What do you mean?"
"My brother was . . . talented," he said, his expression unreadable. "When it became clear I wasn't, I left and joined the auren world."
"But why doesn't my magic work on you?"
He flashed a grin. "What spell?"
"Binding," she admitted.
He issued a grunt. "Magic doesn't work on me. No one could ever tell me why."
She blinked into her magesight and looked at him. Normally people were lit up in brilliant colors of energy, emotion, and thought. For the first time in her life she saw very little. As if the energy within him was cast in shadow, she couldn't see more than a faint echo of what he was like. She squinted, and the shadow lifted somewhat. She blinked in surprise as she realized the truth.
"You're immune?"
He jerked. "What?"
"You're immune to magic," she said. "And I would say most energies as well."
His eyebrows pulled together, and then understanding spread across his features. "That . . . makes a lot of sense. How would you know that?"
"Magesight for an oracle is different," she said with a shrug. "I see a lot more. You didn't know?"
He shook his head. "How could I?" Then he released a bark of laughter. "Being immune, would it stop a taser?"
"Probably," she said. "The energy wouldn't resonate with you like it would anyone else." Then she jerked. "The Dark—it doesn't work on you either."
He scratched the stubble on his chin. "It didn't change me like it did the other inmates."
She blew out her breath, her food forgotten. "Do you have any idea what this means?"
He shrugged. "Does it matter? If the cloud doesn't kill me, the Twisted will." He gestured to the blood on his body. "Do you have any idea how many I've killed already? I took out several just getting you out of your impact crater. Maybe I should have left you. Keeping you alive means you will be conscious when they tear you to pieces."
He turned away, and Tess didn't know how to respond. The bitterness in his tone was unmistakable, but why did he feel such apathy toward life? And what did his immunity to the Dark really mean? Now that she thought of it, she wasn't sure. They ate
their meal in silence. Only when they finished did Tess speak again.
"Thanks for the food," she said.
He issued a grunt. "It might be your last. Every night they come searching for you. Because of whatever I do they can't see you directly, but you can count on a few stumbling onto us."
"What do you mean by few?"
"Last night there were twenty or thirty," he said. "I lost track after the second wave. Two nights ago there were only ten." He gestured to his bag. "I'm almost out of ammo and grenades, and my last explosives are in position now. Let's hope you are strong enough to help or we won't live to see tomorrow."
His tone and statement revealed several things. He'd stayed with her even though the Twisted were coming after her, and he was evidently quite skilled with conventional weapons. But the apathy when he spoke of dying was too apparent to ignore.
"Do you not care about your life?"
He stared at her until she realized that she'd overstepped. She changed the subject. "How long until dusk?"
Instead of looking at a watch, he looked upward. "Twenty minutes or so," he said.
"You can see the sun?"
He nodded. "It's like looking through a dense fog. I can see a little, but everything is blurry. I can see the area around myself better, and obviously it appears to extend to you. How far can you see?"
"Twenty feet in every direction from you." She didn't add how disturbing it was to only see a dome of darkness. "Why do they come at night if they are already in the Dark?"
He didn't spare a glance as he loaded weapons with practiced fingers. "I've been in this cloud for weeks, and the only thing I can say for certain is that the Twisted don't eat. They do tire, though. If I were to guess I would say that the cloud sustains them, but they still need to rest. They also favor true dark at night."
She frowned and gestured to the small clearing. "I've fought with my magic before, but not like this. What do you want me to do?"
He pointed between a break in the trees. "Thirty feet that way is a recess in a cliff. We'll make our stand there. There's only one way to reach us, and I've placed the Claymores and C4 to give us time if we need it. You'll need to use your magic as best you can when I have to reload."