Darkness Divine

by P. C. Cast

  Rhys studied his friend across the five or so yards that separated them, unable to shake the painful knowledge that the soldier was lying. Barrett’s dark gaze slid away from the intensity of his stare, and as Rhys drew in a deep breath, the sour stench of Barrett’s fear flooded his system. While Rhys’s Charteris blood boiled at the thought of his friend’s betrayal, it occurred to him that Barrett’s words the previous afternoon had been a warning of sorts. That the man had wanted him to go to the village, so that he wouldn’t be killed with the others during the attack on Matthew Buchanan. Either that, or Barrett hadn’t wanted to pit himself against Rhys’s skill with a sword.

  God, he’d been so blind. He knew he never should have left Alia and her father in the care of the other guards. That he should have trusted his instincts when he’d felt that something was wrong. He’d made so many mistakes, and now she was going to pay for them all.

  “Alia,” he said softly, turning his head slightly as he kept his gaze focused on Barrett. “Come here.”

  She’d been standing a yard or so behind him, but she quickly moved closer. Rhys caught her wrist, positioning her close to his back, her soft breath panting against his shoulder as she peered around his side. He hated that she was afraid. That he’d failed to protect her.

  The corner of Barrett’s mouth twisted with a pained expression, and he slowly shook his head, a tired, weary sound escaping beneath his breath. “So my secret is out,” he said simply, lifting his face to meet Rhys’s stare.

  “Christ, Barrett, what the hell have you gotten yourself into? You’re meant to be one of the good guys.”

  “We can’t all be as saintly as you,” Barrett offered in a wry drawl. Rhys could hear the bitterness that flavored his friend’s words and wondered why he’d never noticed before. He knew he’d been withdrawing more and more of late, but had he really been that shut down? That blind to what was going on around him?

  “If you’re in trouble, why didn’t you come to me?” he asked, while the wind picked up beyond the cave, thick with the scent of rain, the sky rumbling with a heavy bellow of thunder. “I would have helped you.”

  “Don’t blame yourself, Rhys. There’s nothing you could have done to prevent it. The people I’m working for were determined to get to Buchanan one way or another. If not through me, they would have made a deal with one of the others.”

  He grunted, then said, “There’s something I don’t understand. If you were helping them, why did they go looking for Alia in the village last night? With your tracking abilities, you would have been able to scent that she hadn’t headed toward Wolcott.”

  “Believe it or not, she just got lucky,” Barrett explained with another wry drawl, scrubbing his left hand against his jaw, while his right hand hovered near the hilt of his sword. Though the Consortium guards were trained in the use of all weapons, including pistols, they continued to primarily use steel, too often facing things that couldn’t be killed with bullets.

  “Seems her father was able to put the lie into the crone’s mind. I should have realized it was a ruse to throw us off, but I was so distracted worrying that you might come back,” Barrett continued, “that you’d return before we were gone, that I didn’t pay close enough attention. I…I didn’t want you caught in the middle of this, Rhys. I can’t tell you how disappointed I was when we finally returned to the cottage and the crone could see that you were with her.” Something that looked like regret flickered in Barrett’s eyes. “I didn’t want you to be a part of it.”

  “It’s not too late. You don’t have to go through with this.”

  “So says our superiors’ lauded hero. But we haven’t all been as generously rewarded with the Consortium’s gold as you have, Rhys. I’ve enjoyed living beyond my means for too long now, and was forced to make a bad deal,” the lanky soldier muttered, his features twisting into a grimace. “One that I can’t get out of, even if I wanted to.”

  Disgust flavored his words as Rhys said, “There’s always a choice.”

  “Do you have any idea what these men will do to me?” Barrett snapped, suddenly losing his composure, his face turning ruddy, his eyes wide with panic.

  “No more than you deserve,” he growled. “Who are you working for? The Collective?”

  “No, they’re…not human, Rhys. And they’re strong—maybe even full-blooded.”

  “Full-blooded what?” he demanded, casting out the net of his senses, trying to find the scent of others who might have come with Barrett. But the skies had opened up with a light rain, the drizzle falling steadily outside the mouth of the cave, making it impossible to scent anything beyond the entrance.

  Barrett shook his head again. “To be honest, I have no idea. But they’ll rip me to shreds if I don’t give them what they want.”

  “And what is that?”

  Barrett jerked his chin toward Alia, her pale face still peeking around Rhys’s shoulder. “The girl is going to show us where her father found the Marker. Then we’ll take the rest of them.”

  “And if we refuse?” he asked, wondering where the others were. Barrett had said “us”—which meant that he wasn’t alone.

  A low rumble of laughter fell from Barrett’s lips as he looked from Alia and back to Rhys’s face. “You won’t refuse,” he said knowingly. “Not when you have something so precious to lose. But I am sorry, Rhys. I truly had no choice. I have none now.” Barrett began walking forward, and Rhys reacted instantly. In a rapid movement of muscle and primal instinct, he slammed the soldier against the wall of the cave, his right forearm pressed hard against the traitor’s throat before Barrett could even draw his sword.

  “Damn it, Rhys!” Barrett wheezed, pulling ineffectually at his arm. “These things will kill me if I don’t give them what they want. And it won’t be an easy death. They’ll peel the flesh from my body. Take me apart, piece by piece!”

  “I’m going to save them the trouble,” he snarled, jamming his arm harder against Barrett’s throat.

  “Kill me, then,” his friend muttered weakly, “but it isn’t going to save her. Nothing can save her now.”

  He heard Alia’s suddenly gasp, and as he cut a dark look toward the mouth of the cave, Rhys saw that his suspicions had finally been confirmed.

  Just as he’d guessed, the traitor had not come alone.

  7

  They’d made it to the caves at Wookey Hole in the cool damp of night, the clouds hanging low in the sky, like something pressing in on their bodies, suffocating and thick. The waters of the River Axe that flowed into the cave were freezing, soaking their clothes as they’d traveled into the cavernous depths of the earth, and Alia couldn’t stop her teeth from chattering loudly. Or maybe that was simply her reaction to the worry and fear coiling her insides into a dense tangle of knots. Since the moment she’d seen the mental images her father had sent before his death, she’d known the impossible was coming, and was still no closer to understanding how she was going to prevail. If she and Rhys had been alone, they might have devised a means of retrieving the Markers that wasn’t going to end in pain and death, but they were surrounded by the enemy.

  During the journey, she’d heard Rhys ask Barrett about the other soldiers, and had learned that they were simply mercenaries who’d been hired to help the traitorous guard obtain the crosses. Which meant that the identity of the ones controlling Barrett remained a secret. He had, however, brought the hired soldiers and the old crone along with him, the woman’s hunched back and crinkled, gray-tinged skin attesting to her vast age. Still, despite her decrepit appearance, her black eyes were sharp with focus, constantly taking everything in. As she rubbed her gnarled fingers against the cross Alia had been forced to relinquish, the crone watched them with a cold, malicious gaze, the waves of evil rolling off her seeming to fill the dank air of the cave with a rancid stench.

  They stood within an alcove nestled in one of the offshoots of the main cavern, the flowing black water of the river at their backs, the wall curving in a half ci
rcle before them. The only light came from the flickering lanterns carried by Barrett’s men, the golden spill of light casting ominous shadows against the rough, craggy surfaces of stone. There were ten soldiers in all, standing with their backs to the curved perimeter, the ceiling just high enough to clear their heads.

  At her side, Rhys vibrated with a cold, deadly rage, the heat from his coiled muscles blasting against her body, though it was unable to dispel the chill of her soggy clothes. They hadn’t been able to speak privately, but Alia assumed that he was furious with her for leading Barrett and the others there, to the caves where the Dark Markers were hidden. But she’d had no choice. After his hired swords had arrived, Barrett had threatened to have Rhys killed if she didn’t tell them what they wanted to know, which had made the decision an easy one. She’d already lost her father because of these bastards—she wasn’t about to lose Rhys, as well. And yet, Alia knew she had merely bought them a small sliver of time. The only reason Rhys was still alive was because the others didn’t know if he’d prove useful to them before their task was completed, and she hoped to hell he was coming up with a plan that would get them out of there.

  Barrett had already worked his way through the narrow fissure in the center of the alcove’s curved wall that led to the small chamber her father had shown her with his mental images. The fissure was protected by a spell so that it wouldn’t be detectable to the human eye, but Alia had been able to summon the words that would reveal its location—words her father had shown her before he died. She also knew that in the center of the chamber lay a fiery pit, its orange flames licking into the air like a nest of writhing, hungry serpents. Whoever had hidden the Markers had spelled the pit to continually burn, protecting the valuable treasure that lay at its base. Barrett had already tried several ways to fish the chain-mail bag that contained the Markers from the bottom of the hole, but each of the implements immediately disintegrated when they touched the twisting, magical flames.

  As Barrett paced impatiently from one side of the alcove to the other, the crone suddenly rasped, “I can see now that the flames can only be breached by hand.”

  Barrett cut a furious scowl in her direction. “Then how am I meant to retrieve them without burning my bloody flesh off?”

  “Make the girl go,” she croaked, her thin lips twisting with a malevolent smile. “Her father must have used one of his wife’s spells to retrieve the cross unharmed. He no doubt shared this with the girl.”

  “That had better be true,” Barrett growled as he cut his gaze toward Alia, the sharp edge of panic in his dark eyes impossible to miss. Despite the chill of the cavern air, the soldier was sweating, his normally burnished skin pale in the flickering light of the lanterns. Whoever was pulling his strings, Barrett was clearly terrified of them.

  “I can try,” Alia said quietly, wincing as Rhys turned his head to glare down at her with a dark look of accusation. Though she was unsurprised by the crone’s directive, having expected as much, she hadn’t shared her concerns with the man who stood beside her.

  “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about the fire,” he growled in a low, seething voice. “What the hell were you thinking?”

  She lifted her shoulders in a slight shrug. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

  “Alia,” he groaned, looking as if he wanted to throttle her.

  “It will be okay,” she whispered, trying to give him a reassuring smile.

  Forcing the question out through his clenched teeth, he said, “So you know the spell?”

  She tried not to flinch, but Rhys was watching her too closely. “What?” he demanded, missing nothing.

  “It’s just that my magic isn’t powerful enough to work here,” she explained, a nervous edge to the words that she couldn’t disguise. “This is protected land, guarded by the original powers that set out to protect the Markers.”

  Rhys’s pale gray eyes narrowed with frustration. “Then how did your father manage to obtain the cross?”

  “He used one of my mother’s spells, like she said.” Alia inclined her head toward the crone. “But it’s a highly advanced one that I’m not familiar with, which means that it could be…difficult for me.”

  “Would your father have been able to cast the spell without being Reavess?” he asked, a deep crease settling between the dark slash of his brows.

  Alia nodded. “They were truly joined, which meant he would have been able to channel my mother’s power, even from her next life. But as their daughter, my connection only worked while they were alive. I’m sorry, Rhys.”

  “Don’t be sorry,” he grunted under his breath, cutting his gaze back toward the others. “It’s not as if I would have let you go, anyway.”

  “She has no choice,” Barrett argued loudly, taking a step forward. It was obvious the traitor had been listening to every word of their exchange.

  “I’ll go in her place,” Rhys stated firmly, his deep voice resonating with command.

  “What?” she gasped, her jaw dropping with surprise. “No! That’s not possible!”

  “I’m the best chance you’ve got,” he grunted, his attention focused completely on Barrett as he held the soldier’s panicked stare.

  “Please, Rhys! Please don’t go in there!” she begged, grabbing hold of his arm.

  He turned toward her then, and leaned down to press a tender kiss against her forehead, while his left hand smoothed over the drenched length of her hair. “Don’t worry about me,” he whispered. “I can do this, Alia. I promise.”

  “How?” she asked, her voice hitching as he tilted up her chin with the edge of his fist.

  The corner of his mouth curved with a grin. “Just because I don’t embrace the Charteris part of my blood doesn’t mean that I can’t.”

  She blinked with surprise. “But you’ve always done your best to bury that part of yourself, Rhys.”

  “You’re right, because I’ve always hated it,” he replied with a slow nod, his gaze suddenly burning with intensity. “But things are different now. I care about you more than I could ever hate the Charteris.”

  Tears spilled from her eyes in a hot, salty rush, her throat quivering with emotion. “I don’t believe it. You tell me this now, when I’m about to lose you?” she cried, smacking her fists against the solid wall of his chest.

  He responded by taking hold of her face in his big hands and giving her a hard, quick kiss that only made her cry harder. “Don’t be scared,” he murmured, pressing his forehead against hers. “I’ll get you out of this alive, Alia. I promise.”

  “You’re the one I’m worried about,” she said brokenly. “You, Rhys. Not me.”

  He kissed her again, so gently that it was almost a physical pain in her heart, and then he pulled away. “Keep her here,” he grunted, staring at Barrett as he turned his back on her. “And I’ll get you the bloody crosses.”

  Doing his best to ignore the wrenching sound of Alia’s crying, Rhys carefully made his way through the narrow fissure. Seconds later, he was crouching within the small, domed chamber, its circumference no more than ten feet, staring at the shallow pit dug into the middle of the floor. Fire licked from the hole like a dragon’s fiery breath, and the corner of his mouth twitched with bitter humor.

  “Fitting,” he muttered, before pulling his shirt over his head and dropping it onto the stone floor of the chamber. He knelt beside the pit, his gaze focused intently on the angry, licking flames. They looked like tongues of fire that were eager for a taste of his flesh, but he wasn’t afraid. No, his only fear was for Alia’s safety. With a deep breath, Rhys fisted his right hand and closed his eyes, concentrating on calling up the primal blood of the ancient beast that dwelled within him. When he felt the searing change ripple beneath his skin, he leaned forward and reached deep into the hole.

  As his fingers grazed the rough surface of the bag that lay on the bottom, Rhys let out a shaky breath of relief and opened his eyes. He’d expected at least a twinge of hot, fiery pain, but instead, t
he flames lapped against his arm like something chilly and damp, making him shiver. Though he remained in his human shape, he’d managed to partially transform his entire arm, his skin now gleaming with a deep, burnished sheen that was capable of resisting the fire’s eating flames. Surprisingly, his arm looked much the same, but for the golden, blinding glow that he’d only ever seen in the scales of a Charteris when they’d fully shifted into their dragon form.

  Hating that Alia was left back in the cave without him, Rhys quickly fisted his hand around the top of the chain-mail bag and pulled it free. A swift look within the bag showed a glittering tangle of ornate crosses, their thick arms overlapping one another, all of them jumbled together so that it was impossible to tell how many there were without dumping them all out, which he didn’t have time for. Although he now had the Markers, he still needed a way to get Alia out of there alive. Staring into the flickering light of the flames, Rhys thought of the stories he’d heard of Charteris warriors who could hold fire…and control it. Would it be possible for him to do the same? He had no idea, but he was ready to try.

  With his mind made up, he held the bag in his left hand and thrust his right back into the flickering flames of the fire. When he made his way back out to the others only moments later, Barrett’s eyes gleamed with an unholy light as he eyed the bag still clutched within Rhys’s left hand.

  “Is that them?” the soldier croaked, his voice weak with relief.

  Rhys nodded in response as he kept moving nearer to Alia. He was sure Barrett or one of the others would have stopped him if they’d been paying attention, but each of their greed-filled gazes remained locked on the bag that swung from his fist.

  “Give them to me,” Barrett suddenly snarled, his right hand resting on the hilt of his sword. “Don’t try anything stupid, Rhys, or I swear she’ll pay.”

  Like hell she will, he thought, stepping sideways to close the distance between them until she stood no more than a foot away, her back to the dark waters of the river.