In Deception's Shadow Box Set: Book 1-3

by Lisa Blackwood

  “Ashayna.” Sorntar poured more strength into his mental touch.

  She glanced in his direction. “I can barely hear you,” she replied, her mental voice as clear as always. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m not sure. There is a magic user here. Can you feel anything?”

  “No. I sense nothing, though Trensler has always set my nerves on edge.”

  “Perhaps it’s my Larnkin. We are still newly bonded and that is a strange time.”

  A throat being cleared drew Sorntar’s attention back to the roomful of humans.

  “You speak for your mother, who is your ruling queen?” Although Lord-Master Trensler spoke in polite tones, it was impossible to miss his slight disdain on the word queen. “And your race wishes peace with us, if at all possible?”

  “That is correct in part. Any final decisions will be made by my mother and the council. I will relay everything of value to them.” Sorntar shook free of the strange numbness that had taken hold of his Larnkin. His mind clear again, Sorntar countered with a question of his own. “What brings one of such high position, if I understand the hierarchy correctly, to our land at such dangerous times? When you first started out, nothing was known of our intentions. Only recently has a temporary peace been forged. I do not want you to misunderstand my words or their meaning, but unless I am misinformed, you would have made a very valuable hostage.”

  The Lord-Master chuckled with warmth—it did not reach his eyes, Sorntar noted—and made fluttering motions with his hands. “You are correct, had you been able to capture me I would have made a good hostage, but the spiritual welfare of the people must come first. I like to think events turned out as they have for a reason and thus, we should not waste this opportunity.”

  ***

  Another two candlemarks’ worth of questions and tedium passed before Sorntar secured Lord-Master Trensler’s agreement that a long-term peace was desirable. Finally, Trensler stood to take his leave, pleading he had much to see to before full dark. The Lord-Master held his hand out to Sorntar.

  Sorntar looked upon the gesture with some surprise. He’d become familiar with human gestures of good parting, but hadn’t expected it from this particular human. Grasping the wrinkled and age-spotted hand in his, Sorntar felt the human’s chilled skin begin to warm after a moment. A breath more and a chill began to creep into Sorntar’s hand. The human released Sorntar before he could react to the strange sensation.

  With relief, he followed the others as they filed out of the small cramped room. The leader of the acolytes commanded some unknown power, for it had buzzed along Sorntar’s skin and against his shields throughout the meeting. And the slight chill accompanying the handshake, he hadn’t imagined that. This was something his mother needed to know.

  It was time to return home.

  ***

  The wind tore at stray pieces of hair long-escaped from her braid. Flying on phoenix-back offered escape she needed after being in the company of Lord-Master Trensler. Sorntar had been ordered home as soon as his mother found out about Trensler’s strange magic. Ashayna was more than willing to do anything if it involved avoiding the Lord-Master. Her initial concern for her family was put at ease when she’d learned Winter’s Frost, Shadowdancer, and Summer Flame would remain behind, and within a few days another three elementals would come to continue shaping the human/elemental trade agreement Sorntar had started. If the elders discovered any danger, they would send Lamarra and Sorsha to join Old Mother’s family to live under the protection of the santhyrian nation. Surely six elementals could protect her friends and family.

  Sorntar dipped a wingtip as he chased an escaping thermal. The slight change drew Ashayna back to the present. Flying also offered another bit of relief. With Sorntar in his bird form, it was easier to pretend there was nothing between them. She’d kept her shields up every moment they were together since she’d first joined his dream. While Sorntar seemed suspicious about something, he hadn’t found out about the embarrassing dream incident. Realizing where her thoughts headed, she focused on the landscape instead.

  The trees below were a green blur as Sorntar flew at top speed, maintaining a short distance above the canopies. While she’d been deep in thought, the city of Grey Spires had grown larger in the distance. Soon she’d be home.

  Sorntar stiffened, and Ashayna felt another’s magic touch him. After a moment, she realized someone was talking with him mind-to-mind. When the magic ebbed, he turned his head to watch her out of the corner of his eye.

  “Sorntar, what’s wrong?”

  His reply was slow in coming. “I’ve just received news from my father.”

  “Talk to me.”

  “He says the Dead King sent tomb guards to River’s Divide.”

  “What? Because of Trensler?”

  “My father doesn’t know for sure. Sorsha is safe, but Shadowdancer reports one of the tomb guards took Lamarra.”

  Ashayna didn’t respond to Sorntar’s news. She couldn’t. If she opened her mouth, she’d start screaming and not stop. This was her fault. If she hadn’t stumbled upon the Dead King’s domain, he wouldn’t have stolen one of her sisters in her place.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  This time when they reached the council chambers, Ashayna was careful not to look at any of the wall paintings. She didn’t want a reminder of the Twelve while she awaited word of Lamarra.

  “It should have befallen me.” The words were insufficient, unable to describe her soul-deep shame.

  Sorntar ignored her and walked towards the paneled doors. When he was close enough to touch the painted surface, he stopped and studied it again. The oddness of his behavior penetrated Ashayna’s grief.

  “Sorntar?” She joined him next to the picture, awaiting some reply and then understood. “Itharann, what’s wrong?”

  He brushed the backs of his talons across the Destroyer’s image, caressing the face of the long-dead woman. “I loved her. She was my existence.” His words were somber, resigned to confessing a long-buried secret. “She never knew of my love. It’s a rare thing for a Larnkin to love a mortal spirit. My host suspected, but we were together such a short time in our last life, I never told either of them. Now she’s gone. With her final act of betrayal, when she slid the daggers into my host’s hearts, she sealed her doom. Ah, she knew the price: to murder your bondmate is to destroy your soul.” Itharann paused in his retelling, as if the old memories threatened to take over the present.

  Ashayna couldn’t speak, only listen with growing horror.

  “Lord Death was there that dark day. He couldn’t stop what his brother Dakdamon had caused, but he was able to salvage some. He gathered together the shards of her soul and dying Larnkin and carried them back to the Great Mother. In Her mercy, the Mother reforged her soul, taking away the most painful memories and when finished, she was new again. I no longer knew her…you.”

  He glanced at her, his eyes telling of a vast grief encompassing more than Ashayna understood. Itharann hesitated, as if he wanted to stop but couldn’t halt his words. “The Mother kept you close and returned me to the Father to sleep and heal. You are not the one I loved, but you are what the gods have given me as a bondmate.” Itharann paused to give her another long-suffering look. “We will make do, I suppose.”

  While he spoke, she’d put space between them until the passageway was at her back. One hand rested on her sword’s hilt, the other a dagger.

  “You plan to test the Mother’s mercy a second time?” He followed her as he spoke, a cruel smile on his lips, the dark light of challenge in his eyes.

  “This is what the Oracle was warning me of. I knew and didn’t wish to believe the truth—I did nothing,” she whispered with growing horror. “Now you’ve enslaved Sorntar.”

  A yelp escaped her when she collided with a solid surface where there should have been a door. She studied it a moment. It was a powerful shield, and she hadn’t felt him calling the power. Holding panic at bay, Ashayna focused and aske
d another question to stall him. “And how is it the Elementals haven’t detected your corruption?”

  Her voice sounded cold, a perfect match for the serene mask she hoped was covering her expression. The mask was the best her father could teach her. But her insides fluttered with panic, and it took all her will to stifle a scream when his power seeped past her shields.

  “It is good you care for the host. It will make what I ask easier for you. I want what any bondmate would expect: love, loyalty, and respect throughout the long centuries of our existence. If you will not grant me that, then end this now.” He reached out and captured her hand—the one with the dagger clasped firmly within it. Without warning, he took her jaw in his free hand and tilted her face up to meet his eyes. “Such strength and beauty you possess, yet so very traitorous.”

  In an iron grip, which would have broken her jaw if she struggled even a little, he held her helpless. He reached up and unclasped the brooches holding his robe in place. Cloth pooled around his waist, leaving his chest bare to her dagger. Her hands began to shake uncontrollably.

  “Go on, drive it home. It would be better now than later.”

  He freed her jaw and used both hands to draw the dagger’s tip to the skin directly above his heart. She didn’t know how long they stayed, facing each other, each with a hand on the dagger. He dragged the point closer, drawing blood, while she fought to pull it back.

  “No! Please…I can’t, not again. Never again.” Old memories welled up from a deep recess of her soul. Fragments of images and unfathomable grief flooded her, worse than the time with the Oracle. Images of blood and soul-destroying horror.

  The dagger fell to the floor, the clatter of metal on stone a sharp contrast to the stillness.

  “I trusted you couldn’t kill me a second time. It cost you too much the first time. Besides, you would have required two daggers to slay me.” His smile could have shattered stone. “The artist who painted those pictures of our dying moments must not have been a phoenix, I suppose.” His voice dropped low. Threat laced each word. “Last time, you used both your daggers with great efficiency.”

  Ashayna pulled away with rising fury, fighting her way free of his grasp, uncaring if she was hurt in the attempt. The struggle left her bruised and battered, but it was worth every scratch his talons inflicted. Hatred uncoiled in her heart, a slow, insidious movement, threatening to poison the last of her reason. Fighting down emotions, which would do her no good in the coming battle, she struggled desperately against her fear and anger until she had regained some composure.

  “You can try to force me to do as you bid or you can destroy me, but I will never willingly serve you. Why can’t you just leave us in peace? The one who corrupted you is gone.”

  “You ask for peace?” Itharann laughed as he paced the length of the council table. “We will never know peace. Why do you think we have been reborn? We are of the Twelve and have always been born at times of trouble. We do not complain. We lead.” He gestured to the room around them, the motion encompassing much more. “All this is here because in the past we have done what must be done, gave of ourselves until nothing remained. Bled and died for those who followed. Now we are called on again and we must serve. That part of me has not changed. I plan to rule both the Twelve and all the Elemental races. You shall aid me. None will stand against us. None shall harm those loyal to us.”

  Ashayna raised her chin and squared her shoulders. “I won’t kill Sorntar, but I’m not going to help you conquer whatever lands you please.”

  “When you bond fully with me, we will be one mind. Come.”

  Ignoring her denial, he reached for her arm. She dodged to his left and put the solid weight of the table between them. She sorted through any number of possible options, but nothing would stop him long enough for her to get away. Her only hope was to call for help and occupy him until a councilor or guard came.

  She called out using magic, her mental call strong, buoyed by her desperate need, but another power swallowed it without a trace. With wilting hope, she remembered the barrier blocking the door.

  “No one is likely to come for some time yet.” His bland admission defeated the small hope another might come upon them by chance. He continued, unheeding of her disappointment. “The Dead King may not have planned for it, but he has given me the opportunity I require. Now come.”

  Unseen to her human eyes, a force encircled her body. It settled below her skin with a sickening sensation. She forced down panic and called on her mage gift. It responded feebly, only enough to gaze with mage sight. Her shields responded not at all. Itharann stood blanketed with layers of power—the fluctuating waves spread out in an ever-increasing circumference around him until it reached the space where she stood. She could perceive where small threads of power, as small and insubstantial as spider silk, connected them.

  Against her will, her body moved to stand at his side. When Itharann handed back her dagger, she sheathed it without pause. Even her frown smoothed out to a warmer expression. Outwardly she may have smiled, but within her mind she screamed curses at him.

  “The human language is more versatile than I knew. How colorful.” One eyebrow arched up in an elegant curve. “Curse me as you will, I must control your action for a little while yet. There are some things I require for our journey. We will be leaving in a hurry once I put the finishing touches on Grey Spires’ defenses. You see, the Dead King and I do not see eye-to-eye. We are having a bit of a race, one to see who can solidify his power base first. Oh, and if you have not guessed, your mental calls will reach none except me.” His last statement more an afterthought.

  The need to strike out at him was almost strong enough to break his control. With a supreme act of will, she fisted her hand at her side. He noticed the movement and crooned low in his throat. The sound, originally meant to calm, infuriated her more.

  “Relax, Ashayna.” At his words, her hand uncurled and she followed dutifully behind.

  His first destination was the ancient library. There he sorted through a number of old scrolls, packing them in warded containers to protect them against the elements. Next came the kitchens, which proved as quiet as the library. After those short trips, they returned to his private chambers. He assigned her to the readying of saddlebags, bedrolls, and various other supplies of non-magical origin.

  From a hidden compartment in the chest, he carefully removed a heavy, cloth-lined sack. A large, etched glass vial, corked with a warded stopper, slid out of the sack to rest in his hand. Although she couldn’t identify the liquid by sight alone, she would bet her sword it was the silver non-water from the sacred springs. Frustration overcame common sense and she baited him. “Wherever you plan to take me, the Elementals will follow. They’ll not allow you to escape them.”

  He paused in his examination of the vial for a moment, seeming to think on her statement. With a gentle care, he placed the vial back in its protective covering before turning to her.

  “They will be too busy to follow us.” Itharann didn’t slow or turn as he spoke, but continued out the door, motioning for her to follow. When she didn’t, Itharann returned, and, lifting one elegant hand, he gestured her forward. This time his compulsion dragged her along after him.

  “So, what? You’re running away? Is the ancient Larnkin afraid of the ones he intends to rule?” Her words poured from a desperate corner of her soul. Ashayna hadn’t expected him to rise to her bait and was surprised when he responded.

  “You confuse courage with foolishness. I would be a great fool to stay once they learn what I am. I could win a fight with one or more of the elders, but against the combined might of the council, even I would not fare well, as yet.”

  “Then why are you here at all? Surely returning was a foolish, dangerous move?”

  Itharann inclined his head in her direction. “You’re correct. As I said earlier, I was as damaged as you, or nearly so, and have only recently awakened. Until then, Sorntar was in complete control. I only reacted
instinctively to dangers to my host. I’d just recovered enough to control my host when something in the human lands weakened me. That creature, Lord Trensler, I don’t yet know what he is, but certainly nothing human. He weakened me, fed from my power. I remember nothing until I awakened here to find Lamarra kidnapped.”

  That explained more of what the Oracle had said. It also reinforced how great a fool she’d been. Up until this point she could have gone to another for help, but her pride had stopped her—that, and her fear of magic. Now both she and Sorntar would pay the price. She wondered if Sorntar was aware of his plight. For his sake, she hoped he was oblivious.

  They met few others, as Itharann had chosen the least-used hallways, but with each person they passed, her hope suffered another blow. Even guards let him pass, unaware of what walked the brightly lit halls with them.

  By the time they made their way into the vast gardens circling the castle, the sun stood far to the west. Its warmth vanished in a heartbeat as she recognized Kandarra and Vinarah approaching them, calling greetings over the short distance.

  Itharann froze at their approach. He made no outward signs to betray the dark rage Ashayna could feel seeping from him across their link.

  Ashayna didn’t know what had triggered his rage, but quickly came to understand when she caught glimpses of what he read from Vinarah’s thoughts. Remembering back to her ordeal with the Oracle, Ashayna recalled her unknown assailant. The one image she recalled most clearly was of a fist coming out of the dark with talons clasped. She had known it had been a phoenix, but it had never once entered her thoughts Vinarah would turn against her. Ashayna didn’t feel the bite of betrayal she should, due to Itharann’s greater betrayal.