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

by Lisa Blackwood

  The phoenix called power again. She had seen so much magic since she first meant Sorntar it should have become familiar, but the shift from one form to another was still spectacular enough to make her breath catch. When Itharann stood before her in his hybrid form, he motioned for her to walk forward. She stepped around a deep puddle and nearly fell on her rump when her boot slipped on algae or something less wholesome. Itharann steadied her with one hand, then he stepped out around her to walk in front. He motioned for her to stay close. Her usual response—to do the opposite of what he asked—didn’t flare up. Instead, she followed so close behind she was in danger of stepping on his tail.

  “Give me a weapon. You have no idea what else is down here.” Fear uncoiled in her stomach.

  “There is nothing living to guard this place. The Twelve would not risk having another living being guard Dakdamon. You saw how he created the statues. Even bound, he can still influence things around him.” Itharann looked down his nose at her, his eyes narrowed in mild annoyance. “Now be quiet, I must concentrate.”

  Ashayna glowered at his back. They walked through the subterranean tunnels with only a mage globe to light their way. The monotony of the place was beginning to calm her. Itharann came to a halt as the tunnel opened into a large, rough-walled chamber. It would look like any large cave, if not for a vast crystal gate dominating one wall.

  Itharann crooned in admiration. “Beautiful. Such power, skill, and sacrifice this took. This is a form of Death Magic. Similar to the power binding the Dead King to this Realm.”

  At the mention of the Dead King, Ashayna’s heart kicked with dread. Lamarra. Another person she’d failed.

  “Did I tell you why the Dead King took Lamarra? It wasn’t in revenge for trespassing into his realm.”

  No. Please, no.

  “There has always been two, a King and a Queen—linked as close as any bondmates. The Dead King was seeking his new queen. I don’t believe he’ll need to search any farther. Power runs in bloodlines, after all.”

  “No. Not Lamarra. Not with that cold thing I sensed down there in the dark.” Ashayna reached for Itharann’s hand. “Please, help her. I’ll do anything. Surely there’s still time.”

  “I doubt she’s the new Dead Queen yet, but soon.” Itharann reached out and caressed his fingers lover-like down her cheek. Ashayna turned her face away. His eyes narrowed in anger. “If she’s as cold as you, perhaps she’ll enjoy it.”

  A wave of rage, unreasoning and consuming, rolled over Ashayna. She screamed and launched herself at Itharann. Punching and screaming and howling denials, she summoned her magic and shoved Itharann with a force greater than human. He fell backward, tripping over the floor’s uneven surface. She came at him again, colliding with him in a tangle of arms, wings, and legs. Momentum carried them across the chamber, and they slammed against smooth, hard crystal. Power spiked, raising the hair on her neck. Ashayna tried to roll away from the power burning along her back, but it held her fast.

  Itharann howled in fear or pain. He struggled to free himself. His talons had caught in the ties of her vest and one wing was trapped under her weight. The power running along her back surged, enveloping them both. She didn’t have time to scream as she was pulled through. Itharann, still attached to her, was helplessly pulled along behind.

  They struggled to right themselves with many curses and much hissing. Itharann came to his feet and must have called several mage globes to life, because a moment later the sharp, burning scent of magic filled the air like incense. The chamber, another cave-like structure, looked identical to the first in shape. Though this one was not empty. With a sinking sensation, she saw the light didn’t come from mage globes as she’d first thought. Itharann hadn’t called any to life.

  The light’s source was twelve wardstones situated at chamber’s center. They looked similar to the wardstones where she and Sorntar had completed the first phase of the bond. Only these ones were much more massive and already pulsing with barely contained power. Golden light formed a double-domed shield with the energy cascading between the different pillars, like the one protecting Grey Spires.

  She saw movement behind the shield of light.

  “Ah, still at it. Killing him once wasn’t enough?”

  The words exploded across Ashayna’s mind, crippling her. She fell to her knees and clasped her head. A deep moan escaped Itharann. She found him in a similar position.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “Forgive me, little ones. I have forgotten how fragile are the minds of flesh and blood.” A soothing voice formed out of the darkness. “Accept my aid. I will heal your minor damages.”

  Ashayna’s head throbbed from the blast of a powerful mind-voice. She forced herself to stand, but words were beyond her.

  Itharann recovered faster and faced the darkness behind the shield. “I think not, Dakdamon. I serve my own needs. Not yours.”

  The energy behind the domes shifted, pulling back from the golden light. “Oh, but Ashayna delivered you past those wards so handily. You should have mentioned it would be bad to cross them.”

  “Had I known my bondmate would do such a thing, I would have prevented it.”

  “The last time you overlooked her, you got yourself killed, as I recall.” The darkness chuckled.

  “Strange how you recall everything in perfect detail, both forward and backward in time, and yet here you are, trapped.” Itharann glanced sideways at Ashayna.

  He was stalling. Blessed Creator, Itharann was waiting for her to do something.

  Billowing darkness pushed against the shield, making it flare brighter. “True. In all things, except those that directly affect me. A weakness I intend to correct at some point.”

  Ashayna squinted, trying to see what moved in the shadows beyond the light. There seemed no solid form, but there was movement.

  “Ash—that is what your family calls you, is it not? Why don’t you come closer? I have knowledge to impart to you.”

  “You’re no family to me. There’s no name by which I’d answer you.” She stepped back towards the portal, grabbing Itharann by his arm. He allowed her to herd him.

  Not a good sign. At least she and Itharann had a similar agenda. It might not ever happen again, but in this one desire they were in unison. Her hope of escape died swiftly. No matter how many steps she took towards the crystal gate, it didn’t get any closer. She remembered Itharann had mentioned Dakdamon was the god of time.

  “But Ash, we are family. The Twelve are closer kin to the Larranyn than any of the flesh and blood you so devoutly serve.”

  “Larranyn?” Ashayna directed the one word at Itharann only to find him staring at the shield with unseeing eyes. There was no intelligence in his gaze. So fast. Whatever had happened, it had struck Itharann between one moment and the next. How could she fight that?

  “Has my brother, Death, taken all your memories? We are Larranyn, Servants of Creation, tools used to sculpt the universe. The Larnkin are related to us. To call them by their proper name, it would be the Larranyn’s Kin. Kin to the Larranyn. Which brings me back to you, Ash.”

  Itharann jerked like he had startled awake and began to move, cursing Dakdamon in the ancient tongue. “I’ll not…serve…you.”

  “Don’t interrupt, Itharann. And you do serve me. Why else would you be here? I summoned you by planting a thought in your head. Anyway, Ash needs to remember some important details. If you are disinclined to share, then I will.”

  Ashayna shook her head, crushing the urge to laugh hysterically. It was ludicrous to listen. Anything he said would be lies, or a truth so warped none but he would understand the few grains of fact.

  “The Wielders of the Twelve are more closely related to Larnkin than most would ever imagine. They are more than mere host bodies. Over the centuries, a deep blending of spirits occurred. That is how Itharann came to love a mortal spirit.”

  “Loved. No longer, she is gone.” Itharann interjected with little regard.

&
nbsp; “Yes. That is not in dispute. But Ashayna is now something new and interesting.” The darkness gathered, deepening in tone and texture, shaping and forming substance and body.

  Ashayna watched with dread and fascination as the shadows receded to reveal something standing on two legs. A massive, clawed hand caressed the barrier once before withdrawing into shadows again. Far above her head, two black, almond-shaped eyes glimmered above a flat nose and narrow lips. Farther back, his gaunt cheeks swept into elongated, pointy ears.

  The creature bent down to gaze at them, and Ashayna didn’t care to feel like a bug. Dakdamon lowered his bulk until he was kneeling. One claw tapped his prison’s stone floor in a thoughtful manner. Small bursts of magic rose up at each hit. The light reflected off three horns where they grew out of a boney ridge on his forehead. It was very similar to the boney crown Itharann possessed. Even their coloring was similar.

  “Itharann’s shaping took much from me, for he and you and all the Twelve were spirit forged by the Great Mother and the All Father. He is a different form of leader than the Twelve have ever had. He is Truth Made Anew. As his name implies, he was re-created for a new purpose.” Dakdamon shifted again, his dark wings swirling the shadow and mist inside his prison.

  “You wanted him to lead your armies,” Ashayna stated.

  “He was to be so much more than that. You and he were going to correct a problem for me, a mistake I made.”

  Itharann glared at Dakdamon with renewed hatred. “How many mistakes have you made, Dakdamon?”

  Itharann had said the Destroyer’s greatest strength was to undo magic. Might it also include the magic of creatures so powerful they were gods? With hope rising in her breast, she backed towards the crystal gate a second time.

  “Few.” Dakdamon growled, his response blunt and bitter. “But those on a large scale.”

  “Such as the one that led you to be trapped in this very location?” Itharann countered.

  “I was trying to fix a mistake for the good of all creation. I required the Twelve to do it.”

  Ashayna grunted in disbelief. Her sarcasm got the better of her good judgment, and she added in a falsely sweet voice, “Sure, and Itharann is my true love.”

  Dakdamon laughed. It was an eerie sound. Surreal. “That is between you and him. I digress. As I had said earlier, Ashayna is something new and interesting. When Lord Death gathered together the shattered pieces of your soul and the Larnkin you host, there was not enough left to make two beings. You are in essence a hybrid, half mortal soul and half Larnkin spirit, with a few bits of other biological materials to make you a functioning life form.”

  Ashayna shook her head in denial. It could not be true. She was human. She didn’t believe him, couldn’t. She was not a Larnkin.

  “You see it as a curse, when you should look upon it as a gift. If I am right, you will be immune to what threatens everything else in this land.” Shadows shifted again and Dakdamon melted back into mist, swirling and churning in a slower, less urgent fashion. “My greatest mistake was created by loneliness and pride. I wished to emulate the Great Mother and the All Father, to create another being like myself, but one who would not know heartache. A self-sufficient being, requiring no second half. That was my first great flaw. It needed no one, not even its own creator. Still, I protected my abomination from the other Servants, teaching it to hide its presence from my siblings until it had consumed enough power to sustain and protect itself. I gave it the means to hunt and consume Larnkins. The small, weak ones found in low density in the wilderness. I saw them as nothing more than wasted energy. They had no ambition, very little consciousness and commanded almost no power individually. But their numbers were much greater than the more powerful ones with the ability to take hosts. I taught my creation how to harvest their life-forces and use their magic for a great purpose.”

  “Sacrilege,” Itharann said, looking ill to his stomach.

  “Perhaps, but what it did next, it did without my sanction. It began to feed on the more highly evolved Larnkins, those who could work great magic and take hosts, and then it began taking the highest level of Larnkins—those able to bond in the mortal realm. I stopped it and trapped it.” The mists inside the golden light churned with increasing agitation. “I thought to come back to it and rework my creation, to fix the flaws. I should have killed it.”

  “It got away, didn’t it?” Ashayna thought she already knew the answer.

  “It escaped its prison without my knowing. It hunted, being careful to never cross my path, and since it was something I had made, nearly a part of me, I couldn’t see the future regarding it. It hunted, and roamed free of my influence for several centuries before I returned to my work. By then it was too late. While far from sharing the same power level as my siblings or I, it had found a way to circumvent my power. I could not unmake my creation. It was too similar to me and my power did not harm it. I was done being foolish.” Dakdamon shifted in his prison. Light flared and danced, nearly blinding in its brilliance.

  Ashayna closed her eyes against the glare, but his voice still filled her mind. “I knew what it was capable of, what its agenda was. It was only a matter of time before it consumed all the lesser Larnkins, then the greater. If it did that, it would have enough power to rival one of the lesser Larranyn—the weaker of my siblings. Once it consumed a Servant, it would be powerful enough to take out another and another. One day it would come for me. Then the Great Mother and the All Father. I do not know if it could threaten them. The Servants are as nothing in power compared to them, but I could not risk it. I intended to capture the Twelve and send them after it. My plan failed.” Dakdamon’s swirling shadows intensified again. “Instead I find myself trapped here, with my creature free to do as it pleases. It has been busy. I detected its power upon you both.”

  Itharann no longer looked hostile, but intrigued. “Lord Trensler—I couldn’t read him. He was protected by a humming void of magic”

  “What you describe and what I can read from your mind tells me enough. My creation has found a way for others to capture and hold its food. I fear the other Servants do not know of this danger. I taught it to hide too well.”

  Ashayna took another step to the portal. Her heel struck the barrier. Giddy relief swept through her. For once, her magic was good for something.

  “You need not leave so soon. It has been long since I have had any visitors.” The words were growled out in a different tone than his confession. While he may have been intelligent and evil, she also recalled he was broken in some way. He lacked Lasharra, the Lady of Fire. His other half. Apparently, his better half.

  The shields warding his prison screamed in high-pitched agony and magic sucked up all the air. Ashayna gasped, a great coughing spasm raked her body. Relief bloomed a breath later. There was still air to breathe, if somewhat tainted by the burnt tang of magic.

  “Do not mention her name to me, not even in thought. Trapped I have been, agony and despair I have suffered.”

  Ashayna fought the anguish, gathering together her scattered reason and looked for an escape. She crawled towards where Itharann slumped. Then seeing his posture, she backed away, so as not to be overcome by his flaring power.

  “All for the lack of her!”

  “Sorry, so sorry.” Ashayna chanted, praying the wards holding Dakdamon would withstand his fit.

  Itharann had fallen to his knees, his face etched in a terrible concentration and his skin slicked with sweat. His shoulders and wings shuddered under the strain of the battle of wills. He screamed louder than the wards, then collapsed in a quivering heap. A spasm shook his wings, his talons tore up chunks of rock from the cavern floor.

  “Free me, slave,” Dakdamon ordered.

  “No…I can’t.” Itharann shivered, but turned his head to look up at Dakdamon. “I don’t have the power.”

  “Death magic. Do it.”

  “No, you need me. You need the Twelve.” Itharann lurched to his feet, swaying unsteadily as h
e fought to break Dakdamon’s hold. Itharann took three dragging steps closer to the wards before his renewed stubbornness asserted itself and he sank to his knees.

  Itharann’s resistance only slowed his fate. He couldn’t stop himself from crawling forward with his head bowed. Sweat ran down his skin and his limbs shook with the strain of fighting Dakdamon’s compulsion. The wards flared, their essence changing as they sensed the darkness within Itharann. The magic turned angry and menacing. Ashayna knew a moment of panic before the wards struck out at Itharann. He deflected the first blow.

  The wards increased their strength. He repelled the subsequent attacks and began to work his magic upon a pillar, pitting his strength against ancient magic laid down millennium ago. The crystal changed color. Thin, almost insubstantial lines began to trace across its surface. The pillar fought back, undoing Itharann’s damage almost as quick as it had been made. Itharann persisted. Ashayna realized the wards were not designed to counter an attack from a member of the Twelve. Eventually, as Itharann gave more of his spirit, the wards would weaken. Perhaps in a day, perhaps after years, but it would happen.

  “Itharann, fight him. We’ll all die if you sacrifice yourself.”

  Itharann’s thunderous look said he was enraged to be used by Dakdamon, but was helpless to fight. In a moment of clarity, Ashayna understood he needed something besides duty to fight for.

  “Itharann, fight—or Sorntar and I will die with you. As much as you show disdain for your host, I know you still care for him. He’s a part of you, integral to you. And I know you loved her, the one I was created from. I’m not her, but if you loved her as completely as you say, you’ll fight to save what remains. Together, the three of us can defeat Dakdamon.”

  He met her gaze, his expression torturous. Her words had penetrated.

  “Sorntar, now!” She poured all her magic into him.