“She has not yet shifted. Where will you take her?” he asked as if he had the right, as if he was someone that looked out for her, not the person that just destroyed her. The pain in his chest grew.
“It is not for you to interfere,” one of the three Ferriers rasped out in a low gravelly voice.
“I am not interfering yet, simply asking.”
A different one spoke with a slightly higher voice that might have even sounded more feminine than the other and even a little sad. “She has not yet matured, so we must take her to Exhile for determining.”
Daegan had not realized that they had separate voices.
“No.”
“You do not get a say in this matter,” the first one with the low gravelly voice said.
“I do.”
Yet a different voice rasped out, “Why do you think you can speak for her?”
“Because it is the right thing to do. I will speak on her behalf. She was pure and good and light in this short life. She needs to be sent to a proper beyond for a chance to return.”
“You do not have that right... do you?” The fourth one spoke in an even clearer tone hinted with suspicion.
“I do not. I will, however, give you a piece of what is good in my soul for her to carry with her. Let the higher powers of the In-between decide based on that.”
Daegan knew he was overconfident in what he was asking as he did not know if they would listen. The Ferriers seemed to be considering amongst themselves silently. Daegan saw a glimmer of what appeared to be hope from the more feminine-sounding Ferrier. The others were hesitant.
He heard his own voice as understanding dawned on him, “You do not have the authority to refute my request, do you?” There was no answer for a moment.
“We will take her as you request. But what it takes from you, it will hurt,” the feminine voice said.
Daegan nodded. He extended his hand to that particular Ferrier. It seemed to be the only one trying to help him save this little girl’s soul. She took it, removing her hand from her long sleeve that was covered by their long cloaks. One of her long white fingers slid across the palm of his hand. Daegan tried to refrain from recoiling at the sight of what he thought was simply her finger, though it was actually a long and extremely sharp point that drew his blood and then morphed back into her finger as her hand reclaimed it. Her hand hovered over his. He felt her pulling on his soul with her specific magic to attract souls. Eyes wide, Daegan could see a thin white wisp—his soul—begin to move out of the slice in his hand where blood flowed. His first instinct to pull back was stifled when he saw Katéri’s hand lying lifeless on the ground out of the corner of his eye. He took a deep breath and prepared for what would come next. He deserved whatever pain came his way. In fact, he welcomed it.
As soon as a little of his soul was available to the Ferrier, with her long dagger-like finger, she sliced a piece of it off, tearing it from the whole. Daegan screamed and fell in on himself to the floor. He had never experienced pain like that with such accompanied emptiness.
He then watched as she directed his soul into Katéri’s mouth, watched as it went into her body and joined with her soul. The Ferrier then held her hand out in a silent command to the newly formed soul. It heeded her command, lifting from the child’s body and attaching itself to the Ferrier.
On the ground, his breath heaving in and out heavily, Daegan barely got out, “Take care of her.” The Ferrier looked him in the eyes and nodded. Katéri’s body disintegrated into ash just like those of her parents, but hers was tinted with crimson, green, and now blue. The Ferriers were gone.
Daegan crawled out of the ruin that was once not only a home, but was filled with life, and headed to the trees. He was barely breathing, the pain was still so great. The more he moved the less it became, but then the realization of what he had done and what had happened began to set in. How could he go back? How could he face his family? How could he face Hal? He was a disgrace to the name Ferrishyn. He always knew there was darkness in him. Now it had found a way out.
Daegan collapsed in the cover of the thick forest, dreaming vivid dreams of fire, death, and Ferriers.
CHAPTER FIVE
Daegan woke from a restless sleep and the worst headache he had had in as long as he could remember. Suddenly, flashes of flames licking up the side of a small structure right in front of him, so close he could feel the heat from it searing against his cheek, caused him to jerk upright in alarm; his hand gripping the handle of the dagger he kept under his pillow while he slept.
Looking around furiously, he realized he was in his room, sleeping on his own bed and tangled within his own sheets, which were now drenched in sweat. He threw his covers aside, set his dagger down, and sat at the edge of his bed with his hands holding the top of his head, taking in deep breaths. Confused as to what was reality, he went to one of the few windows in his room and looked out over the village below. The stone that made up the outer wall of the castle was cool to the touch. Daegan found it soothing and rested his head against it as he watched people below begin to stir. It was still barely dawn and the sun hadn’t even broken over the Gáraldrath Mountains to the east of Elnye.
Taking deep breaths, Daegan tried to make sense of what had happened. Could it really have just been a dream? An incredibly and horrifyingly real dream? He wiped his hands down his face, hoping to whatever powers or gods that might be out there, that it was just a dream.
Absently, he looked around his room, seeing everything in its rightful place. He didn’t recall going through his nightly routine, but apparently he had: taking off his sword that was always strapped to his back, and his daggers out of their holsters strapped to his waist, inner thigh, and at his ankle in his boot. He laid them in the same place each night so that he knew he had completed the process. He found he could not sleep if it wasn’t completed the way he intended it to be. He always cleaned off each knife and sharpened them so they would be ready at a moment’s notice. It was precise. It was methodical.
He took in his own appearance—he wore only linen pants and no shirt. His necklace—without the black stone—was draped around his neck, his boots sat in the corner of the room by a single wooden chair—one of the few pieces of furniture in his sparse and oversized room. His body was clean as if he had bathed before he returned to sleep, but now shone with a light glimmer of sweat from his nightmare.
The only way to know for sure was go prove it to himself. It made him sick even thinking about seeing that little home in ruins, the destruction, what it did to that family, and what it would do to the entire community of shifters in the camp. He was a warrior; surely he could gather enough strength to face his sin, his deed of darkness. Daegan didn’t feel as strong as he once had. He could feel the crippling effect of what having a conscience in this world would do to a being, even a warrior.
As he threw on his clothing without much thought, he stopped suddenly. Something caught the corner of his eye. On the worn wooden floor, in the corner by the door, as if thrown or dropped carelessly, was the small smooth black obsidian. He reached to pick it up, gripping it so tight he thought it would crush beneath his fist. Examining it, he saw dust, both the brown of dirt and the gray of soot. His heart lurched. It was the stone he had given to little Katéri. How did it get there?
After shining it, he placed it on the chain around his neck while his eyes saw nothing but the turquoise blue of Lake Ary’th of Adettlyn in Katéri’s knowing, innocent young eyes. Absently, he began strapping on his holsters and inserting each dagger into its respective place. As he reached for the dagger that he wore at his waist, he noticed it was slightly askew, with a smudge on the blade. He did not leave smudges and he did not make mistakes. Something wasn’t right. He finished preparing to leave and left his suite both with fear and anger at what he would find.
✠✠✠
Daegan stalked out of the castle, luckily without anyone but the kitchen staff seeing him. Not wanting to draw too much attention, he
went down the path behind the stables. The shifters usually used this path instead of traveling the proper route through the village and the cobbled path.
Partway down the narrow dirt path, Daegan felt someone watching him. He looked about, then finally saw what he was looking for: an animal. The creature was similar to a rabbit, with long ears and long mangy hair from the mortal realm, but it also had long claws and two small horns on top of its head in between its ears. It had glowing blue eyes that were eerie in their own right, and two long teeth similar to a dog’s canines. The Lielmär, as these animals were called, were fairly common in this part of Alandria.
This one, however, had a familiar spark of energy about it that Daegan could feel coming off it. It was not a gift that was common nor did he share it with anyone, but he was a type of empath, able to feel the emotions coming off of others. He had to work hard to block everyone out, but it was easier to read animals and this one was giving off a pretty strong warning in its energy: “Stay away,” over and over.
Daegan recognized this animal as the shifter Jaéil and he was a friend. Not after what I’ve done. The Lielmär scampered back into the tall grasses and brush, so he was hidden from sight. Daegan wondered briefly why he had not felt anything—any emotion or feeling—coming from the camp the night before if it truly was not a dream.
Daegan’s steps got heavier and heavier as he got closer to the camp. His fists clenched tightly over and over. Let it be a dream. Let it be a dream. Sweat was beading on his brow and on his neck, dripping down his spine to gather at the waistband of his dark brown pants. The only other time Daegan had felt fear, he had been a boy watching as his parents were about to be killed right in front of him.
Finally, he reached the edge of the camp where he had stood not far off in the trees the night before, watching and waiting for the opportune time to unleash his darkness. He took a deep breath, afraid to look up. He had closed his eyes but now had to see what he had done.
Daegan stilled. His breath caught in his chest. There before him, the little hut was standing fully intact. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. Relief flooded through Daegan like a flood of water breaching a dam. It WAS a dream.
He needed to see the family. He needed to see Katéri, to know she was all right. As he was about to move in closer to knock at the door, something stirred inside. The door opened and out came the Faerie woman—he couldn’t remember her name—talking animatedly with her shifter mate. Daegan was able to breathe easier... they were okay. If the little one did not come out soon, he would inquire about her.
But as it was, one of the other shifters walked by the parents and uttered a greeting to them. Daegan watched their interaction carefully. Something about the way they acknowledged the shifter felt strange. For all appearances, everything seemed normal, but Daegan had a sense about things even beyond his empathic gift. He realized he was not feeling anything! The image suddenly wavered, like seeing heat waves over pavement. A glamour! He had recently been distinguishing them more and more. Since he had reached maturity, his gifts had been growing.
Daegan fell to his knees. He couldn’t breathe. His chest felt like it was going to explode. I cannot place a glamour this elaborate! Daegan’s blood ran cold. What had he done?
CHAPTER SIX
Needing to flee the camp, Daegan found himself moving swiftly down the backside of the hill of Elnye further into the forest that sat at the back of the castle separating it from the edge of the Gáraldrath Mountain. He was covered in the dark shadow casting off the side of the monstrous rock, just as he preferred it. He heard water a short distance away and purposely strode toward it. Kneeling down, he scooped water onto his face.
The sting of the cold water provided a brief respite from the burning plague of guilt and despair that forced a weight upon him even worse than the one that he already carried. Images of his parents’ faces flashed in his mind. His chest constricted with pain. He couldn’t breathe. As he stared at his reflection in the water in front of him, he watched the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. His vision blurred. He clenched his fist, pushing it against his head as he knelt by the waterside. Unable to be stopped, the emotional barriers that he had held in check for so long began to crumble. His control was unmanageable; he sobbed internally. He refused to let any more tears fall. It was a weakness and he had already allowed the darkness too much weakness.
After an indeterminate time of grieving, the pain that wracked his body began to subside. He sensed something shift in the air around him. Daegan took a deep breath and quickly regained full control of himself. He would not let this happen again. Out of instinct, out of fear, out of stubborn determination, he took his dagger and sliced the meaty flesh of his left hand, allowing blood to flow. The sting of the pain brought momentary relief through the distraction. He reached down to the dirt of the bank at the river, mixing the grains of the earth of Alandria into his blood. At the base of the Gáraldrath Mountains, he made an oath to himself and sealed it with the witness of Alandria. “In who I am as a Ferrishyn, with the grains of this land as my witness, I will not again allow the darkness of my soul released in harm of an innocent. I give of my life to protect the innocents of Alandria and only upon my death will it take purchase once more.” He felt something shift in him, rebuilding the internal defense that he believed to have been fortified before, but now even more solid than before.
Feeling strengthened at his regained purpose, he stripped off his shirt and his boots, then his pants—leaving only his daggers strapped to his legs—down to his purest state of being, confident no one was about. He waded, without flinching, into the icy crisp water that parted around his body as he moved into the deepest part of the small river. Immersing himself under the water, he cleansed himself of the remnants of the darkness that he felt clinging figuratively to his skin.
He stayed under too long, stretching his lungs to capacity. He tried to regain control of his thoughts as they strayed again to seeing what was beyond the glamour of the little cabin where he saw the specters of the family that was once there. He absently wondered if there was even a ghostly glamour of the little girl as she had not left a piece of her soul in that place. Daegan shook his head at where his thoughts had strayed once again. He refused to come up for air until he had his thoughts under control. Just when he was beginning to see the dark begin to creep in on the edges of his vision and felt the pressure and fuzziness in his head, he felt the lock of his thoughts click into place. Control.
Just before he hit the surface, he sensed a pull of magical energy on him. He rose out of the water, exhaling, and lunged for the shore. It was not the same darkness that he had felt before. This was different—it was an outside force drawing him, pulling him toward something. He stepped out of the water; however, there was nothing there when he quickly scanned the area, knife held ready to strike. Standing naked and soaking wet, but ready for a fight, Daegan slowly turned and walked to where his clothes were lying on the ground. Dagger in his mouth between his teeth, he quickly put his clothes back on without drying as he continued to keep watch. Still nothing. Daegan was confused. His extra senses were never wrong, but he was not seeing anything.
The feeling got stronger as he turned toward the mountain and its sheer cliff that loomed ominously before him. Daegan’s movement took him right up against the mountain. He leaned forward and pressed his hand flat against the rock. There was a heat emanating from it that pulsed straight into his body, commanding him to come closer. It is the mountain. The magic... the energy... it is coming from the mountain itself. Daegan pulled back his hand, shaking it out as if burned by its touch, but mostly from shock.
Whipping around, he sensed a different presence moving toward him—this one with scattered emotions and confused magical energies pulsating out haphazardly. Daegan held steady his dagger, awaiting what would move through the thick copse of trees just beyond where he had come through. He steadied his breathing, calmed his energy, and waited patiently. Who he
saw amble through, undisciplined in an attempt at stealth, surprised him to say the least.
“Rheina? What are you doing here?” he asked skeptically.
Confused, Rheina paused, looking around, suddenly frightened. “I am not sure how I got here, Daegan. It has never been this strong before. You need to listen though...” Even before she finished what she was saying, her entire demeanor changed and her eyes turned from green to flat grey.
“Rheina?” Daegan approached slowly, unsure of what was happening.
“Daegan, you must listen. There is not much time. Rheina is still here, she is fine. I will not harm her, it is her destiny.” The voice that spoke using Rheina’s voice was also laced with another feminine voice. One that was soothing, but unfamiliar.
Daegan looked at the girl who, to him, was family. He stared intensely, unsure of what to say and not willing to let his guard down. Too much had happened. He would never harm his sister, but he held his dagger at his side as assurance nonetheless.
“Daegan, there is much going on here beyond your sight. You must look through what your eyes see. You are about to be a part of something much bigger than you imagined. This is your destiny. Follow it. Protect her with your life. She will lead you to your light.”
Daegan listened intently.
“See with your eyes, but see with your gift... see what you are not meant to see.” The voice trailed off as the grey eyes receded and the piercing green of Rheina’s eyes were brought to the forefront. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she looked quickly back at Daegan; her eyes were full of sadness and questions.
Daegan began to step forward toward her to steady her, but she reached out to brace her weight on a nearby tree. “Don’t, Daegan. I am all right.” She held her hand out to warn him off. “Don’t ask. This is mine, it is my gift and my curse. Listen to what she said. I do not understand myself, or all that is happening, but you must not speak of this to anyone! Especially to Mother,” she pleaded. She turned to walk slowly back the way she came, having regained enough of her own strength to walk straight on her own. Soon her image grew so small that she blended into the thickness of the forest.
Daegan (The Age of Alandria: A Companion Novella) Page 5