Yes, he was quite, quite mad, and there was comfort to be had in that.
A faint sound caught his attention for a moment. He stopped wondering how mad you could be before you stopped thinking in order to focus on the sound.
No, there was nothing. Just the waves, and the wind, and the periodic bleating of the goats. Sometimes a seabird flew overhead and squawked.
“Mad people sometimes imagine sounds that aren’t really there,” he told Goat. The animal chewed on a bit of plant, then with disinterest began mouthing the tattered bit of wool that Deo wore as a cloak. “Odd that I haven’t heard noises before now. How long have I been here, Goat? A year? Twenty?” He’d lost count of time, since days, weeks, and months held no power once you were left alone. Utterly alone, with nothing but his own consciousness. His father damned him to an eternal life alone, without even a jailer to converse with.
His father ...
A dull thudding caught his attention again, followed by the faintest snatch of a voice.
“That’s different,” he said, and mused on the last time he’d experienced something like it. “The answer is never. I’ve been alone, trapped on this hellish nightmare of an island, banished from the race of Fireborn. Alone, alone, alone.”
Goat, deciding the leather strap of Deo’s belt held more attraction, began chomping on it.
Whump, whump, whump. “... he’s alive ...”
That was a woman’s voice. What was a woman doing here? He shook his head. “Either I’m hallucinating or spirits have come to plague me. I wonder if they will mind that I’m mad.”
Bang, thud, thunk.
Deo closed his eyes. Not even the lure of talking to a spirit could rouse him from his current depression. He’d just lie there for a few weeks, and let his brain wander on its own.
A thin light caught his awareness even through his closed lids, starting at his feet and slowly moving upward. By the time he realized what was happening—a group of people had stumbled up to his perch and were standing around him—his mind moved from the simple comfort of madness into rage, savage and unchecked.
“Deo?”
Inside him, the chaos power, so long asleep, stirred, sensing its own kind, causing the emotions in him to change from the red-hot anger of his youth into a cold, enrobing fury. His hands formed fists. His muscles bunched. “Goat. Invaders have arrived. Attack!”
“Deo,” a woman’s voice said, exasperation clearly evident. “We thought you were dead.”
“Did he just order that goat to attack us?” a man asked.
Deo recognized those voices even through the madness. Runes began to light up along his chest, and with each rune that came alive, so did the pain of controlling the beast within him. The chaos power, so long asleep, seared along his veins to his extremities, causing almost unbearable pain, but he welcomed it, for the agony gave fire to his rage. He struggled to gain the upper hand, but it was only when he stopped fighting the power and accepted it for what it was that he leashed it, and, with an agonized cry, leaped to his feet.
Ah, we are awake again. Good. We have been too long away.
Three people stood facing him.
Traitors, all of them.
Unreasonably, he wanted to lash out at them.
As you should. I can feel that you recognize their faces. These are the people who betrayed you.
The magic seeped into his blood, making him want to hurt them as they had hurt him.
Punish the guilty. Eliminate the weak. Establish your strength. That is the only way to triumph.
Before he could act, he was bathed in light. Not the harsh red light of pain that filled the corners of his mind, but the golden, warming light of Kiriah Sunbringer. He looked down to see two hands, glowing with the light of a summer sun, flatten themselves on his chest, and for a moment, the pain and rage faded away.
“Allegria,” he said. “You’ve finally come.”
Too late. Far too late.
The rage returned at the magic’s words. Why had she not rescued him months ago, when his father had him teleported to this hellish nightmare existence?
He roared his fury and lunged toward her, but was suddenly flung backward by a white and blue light. He slammed into a wall of granite, knocking him senseless for a few seconds.
Don’t just lie there like a landed fish! Strike now! Strike them down before they try to kill you again!
“Deo, you have to listen to us. I can see by the way your runes are sparking that the chaos magic is enraging you. You must control it. Don’t heed its words. We are your friends, not it.”
Slowly, he regained his wits, the red haze of anger fading enough that he could see the woman before him. She knelt next to him, the arcanist at her side.
He reached up and touched the circlet of black dots on her forehead. “Bane of Eris.”
She clasped his hand in hers, warmth once again chasing away some of the pain. “That’s right. You made me a Bane. Although it doesn’t seem to be working now. ” She stopped and glanced to the side.
“Hallow,” Deo said in acknowledgment.
“Greetings. I am glad to see you are back to your normal self. I’d hate to have to smite you again.” He held out a hand of assistance.
After a moment’s hesitation, Deo took the offered hand, and got to his feet, Allegria rising with him, one hand holding on to his arm lest, he assumed, he should topple. “I am ... I am sorry.” The words tasted like dust in his mouth. “I did not mean to attack you. The magic—”
I grow weary of these puerile beings’ boasts. Eliminate them so that we might leave this blighted isle.
He straightened his shoulders, pain settling across them in a familiar mantle. The runes on his chest and wrists glowed a soft red as he faced Allegria, acknowledging his debt to her. She must be repaid, and there was only one way he could do that. “Goat, fetch paper and quill. I must write a betrothal oath to Allegria, who has rescued me. Once the terms are settled, we will wed at once, and I will raise you to queen of the Starborn when I take my mother’s place.” He put his hands on her shoulder and leaned in to seal the oath with a kiss.
“No!” she said quickly, backing up a few steps and looking at the arcanist. “Hallow—it wasn’t me—Hallow ... Hallow is ...”
“Hallow is wondering about the goat, but I suppose now is not the right time to ask,” the arcanist said.
Deo considered the man. “Very well,” he said, and, before the arcanist could do more than open his eyes wide, kissed him. “But I refuse to marry him, no matter how grateful I am. He will be my trusted adviser, instead. Goat! Make note of that.”
“Deo ...” Allegria wrung her hands while the arcanist burst into laughter.
He narrowed his eyes at them both, fearing that somehow they were mocking him.
They are mocking you. As will I if you do not take steps to stop this foolishness!
Deo pushed down the impulse to violence, once again feeling the master of himself.
“You don’t understand,” Allegria said, glaring at the arcanist. “For the love of Kiriah, Hallow, stop laughing. Deo, you misunderstand. You don’t need to marry me or make Hallow your adviser. We don’t expect reward for rescuing you, and then ... well ... we’re ...”
“If she’s going to wed anyone, it will be me,” Hallow said, wrapping an arm around Allegria’s shoulders and grinning at her.
She glared at him in response. “Is this your idea of a proposal?”
“No, but I thought it was better to make it clear that you and I have an understanding before your boyfriend marries you and makes you queen of Genora.”
“There are times when you really are the most annoying man in the world—”
Deo, uninterested in their banter, allowed his gaze to rest on the third member of the group. He knew that face. He knew that silver hair that rippled down her arms and breasts. For that matter, he knew those breasts.
A name floated on his mind, and with it, anger returned. Her name emerged from h
is lips as a low, guttural snarl. “Idril.”
She dropped him a curtsy, her movements as lithe and graceful as a fine-boned deer’s. “My lord Deo. I am pleased to see you again.”
He fought this fresh wave of fury, one distracted, possibly still mad part of his mind wondering if that’s all he was doomed to feel anymore—various shades of anger—and managed to say, “You were there when my father did this to me. It must have pleased you to see your husband remove the man whose heart you crushed.”
“Husband?” Idril asked.
Another one who wishes you ill. I tire of telling you to destroy them before they destroy you.
“Do you deny you wed my father when you were betrothed to me?” Deo roared the question, sending the goat leaping away with a squawk of dismay.
“Oh, him. No, I do not deny it,” Idril said placidly. His fingers flexed, the chaos magic urging him to avenge his betrayal on her slender, pale neck. He wouldn’t even need the magic to strangle the life from her.
You’ll notice I’m making no comment here. I could, but I won’t, because I don’t want to appear boorish. Still, I like the way your mind is working.
He turned away, his jaw working silently as he strode down the rocky path that led back to his stone prison.
“Deo!” Allegria called after him the moment he left, and continued to call, catching at his arm when he entered the great hall.
He did not know where he was going—he simply knew he must remove himself from the presence of the woman whose hold on his heart was as cruel as it was unyielding.
Yawn.
“Deo, stop!”
“Why?” he snarled, continuing forward despite Allegria’s hold on him. The arcanist grabbed his other arm, pulling him to a halt.
“Because we need you,” Hallow said.
“We?” He looked from the arcanist to Allegria. “You made it quite clear you prefer the company of each other. If you expect my blessing, you will be waiting a very long time. I have vengeance to seek, and I cannot be bothered with trivialities like Allegria preferring a scrawny arcane wielder over marriage to me.”
Allegria slapped him on the arm. He would have liked to be outraged over her lack of respect for him, but he’d allocated all of his anger to plotting how and when he would avenge himself on his father, and couldn’t spare any for her.
“First of all, you were just yelling at Idril because she married your father instead of you, so don’t try to make me out to be someone who broke your heart. And second, Hallow is not scrawny!” she said, looking daggers at Deo. “He has a magnificent chest, and his thighs are ... well, you probably don’t care about them, but you can take it from me that I do care, and they’re also magnificent. Stop running away and let us talk to you.”
“No,” he said moodily, and got three steps before the two pests (as he was coming to think of them) caught up to him. “I don’t care what you need—I am busy. I have a father to destroy, and then possibly a woman to destroy, depending on how sorrowful Idril is regarding his death, and after that, I might be able to clear an hour or two for you. But not until then.”
Hallow flashed by him at a speed too fast to see, and was suddenly in front of him, his staff at his side. “Thorn, take to the air. Do not argue with me, just do as I say.” A martyred look crossed Hallow’s face. “Because I said so. I’m the Master of Kelos, and you swore to aid the master.”
The little black wooden bird poised at the top of the staff suddenly separated itself and flew around Deo’s head. He swatted at it, catching it in midair, and snapping off one of the wooden wings.
“Oh, goddesses of day and night and all the hours in between,” Hallow said, casting his gaze upward at the same time Allegria, with an exclamation, dashed forward and snatched the broken pieces of bird from Deo’s hands, murmuring softly to it as she tried to push the broken wing back onto the body. “He’s not going to let me hear the end of that for centuries. Deo, if you take another step, I will be obligated to smite you again, this time with the biggest ball of arcane light I can summon, and I hate to do that, because not only do I rather like you, but also because we need you whole and unsinged if we are to triumph over the Harborym.”
Deo, who had dismissed them from his mind, had turned and taken a step before the arcanist’s words fought their way through all the plans of revenge that filled his thoughts. “Harborym?” he asked, turning back.
“At last,” Hallow said under his breath, and, taking Allegria’s hand, said louder, “They’re back. Three rifts are opened. On Aryia.”
So, the masters returned. I knew it must be something important to have awakened us. How very interesting. You will wish to annihilate them, of course. That will be most satisfying.
Deo reflected, not for the first time, what a fickle thing magic was.
“So far only soul catchers have emerged from the rifts,” Hallow added.
“They are a precursor,” Deo said absently. “They weaken the population.”
“The Council of Four Armies has gathered what forces are available, but it will not be enough.”
“Of course not,” he said, a little sneer gathering on his lips. “They fought for more than ten years and could do nothing but limit the growth of the Harborym. It took my banesmen to destroy them utterly.”
“This is why we need you. If possible, we must find the remaining banesmen, and with your help—and Allegria’s—we will be able to close the rifts before their armies begin pouring through.”
Deo looked over Allegria’s shoulder. Idril had come into the hall, and with her arrival, the shining light of her smote his heart anew.
“No. Goat, heel!” he said, and pushed past the arcanist to the door, stalking down the path to his favorite overlook on this side of the island. There had to be a ship here. He would commandeer it, sail to Abet, and confront his father.
“Deo, please, stop being so obstinate,” Allegria called, hurrying after him.
“Obstinate?” He spun around to glare at her. “Have they stripped your memories from your mind, priestling?”
“No,” she said calmly, and, taking a deep breath, put her hands on his chest again, the glow from her fingers seeping through the pain and anger and betrayal that roiled around inside him. “I will never forget, Deo. I lost much as a result of that day, not the least of which was Kiriah Sunbringer turning her back on me.”
Don’t believe her. She’s dangerous. If she was spurned by your goddess, why does she now bear that power?
He looked down at her hands, and cocked an eyebrow.
“Hallow helped me see that I wasn’t banished from Kiriah’s blessing. At least, she forgave me when I needed her to calm you.” She shot the arcanist a look of mingled gratitude and passion. “But you are wrong. None of us who were there for the destruction of the Harborym could ever forget what happened. That is why you must set aside your feelings and focus on what is important.”
“Making my father pay for his cruelty is important,” he insisted, unable to keep from leaning into her hands. The power of the sun flowed through her into him, chasing away some of the shadows and darkness. “Have you forgotten what they did to us? How we were repaid for our valor? Despite all that, you wish to help them?”
“Of course,” Allegria said, her eyes full of so much hope, it almost hurt Deo to look in them.
Hope had been burned out of him long ago. Now there was only madness, and Goat. And the need to destroy the betrayers.
The chaos magic sighed into his mind.
“Allegria told me that you pledged yourself to rid these lands of the Harborym. Was that only a one-time oath, or do you still hold true to it?” Hallow said, drawing both Deo’s attention and his ire.
“Of all of us who fought the Harborym that day, you alone did not suffer,” he told the arcanist, suspicion stirring until it pushed out the light of Kiriah. Allegria stepped back, shaking her hands as if they stung. “In fact, it sounds as if the opposite was the case.”
“Do you t
hink that being parted from Allegria was not a punishment almost as great as yours?” Hallow asked quietly, but his eyes burned with a blue fire that oddly pleased Deo. If he couldn’t have Allegria—and if he was honest with himself, he didn’t really want her—then this arcanist would do well as his alternative.
“It’s almost as bad as believing the man you were falling in love with had betrayed you,” Allegria said, her gaze on the arcanist.
“Were falling in love with?” he asked her. “And now?”
She smiled. “You had better arrange for us to have our own cabin on the ship going back to Aryia.”
“Most definitely.”
Deo frowned at the sexual tension that charged the air. “Could you two stop gazing at each other as if you were naked, and well oiled, and seated on a soft blanket before a blazing fire while outside the snow flies on a raging wind?”
Allegria blinked at him a couple of times. “That was strangely specific, but yes, I will attempt to keep from ravishing Hallow in front of you.”
The arcanist rolled his eyes. “All right, but if I do this, you have to promise not to talk to me unless it’s something of major importance.”
Deo stared at him. Allegria looked startled for a moment, then said to Deo, “It’s the staff. The bird talks to him.”
“Does it urge you to kill everything?”
“No, fortunately.”
“Ah. You’re lucky. The voice in my head is always demanding deaths of those around me.” He frowned at Hallow. Perhaps he wasn’t as ideal a candidate for Allegria’s mate as he’d first thought. Then again, if she’d chosen to fall in love with an arcanist—a group of people who almost always were insane on some level—then she must be confident in dealing with his oddities.
“No, that is not of major importance, Thorn. Nor is telling me what you think of Allegria. I don’t care if her hands are nice—she’s taken.” Hallow took the bird from where Allegria had stuffed it in a satchel slung over her back, and spoke a few words over it, causing strange symbols to glow briefly in the air above it. He released the bird, once again whole, and which promptly flew twice over Deo’s head before alighting on the top of the black staff.
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