Companion of Darkness: An Epic Fantasy Series (The Chaos Wars Book 1)

by CJ Rutherford

  I understood. My brother had said faerie power was strong, and it was, within the confines of the forest. Eldar magic, however, is more suited to war, to attack rather than defense. I quailed at what I could only imagine was the loss of life. It must have been terrible.

  Vaeolet continued. “The dwelvish forces fell on the eldar’s flanks, their surprise attack decimating the king’s army, driving them back to their Citadel, where we lay siege for over a decade. We knew they suffered within their beautiful prison, for the lower city was closed to them, the elves having rebelled against their masters to join us when the king locked them outside. We tried to make peace with them, many times, but the king would hear none of it.

  “It was only when the heads of our latest emissaries were tossed off the battlements by the king himself that the dwelvish king’s temper broke. He let out a bellow so loud that the gates cracked. As he sang, his people joining in the chorus of destruction, the gates shattered into a million shards.”

  As she told the story, images flitted through my mind. I wasn’t imagining things. I felt Vaeolet’s shifting emotions. “You were there!”

  She sniffed. “I was, and the images have haunted my dreams for such a long time.”

  I walked to her and put my hand on the back of her shoulder, squeezing gently.

  She reached back to pat it. “Even then, the queen didn’t attack. She sent terms for surrender. The gate was broken. They were surrounded. It was hopeless.” She sniffed again as a tear slid down her cheek. “If only we’d known.”

  “The dragons,” I whispered, my blood turning to ice.

  I sensed Vaeolet shut her eyes, squeezing them shut to try and block out the visions. “The king stood on the battlements, throwing curses at us. He was mad, driven insane by hunger and defeat, but none of us knew how desperate he’d become. He produced a scroll. It was black, and even from half a mile away I felt something evil wash over us. Fear rippled through our ranks but we held fast.” She put a hand up to her face, wiping the tears on the back of her hand. “Oh, how I wish we’d scattered and run. So many might have lived.”

  I listened, dread swirling in my stomach.

  “With the final word of the spell, the king cast himself off the walls, screaming his final act of spite at the top of his voice. His wish for us all to die—even at the cost of his own life—bellowed from his lungs as he fell. He struck the ground with a sickening thud, and both sides grew silent. Even the wind died.”

  I saw Vaeolet’s fists clench. “The dragons came from nowhere, falling on us from above, clawing through our armies like a scythe through wheat. Hundreds died in a single, crimson-splashed pass, and we ran. The faeries had their wings so were much faster than the eldar and elvish rebels and dwelvish forces. Even so, dozens of the faeries returned to carry as many as they could to the edges of the forest. Many faeries died that day, including my husband.” She cried freely now, her breath coming in gulps. “He died, with so many others. I watched as the dragons slaughtered whatever forces remained on the plains around the Citadel. I remember cursing them. I hated them for what they were doing. Then the queen spoke. ‘They have no fire,’ she said. She was right. They were not burning us. The dragons had been bound somehow to the eldar king, and with his dying breath he’d ordered them to destroy us, but if they’d attacked us with dragon fire, not a single being would have survived that day. No, they’d done as they’d been compelled to do, but in such a way that let as many of us survive as possible.”

  The lump in my throat threatened to explode with sorrow.

  Vaeolet turned her tear-streaked face to mine. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and her lips were drawn in a thin line. “We waited, waited for them to attack. The forest was warded, but nothing can withstand dragon fire for long, but…the attack never came.”

  “But why? Why stop when they had control of the dragons?”

  She gave a wry smile. “There are…reasons behind it.” She bowed her head. “One, I will not speak of.”

  So much I don’t know. So much these people know but aren’t telling me.

  She raised her head. “It turns out the king had a son, unbeknownst to us. He was still young, barely a half century, but with the death of his father, he inherited the crown. His youth, and his mother’s influence, made him more sympathetic toward us, if only slightly.”

  Vaeolet sneered. “He called off the dragons, sending them back to their homes in the Fire Mountains. Then he sent messages to the queen of the fae, the brownie chieftain, and the dwelvish king, decreeing his claim over all the lands. If they didn’t yield to him, the dragons would turn their kingdoms to ash or molten rock.”

  “And they all agreed.” My head was reeling. I’d had no idea.

  “Yes,” said Vaeolet in a whisper.

  Lead. Lead flowed in my veins. Not fire, ice, or anything else. Lead.

  But they hadn’t all agreed. There was something else, something she wasn’t telling me. I desperately wanted to ask what it was but…something. I couldn’t describe it. Something told me I had to keep it secret.

  A spark rose in my chest. Fire rose up and embraced it.

  “To ensure the terms were adhered to, the eldar king demanded a hostage from each race, to live in the Citadel under his ‘protection.’ To show good faith, he also demanded the dragons send a hostage of their own. So, when the treaty was signed, the brownie chieftain, the dwelf king, and the lord of the dragons agreed to be the hostage for their people.”

  My brows furrowed. “What about the fae? The quee—”

  The older woman put up her hand to silence me. “The fae were a special case. The forest relies on the Tree to exist, correct?”

  Understanding dawned. “And the Tree needs the queen’s tending to thrive.” I saw something akin to pride flash in Vaeolet’s eyes. “The queen couldn’t be the faerie hostage, so who was it?”

  Vaeolet huffed. “Impatient child. If you would remain silent and stop interrupting me, you will hear the full tale much faster.”

  My face reddened, but I simply stared at her, eyebrows raised.

  “The queen’s son should have been the logical choice, but the fact that he’d been the reason the war had started didn’t sit well with the eldar council. They felt his presence in the Citadel might incite another rebellion, dragons or no dragons. So, it was decided that instead of holding him in the Citadel, he’d be banished to a far-off shore, to a set of islands off the southern coast of the continent.”

  My heart skipped a beat. By the Great Maker! It couldn’t be. Not here, not now. “Vaeolet, what was his name?” I already knew.

  “His name was…is, Alwyn.”

  Alwyn. I turned to look at her, and her eyes met mine. He was here! It was little wonder that Alwyn and Vaeolet bore the marks of age. They were ancient, as old as the first ones. As old as the dragons.

  “You were there…before it all happened. Before the war.”

  A smile graced her lips. “Yes, girl.” Her eyes lit up with an ancient longing. “Those were wondrous times, peaceful times. Oh, we had…disagreements, but the magisters were always on hand to enforce the law…to defuse the situation before it escalated.”

  “The magisters?” My eyes widened in wonder. I was talking to someone who knew history…someone who had lived history. I wanted everything…all she could tell me.

  As a child, I’d lived for stories and had plagued my tutors for tale upon tale until they’d eventually given me permission to enter the vast library at the base of the Tree. My heart lurched at the thought that I’d never see it again, never feel the weight of the ancient tomes bound in bark and leaf, enchanted to hold back the years.

  I shook away my murk of regret as Vaeolet’s lips twitched up at the corners. I felt a well of grief rise up and felt guilty about the happy memory I’d just experienced.

  “The Magistry existed from the dawn of creation,” she whispered, her voice shaking with a mixture of pride and rage. “Its members held authority, were respected, and had powe
r.” She raised her chin in pride. “They were the law keepers, gifted with mighty magical abilities suited to the role.”

  Her eyes gleamed, and I felt pride conflict with sadness this time. “My father was a magister…until the eldar king disbanded them shortly before the war.” She spat the word, and I tasted the bile at the back of her throat.

  Images, a hundred times more vivid than before, screamed through my mind. A battle waged within the walls of the Citadel, where the king’s hidden army entered and slaughtered whole families. They flew up stairways, down corridors…hundreds of black-armored warriors, sweeping the rooms, butchering women and children, even as the remnants of the magisters fought to save their own kin.

  I saw Vaeolet’s mother through a child’s eyes, tear stained and blurry, as she knelt down.

  “Run, Vae!” An explosion rocked the dark stone corridor they ran down, the route to freedom. Figures ran, burned, and screamed as she wept.

  “You need to live, my child.”

  Vaeolet’s childish memories almost caused my knees to buckle, but I gritted my teeth, willing them to flow into me. I knew she didn’t, couldn’t know what I could do—that I could experience her thoughts, her memories—but I had to see. There was a reason this power had awakened in me. Her memories held a message.

  …No! I held Vaeolet’s mother’s hands as if I were there, my heart thundering into a gallop. I was Vaeolet, gaping wide-eyed at the horror advancing toward us. I couldn’t see it…it was shrouded in a cloak of darkness that flowed like a river of tar over the prone, injured figures farther up the corridor. I shivered, my heart lurching as I felt each spark of life go out. No, not merely go out. They wailed as their souls were ripped, screaming, out of their bodies, to become part of the darkness swirling down the gentle slope…toward us!

  “Run!”

  I sobbed as my mother pushed me down the incline. She raised a shining blade. Strange symbols shone on it, and with each step she took on her journey to death, the symbols flashed, a cacophony of light reflecting off the walls like a shining symphony of song. The air sang along, thrumming through my core as the power rose. Sparks lit my mother’s feet as the ancient energy used her as a conduit. The pattern flowed up and down the blade, faster and faster. By the time she reached the edge of the shadow it was a solid blade of blinding luminescence. Then she struck, blue lightning fracturing the gloom to reveal the figure within, and it was terrible.

  Maker!

  I fought the bile rising, swaying to clasp the rich dark wood of the bed. The memory was fresh in my mind, as if I’d just been there, thousands of years ago, but the older woman was oblivious to my knowledge of it.

  “A week before the king announced his intention to invade the forest, he marched his army into the Citadel, under a cloak of darkness.” Vaeolet’s voice was barely a whisper. “He knew the Magistry would fight against any decision that might bring war to the lands, and that they might be powerful enough to stand against him, but he had a power…this darkness. He used it to mute their magic, just enough so the soldiers could kill them all.”

  She hadn’t mentioned the families, couldn’t know that I’d witnessed the cries and screams of terror. She was trying to spare me the horror she’d experienced, and tears of horror and gratitude welled in my eyes.

  I took her hand in mine. “I’m sorry.” The words were pitiful…insignificant when compared with the pain she’d lived with for centuries.

  She squeezed my hand in return, sniffing and wiping the moisture off her face with a silk handkerchief she produced from a fold in her long skirts.

  “So Alwyn was banished to these islands. A few dozen of us came with him, and a few more have followed over the centuries.” She stood up and walked to the open doors onto the veranda. “Come, girl. Let me show you something.” The love she felt for this land as she gazed out over the wide blue bay was palpable. “When the king banished us here, he had no idea of the boon this place would grant us.”

  What? This just kept getting better. “I don’t understand.”

  Vaeolet swept her arms out to indicate the beach, with its pristine white sand and outcroppings of that strange crystal. The same crystal that had seemed to talk to me, that had recoiled deep beneath the surface when Lyssa came along.

  “This place has a life not of this world,” she said, confirming my suspicions. “These islands were created after the dawn of time when a huge rock fell from the sky, breaking apart to scatter around the bay. These aren’t called the Star Isles for nothing; they were created from a falling star, and the crystals are alive.”

  Even though I’d suspected as much, my jaw dropped open as she continued.

  “The king had us transported here and created wards all along the cliffs surrounding the bay, magical barriers to prevent us from ever setting foot on the continent again.”

  I felt the defiance rising in her.

  “For years we thought the crystal was just that…inanimate, lifeless rock. Until one day, over a century after our arrival, when one of the youngsters who had traveled with us attempted to scale the cliffs. It was foolish and rash, but he was young. His friends had challenged him, dared him to attempt the ascent, to test the wards.”

  I wrung my hands to stop them from shaking. “I take it that it didn’t end well?”

  Vaeolet slowly shook her head. “He almost died when the wards struck him, casting him into the sea below. By the time his friends had hauled his broken body up onto the beach, he’d been beyond anything our healers could do for him.”

  With a trembling voice I asked, “Did he die?”

  Again, that slow shake of the head, accompanied by a feeling of pride and joy. “We were carrying him back to the villa when we all felt something, a wave of something soft, like a curtain of feathers flowing over us to settle on the boy.”

  Again, images flashed behind my eyes, of Vaeolet and maybe half a dozen others, carrying a prone figure on a makeshift stretcher. Through Vaeolet, I sensed the magic flowing from the nearby crystal formation, saw the multihued glow as it reached out. I felt her joy as the boy’s eyes fluttered open, heard his friends’ cries of anguish turn to shock, denial, then celebration as the boy sat up and rubbed his eyes, as if awakening from a dream.

  Vaeolet’s voice was full of wonder. “The crystal healed the boy so thoroughly that even a scar he’d gained when he’d fallen as a babe was gone.”

  There were tears in her eyes, and in mine. “That’s wonderful.”

  There were so many questions I wanted to ask, but Vaeolet continued. “We learned about how the isles came to be, and that while intended as a prison, it could be so much more. There is no death here, and no sickness, and the crystals let us speak to the animals in the jungle and the denizens of the sea.” She fixed me with a knowing stare. “I suspect you heard voices when you entered the barrier. Am I correct?”

  I nodded. “Yes, I had no idea where they came from, but the dragons seemed to be communicating with someone, and suddenly it was as if a chorus of voices sang to me, welcoming me.” I smiled dreamily. “It was one of the most beautiful sounds I’ve ever heard.”

  I felt a wave of relief coming from the older woman. “And that in itself tells me we can trust you, Jesaela, because the crystals only bestow that gift on those with pure hearts.”

  My heart swelled, but curiosity bubbled to the surface again. “The barrier. What is its purpose? I mean, when we flew in through the gap in the rocks, I assumed it was protection against the dragons. But then I saw Glyran fly straight through it.”

  Vaeolet hmmphed. “Yes, I saw that too, and next time I see that damned dragon I’m going to take a piece of his tail.” I sensed annoyance, but no real anger toward my friend, and it was even tinged with a spark of amusement. “Luckily none of Lyssa’s court saw it, which I suppose is all that matters.”

  She was silent for a moment, and I felt doubt in her mind. What was wrong? Didn’t she trust me? My heart sank slightly, but then I sensed a mental shrug, as if
Vaeolet was silently berating herself for being so stupid. I resisted a smile. I’d look like an idiot, grinning for no good reason.

  “As far as the king and the rest of the world know, the barrier was fashioned to keep the dragons out, but it’s much more than that.” She sat down beside me again, grinning smugly. “It’s true, if a dragon attacked it, the barrier would repel anything thrown at it. The king knows this. By the Maker, he’s tried enough times over the years.”

  “Attacked? But why would he attack you? He exiled you here, didn’t he? What does he care how you live?”

  A smirk appeared on Vaeolet’s face. “Because thanks to the barrier, we are free, girl. Free from his influence, free to adopt Alwyn as our own king, and this infuriates him.”

  I saw it now. In my world, the world outside this shimmering alien shield, the eldar king held dominion over all the races. I knew I was young, and inexperienced in life outside the forest, but the last few weeks had painted a picture of a world enslaved under the ruthless boot of a bitter tyrant; if this place allowed these people to live beyond his reach, it must have driven him to the edge of madness.

  I grinned back at Vaeolet. But there was still something that puzzled me. I sat in silence, mulling over how to ask the question without offending her.

  The older woman shocked me with her next words. It was as if she could read my mind as easily as I could hers. “You’re wondering why Alwyn has agreed to the union between his son and Lyssa, aren’t you?” Her lips tightened to a thin line, and she fidgeted with her thin, elegant fingers.

  A chill ran up my spine. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know now. I was pretty sure I wouldn’t like it. I was right, but it still hit me like a falling tree.

  “He’s going to keep Lyssa distracted…out of your way. So you can fulfill the prophecy and break the curse, before it’s too late…for all of us.”