Chain of Illusions (Bringer and the Bane)

by Brux, Boone

  Her large green eyes searched his face. She reached and rubbed a thumb between his eyebrows. “Did I say something wrong?”

  He removed his hand from her thigh and placed it on her back, running it up under her chestnut-brown hair. “No, you’ve made me very happy.”

  She tilted her head and narrowed her gaze. “You don’t look happy.”

  “I want nothing more than to show you how much I care about you, Rell.” He cupped the back of her head and gently massaged. “How much I desire you.”

  “But?”

  “But you’ve been through a lot. I want you to know I’m willing to take this as slowly as you need. You must be certain that I’m the man you want.”

  “Siban.” Her pupils dilated. “There is no doubt in my mind that you’re the man I want.” She paused, a smile turning up the corners of her mouth. “Both in my life and in my bed.” She leaned into him and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. “Always.”

  Her words set his blood on fire, and he pulled her against his chest, repeating the kiss with far less restraint than she’d shown.

  “There are rooms for that,” Luc said from behind them.

  Siban broke the kiss, turning to Luc. His friend stood with his arm around Jade, both invaders repressing obvious grins.

  “As always, Luc, your timing is impeccable.” Siban released Rell and stood. “Or, should I say, annoying.”

  Luc’s grin stretched, betraying the fact that he was not the least bit repentant for his rude interruption.

  Jade nudged him in the ribs with her elbow. “Now you know what I must endure, Siban.”

  “You have my deepest sympathy, my lady.”

  Rhys and Ravyn joined the group. “We’re on our way to the bailey,” Rhys said. “Join us?”

  Rell rose and slid her hand into Siban’s.

  He twined his fingers with hers, pulling her closer. “Lead the way.”

  Chapter Four

  The bailey spread in front of the manor house and several outbuildings dotted the surrounding area. An unseasonably warm breeze ruffled the grass and birds sang their early morning song, welcoming the sun’s golden rays.

  Rell inhaled, loving the freshness of the morning. “For so long I awoke to dampness and the smell of sulfur. Clean air is something I will never take for granted again.”

  Siban remembered the dank and stifling feel of the Shadow World, how it used to claw at his lungs, burning them with cold and caustic vapors. “Nor will I.”

  They walked to the group congregating around Juna and Gregory.

  “Let’s get started.” Juna’s face was set in a no-nonsense expression that would make most men cower. The Bringers formed a half circle in front of her, each giving her their full attention. “The first group of names I call out will go with Magnus and Brita to begin learning our history. Ravyn, Luc, Rhys, Jade, Rell, Siban, and Meran.” Juna’s gaze tracked down the line, picking out each one of them. “Afterward we will train. Luc, Rell, and Ravyn will join Odette and Okee for hand-to-hand combat.”

  Siban glanced at the blond twins. They looked too young and innocent to be powerful warriors, but over the last weeks he’d learned that all the Bringers who had come through the Mystic Arch possessed abilities he could only hope to match some day.

  “Jade, Siban, Rhys, and Meran will work on controlling their Bringer powers with Brita,” Juna continued. “Though your powers are different, you’ll learn how to communicate and understand each other’s abilities. This will become imperative in battle.”

  “I will stay with Rell.” Siban spoke the words, leaving no room for argument.

  “You and Rell are both newly brought to power and both Tells. You would be best served working with those who do not share the same abilities,” Juna said.

  “I will stay with Rell,” he said again.

  She held his gaze and after a few seconds nodded. “Jade, you will switch places with your sister.” The woman squared her shoulders. “I cannot stress how important it is that you do not coddle each other.” Her eyes scanned from Siban and Rell over to Luc and Jade. “You will want to spare your companion discomfort, but you need to treat them as you would any other training partner.”

  “Don’t worry. I will make sure I push Siban and that he challenges me.” Rell glanced around the circle. “There are several demons I’d like to pay back for the last thirteen years.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.” For the first time since Siban had met her, Juna smiled. Her pale blue eyes crinkled at the corner, softening her hard edge and making her similarity in appearance to Ravyn all the more noticeable. “We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

  Siban couldn’t help but compare Rell and Juna. Where both women’s sisters laughed freely, they seemed unable to indulge in whimsy or fun. Their determination and blunt manner gave them an air of detachment that made them seem unapproachable.

  The burly man named Magnus stepped forward. “If you come with Brita and me, we’ll start your history lesson.”

  Without waiting, he turned and walked toward the manor. Brita held out her arm, indicating they should follow him. She smiled at them with the kind of grin that warmed a person from the inside out—the kind of smile that soothed the harshness of the world like a healing balm. From her gentleness, Siban would have thought her to be a Redeemer, but the line under her lip marked her as a Tell.

  He focused his attention on Magnus’s back and opened his senses. The man wore a thick red beard, which was braided on each side of his mouth. Though unable to distinguish what kind of Bringer Magnus was, Siban had noticed he didn’t bear the mark of the Redeemer on his palms.

  A Tell. The thought came unbidden, surprising him. Would his powers work the same on the Bane? Would he be able to decipher if a demon had once been a Bringer? When he’d felt Icarus the night Rell had been transformed, it had been impossible to untangle the web of impressions. Perhaps a lesser demon might be more easily read.

  The morning meal had been cleared but the smell of food still lingered in the air. The banging of pots emanated from the kitchen on the other side of the Great Hall. Every so often Delphina’s laugh could be heard wafting through the open doorway. The group settled onto the benches around the long table. Siban sat next to Rell, wanting to keep her close. Jacob Le Daun joined them and took his place next to Luc at the end of the table. Magnus stood where Gregory had during the morning meal, while Brita moved to the back of the group at the opposite end of the table.

  Magnus cleared his throat. His thumb rubbed the hilt of his sword, as if he were uncomfortable speaking to a crowd. Siban had known such men. They preferred action over talk. Rhys was such a man. That was the main reason Siban had joined the Bringers after escaping the Shadow World. He too preferred action and had neither the inclination nor ability for diplomacy.

  “We will be imparting the Bringers’ history to you through our own memories.” Magnus pulled a short stool to the end of the table and sat. Brita mimicked his actions. “But not in a way you’re probably used to. There’s too much to communicate with words, so we will share our experiences with you through one of the Tell gifts—memory transference.” He held out his callused hands and rested them on the table. “First we must join hands.”

  Each Bringer took the hand of the person sitting on either side. Siban gripped Rell and Rhys’s. Rell in turn, took his and Brita’s. Once the circle was complete all eyes turned back to Magnus.

  But it was Brita who spoke. Though soft with a lilting quality, her voice commanded attention. “The circle must remain unbroken. When we are done sharing our information, either Magnus or I will release your hands. Then you may let go.”

  “I’ll warn you that the experience can be somewhat…overwhelming at first. Try not to react to what you’re seeing or hearing. This is the past and nothing can be done about it now.”

  Siban’s gaze slid to Rell. “Are you sure you’re up to this?”

  She nodded. “Unquestionably.”

  Instead of reassurin
g him, her conviction sent a wave of apprehension through him. Though he understood her desire to be involved, vengefulness rolled from her. Experience had taught him that anger was not the best motivation. It made one careless and illogical. Suppressing his concerns, he turned back to Magnus.

  “Close your eyes and concentrate on your breathing,” Magnus said. “Try to relax. Brita and I will guide you.”

  Before Siban closed his eyes, he glanced at Rell. Her lids were pressed tightly together and her fingernails dug into his hand. “Relax.”

  She inhaled and blew out her breath, her shoulders dropping from her release of tension. Siban closed his eyes and focused on his breathing as Magnus had instructed. At first the surrounding noises of the crackling fire and shouts from outside drew his attention, but as he concentrated, all extraneous sounds dimmed and finally faded.

  A man’s face suddenly appeared in Siban’s mind. He flinched. The clarity of the man’s harsh features was accompanied by a feeling of discontent. Siban tried to relax, letting Magnus and Brita guide his vision. The scene pulled back to reveal the man sitting on a throne. King Harlin, Gregory’s grandfather, ghosted through Siban’s mind.

  The image extended further until the entire lay of a Great Hall could be seen. Lines of people were being herded into groups. They were dirty and dressed in rags. Some appeared injured, and all looked hungry. Disgust that was not his own filled Siban. An underlying outrage over what was happening flowed with the images. It was as if he watched everything through somebody else’s eyes.

  An ornately dressed man sat at a parchment-covered table. His ample body flowed over the armless chair on which he was perched. His robes pooled around him in a sea of brocade and velvet. With a plump hand, he popped a grape into his mouth and chewed. The flesh beneath his chin wobbled with each chomp of the fruit, furthering Siban’s disgust.

  Obviously in charge of the slaves, the official pointed to a cluster of men, whose hands and feet were bound together with lengths of rope. “The clay pits.”

  Four guards nudged the slaves away from the table and toward the door. A thin man, wearing nothing but filthy, torn pants, stumbled and fell. Long white scars covered his back. Siban gritted his teeth against the anger rising inside him. He bore scars such as those from his time in the Shadow World. They had not disappeared, even after he’d been brought to full power.

  An armor-clad soldier drew back his foot and kicked the felled man in the ribs. “Get up, dog.”

  The prisoner stumbled upright with the help of another captive. The slave’s eyes were wide, but he made no protest, merely remained bent and gripping his side. His spirit was broken. Though he and Siban shared similar scars, Siban had never succumbed to the belief that all was lost. Rell had seen to that.

  Again, the prisoners moved forward and shuffled through the wide entrance of the hall, disappearing beyond the memory’s range.

  The fat man’s gaze swept over a small group of young women huddled together. Siban could hear their quiet sobs. The official seemed to derive great enjoyment from the women’s fear. A leering smile stretched across his mouth and he pointed a meaty finger toward them. “Pleasure house.”

  Information came unbidden. Siban knew that Magnus was feeding it to them in understandable chunks. Though somewhat jolting at first, there was no doubt memory transference was highly effective. Another thought came to him.

  At one time humans and Bringers were the same people. The only difference was that humans had no powers. Unable to fight against a tyrannical king, they were forced into servitude.

  The image panned back to King Harlin. A second man stood beside the throne, his assessing stare traveling hungrily over the crowd of prisoners. Something familiar registered with Siban. He scrutinized the man’s face. Short-cropped hair lay dark against his skull and eyes the color of silver seemed to search for something among the gathered masses. A sensation of lust and thirst for power rippled through Siban, but he could not place why the man seemed familiar. Like other Bringers in the scene, he bore a tattoo. It wasn’t one Siban had seen before—an eight-pointed star. Siban made note to ask about the unfamiliar mark.

  The throne room faded and a new image appeared. Lightning flashed across a gray sky. The thunder that followed mingled with the war cries of the men and women battling on an open area of blood-spattered mud. The sounds rumbled within Siban’s chest, as if he stood at the heart of the battle. The smell of rain, blood, and burning flesh assaulted his nose, causing him to recoil.

  Swords clashed in endless cacophony. Fireballs whistled through the air, slamming into people and exploding. Their attack was not like the fire he’d seen the Bringers use the night of Rell’s capture. Punishing and more violent, the spinning fireballs raced through the air with a power far greater than a catapult. They connected with their targets, decimating them.

  The dead and injured littered the ground as the battle raged on. Their cries tugged at Siban. Rell and Rhys’s grips tightened. They too obviously battled the urge to defend. A huge arch, ten men wide and twice as high, loomed in the center of the melee. Siban recognized it from the legends, the Mystic Arch. Several humans ran though the doorway, followed by the king’s soldiers. Many of the escaping humans were dragged back through, but not all.

  Siban’s attention was drawn to a young man in the midst of battle. Prince Arron. Siban recognized the name instantly. He was Gregory’s father, and the king who had been victorious over the Bane a thousand years ago.

  Again the scene altered and Arron now sat on the throne with the crown firmly on his head. Joy ebbed around the image. A quick succession of pictures flashed through Siban’s mind. King Harlin being beheaded with an immortal weapon. More, smaller battles. Once again the scenes slowed and settled on the image of the Mystic Arch. The inner area of the doorway glimmered green and blue. Humans carrying bags and pulling small carts trudged toward the entrance and then stepped through.

  Sorrow accompanied the human’s departure from Bael, the Bringers’ homeland. But mixed with the sadness was the anticipation of starting a new life. Freedom from slavery and servitude lent a bittersweet quality to the exodus.

  When the last human had passed, King Arron closed the Archway. A younger version of Brita stood beside the king, watching. He performed a ceremony that warded the passage so only the reigning king could open it, thus ensuring the human’s safety from those wishing to reclaim them as slaves.

  The scene pulled back and faded to darkness. Noises from the present invaded Siban’s meditative state, bringing with it a flood of emotions about what he’d just witnessed. Rhys released Siban’s hand. Keeping with the instructions, he released Rell’s and slowly opened his eyes. The group looked at each other. Their stoic faces showed the same shock he was experiencing.

  “The information we just imparted happened more than a thousand years ago, before the Thousand Year War between the Bringer and the Bane.” Magnus slid his stool back and stood. He paced in front of the table, as if struggling with the memories of the past. “As you have seen, King Arron was victorious over his father. In an effort to ease the suffering of the humans, he allowed them to pass into Inness. He hoped that by giving them a world of their own, they would be free to live without persecution.” Magnus stopped at the table and leaned his fists against the wood. “Are there any questions?”

  The group exchanged glances. Siban, for one, had a hundred questions. He focused on the specifics of what Magnus had showed them. “So, humans originated in Bael and were originally Bringers but without power?”

  “Yes.” Brita gracefully rose from her seat. “It was not unusual to bear a child without powers, but as with many have-and-have-not situations, the greedy preyed on the weak. To not bear a mark became a badge of shame in itself. By letting those humans and their families pass through the Mystic Arch, King Arron had hoped to put an end to their suffering.”

  “Did it?” Rell asked.

  Brita gave a delicate shrug. “For the most part. But during tha
t same battle, King Arron’s firstborn son was kidnapped. We believe it was in retaliation by those who opposed the human’s exodus.

  “And the child was never found?” Disbelief tinged Ravyn’s question.

  “No.” Magnus paced at the end of the table. “Our strongest Tells assured us that the child still lived, and since Gregory can not open the portal from this side—” he stopped and looked at the group— “we’ve surmised that the child was secreted here, to Inness.”

  Brita moved around the table to stand beside Magnus. Though her action was subtle, she placed a hand on his arm. Calming waves emanated from her, flowing over Siban. Magnus’s stance visibly relaxed, as did most sitting at the table.

  Magnus inhaled and then exhaled deeply. “Are there any other questions about what you were shown today?”

  “You mentioned this was before the Bane War,” Rhys said. “Were the Bane already on Inness?”

  “We’re not sure.” Magnus locked his hands behind his back, his brow furrowing. “Until the human queen, Anna, implored King Arron for help that day at the Arch, we never knew of the Bane. We assume they originated in Inness. Once the Arch reopened to help Anna battle the Bane, several demons slipped through to Bael. Fortunately they were quickly dispatched.”

  “The man beside the king,” Siban said, “Who was he?”

  Brita’s gaze turned hard. “King Harlin’s brother, Ander.”

  “What happened to him?” Jade asked. “Was he also beheaded?”

  “Worse.” Magnus pointed to his chest. “Perhaps you noticed the eight-pointed star on his chest.” The group nodded. “It’s called a chaotic star and is the symbol of the Summoner. The Summoners were another clan of Bringers, but because of their dark natures, King Harlin had them rounded up and imprisoned.”