"Then I will sit at her side."
"She turned from you," the voices whispered.
That boy's mother smiled, an expression of such adoration and tenderness that, for a moment, it softened the hardness growing around his heart. "You will sit at the Goddess's feet--"
"I will be no one's servant." That boy had his father's pride.
His mother's smile faltered at the edges.
"If the Goddess truly loves me, I will sit by her side, and if not, I will sit in her place."
That boy never saw his mother smile the same way again.
"The Goddess would not have you," the voices taunted.
"Her mistake," Donovan said, and though he tried to deny it, bitterness touched his words.
He had loved the Goddess. As that boy, he had adored her and worshipped her. When he grew older, he yearned for her with the hunger of a man for a woman. When he felt the first tingling of his power, he thought it a gift from her, and would have laid it at her feet. Pride he inherited from his father, along with lands and title. It rankled him to see his father bend knee to the Emperor. Why should he? Birth and privilege alone separated his father from the Emperor.
And power.
The Emperor wielded more than even the Imperial Mages. The boy's father wielded none at all. Strength of arms, riches, command of men, none of that mattered. Physical power paled in comparison to what could be found in the ethereal.
Gift of the Goddess? Perhaps. But one should be cautious to whom they bestowed their gifts.
"I will see her fall."
***
Donovan startled. He had been become unaware for a time, which, he supposed, passed for sleep in the vast nothingness he currently inhabited. He found it easier to ignore the creatures that surrounded him, to accept their endless obsession with his past. He had no aches here. No wants. He felt neither hot nor cold, no more so than he suffered hunger pains or thirst. He merely existed. A plaything for whatever held him.
There had been pain. The Dominion priestess had once called the crone's power a curse, and so it had proven itself to be. Its sharp tines had dug into Donovan's consciousness with a ferocity that spoke of desperation, as though, even in death, the crone sought to destroy him. He tried to capture all the fragments of it, along with the scattered bits of his own self. Both futile tasks. Pain and anger slammed him between them for a time, and Donovan fought both.
With no concept of time, he drifted, fighting a battle he could not win until forced to concede the point. He gave acceptance grudgingly. He lived. Or, at the very least, he existed. That meant, even now, the chance of vengeance on his enemies remained within his grasp.
A gentle hand brushed the hair from his face. No, the boy's face, the boy he had been, because the creatures surrounding him were still intent on digging through the past.
"Must we?" Donovan asked.
"A mother's love could not save you," the voices said. "Love for the Goddess destroyed you."
"Destroyed me? No. Say rather, created me. Her greatest accomplishment had she the wits to see it."
"She turned from you. Shunned you."
Donovan sighed. "I am weary of your chatter. What is it you hope to achieve?"
"Your father is dead," that boy's mother told him in a voice shaking with loss and a touch of fear. Uncertainty, perhaps, for her future. For the boy's future.
"I know." The boy showed little emotion. A single tear to mark the passing of a man who had denied his son nothing, yet left him only material wealth and position. He shed the tear, not so much from grief, as from disappointment. He had deserved a father more befitting what he would become. He should have been born the son of the Emperor.
Would the Goddess have looked more kindly on him then? Would she have accepted him at her side? Looked on him as an equal instead of a fawning sycophant?
"You desire her still."
"Desire is a base and worthless emotion," Donovan said. "A weakness to be exploited by one's enemies."
"You desire power."
"I seek power."
"You desire her."
"Perhaps once. Now? I would sooner see her stretched across the veil, laid open to her enemies and devoured."
"As I would seek the same for you."
Donovan recognized this woman's voice instantly. He thought never to hear it again, though he felt no great surprise. It was likely no more than an illusion, just like his mother's voice. Another attempt at torment by his captors. It would not shock him to hear the crone's next.
A hand trailed across his chest and Donovan flinched. A moment later, the realization he once again had a body overrode all other thoughts. The elation of that discovery vanished with the first beat of his heart, because with the return of his physical form came touch, sensation, thirst, hunger, and pain. A great deal of pain.
Donovan clenched his teeth against the onslaught. Legs, unused to bearing weight, collapsed beneath him and he fell, shivering, arms wrapped tightly around himself. Torrent after torrent of agony drenched him in sweat, left his chest heaving, his throat raw from the screams that tore through him despite his best efforts at keeping them locked behind clenched teeth. It may have lasted only a moment, or perhaps an eternity, and it left him drained.
Light pierced his skull, and he squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for it to dull before peering out through barely parted lashes. From his vantage point, he could see only bare feet. He did not need to see more than that.
"Did you think to so easily escape me?" The priestess lowered herself, multi-colored skirts flaring out around her as she squatted and tipped her head down to look at him with violet eyes. She had not changed from the first time Donovan had laid eyes on her in the hovel in the swamp.
"You…are dead," he said through chattering teeth.
"No more dead than you," she said. "It appears, however, our positions have been reversed."
"This is…illusion."
"This" --she pinched the skin of his arm-- "is illusion. You are not. I am not. I" --she gripped his chin and forced his face around-- "am your nightmares."
Donovan laughed despite it all. "I do not have nightmares, Priestess."
Her lips curved into the expression of a wolf eyeing its prey. "You will now."
CHAPTER SEVEN
"You. Girl."
Ciara turned to glance over her shoulder, wondering what poor servant had the misfortune of being hailed in such an obviously disgusted tone. Jorny, her assigned guard for the day, made a small noise in his throat at the sight of the round, matronly woman, striding across the Great Hall directly toward them, accompanied by two guards wearing crisp, amber and black uniforms.
He leaned in and, for Ciara's ears only, said, "Lady Honval. Imperial Mage."
The woman drew to a stop three strides off, hands folded loosely over her ample stomach. Her dark eyes swept over Ciara from head to foot, and her nose wrinkled in distaste. The unmistakable brush of power accompanied her scrutiny. "You're her. Donovan's daughter." She snorted inelegantly. "Not much to look at, are you?"
Ciara raised a hand to self-consciously tuck a stray hair back into its customary single braid, feeling very plain beneath Lady Honval's continued inspection. The mage's gleaming, auburn hair sat atop her head in an elegant pile, and the richly embroidered gown she wore far surpassed the simple dress Ciara had chosen.
"It should be you in the dungeon awaiting execution," Lady Honval said. "Not Lord Reinhold."
"I'm sorry you feel that way," Ciara said.
"Truly? I suspect you are quite relieved to find yourself exculpated. Donovan would not have come here were it not for you. The general knew as much. He should never have brought you to Nisair."
Ciara's brow furrowed. By her recollection, Bolin would have agreed with that statement. "It was my understanding, my coming here was the Emperor's decision."
Lady Honval's lips pulled tight against her teeth. "He fawns beneath the pompous Lord General, blinded by misplaced adoration. That will soon be
remedied as well, have no doubt. I will see those responsible for Lord Arnok's death pay, no matter their station."
"We did all we could to stop Donovan."
"I believe you are too modest by far. To hear it told, you are possessed of power to rival even that of an Imperial Mage." Lady Honval leaned in, a curl to her mouth that belied the softness implied by her round features. "Care to give it a try?"
Sudden anger licked up like a tongue of flame growing from an ember. It burned through Ciara's veins, hungry for something to devour. Lady Honval's eyes widened, an eager light glittering in them. Not too long past, Ciara would have lost herself to the surge of power without thought to consequence. Whether due to Andrakaos's absence, or her own growing self-control, she tamped it down instead. When she drew in a deep breath to calm her racing pulse, it came tainted with the sweet, flowery scent of Lady Honval's perfume.
"I can't change what you think of me, or how you choose to see things," Ciara said, her voice remarkably steady. "I may have been the reason Donovan came to Nisair, but his actions were his own. It's taken me a while to understand that. Even longer to believe it. He's hurt a lot of people I care about, and deserves whatever punishment the Emperor sees fit."
"Whereas you deserve none at all?"
"Not for anything Donovan did." Ciara kept her gaze resolutely on the mage, even though the memory of the men she'd killed on the road begged to be brought to the fore. Their blood would remain forever on her hands, no matter how many people called her actions justified. "I am sorry you lost someone important to you, but you aren't the only one."
For the briefest moment, a touch of something other than contempt claimed Lady Honval's expression. "Danya Nialyne's death was senseless. Her loss will be felt by many." No sooner were the words out than the sneer returned. "Yours, on the other hand, would hardly be noticed. Step cautiously, Lady. Do not think being the Lord General's bed warmer entitles you to special treatment. A bird that grows too heavy to fly soon finds itself the fox's meal." She turned to Jorny. "Take her back where she belongs and keep her there until she is sent for. She should not be allowed to wander the grounds at her leisure."
"All due respect, Lady Honval," Jorny said evenly. "I take my orders from Commander Garek, and he's made no such stipulations. If you'd like, I can relay your concerns to him when I return to the barracks."
The stillness of a held breath settled over the Hall. Lady Honval's guards shifted and Ciara tensed but Jorny appeared unaffected.
"How dare you defy me," the woman said. "The Council of Mages is the ruling authority in this city in the Emperor's absence. I will not have my orders questioned by some self-important Guardsman."
"As you say, m'lady." Jorny touched Ciara's elbow and slanted a meaningful look toward the arched entryway.
"You should bear something in mind," Lady Honval said. "Lord Donovan is a traitor to the empire and, as such, has forfeited all rights and privileges. It is within the Emperor's power to extend that censure to any heirs. Should you find yourself bereft of General Bolin's sanctioning, your position here will not be what you have been led to believe it is."
The woman pushed past her, guards in tow, and Ciara could only stand and gape after her until Jorny purposefully cleared his throat.
"Are all the mages like her?" Ciara asked.
"Can't really say," Jorny replied. "I make it a point not to have many dealings with them."
"I'm not sure I want to have many more dealings with them myself."
On the bright side, it didn't appear Ciara needed to worry about being used by the Imperial Mages, as Donovan had claimed.
No, they don't want to use me, Ciara thought. They'd rather just execute me.
A cold finger of dread traced across her flesh. If the rest of the mages thought like Lady Honval, Ciara could just imagine how they would view her attempts at trying to find Donovan. They wouldn't understand that she only wanted to ease some of the worries weighing Bolin down, and ensure Donovan answered for his actions.
"I suppose we better go back," she said to Jorny.
The Guardsman gave a loose shrug. "You're free to go where you like, m'lady."
"But Lady Honval… "
"As I said, I don't take my orders from her."
"All the same, I'd rather not get you into trouble."
"Not my place to argue," Jorny said, and gestured Ciara on ahead of him.
But as they turned down the corridor leading to the tower stairs Ciara's steps faltered. The skin along her shoulders tingled painfully and her face flushed, sending beads of sweat trickling down her temples. Jorny caught her by the elbow as she groped blindly for something to steady herself. He said something, but Ciara couldn't make it out past the rapid, uneven slamming of her pulse. She reached for her earth magic and it answered sluggishly, crawling up through the depths as though under some immense weight. From somewhere far distant, at the very edge of her awareness, she felt Andrakaos's touch as his concern spiked.
Lady Honval's words echoed in her head, "…power to rival even that of an Imperial Mage. Care to give it a try?"
Ciara looked back toward the Hall. The corridor walls undulated like heavy cream, and her stomach rolled over. She swallowed the bile that rose in her throat, and tried again to draw on her earth magic. It resisted until she twined a bit of Andrakaos's power around it. Ciara felt it break free of whatever held it at the same instant an immensely strong ward snapped around her. She sucked in a sharp breath as her surroundings came back into crystal clear focus and the floor solidified beneath her feet.
"--all right? M'lady?"
Ciara blinked Jorny into focus. He stood facing her, one hand on her elbow, the other on her shoulder, his brow creased.
Ciara worked her tongue around a mouth gone dry. "I'm fine. I think."
Jorny's expression indicated his level of belief, but he dropped his hold on her just the same. "No disrespect, you look a bit pasty."
Ciara lifted a hand to the ward and it trembled beneath her touch but held firm. "Pasty or not, it looks like I'm stuck here for the moment." She pushed a bit harder and the power of the ward increased in equal measure.
"Ward?" Jorny asked.
Ciara nodded. "You can't see it?"
The guard shook his head. "I've no magic, and it's obviously not meant for me. What happened just now?"
"I don't know. I felt sick all of a sudden, and when I tried to use my earth magic…" She spread her hands to indicate the ward. "What do I do now?"
"City wards are under the Council's jurisdiction. The mages are alerted the moment they get set off. The only thing to do now is wait."
It didn't take long before the first hurried footsteps to reach them. Ciara turned to face the group of amber and black clad soldiers who positioned themselves across the hall as though to block any attempted escape. Jorny went to talk with one of them. When he returned, the corners of his mouth were twisted into a disgusted scowl.
"What did they say?" Ciara asked.
"They are not allowed to divulge any information," Jorny intoned, in such a way as to make it clear he'd expected no other response. He gave Ciara a loose shrug. "Council Guard answers only to the mages."
They waited in silence after that. Ciara paced the limited confines of the ward under the watchful eyes of the Council Guard, while Jorny stood slightly behind and to her left, hands resting loosely on his weapons.
Ciara had just about made up her mind she'd be stuck in the ward for the rest of the day, when the Council Guard parted to allow another small group past. No surprise Lady Honval walked sedately at the center of it. A sigh of relief escaped Ciara when she saw Thadeus in their midst as well. His pinched expression and the armload of scrolls he carried, however, gave Ciara the distinct impression the old mage was not at all pleased by the interruption.
"You see," Lady Honval said as they neared. "She is not to be trusted. Even the city wards find her presence intolerable."
Thadeus shifted the scrolls to free one arm,
then back-handed a wave to dispel the ward around Ciara as easily as brushing away a cobweb. "So, what is it you were attempting to do, child?"
"Nothing," Ciara said. "That is…I…"
"She went all pale and nearly fainted," Jorny said when Ciara faltered.
"It is against Imperial edict to summon unsanctioned power within Nisair," Lady Honval said around an ill-concealed sneer.
"I didn't actually summon it. My earth magic often rises of its own accord when I'm threatened."
"Oh?" The lady's brows arched. "Threatened, you say?"
"Well, I--"
Lady Honval gave a small snort. "It hardly matters. Simple earth magic does not set off the wards in such a manner. If that were the case, no true healer would be able to practice their trade within the city. It takes a much stronger power, one unsanctioned by the Council, to cause this."
"I didn't mean to--"
"Unsanctioned, and out of control." Lady Honval threw up her hands as though winning a victory. "You see, Thadeus? She is a danger. She ought to be imprisoned."
Jorny shifted his stance, and it sent a ripple of motion through the Council Guard.
"The Emperor made no such decree," Thadeus said. He resituated the scrolls in his arms, dropped one, snatched it irritably out of the hand of the soldier who retrieved it for him, and made a shooing gesture in the Council Guard's direction. "Sergeant, you and your men are dismissed."
"I must object," Lady Honval said as the soldiers dispersed.
"Duly noted," Thadeus said. He directed his attention to Ciara. "I suggest you retire to your apartments for the rest of the day, my dear. Get some rest. Eat something. If you are feeling ill, I suggest you send someone to the Healing House. Refrain from using any magic whatsoever until further notice. Relay the same to the Young One, if you would be so kind. We will talk further on this matter as soon as time allows."
He gave her a tight smile and turned to leave, but Lady Honval stopped him. "A breach of the wards is a punishable offense."
"If done with malicious intent. That is not the case here. It was simply a matter of" --he attempted a gesture and dropped several more scrolls. Jorny stepped forward and scooped them up, tucking them back in amidst the others. "Thank you, lad. Now, if there is nothing else?"
Edge of Darkness ~ A Darkness & Light Novel Book Three Page 4