Edge of Darkness ~ A Darkness & Light Novel Book Three

by K. L. Schwengel

The thick fog of the ethereal enveloped Ciara, and she fought against a momentary surge of panic. As a healer, she often ventured into the soft, grey world of the veil. The ethereal existed beyond that. Or perhaps around it. Andrakaos once told her all the magic that existed could be found in the ethereal, and he went there frequently. Ciara rarely ventured that deep. Donovan had been the first to take her there, to show her the place Andrakaos existed. It was the first time she had seen the true form of her power. Back then, it had terrified her. Andrakaos was fond of telling Ciara she could do whatever he could. She hoped he was right.

  Ghostly, elusive shapes drifted past Ciara, some no more than a darker shade of grey and some lighter. She kept her concentration on Andrakaos so keenly, that she had to fight back a surge of nausea when Nisair abruptly spread out beneath her. Right behind the nausea, came a dizzying sense of disorientation strong enough to threaten her focus. Ciara squeezed her eyes shut, aware of Andrakaos all around her and, outside of him, the shimmering glow of a strong ward.

  Impressive, Andrakaos said.

  "I think I would have liked it better if you had come to me." Ciara peered through barely parted lashes to take another look at the world as Andrakaos saw it from the spire of the north tower.

  I would need to go against the Ancient One. He and the lady have bidden me to remain, and so I humor them. For now.

  "How is it I could come to you then?"

  You are not bound by wards, he said, as though the answer should have been obvious.

  "But you came to me in Barrowdowns."

  Yes.

  Ciara waited a moment for him to expound but he said nothing further. She glanced down at the guards on the wall again and immediately regretted it as bile rose up in her throat. The sky proved far safer to look at, so she shifted her gaze to the brilliant blue of early fall. "I need you to help me find Donovan."

  I cannot do so from within their hold.

  "Can you at least tell me how to find him, then?"

  Andrakaos pondered that a moment. How did you find me?

  This time it was Ciara's turn to sound as though Andrakaos should have known the answer. "We're connected."

  As he is to us. Be still. Feel. Listen. Bend your thoughts to him and all he is.

  "You make it sound easy."

  It will become so. He yawned and curled tighter around the spire. You must not linger here. The Ancient One will know of it. The others will try to entrap you.

  "Be still, feel, and listen," Ciara repeated. "Sounds easy enough."

  I will come when I am free.

  "You seem awfully content all of a sudden."

  A wicked grin curled Andrakaos's lips back from his teeth. I bide my time. I will not remain much longer.

  "What are you going to do?"

  They cannot hold me against my will.

  "Don't do anything foolish," Ciara said, worried he might do just that. "We're one, remember? I can't be without you. Besides, it will just get us into more trouble than we already are."

  I will bide. Go.

  Ciara hesitated, but a subtle increase in the intensity of the ward surrounding Andrakaos convinced her to do as he said. She drew back until nothing but a faint sense of him remained, then turned her thoughts toward Donovan. She pictured not only his physical form, but everything that made up who he was, every feeling she associated with him, every memory, every interaction. She held all of it foremost in her mind, opened herself to the currents swirling about her, and waited.

  Time didn't pass in the ethereal as it did in the real world. Ciara could have sat there for a handful of moments, or entire days. She had no way of knowing. Every now and again, something tickled at the edges of her awareness, disappearing as soon as she turned toward it. After the fifth or sixth time, she gave up trying to glimpse it. A steady throb behind her eyes made concentration difficult, and she hadn't gotten even the faintest sense of Donovan.

  "What have we here?" The woman's voice came from no place and every place, and Ciara jumped. "How is it you are wandering about unattended, child? Are you held in so little affection as to be tossed recklessly aside?"

  A presence wafted closer, wrapping about her like a smudge of black smoke. Ciara shuddered and the tether between her and Andrakaos trembled in response. Curiosity brushed over her, though Ciara couldn't say for certain where it emanated from. Something about the phantom woman seemed familiar, yet when Ciara tried to look closer, she found herself blocked.

  "Have we met?" Ciara asked.

  Laughter, light and airy, spun around her. "I have met every power that has ever existed, some yet to be, and some that are no longer. Which are you, I wonder."

  Coldness and terror seeped through Ciara. She tried to push the presence away and, for a panicked moment, feared she would be lost to it. A rumbled growl flowed down her contact to Andrakaos, bringing a surge of strength. Ciara shoved again at the haze of darkness. It wavered then snugged even closer. She redoubled her efforts, her breath catching in her throat.

  "I think we have met," the woman said. Her interest spiked, and the hold on Ciara tightened. "I know you."

  Something large and grey darted past Ciara, and tore through the cloud. The woman's focus shifted, giving Ciara a moment in which to give a final thrust, a cry rising from her throat as she catapulted backwards, and the air bursting from her lungs as she landed flat on her back.

  Something wet slapped across her cheek. Ciara blinked at the bristly, grey shape hovering so close to her face, her eyes crossed. Hot breath puffed across her skin, and the tongue came out again, dribbling slobber as it washed her chin to forehead.

  "Get back, Cana." The hound's head vanished, replaced by Ferris's face, his expression a near match for the sky behind him, which had grown dark in a blend of heavy cloud and nightfall. "Are you all right?"

  Ciara nodded and Ferris reached down to link forearms with her and draw her up. Before she could do more than steady herself and wipe the grass from her backside, he demanded more than asked, "What did you think you were doing? Anyone could have come upon you just now, if not for Cana standing guard."

  Ciara sucked in a startled breath, opened her mouth, closed it on the first reply that came to mind and tried again, "I--"

  "Did you give any thought to your safety whatsoever?"

  Ciara gaped at him. When she started to stammer an explanation of sorts, he shook his head and spun away from her. He moved off several paces and stood looking up at the darkening sky with his fists clenched at his sides, his spine rigid, and his shoulders rising and falling in rapid breaths. The hound sidled up to Ciara and wedged his muzzle under her hand, nudging her until she reached absently to rub behind his ears. He gusted out a contented sigh, and settled onto one hip, leaning against Ciara's leg.

  When Ferris turned back to her, his face wore a tight, and carefully composed, mask. "Apologies, m'lady. Quite frankly, you terrified me, just now." He wet his lips and glanced away, and the façade suddenly shattered. "No. No apologies. This was carelessly done. Had you told me of your plans, I could have stood guard, perhaps aided you. Better still, we would have stayed safely within the shelter of High House. To come up here" -- he flung an arm out-- "in the open, to allow yourself to become so unaware of your physical surroundings you didn't even hear my call. Were you taught no better?"

  "As a matter of fact, no," Ciara said. She gave an apologetic shrug and slanted a gaze toward the hound. "I thought he was protecting me."

  "Did I not ask you to tell me if you were going to attempt something?" Ferris pulled in a long breath, nostrils flaring. "We should get back."

  "Ferris, I--"

  "M'lady." He closed his eyes briefly and brought his hands up in a placating gesture that Ciara couldn't be sure wasn't more to soothe himself than her. "We really do need to get back. You've thrown a bit of power around and we're not so far from Barrowdowns that it will have gone totally unnoticed."

  "I'm pretty sure it didn't," Ciara said, glancing about. The woman must have
been a nightshade, though she felt different. She recalled Ferris saying other things dwelled in Barrowdowns as well, but she didn't dare ask him in his current mood.

  Unfortunately, her muttered comment caught his ears. "Meaning?"

  "Did you…do anything when you came up here?"

  "In what way?"

  "There was something else when I was in the ethereal. It tried to keep me from leaving but something distracted it."

  "Not I," Ferris said and dipped his head to indicate the hound. "It may have been Cana."

  Ciara gave the Sciath a skeptical look. "I didn't know dogs could do things like that."

  "Special ones can. Cana and his kind were bred to guard mages and the Imperial House, though they haven't been used by either of those in centuries. He and his mate are two of only a handful that I know of."

  She looked down at the grizzled head beside her with renewed interest, as well as a sneaking suspicion. "Did you tell him to watch me?"

  But Ferris shook his head. "Like as not, he made that choice on his own. Now, I really must insist we head back, m'lady. Before full night."

  Ciara nodded. She gave one last look over her shoulder as they started down the slope toward the orchard. It seemed, for just a moment, someone stood on the crest of the rise, watching them. She was going to say something, but, when she looked again, the figure was gone.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  "If this weather holds, we should catch up with the Emperor before they reach the Greensward," Sully said.

  They had stopped to water the horses and grab a bite to eat after the second grueling day since leaving Broadhead. Berk groaned as he climbed out of the saddle and wedged his hands on his hips, stretching to ease an ache in his back.

  "Messengers must be made of sterner stuff than I am," he said, turning a glare Sully's way when he chuckled. "Tell me you're not just as sore."

  "I'm older than you," Sully said, flipping his leg over his horse's neck and dropping to the ground far more agilely than Berk had managed. "I'm allowed to be sore."

  "Then why aren't you?"

  Sully gave a shrug and led his horse down the bank to the creek. "Might have something to do with getting a full night's sleep."

  "I have been."

  Sully threw him a raised brow look over one shoulder. "Right. My mistake."

  Berk had hoped Sully wouldn't notice. He should have known better. Very little escaped the lieutenant's attention. The woman hadn't visited Berk again since Broadhead, but even exhaustion couldn't seem to keep the dreams from tormenting him. They were a convoluted mess of memories, with a fine sprinkling of terror tossed into the mix. They lingered even after Berk woke, though he did his best to ignore them during the full light of day. Unfortunately, the pace they set didn't lend itself to idle conversation, which left him alone with his thoughts far too often.

  His horse slurped noisily and Berk dropped to his knees beside it to scoop up a handful of cool water and douse his face and the back of his neck. He shook the water off his hands as he sat back on his heels and gazed across the burbling stream to the far bank.

  "It's not like I can control my dreams," he said, giving Sully a sidelong look. "You think I'm enjoying this?"

  "No, but I don't know that you're actively trying to stop it, either."

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "You're dwelling on it to the point of obsession. Even when we're talking about something else, I can see it skulking behind your eyes." Sully spread his hands to the sides. "I can't do anything for you, Berk. Can't make you see past it, can't stop the nightmares. We all have them, you know? You're no different than any other man. Maybe that's all you need to realize."

  "I never claimed to be any different."

  "I never said you did." He came and sat beside Berk, reclining back on his elbows, idly plucking at the thick blades of grass. "How 'bout I give you something else to occupy your mind?"

  "Such as?"

  "Garek wants to shuffle things around a bit. He's planning on promoting me to captain so he can sit back and cool his heels. Claims he's getting to be too old a horse to keep up with everything. I told him I'd consider it, if I got to pick my lieutenant." He gave Berk a pointed look.

  "Me?"

  "Who else?"

  "Sul, I…what does the commander think of that?"

  "He trusts my judgment on the matter. All you have to do is agree."

  Berk shook his head. A handful of months earlier, he would have jumped at the chance without a second thought. Now? "I don't know if I’m the best man for the job."

  Sully ran his tongue across his teeth. "I do. Maybe you don't trust my judgement."

  "You know I do."

  "Look, you can't see it right now, but you'll get through this and come out the other side. When you do, you'll realize I was right all along." Sully stood, arching his back and twisting to work out a kink. "Take some time and think it over. I don't need your answer until we're back in Nisair."

  Berk turned to tell him he felt pretty certain of his answer, but Sully tensed in the middle of his stretch, head cocked, eyes soft. Berk recognized the look. He'd heard something out of place. It lasted a heartbeat, and then Sully straightened, hands dropping to his weapons in a gesture that, any other time, might have appeared casual. The glance he slid Berk's way came laced with caution. He tapped three fingers against the grip of the knife on his right hip, rolling his neck in the same direction.

  Berk stood, trying to appear just as relaxed, even though every nerve flared to attention at Sully's covert warning. He allowed his eyes to sweep the far bank as he gathered his horse's reins.

  A twig snapped and Sully's sword cleared its scabbard in time to meet the charge of a man who burst through the underbrush behind them. Their element of surprise lost, the three from across the stream rushed forward, roaring marauder battle cries as they came.

  Berk kept hold of the reins and jabbed his horse in the ribs. The bay spun away from him. Its haunches slammed into the first man sloshing through the knee-deep water and sent him sprawling. Before the other two reached the bank, Berk had his sword in one hand, dagger in the other. He crossed them above his head to catch the overhand blow aimed at his skull, shoved back, and brought his foot up and into the guts of his attacker. The man doubled over and staggered into his companion, who merely shoved him aside and came at Berk with a roar, his face split in a feral snarl.

  Steel clashed behind them, and a sharp cry preceded the thud of a body hitting the ground. Berk couldn't spare even a glance, because the man facing him pressed forward behind a flurry of strikes. The two, single-edged, curved blades he wielded, crossed and spun in a barrage of heavy-handed blows that drove Berk backwards by sheer ferocity alone. He caught each one, either diverting it or twisting it to the side, but the force and speed behind them was meant to wear him down. He needed to find an opening before that happened.

  Instead, his heel found the body on the ground just as the marauder brought both blades whipping in from opposite directions. One of them skittered along Berk's sword, but the other caught him across the ribs as his left arm flailed up in an effort to keep his balance. Had Berk been wearing anything other than mail, he would have been gutted. Instead, the sword sliced through his tabard, slammed against the metal links beneath it, and completed what the corpse had started. He pivoted as he fell, landed on his stomach and immediately rolled, whipping his sword up as he did so.

  The marauder tried to stop his rush and failed. He caught Berk's blade full in the stomach. The impact jarred Berk's arm all the way to his shoulder, and forced his elbow into the ground. It connected with something hard, and Berk gritted his teeth against the pained tingles that flared up to his fingertips, threatening his grip. The marauder's face twisted in an agonized snarl, his own weight and momentum driving Berk's blade deeper. He stabbed downward, barely missing Berk's face before collapsing on top of him, trapping Berk's sword between them. Fingers clawed at Berk's neck as the man tried desperately to
work past the mail cowl and dig into his throat. His own fingers found the grip of a knife on his attacker's belt. He yanked it free, thrust it up under the man's arm, and then again, until the marauder's eyes widened, blood speckling his lips as he tried to form a curse.

  Berk bucked upwards, grunting as he struggled to get the man off him. He scrambled to his feet, looking for Sully, and found him backed to a tree by two men, one of them dripping wet. Blood traced a line down the side of the lieutenant's face, and the way he tried to keep himself turned at an angle to the tree spoke of other injuries.

  The heavy end of a mace took a chunk out of the tree where Sully's head had been a moment before, spraying bark as it bit deep. The lieutenant came up inside the wielder's guard and barreled forward to shove the man off balance, but his left leg buckled and the move turned into a clumsy tackle instead. The other marauder saw Berk coming and stepped out to meet him, sword raised. Berk never slowed. His blade screeched along the marauder's until their guards locked. With a downward twist of his wrist, Berk forced the man's blade aside. A quick half-step back jerked the other man forward enough for Berk to trap his wrist. He landed a solid punch with his left fist and spun, keeping the man's arm locked beneath his. Bone cracked and the marauder let out a roar that ended abruptly in a gurgle of blood when Berk drove his dagger through the man's back.

  A soft curse drew his attention in the ensuing silence. Berk spared a look around to make sure there weren't any other marauders unaccounted for before rushing to Sully's side. The lieutenant knelt with one hand on the ground, the other braced on a rock as he tried to get to his feet. He let out a sharp hiss when Berk took his arm and helped him up, hopping awkwardly until he got his balance.

  "Damn mace," Sully muttered under his breath as Berk steadied him. "Caught me in the thigh."

  "Anything broken?"

  "Just bruised, I think." Sully backhanded blood out of his eyes and blinked at it in disgust. "Don't know how I got that. How'd you fare?"

  "Better than you by the looks of it."

  Sully twisted his head to scan the area, and Berk caught his elbow just in time to keep him from landing back on the ground.