Aerona had no sense of time when she opened her eyes. She pushed herself up to a knee, and agony shot through her bones. She endured it, peered around, but saw naught but darkness. She was suddenly struck by the memory of the crystalline gem; she groped for it, but it was gone.
Fool woman. If I am to find aught, I will need a torch.
A memory from the descent came forth: Ser Johnathan descended into this darkness with her, torch in hand.
He left it at the foot of the stair. If it still lies there, it shall give me the light that I need.
She groped along the dirt, crawling her way through the dark, looking for the way out.
The movements tormented her arms and legs. Every few minutes she had to stop, rest, and gently massage the aches and pains away; but she pushed forward, gripping the earth hard, wincing.
Her nails scratched against a hard, smooth surface. She stretched her right arm in front of her, and old wood pushed away.
Where is it? Where is that accursed torch? I should see it by now!
She saw naught but darkness in the chamber. Crawling through the opening, she moved on instinct alone; she felt naught but cold dirt beneath
her fingers.
She kept crawling on the ground, though her right hand stretched out to the cold stone wall. Groping along the way, she banged her knees against stone slabs. She extended her arms into the dark, and the cold stone seemed to rise.
The steps. Up.
Hours came and went, though it felt like eternity; the stairs seemed endless. Her body screamed out in pain. Resolved to live, she wanted to put matters aright.
We made a gambit Daniel. It must bear fruit. It must.
She pushed all other thoughts aside.
Up and up the stairs went. The dark was cruel and daunting. One misplaced step and Aerona knew her quest would end. Still she pushed on.
Up and up.
The dark became lonesome, oppressive, and she could not help but wonder, groping each step.
Who was the robed man? What did Rafael do? Is he truly dead? Where is the stone? Who still lives of my Brood? What of the Dalians—Elin, Geoffrey, Kevan, and Deborah? Why was Johnathan not there? What of Argath Diomedes? The Faceless Shadow?
She had no answers; it was naught but questions and confusion. Thoughts alone seemed to be enough until—
No more.
Aerona could not move. All the strength in her arms and legs were gone.
She felt so alone in the endless, oppressive dark. A warm wind scorched, and it felt like her skin was being torn away. Shadows seemed to coalesce, and it was the only thoughts in her mind.
The Faceless Shadow… Damian… we should have known… we should have heeded it. It is coming for us. It is coming for you.
She saw a light just ahead, faint, but cutting through the dark. It grew slowly, warm and enveloping. She turned to it, fearfully. The light seemed to take the shape of a man: worn and caring. He seemed to be arguing with another, though masked by shadows.
“This will be the ruin of us all,” a voice unseen said, deep and bellowing.
“Not all is fleeting. You do not dictate to me. I mete out the will of the First Son, not you.”
That second voice came from the man of light. It was warm, but there was a hardness.
“Will you silence me as you did Jophiel? Your power does not frighten me. I am not so blinded by love of pathetic animals as he is.”
“Much you do not know. Take him to Edren, and I will see to matters here.”
“He shall hear of this, Betrayer.”
Do they speak of me? Who are these men?
“Help me,” Aerona croaked weakly.
As I always have,” the man of light replied.
Her right hand groped for the man of light, and the realm became a blinding illumination.
“Help you? I do what I can, child, though I fear of what you spoke of in fevered dreams. I will not always be here to scare away the whisperers.”
I know that voice.
Aerona opened eyes heavy laden with sleep, and she found herself in a tall bed under thin white sheets. The chamber was round, the walls a dull grey, with a single tall window looking out to the south. There was a squat wooden dresser in the corner, a plain desk with feather and quill, and racks of swords and bows.
It is my tower but—
“How did I come here?” she asked.
“If you are ready to hear that story, I will tell you it. The healer does not think you ready yet, but you are a willful child. You will learn it no matter what any man would say. Best if you heard it from me.”
She followed the voice and saw an old man with a trimmed white beard, a soft face, and a sparse outcropping of hair on his head. He sat near her; a worn cane propped against a plain wooden chair. He was dressed in a thick brown coat and trousers. Though it seemed so long ago, she would not forget Gregory Tanev.
The only man who cared for me when my father went to the Deep Below.
“I am no child, not anymore,” Aerona said. “A fact you always seem to forget. Did you find me in—”
Even in Gregory’s presence, she could not bring herself to admit it. If her old friend learned too much, the overlord would question him, and she feared he would not survive that.
“Hrmm,” Gregory muttered, looking at her askance. “If I was but years younger, the feat may have been within my power, child. Alas, no, I have not left the islands in many years. I will die here, like as not, if your consort does not do it for me. Hnnn, that man is a matter for another time. How do you feel?”
“My left leg aches still, and I am stiff. I need to be about. Whatever hurts must wait. Affairs will not wait for me. I must have news. How much have I missed?”
“Ho-hum. Weeks, child. Weeks. When we are done here, and I am satisfied that you will not lose your wits, I will call the healer and see if you are fit to walk about. That should do for your stiffness, if naught else.”
Weeks. No. It may be too late for—no, I will not invite that to my old friend’s inquiries. He was not always kind, but he cares for me deeply. I cannot put him in danger, no matter what is at stake.
Aerona forced a smile towards the old man. “It would do much to know how I came to be here, and where I was found.”
“Yes of course,” Gregory said, shaking his head. “The beginning then. It is always prudent to start there.”
She sat up in bed and laid eyes upon her oldest friend. He fidgeted, as he was wont to do, and scratched his beard before speaking. “It started with that terrible light from the east. It was like a star come down from the heavens. We could all see it, and think of naught but its beauty. I felt quite young again, I will tell you. I wanted to put my bare feet on deck again and sail to that forsaken wasteland. Mayhap it really was a star, and some treasure would be upon the sands. But I am not as foolhardy as that, not anymore. Like as not it would be death o’er there, and that reward no treasure is worth.
“Anyhow, there was a commotion that followed it. The castle was in such a bustle that I was almost overrun. I heard all the talk in the commons: Lord Daniel Baccan, that bull in armour, he set the Crimson Swords in search of you, or any Brood that he could find. He did not find a soul, not on the islands anyhow, and that did not set well with the men. No, that man is not kind when he is met with failure. More like he faced the overlord’s wrath; a terrible sight it was.
“I was content to sit and listen, and not bestir much from it. What was I to do? You left in the dark of night, not trusting me with your purpose. I have since learned much of it, and feel less slighted. Though I since paid a price for my curiosity. Some informer seemed to think I knew something of you, and I was brought to Overlord Damian Dannars; you know what he is like.
“’Where is the Harpy,’ he says from atop his ghastly chair—the one with those two stone lions on the sides. ‘Tell me where she has gone and I will be kind, to you and her. I will forget your whispers in the dark corners of my castle. I care for her, you kn
ow I do. Speak for that, if naught else.’
“’I know not, Overlord,’ I told him, very obediently, mind. I know who he is, and what he can do. ‘Did she not leave a message?’
“’You know she did not!’ the overlord screamed, rising from his gilded seat. ‘Is my kindness so lost on you? You would have been dead seven times over if not for my kindness, old man. Think I forgot that? I will know what she told you, you besotten fool. She trusts you. Why, I know not. But I know she told you!’
“Witnessing his wrath is terrible, as you well know. I steeled myself against all his threats and insults. He went on and on, telling me of all the limbs I would lose, the skin that would be flayed. Of course, this was after I continued to profess my ignorance. I heard worse when I was young. That man is a pup, I have always said it. He would dare not say such things to me when I was in my prime. No, he would not.
“When it became clear that I must say aught to silence his wretched tongue, I thought briefly and gave advice as I would any captain on the great sea: ‘Sail your ships to the east, and when you learn aught of use, it is I that will forget what transgressed here.’ He turned and shouted, ‘The whore! That is where she is.’ Pardons, child, but it is what he said. ‘I know not,’ I said, ‘But your concern should be there.’
“It was no more than two weeks when ships returned from the east. I was near port that day, and them Crimson Swords came out, bearing you in a litter. Since that day, you have slept. The overlord has been here, threatening and demanding the healers to rouse you. One tried. I would like to say that I was enough to deter him, though we had made such a racket that the self-styled Corsair—what a pompous buffoon Lord Daniel Baccan thinks he is—but he spoke some quiet words that quelled the wrath of the overlord. When he left, that young upstart told me to call at my pleasure should the madness strike again. That was his word, mind, I do not wish to form an opinion on such a thing. I had stepped in enough dung as it is.”
One question came quickly to her mind. “Who lead the excursion east, Gregory? It was not Damian, was it?”
“No, not him. Not for lack of want. He knows better than that. It was the self-same man who calmed that raging storm. Ho-hum, the Corsair has risen far too high in my mind. Nearly as dangerous as the overlord. I have not seen him since he spoke to our tyrant, and that was some two weeks ago, by my measure. I mean to find out why. Well, now that you’re on the mend, child.”
The revelation pleased her. It meant that the arrangement with the Corsair had endured, or at the very least, he had tried to cover it up.
The more we can hide from Damian…
“Do not overreach, dear friend,” Aerona said suddenly, aware that Gregory was looking at her studiously. “I have lost much. I would not lose you.”
He smiled. “These old bones will meet their end, but not at that man’s hand, not yet anyway.”
There was a silence, and she sat with eyes closed. Much was revealed, and little that gave her solace. She hoped that the man of light was real, and not just a delusion. If he was, none would have known where she went.
Sadly, that cam no longer be claimed, not anymore. The hard truth is that Damian knows too much.
“Then he knows I sailed to Isilia, without his leave,” Aerona said resignedly.
Gregory looked at her blankly. “The Corsair likely said as much. What took place o’er there, Aerona? What caused that light?”
“I do not rightly know,” she professed. “I went there for a purpose, a truth that you would be much better off not knowing. I would not have you defend yourself. That is all I can recall my friend, truly.”
“Hnnn,” the old man muttered, standing up. “I do not wish to know your purpose, even if you would tell me. Less that I know, the less I would reveal. I shall see to the healer on your account. You will rise before long, consent or not.
“Ah but first—”
Gregory walked some slow paces to the far corner of the room, stooped over, and unlocked a long wooden chest banded in iron. He retrieved a scabbarded long sword covered in a sable cloth. The old man let the cloth drop, and took the blade out. The weapon was long, thin, and slightly curved.
My steel.
“I recall this weapon,” Gregory said. “It is as sharp as the day I gave it to you. An improbable weapon for your hands, but that did not deter you. Naught ever did.”
Gregory slammed the blade back into its scabbard, and tossed it to the bedside. Aerona caught it with her right hand.
“You are stronger than I thought. Do not lose it next time. You must always defend yourself,” Gregory said flatly, turning for the door.
“A moment,” Aerona declared, just before he could step out. “I am grateful.”
“Then remember aught, child. I do not want to stand vigil o’er your grave next.”
As the old man left, she slouched against the pillows, thinking on what to do. Time passed without hope or answer.
Though she knew the sea of storms awaited.
Chapter Two
Upon the Winds
Daniel was not accustomed to waiting.
The sun was starting to set when he neared the shore. He lurked in the shadows from the eastern docks, and watched the weary feet of dock workers pound against the wood. The men were shirtless, slicked with sweat, and wore frayed pants that cut off at their knees. There were captains aboard great trade ships and small merchant vessels. They all shouted and bellowed orders, some dressed up like peacocks, others with garb indistinguishable from their sailors who wore little enough.
he watched them all sternly. He did not want to be here; it was above his station to be a mere errand boy.
Yet Overlord Damian Dannars commanded it.
“Go, discover what you can,” Daniel said to the swords who accompanied him. “I will know if they are to arrive today.”
Four of his men garbed shoulder to toe in studded leather bounded towards the ends of the docks, and one to the tall lighthouse, away atop a sharp hill to the north.
Ever since the Harpy stirred from her bed a week ago, it was one menial task after another. It began with the arrival of a hooded man during the black hours of a stormy night. The stranger gave no name—not to servants or lowly swordsmen—but Daniel was there when the overlord granted an audience. The man named himself Shadow; and speaking in deep guttural tones, he said, “Guests will come soon, sailing from the east. Entreat them, and bring them to me.”
“Any man lands on my shores—I will see first,” the overlord had declared. “You will see them after I have, not before. I give you guest right, but you are not sovereign here. Do not think yourself as such.”
“Do not forget the pact that was made, Overlord. The lands churn to a will not your own, and no other. Think yourself a king, and be reminded that you are a pawn. A man who takes a step only when commanded.”
“See him to one of the towers, Corsair. I tire of this.”
The cloaked man had stared at Daniel intensely. Ne’er before had he ever felt such a piercing glare: it was if the man probed every thought and memory.
Naked and exposed.
Daniel was convinced the overlord and this Shadow knew each other. They had to. None had ever made Damian so subservient. There was much that the overlord had shared with Daniel over the years, yet the truth of this was not among them. It grated him, and he pressed for more the next morning. His only reward were threats, insults, and no clarity.
So Daniel obeyed, for now.
The crowds parted at the long dock to the left. The first of his men returned, and with no news. Daniel muttered a curse, and signalled the man to the shadows. Word from the other docks was no different. No man or woman, captain or servant, trader or deckhand had seen or heard of a ship from the east. Death was all they said was there, and all that there ever would be.
Daniel knew of a death he wanted to inflict.
Then the man from the lighthouse returned.
“An Isilian vessel not far off. Squat and small. It makes
for the central dock.”
Daniel offered the slightest of smiles and revealed himself to the remnants of the labourers. As he marched down the central dock, dock workers dropped their burdens, the captains went silent, and the deckhands averted their eyes.
At the end of the dock was a tall man in a loose fitting white shirt and baggy pants, and a grey bandana was wrapped around his forehead. He stood straight, and looked Daniel in the eye.
“See to your task,” Daniel barked. “My quarrel is not with you.”
The man nodded, turned, and looked out to sea. His knees rattled, and he muttered inaudibly. Daniel looked ahead to see what he could make out. His eyes spotted a small trading cog, slowly making way to the dock. As it came closer, the mark of the Mountain was visible upon the hull, though the sails were a simple grey with no pattern or design.
As it neared, figures moved about the deck: a lithe man in a white overcoat; another man of equal height in blues and browns; and a blonde-haired sentinel in black plate mail.
“These are guests of the overlord,” Daniel announced. “Bring them in.”
Whence the vessel neared, a thick rope was thrown and tied to the dock, and a long wooden plank was dropped down. He waited upon the edge of the dock, and stared towards the deck of the ship.
It did not take long for the three figures to emerge. The man in the overcoat was the captain, fat and balding. The second man was unknown, and the sentinel was a woman. “Stay upon your vessel captain,” Daniel shouted up. “These two I take from your custody.”
“As you command,” the fat captain stammered, wiping his brow with a dirty cloth.
The man in blue and brown and the sentinel descended the plank, and Daniel studied them. The man bore no callouses on his hands, his muscles were flat, and his was face round.
Whoever this shite is, he never wielded a sword or bow in his life. Nor did he labour. A bloody man of the mind.
Darkness Rising (Ancient Vestiges Book 1) Page 27