None of that matters.
Every so often the Adreyu had sent men to appraise the pillars on the ground floors, and kept a strict watch on the upper reaches.
Whatever secrets Damian closely guarded, I will not let him bring it down upon our heads.
Counsel Stephen Francis begun wringing his hands and pacing inside a little box he made for himself. Adreyu studied the father. The further the priest fidgeted, the more his round face became slick with sweat.
There is some tryst you know—or fear. You cannot hide aught from me. “Afraid of what they will find?”
The priest dropped his hands, and balled them into fists at his side. “Mother God has abandoned this city.”
The pious façade grated Adreyu. “Such you have known for years. If the God Stone is not here, it will not be the blade of my men that you shall face.” The priest’s eyes enlarged, and Adreyu emphatically tapped the scabbard on his left hip. “The name I earned is what I carry.”
“I do not fear death. I have seen it. Have you?”
A scout in dark green leather let out a yelp, pushing away, half mad in terror. “Th-th-the i-it—no no no no out of my head out of my head!” Nearly every man drew steel, backing away from the raving scout. “No, no, away from me, away from—”
All that came from his mouth was blood as an arrow protruded from his throat. The shot came from another of the scouts across the room. Fear, dread, and terror ruled his face. Some of it faded when Adreyu gave an approving nod. “Leave the body. Out, all of you.”
They scuttled out, all save the priest, whose agitation grew with the terror, though his eyes never went to the dead man. Adreyu spied a low glow beneath the mortar. “The God Stone.”
“Calamity,” the priest said breathlessly. “Destroyer. Harbinger. Death.”
Adreyu only heard the crunch of pebbles beneath his boots as he took one unsteady step after another. He could not focus his mind. It was there, glowing, iridescent; an object of great destruction and devastation—the means to render the steel of men useless. It was not the power of the stone that compelled him forward: only the desire not to see his home turned to rubble.
That is what father never understood.
A voice stopped his feet: thin, stretched, indiscernible. Looking down, he saw a bright maroon glow within a crystal no larger than a small stone. He cleared a thin layer of rubble, and on the face of the crystal, writ in the blackest ink, was a symbol or letter that he had never seen before, but he mouthed, “Subversion.”
“The poison of men,” the priest said as if in reply, though faint and muffled.
Subversion, the voice whispered to Adreyu as his gauntleted hand grasped the crystal that spawned visages in front of his eyes: an obliterating light that destroyed everything in its path, a strangely familiar man running through hapless defenders with a sword so black it looked to be wrought from obsidian, three cloaked men laughing and roiling with rage, and his own bloodied hands against a greater darkness with weeping eyes at its crown. “What is this… this…”
The priest called out, but his voice could not penetrate the louder chorus that rattled inside Adreyu’s mind: Keeper, heir to a legacy once shattered by lesser sires. Come, embrace us. Ascension is near. He will have need of you. Subvert.
The realm was lost in blackness. Dreams came and went, but Adreyu could not recall them: only the faintest traces of remembrance remained. Though a voice penetrated the gloom, like a cursed daemon of death and destruction.
The rough touch of a hand roused Adreyu from the haze, though he shrugged it away. It was the accursed priest. “Liar. Craven.”
“The God Stone,” Counsel Stephen pleaded, ignoring the accusation. “Do you still have It?”
Spherule of Subversion. It was in a pouch on his waist. Adreyu could feel its presence, not the weight of it, but the voice in his head.
As long as that voice is there, the stone is safe. That is what matters. “You lied to me, priest!”
The priest recoiled, pushing his hands out. Adreyu thought the man a fool. “It is not alone. You lied.”
“That is the God Stone—do you not feel its godless power, Prince Adreyu?”
Adreyu snorted. “I do not need power to see that you are like the godless men that you so despised. Depravity has taken you. All of you.”
“Prince Adreyu—”
“Sers Alarn and Kelvig, get in here, now!”
“My prince,” the two tall knights announced as they ran down the hall from the courtyard.
“Our friends have much that they will answer for. Our work is done. See that the liar in white is returned to the Blood of the Lion, and that all the Faithsworn are kept under watch. We return to Dalia.”
“The Voice, she will—” the priest plead.
“Lutessa will answer for much,” Adreyu interrupted. “Now go!”
The priest left under his own power, uttering no further word of protest. Adreyu vowed to keep him as far apart from his monarch; he needed to learn what they were withholding.
For as certain as the sun rising, he knew there were many more God Stones. He heard the voices of all the keepers in his head.
And the facetious voice of the high priestess was among them.
Chapter Two
The Last Retreat
Aerona sighed and listened to the sounds upon the water.
Splish-splash. Splish-splash.
The peaceful, serene sound gave her hope that she was moving forward.
Splish-splash.
The oars came in and out of the water on another hot, windless afternoon. It would be her turn to row on the morrow. She was sore and tired, though she wished it was today. She thought it would make things easier; help her forget the nightmares that kept coming back.
Just as it did now with her hand on the rudder.
Blood. There is so much blood.
The blacks she wore had turned to crimson. That was his colour. Crimson. Damian did not speak, even if his mouth was open. She cradled his head in her arms, and wanted him to speak. Crimson. How long have you wanted me to wear those colours? I wear them now. The deepest, darkest crimson you could give anyone. Does that make you happy? Damian…
There were shouts and cries, shuffling and madness. Naught mattered but Damian: the man she once loved, the man she wanted to love again, the man she wanted dead.
This is wrong, all wrong. It is so cruelly unfair.
“Get up.”
The words were hoarse and cruel. She felt a certain fear, and a tremble in her bones. When she looked up there was a hooded face, and two eyes of a deep-set crimson, as if they wept blood.
The Faceless Shadow.
“Get up.”
She looked aside, knowing the words were never meant for her. Sebastien lay broken, bones shattered, weak and limp.
Why do I feel like those words were for me?
“Get up, Aerona!”
She opened her eyes and looked up at Lord Daniel Baccan. The man stood tall and imposing, a scowl across his hardened face. She realized the boat was not moving, and the eyes of Ashleigh and Jaremy were on her.
We have run adrift in the shallows… “Take it. The nightmares.”
Aerona moved a quarter of the way up the boat, and sat lazily against the port side. The waters flowed past her again, and she stared listlessly into the depths.
Splish-splash. Splish-splash.
“Where is this refuge?” Ashleigh Coburn asked after a time. “We cannot hold out much longer.”
“Not far. The worst of it is behind us,” Daniel replied.
“Those Trechtians do not know the sea as well as they think,” Jaremy Dahk put in, smiling broadly. “A little trust, if you will.”
“Trust?” Ashleigh bristled. “We were supposed to return to Dale—now we are further away than ever.”
“We would have been dead if we heeded that prophet.” Daniel spat the word out as if he chewed it and disliked the taste. “Alive we can do much, but not even you ca
n do aught while dead.”
“You saw him, what he did to you, to me, to Aerona. No one could have stopped what unfolded. I would have taken my chances against the Dalian. The Trechtians be cursed.”
“Your chance will come soon enough,” Daniel insisted. “‘Til then, be grateful that you are still alive.”
Aerona sighed. It took two days to be clear enough of the enemy fleet, and the old animosities returned. For the next five days, all her companions seemed to exchange was venom. Sometimes they put their guard down— almost talking peaceably—though that never lasted.
And I am so lost.
“A wind!” Jaremy exclaimed.
Aerona felt the soft breeze against her skin, billowing her long hair across her face.
“Oars in!” Daniel boomed. Ashleigh pulled the rope dangling from their single, squat mast, and the black smuggling sail unfurled.
Aerona felt little joy in the wind. Much as she tried, there was no sound in the realm like splish-splash. She ate what little remained of her rations, and, as sleep came, she resolved to the nightmares that were to come.
And like clockwork, they came.
She found herself in a circular stone chamber. Twelve balconies ringed the walls no more than ten feet off the ground, and stained glass rose behind it: each a different colour and design. No one stood upon them. To the north was a tall but simple throne. Stone, much like the walls, though it was too dark to be sure. The dark seemed to pour down from above, endless.
“You claimed your birthright. Vindication hangs at your side, and it does not. An unworthy heir to the throne of stone and sky.”
“Who are you?!” Aerona knew exactly who it was, even if she could not put a name to them. The voice chilled her once before. It did so again.
“The twelve borne from the Seed of Life.” As if by command twelve old men with long white hair and stern faces leaned on the rail of each balcony. They were the same, and yet not; they spoke with the same voice, but each with their own intentions. “We came too soon once, but now we cannot. The Great Fate is fast approaching.” The voice came from the east, the man in green robes.
“I lost—”
“You fell before you lost. The boy overwhelmed you. Why?”
She did not know. Sebastien had Damian near death before she chased the healer off. She pursued him across the flatlands, forests, and rivers. The Dalian was always one step ahead; close, but so far away. Darelle and his men gave their lives in the ruins of Lakarn. Not by Sebastien’s hand—he was weak and warded. Lord Aleksander. Dark Brotherhood. A man she cast down, but took her own strength in return.
“The deaths upon my conscience—”
“Deaths? What is this Darelle against your Brood? Claire? Jessica? Dominique? Lara? Did they weaken the Harpy?”
In ways I could not tell you. “I could not protect them. Any of them.”
“Yet you did not lose your strength.”
The old man in brown robes appeared in front of the throne. The edge of a long blade tipped above his right shoulder and behind his left leg. He wore chain gauntlets, not cloth, and the clink as he walked belied the armour underneath. Aerona flexed her fingers instinctively, whilst the stranger stared intently.
“You must be rekindled,” he said. “If you want it, it can be freely given, if willingly taken.”
She felt the need to raise her guard. “I am not your weapon to wield.”
“If you were, none would have fallen. It would have ended in that mountain. There was a fire in you that could not be quenched. Nor did I have the freedom to act. These matters are not true any longer, are they?”
The words were said so coldly, so matter-of-factly, it made her numb. “I heeded you before, and lost all I ever had!”
“Then you have forgotten who you are, Harpy.”
“You will—,” she went for her scabbarded sword but could not. There was a thick mesh, like webbed fingers, that kept her arm upon her side. “What did you do to me?”
“Naught that you did not inflict upon yourself.”
She was wordless, incredulous, and angry.
“You truly are not ready for stone and sky,” he said, turning away from her.
“Stone and sky? What is stone and sky?”
No answer came.
“What is stone and sky?!”
“The earth, maybe? It has both.”
“Jaremy?” Aerona rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. “I—was I talking in my sleep?”
“Hmm.” The look he gave her was quizzical. “No, I do not think so. It has been quiet. Some birds by the little rock out there, to the east, you see?” He pointed to some barren rock at the edge of sight. “When they flew off you were muttering about stone and sky—so I said the earth has them both. Just a dream, and not much you shared.”
Relief flushed her face, though the man had enough grace not to ask after it. Not that she trusted a word he would say, or what he would tell Daniel. “Is it my watch?”
“Near enough. Take the prow. Try not to talk much.”
Aerona went to the prow grudgingly. She heard an audible snore within a minute.
I am alone, again.
First light was still a few hours off. The ship was moored a stone’s throw from the shallows. The vibrant Dalian Northlands stood away to the west past a dense thicket of forest, barely seen.
None of the beasts can swim, I think.
She thought danger was behind, not ahead. The fear was always to the south, and the flicker of torchlight.
Aerona leaned against the prow, and gazed off towards the south, back to her home. Pleasant thoughts flitted into her mind: of her father, Robett, and the lessons of sword, spear and bow; of rigging and sails, navigation, map making; the worth and weight of metals; the cunning nature of smugglers and traders; and all the pockets and sheathes that could conceal weapons. Who she was, the woman that she had become, was all for the tutelage and love of her father.
Are you looking down in pride or shame? Did I beggar your gifts?
Then Damian. Not the blood or the malice, but the young man who took smugglers and pirates from their hideaways and forged them into a power that would not be taken lightly.
He was handsome and charming then—a visionary. The man I fell in love with. When did it all change?
She thought back to the war between Dalia and Isilia. E’er since the Isilians landed on the Northlands, she had pressed for intervention, but naught would move the overlord. Then, one stormy night, he had called her to the throne, and he fingered a palm-sized crystal of a deep red hue. Back then, she was not certain it was an Animus Stone, but a part of her knew it was, and no impassioned caution could sway that man.
Was that what changed him? Is that what sent us down this road of destruction? His touch and embrace that night, his passion and lust was the same as it always had been. Could I just not perceive it? When I held my father’s stone close to my breast, I was chilled but warm, comforted, and never alone. Did it change me? Perhaps a little.
The stone brought thoughts of Gregory Tanev. The old rogue and opportunistic smuggler of her childhood, and her father’s oldest friend. The man who stood by when her father was naught but bones. The man who saved her life. The man who called off Lord Eldred, and told her to seek stone and sky.
The man who lied to her for years.
There is darkness, and a web I do not understand.
The land was bathed in the red-orange glow of dawn. Aerona roused them all, and took her place by the port side oar. The others sat up near where they lay down the night before and ate what little was left. Ashleigh looked over to Aerona briefly, but she shook her head, and the sentinel took the last bite.
Jaremy took his position at the rudder, and Ashleigh at the stern side oar. The wind was faint: a mere flicker in the morning air, but Daniel assured them they would see the refuge by midday, if strong arms held.
Splish-splash. Splish-splash.
Aerona gave herself to it, and felt at peace.
/>
Grey clouds filled the skies above as the sun struggled to shine through them. It was cool, if a little damp. Daniel pressed hard, and Aerona feared a storm was coming.
Near noon, a haze fell on the sea, and the lightest drops of rain pattered down. “Not much further now,” Daniel repeated. The man felt the need to repeat it every ten minutes, as if he must convince himself.
“If the clouds do not break?” Ashleigh asked between grunts.
“We find the refuge.”
Jaremy laughed, and even Ashleigh cracked a smile. Aerona knew better. It was either that or abandon the boat.
“Hard to stern!” Daniel called out suddenly. “The passage is narrow.”
Near the shallows, she saw barely visible tree lines to her left. The boat bumped and rocked every few minutes, followed by the growling of the Corsair.
Easy now.
The rain picked up, and between that and the haze, Aerona could not see; she did not know how Jaremy could hope to navigate. Yet he did, somehow. She was wet, but not swimming, so the little man did something right.
Some luck.
“Oars in! Out, the lot of you!” Daniel commanded.
Aerona helped drag the boat up a beach not thirty yards away. The Dalian Northlands rose on the left. She helped bury the ship beneath branches and foliage.
“We could not have walked the coast?” Ashleigh asked, annoyed.
“You do not know these lands, sentinel,” Jaremy retorted. “Least not without an army at your head.”
“It had to be by sea,” Aerona told Ashleigh. “The forests are a dense labyrinth fraught with danger. It is an untamed wild land. In the days before the war, none dared go near any wood at nightfall. Doors were locked tight. Even if we avoided the worst of it, our food stores would never have lasted.”
“Hunt.”
“There are some beasts that should not be hunted. They hunt you.”
“This way,” Daniel barked, taking off.
Aerona walked north along the tree line, following Daniel’s lead down a sharp incline of a hill to the right. The land flattened for miles, treeless and bare, until she saw three young oaks, evenly spread. Between the left and middle tree was a sheer drop of rock, but there were natural handholds leading further down. It took a moment for Ashleigh to rouse her courage, but she went down like the others.
Darkness Rising (Ancient Vestiges Book 1) Page 52