Eternal Darkness (A Novel of the Amagarians Book 1)

by Stacy Reid

  Pain sliced through her like a poison tipped dagger.

  The towers. The cold, dank, and terrifying place her grandmother lived in exile until the end of her five hundred year sentence. There was a time Saieke had been allowed to visit, but those infrequent and precious times had been banned when her father discovered grandmother had urged Saieke to refuse the Nurian king.

  She nodded and moved with measured steps out of the chamber. She drew the wind to her, whispering words, infusing her message with intricate codes, and then allowed it to travel on the air with surety to Thyon and Kamu.

  Meet me in the mountain caves.

  The west wing parapet would have too many spies hovering. She inhaled and whistled. The iciest of wind swept through the corridors, and if anyone had been spying she should have felt the flash of surprise through their chakra.

  Saieke could waste no time debating impossible options or pleading with her parents. King Ajali’s arrival tomorrow would herald the end of her free movements in the castle. She would be guarded until she was forced to bend to his will. Her path, though uncertain, was clear.

  She would leave her kingdom tonight and be branded as the betrayer.

  ***

  Saieke gasped for breath in the thin mountain air as she raced through valleys, harnessing the wind to move at maximum speed. She’d escaped the castle with her two most trusted Queen’s Blades, Kamu and Thyon, her protectors from birth. They moved through the night without a whisper of sound to betray their passage through the mountain paths of Boreas. The mountains were intricate—death traps to those who did not know them and her Queen’s Blades maneuvered through the maze-like passes as shadows.

  They raced against time and discovery. Thyon loped ahead to scout, using whistles and patterns of the wind to notify them if warriors or civilians lay ahead.

  Melodious notes travelled on the wind, and she listened to their keen fluttering, seeking if danger awaited them. She ran along the mountain side’s crumbling stones, which clattered down to the earth.

  “Princess!”

  She flashed behind a boulder. Kamu moved with stealth to the mountain’s edge, and after a brief moment, he signaled clear. “It is not too late to alter our course, Princess,” he murmured.

  She flinched; her feet shuffled crackling and crunching the leaves on the mountain path. The trees swayed, parting to reveal the sun, bringing the warmth she needed to thaw the cold knot of doubt that constricted her. “We will forge ahead. We must make it to the border before the rising of the second sun and before my father discovers we are missing,” she ordered with only a slight waver in her conviction.

  “As you wish, Princess.”

  In a quick motion, they launched, flashing with speed, covering hundreds of miles. The second sun took much longer to rise as winter approached, giving the breaking dawn a bleak cast. Yet, the bleakness could not overshadow the enchantment of Boreas. She flashed pass waters as blue as the ice lakes of the northern mountains, lush valleys with rare flowers and plants of vibrant beauty. Their exotic scents calmed her racing heart and filled it with poignant sweetness. Unending minutes passed in silence before he pumped a fist in the air, and they jerked to a stop.

  The flat lands seemed to stretch endlessly before mountains rose behind them, dark and intimidating. Taryllion—thousands of miles of land separating the borders of the seven kingdoms. Its mountains stood eerily silent, and the grey, stark, foggy landscape echoed her feelings. Gritting her teeth, she tried to ignore the hovering sense of dread.

  “Are we prepared, Kamu?” Saieke asked, her gaze penetrating into wide eyes set in a granite hewn face.

  “As best as we can be, Princess.”

  They scanned the horizon, probing for danger. Taryllion was vicious and harsh to maneuver, with hardly a position to hide and defend from attacks. Until they reached the mountains or ravines, they were exposed.

  Kamu rolled a scroll borrowed from the great archives of Boreas onto a boulder.

  “We will travel northwest through the ravines of Taryllion, Princess. We will meet with Thyon at the fifth mountain path. We must then move like shadows past the Darkage to the dimension gateway,” he said pointing to spots on the map.

  Her stomach knotted. She hated they had to move so close to the Darkage—the kingdom of shadows and darkness—to access the closest gateway to Earth. The other gateway was located east of Nuria, and during their quick conference in the mountain cave, they had deemed it more perilous to travel anywhere near the king from whom they were fleeing.

  But the Darkans were bestial. It seemed inconceivable that anything else could be considered more perilous.

  “Princess.”

  At the gravity of his tone, she faced him.

  “I fear for your safety. I will not pretend I do not wish for another solution.”

  Saieke hardened her resolve. “King Ajali’s hands will not crush my kingdom through me.” The rush of rage burned the grief away, and she welcomed its bite.

  “At this moment, I am not apprehensive about the King of Nuria.” Kamu gauged her reaction. “The gateway only rests a few miles from the northern Darkage border. We must never forget the implications of moving so close to the dark ones’ domain.”

  The Darkage inspired terror in all of the kingdoms. She had been avoiding thinking of them, not wanting the fear of their kind to prevent her from acting. She glanced toward their lands in the far distance, forcing her heart to beat in a steady rhythm. “Before we charted our journey we knew the dangers. We must not waver now. Our people lives depend on us.”

  “Darkans are also rumored to also live on Earth, devouring humans and our kind.”

  She winced. “We are faster, stronger, and more enhanced in every way than humans. I will defend our lives until we can return to our kingdom.”

  Anger flashed across his face. “Do not be foolish, Princess. I do not worry if you can defend us. We are your blades and our lives are yours. My fear is that Thyon and I are not adequate protection for you in this unknown world to which we are heading.”

  She understood. “Earth is our best choice. We will fade into obscurity there. Fleeing to another kingdom would certainly cause war. The Nurians would burn them to the ground if they dared harbor me.”

  To remain and refuse to honor an oath her king made could also be a death sentence, which could come from her family for bringing dishonor to the El Shyokara name, or from the Nurians who would see her actions as an insult to their king. But she would stay her course, for she was determined to protect her people at all cost.

  Finally, gentle flutters came on the wind, and Kamu turned toward Taryllion. “Thyon has signaled the lands appear to be without danger.”

  “I am ready,” she said hoarsely.

  “We need to pace ourselves so that our chakras are not drained. As we near the border of the Darkage, move with your full speed and power, Princess,” he bit out, scanning the horizon for danger.

  They flashed with determined purpose. She did not look back. Not once. She knew in her heart it was the last time she would see her kingdom. She did not need a fleeting glimpse to remind her of the beauty and joys they were leaving behind. It resounded in her mind and echoed in her soul.

  ***

  The Darkage—kingdom of darkness and shadows

  Kerberos—Castle of the deep—main stronghold of the king

  “There are murmurs of dissension,” Drac El Kyn reported to his king. He shifted, following Gidon’s progress across the cavernous room as he paced like a caged predator.

  His king’s lips curved into a smile even as the deep silver of his eyes turned to hardened flint. “From where does this dissension rise and what are the murmurings?”

  “It is said that you are only five centi old and not strong enough to rule our people. It is whispered that you are only in power because it is your heir-ship,” Drac s
aid. “There are also whispers of the Kingmaker promising a new ruler for the Darkage.”

  Gidon’s step faltered and met Drac’s gaze. The Kingmaker was a shadow in Amagarie, lauded for his brilliance and cunning. He was without loyalty to any kingdom or king. A man most dangerous, a man whose identity had been a mystery for centuries, but whenever he stirred, destruction ensued.

  Gidon strode to the fireplace and stared into the roaring fire. Its flickering cast the sigil of the ruling family—the Cerberus—a ferocious three headed gargoyle mounted above the war throne in a menacing glow.

  Tension danced over Drac as the coldness that emanated from his king reached out to him, and darkness scraped against darkness. The sibilant slide of his beast whispered through him as he lowered himself into the great chair facing Gidon.

  They were secreted in one of the king’s private war chambers away from eyes and ears embedded in the shadows of the court. It was sparsely furnished with only two great chairs, a throne, and a massive oak desk. The fine layer of dust on the stone floor and furniture showed how little the room had been used.

  “It has been more than fifty years since we last heard rumors of the kingmaker,” Gidon said.

  “Yes.”

  “Assassinating my father could have been on his command.”

  “Many do not agree with the ideals your father advocated before his death,” Drac said, scanning the shadows, probing for unusual patterns. Even though they ensconced themselves away, he couldn’t be too careful. “For now, the kingmaker is a rumor…I will unearth the truth of it and the face behind the cowardly murder of our king.”

  “All have something to gain from his death, thinking I would be less powerful after ascending,” Gidon growled, thrusting his hand through his midnight hair unraveling it from the thong that held it.

  Savagery slithered through Drac, and a smile curled his lips as he anticipated the fight to come. Gidon shared his father’s ideals, which would mean that he would be the next target. If he fell to an assassin’s blade, there would be no heir to take his place. Their kingdom would then have to choose its next leader based on traits it respected—viciousness, cunning, and ruthlessness. The last time a ruler was chosen like that was before the first Great War, a ruler of whom Gidon was a descendant. Gidon was the last of the Al Shra bloodline.

  “We will need another enforcer for our cadre,” Drac said.

  Gidon had been King Rajliegh’s enforcer, and now that Gidon ascended to his father’s place a fourth was needed. The circle of power and strength needed to be maintained for his protection.

  “I have no intention of finding an enforcer to take my place.” Gidon’s tone was menacing as he prowled to the desk, lifting the tablet of the old laws.

  Drac glanced at his king sharply. “The elders will object.” He said nothing of the danger it presented. His king would be fully aware.

  Gidon hurled the tablet into the wall, shattering the granite stone into dozens of pieces. “I am not my father, as the elders will soon learn. He listened keenly to their insight because of their strength and wisdom, yet our kingdom suffers. We are only seen as a people to be feared and reviled, Drac, and my rule will change all of that. We will change all of it. ”

  Gidon stalked around the room, and a hiss escaped Drac as tension spiked from his king, pricking Drac’s skin, tugging at the malevolence buried in him. He sank deeper into the great chair, giving Gidon a moment to subdue his flare of rage.

  “I want to know if the kingmaker has risen, and who were my father’s assassins… Hunt and bring them before me,” Gidon said with a calm that belied the fury pouring from him in waves. He stepped into the shadows and vanished from the room.

  “It is done,” Drac rasped into the silence.

  He was Gidon’s first enforcer, and his king trusted in Drac’s skills to act on his orders without hesitation. Drac would not fail him. Echoes of cries and pain slunk through his mind, and he slammed the shutters down with ruthless will. The wails of past failures would not haunt him today, and he would give his life to ensure Gidon did not fall.

  Drac stepped into the shadows and moved with the darkness to uncoil into the grand hall of the castle. He needed to return to his Keep immediately. His sister and lieutenant, Tehdra, was investigating who had thought they could betray their king and live. He needed to be at the helm in the hunt for the betrayers.

  Many of his people did not want an organized nation with provinces, councilors, and elders. They did not want to emulate other kingdoms’ ways, preferring to thrive on brutality and slaughter, desiring that the only commodity the Darkage should trade was their skill as shadow assassins. Gidon would have to rule without mercy to stand against those who wished to keep the Darkans in economic and political darkness.

  Drac would protect the vision they were all fighting for with his last breath. Their Queen Sora had forfeited her life for the ideal they had of their kingdom. As had their king. Years ago Drac had been reduced to a snarling animal when he’d fought to save his brother Vlad and his mate, Gidon’s sisters, and they had still fallen. Blood and tears had poured from Drac while he’d fought to protect King Rajliegh, and yet he had perished. Gidon would not fall while he lived, Drac vowed.

  Yesss let us kill.

  His beast’s voice, familiar and insidious, slithered through his mind. Drac was in agreement. No mercy. No forgiveness. He would bring only death to those who thought they could threaten the life of his king and jeopardize the rise of their kingdom from the dark times they had suffered through.

  Chapter Two

  Taryllion—near the northern border of the Darkage

  “Kill them and take the Princess.” The words from the enemy were brutal and decisive.

  Refusing to bow to fear, Saieke harnessed her chakra, drew the wind to her with strength, and lashed power at her attacker. Sharp winds sliced from her hands cutting him deep, spewing blood. A force slammed into her from behind, propelling her several feet into the air. She twisted, using the power of her wind to softly land, then spun and sank into a crouch with her daggers in hand, the wind swirling around her.

  Kamu scanned each attacker, probing for an opening. “You cannot be taken by any kingdom. Employ any means to flee from their clutches, even if it means using your keni.”

  Her stomach clenched at the thought of the situation escalating to where she would need to use such a power. She was one of the few people in her kingdom that controlled two Shenkiri, manipulating both water and wind. With the combination of the two elements, she possessed a far too destructive bloodline power. “I will do all in my power to not be taken,” she assured.

  Thyon and Kamu blurred, flashing toward the attackers, slashing their daggers with deadly precision. One of the assassins swept under Kamu’s flank and barreled toward her. She dove, rolling away from him, slicing cutting winds from her hands. Blood sprayed, slapping her cheeks from the multitude of cuts that appeared on his face.

  “Why does Mevia hunt me?” she demanded from her crouch.

  She thought it would have been Nurian assassins they fought, but they had been attacked by two warriors from the kingdom of sound. No one should have been privy to the information that she fled Boreas, and the implications left her cold. Spies haunted her kingdom.

  For the first time, she got a caricature of a smile and a response from her attacker. “Are you not the Nurian king’s intended?” His voice was a melody of destructive power.

  Saieke cringed. Before she could formulate a response, he flashed toward her.

  “Get back!”

  At Thyon’s yell, she ducked, missing the fist that slammed towards her head. Her heart jerked. She had not seen him come under her flank. Her Queen’s Blades flashed in front of her, forming a protective barrier. Dread knotted her stomach as the Mevian on the left opened his mouth. Power in its purest form flowed from his lips, the sound eerie and high pitch
ed. The earth roiled under their feet.

  Her stomach heaved, and Saieke’s mind muddled, the beauty and pitch of the sound holding her in enthrallment. She flung out winds of such intense cold they struggled to breathe. Wind howled from her Queens’s Blades as they attacked, and she waved her hands in rapid patterns, drawing water from a nearby lake toward them in a tidal wave. She focused her chakra and combined her elements, forming a block of ice as an impenetrable defense barrier. Sounds grated and pulsed around the block of ice in a harmony so beautifully haunting, her body trembled. Two distinct shrieks rose in the air like a banshee wail and slammed into the ice wall splintering it into mere shards and frost.

  “Aahhhh,” the scream strangled in her throat.

  Saieke labored to breathe, her chest tightening. Her ears rang and her throat constricted as pain gripped her. Thyon stumbled, vomiting, and Kamu recoiled, blood spewing from his shattered eardrums.

  Her stomach bottomed out. The Mevians stood relatively unharmed with only slight blood trickling from their face and neck.

  “Your highness, please flee as fast as you can. Go! We will hold them off,” Thyon said with quiet intensity.

  “I cannot leave—”

  “Go!” Kamu growled, swiping at the blood tricking along his neck. “Stay true to our course and we will find you. We will lose everything if they take you, Princess.”

  After a slight hesitation, Saieke nodded. “You are forbidden from leaving this world before your time,” she ordered, flashing away with speed.

  Her skin prickled, she glanced back to see one of the assassins moving with ruthless purpose to reach her. She frowned, her hands trembling as she coaxed the wind, harnessing it to propel at a faster speed. The assassin emitted another intense sound, and the vibrations slammed inside her body, cracking her ribs.

  She stumbled, her knees smashing to the ground. And then he was upon her. She lurched to her feet unsheathing her dagger, slashing at his throat. He parried the thrust, and Saieke’s head snapped back as he backhanded her with a force that split her lips. She dove away from him, throwing her dagger with precision, using the force of the wind to embed it high in his right shoulder.