Shadow Rising (The Shadow World Book 7)

by Dianne Sylvan

  Table of Contents

  Shadow Rising

  Also by Dianne Sylvan

  Part One:

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Part Two

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Shadow Rising

  A Novel of the Shadow World

  by Dianne Sylvan

  Copyright © 2017 Dianne Sylvan

  All rights reserved.

  Also by Dianne Sylvan

  The Shadow World Novels:

  Queen of Shadows

  Shadowflame

  Shadow’s Fall

  Of Shadow Born

  Shadowbound

  Shadowstorm

  The Agency Series, Volumes 1-5

  Nonfiction Books:

  The Circle Within: Creating a Wiccan Spiritual Practice

  The Body Sacred

  Part One:

  The Raven's Blade

  Chapter One

  Silence in Avilon.

  For hours, as the night deepened and the cold grew bitter, not a leaf stirred in the woods that ringed the fallen Sanctuary.

  At first the noise was deafening. Screams of panic and then pain; the guttural shouts of the human men, the strange rapid percussion of their weapons; fire roaring, buildings collapsing.

  Gradually the human sounds faded, and eventually so did the conflagration. Every half hour or so another wall or roof would cave in somewhere.

  Only the occasional wail of a child, quickly shushed by whatever adult had grabbed her to run into the forest, gave any sign that anyone still lived at all.

  They wouldn’t survive out here much longer. It was midwinter, and though their dwellings had been warm, the forest was not. They had all been driven out of bed by the chaos and hadn’t had time to even grab a cloak or shoes. Eventually they would have to leave the relative safety of the underbrush and venture back toward the fires…toward the bodies…their families, friends, lovers…piled up and burned like cordwood, many while still alive.

  Neali had not seen the pyres. She was grateful for at least that small grace. Her dwelling had stood on the edge of the Sanctuary and the fires had been lit close to the center, near the Temple. The buildings there were closer together and the fire spread happily with plenty of fuel—animate and inanimate—to devour. She had been on her way home from a Bardic performance and didn’t have as far to run for cover.

  Inaliel fussed quietly on her hip. She shifted the babe from left to right, trying to find a comfortable position for them both. Where was Aila? Neali had heard the infant crying and found her hidden among the roots of a tree, but Inaliel’s mother was nowhere to be found. Aila must have run back toward danger, the way Healers always did, willing to give her own life but not her daughter’s. If the humans had caught her with Inaliel the child would have been thrown on the pyre for certain.

  Were any of the Enclave still alive? Was there anyone left to lead what was left of Avilon?

  What were they going to do? The Veil had been breached. It could be again. How could they stay here and rebuild when the humans knew how to find them?

  And that was, of course, assuming they survived the night.

  Her eyes burned with tears and with smoke. She tried not to think about the ashes that were floating through the air. Someone she knew could be coating her face right now. The mere thought made her so nauseated she nearly dropped the baby.

  She didn’t understand. None of them did. She could see the utter bewilderment on the faces of those hiding nearby. Filthy, frozen, exhausted, grief-stricken, one and all, their centuries-long dream of peace murdered in front of them. Why would anyone do this? Humans were barbaric and evil, but…what purpose did this serve?

  It might not serve any. Humans could invent reasons to hate with hardly any effort. The Elentheia had been made to help their human cousins, but humanity had turned on them. Now it seemed they were doing it all over again.

  Suddenly weak, she turned her back against the tree where she and Inaliel were hiding and slid down to the cold, hard ground, holding the baby to her chest almost desperately.

  Little Inaliel seemed unconcerned now that things were quiet again. Elflings were often tended to by adults other than their parents, and often ran in packs around the Sanctuary having a meal at one house, games at another, sleep at a third. Neali had never liked children much but she wasn’t about to leave the babe alone and frightened.

  Inaliel looked up at her, lavender eyes—her mother’s shade, light and almost heathered—wide and worried in the darkness. She patted Neali’s face with both her chubby hands, apparently trying to comfort her. Neali had to smile at that—Healing instinct always bred true.

  Not far away she heard the rustle of leaves and the snap of a branch. Someone was going out. Neali pushed herself back up so she could peer through the brush and see who had been so brave, so desperate, or so mad.

  The woman who stepped out of the woods and hesitantly walked toward the main path into the Sanctuary wore a blue cloak, marking her as a Weaver. After a moment Neali recognized her: Kalea. It made sense she would be one of the first; Kalea was known for her fearlessness.

  Kalea moved like a deer, testing the air, every sense on alert. Gradually, though, her posture straightened, her breathing deepened.

  Then there was a sound behind her, and Kalea spun toward it, eyes going wide and face ghostly white. She seemed suddenly paralyzed as she stared down the path, and Neali saw why.

  The air was shimmering. It began to turn to water, that water to expand.

  A portal. They were coming back. Oh Theia—save us—

  She wanted to yell to Kalea to run, but she too was unable to move. She could feel the fear all around her rising, closing in on panic, everyone getting ready to try and escape again, deeper into the forest perhaps…but they were all exhausted, many injured. How could they keep running? And where was there to go?

  The portal grew large enough for an adult to pass through, and she saw it opening. Moonlight poured through, along with a blast of cold, damp wind that smelled of mud and something vaguely mechanical.

  There was a burst of light, and then the portal disappeared.

  Neali’s mind was running in circles: Surely not many humans could have traversed the Veil in that much time. The portal had only been open long enough for a handful of people to pass. Could the remaining Elves perhaps mount some kind of defense? Or was the thought so ludicrous it would be better to simply surrender?

  A scream grew in her throat. Fear and shock and horror clawed through her. She wanted to flee but she couldn’t. They were all going to die.

  She heard a gasp.

  Kalea’s paralysis broke, as did her composure, and she clapped her hands over her mouth in astonishment as she stared at the two figures who had walked out of the portal.

  It only took Neali a moment to realize why, mere seconds before Kalea said in a harsh whisper, “My son.”

  There were two of them, one considerably taller than the other, both in human dress—but their semblance to mortals ended abruptly right there. The taller had the slender grace of their own, though his hair was oddly short. Even without strong Sight Neali could see the fathomless well of power within him. He was being fed, it seemed, from somewhere she couldn
’t make sense of—but also from his companion.

  For his part, he had an aura uncannily like an Elf’s, but the shining moonlight of their blood ran deep below the surface. If he’d been human, she would have pinned a young age on him, but the youth of his features was belied by his eyes. He was old, she realized…very old…and very powerful…and very dangerous. He held himself regally, yet was at ease in his own skin the way dancers often were. She saw several flashes of silver in his face, and another much larger at his hip.

  A sword? What use were swords when there were weapons such as the humans had?

  Her eyes fell on what the second figure wore at his throat, and she stared into the stone for a long minute, trying to understand what she was seeing. In fact they both wore the amulets, with identical green stones that glowed softly in the night.

  Kalea came forward and embraced the first visitor fiercely. “At last you have come home.”

  Neali knew whom she was looking at, of course. She hadn’t known him personally, but there was no one in Avilon unfamiliar with the twins. They had both been the center of controversy and gossip for decades…even more so in the last few years.

  “Nico,” Kalea said, her voice uncharacteristically close to hysteria, “Where is your brother? And Lesela? What has happened to everyone? And why did this happen?” She swept her arm back toward the smoldering remains of their home.

  Nicolanai Araceith held her tightly for a second before kissing the top of her head and drawing back a little. “There is little time,” he said. “I will tell you everything, but we must get everyone out of here before the humans come back.”

  “We’re being watched,” his companion said quietly, eyes on the woods.

  “Human?” Nico asked, hands tensing on his mother’s arms.

  “No. There are no humans left here.”

  Nico nodded. He stepped away from the others and faced the trees, speaking calmly and not loudly, but Neali knew everyone would hear.

  “You are not safe here,” he said. “We’ve come to offer you asylum at our Haven. Everyone is welcome. You will be well protected under the watchful eye of the Signet of the South, and there is warmth and food and clean clothes. Once we can be sure the humans will not return, we can help you rebuild. Of course you are free to stay here in the woods where it’s cold and wait for them to come back…but if you wish to follow me, make yourselves known here on the path in the next twenty minutes.”

  He bowed, then turned away, letting those riveted to his words make their decisions in semi-private. “Do you think there are many alive in the Sanctuary?” he asked Kalea.

  She looked doubtful. “There may be some trapped in the houses, or who found hiding places. I would guess many are injured.”

  Nico’s companion spoke up. “As soon as we have the majority through the portal we’ll come back with a group of Healers—we’ll save as many as we can.”

  Kalea seemed to realize he was there for the first time, and stared at him, her mind probably about as awhirl as Neali’s. Nico saw her expression and actually laughed.

  “I know, he’s a little confusing,” Nico said. His companion shot him a look that only made him laugh more. “I suppose now’s as good a time as any for introductions. Weaver Kalea Ithdirriali, meet Prime Deven Burke.”

  Kalea nodded slowly, still looking him over critically. “I see,” she said. “So you are my son’s Ghost. I have heard quite a lot about you.”

  The Prime bowed. “I am certain you already dislike me, Lady Weaver.” he told her with a faint smile. “I have been the cause of much of your son’s suffering. But I am trying to make up for it. Since we’re immortal I may even have time.”

  The Weaver gave one last nod—a bit curt, but not unkind. Then her expression changed. “You are Lesela’s grandchild,” she said.

  “I am.”

  Kalea looked around—Elves had started to emerge from the forest, in twos and threes at first, gathering on the path, huddled in the cold. “Where is Aila? Has anyone seen her?”

  A new, male voice said, “I saw her in the thick of it, helping Berren free himself from wreckage. That was the last time.”

  He walked up to the head of the column, and Neali sighed. Of course it was Thestel. The next surviving member of the Enclave had to be the Elf who had lobbied so hard for Nico’s banishment. He was glaring daggers at Nico and strode right up to him, practically in his face.

  There was cold fury in his voice. “As far as I am concerned this is your fault—you were the only Weaver in the mortal realm, and only a Weaver or a Gatestone made by a Weaver could have created that portal. You brought your blood and darkness here to our Sanctuary and now look at the consequences. What reason have we to trust you with our lives? You are nothing more than a monster, and not one of us.”

  Prime Deven took a single step forward, his hand lifting to rest on the hilt of his sword. Neali couldn’t be sure because of the lack of light, but it looked for all the world like his already-pale eyes went almost silver.

  “You will take a step back,” he hissed. “Of he and I only one of us is a monster, and you don’t want to find out which.”

  To his credit, Thestel went pale and moved back. He couldn’t seem to stop staring at this dark, inhuman creature standing in Avilon threatening him bodily harm.

  Nico held a hand out toward the Prime, and the other toward Thestel. “That’s enough out of both of you,” he said firmly. “There’s been enough violence tonight. Thestel, you’re welcome to hate me—or fear me, rather—all you want, but everyone here will either die or be taken captive if you stay, and trust me, death would be better.”

  Kalea let out a breath that sent a cloud into the air. “I ask again—has anyone seen Aila? Or Inaliel? I assume Aila didn’t have the child with her.”

  Finally, Neali took a deep breath of her own and, lifting the baby up higher, left the cover of the trees and joined the growing throng on the path. She swallowed hard as she got close to the front. “Here, Lady Weaver. I have Inaliel.”

  “Thank Theia,” Kalea said. “And thank you, Neali, for taking charge of her. Did Aila hand her off?”

  “No. I came upon the wee one in the woods beside a tree. Aila was nowhere to be found.”

  Kalea held out her arms, and Neali gratefully gave up the baby. Her arms hurt from holding the child so tightly for so long.

  Kalea turned back to her son and his…person. “Not long after you left Avilon, Lesela introduced me to one of the Healers I had not yet met, though I had heard of her by reputation. As soon as I saw them together I knew what I was seeing: Lesela and her daughter.”

  “Elendala Seara,” Deven said softly.

  She nodded. “She had lived quietly for all these years, devoted to her work but mostly solitary. Lesela helped her stay out of the Enclave’s view until enough time had passed that her human traits had faded and she was indistinguishable from the rest of us. Not long ago Aila took up with a Bard, and little Inaliel was born only eight months ago.”

  Deven’s eyes had gone wide and he shifted back away from Kalea.

  Nico, however, was smiling. “How about that,” he said. “You have a sister, Dev. And look…she’s even got your eyes.”

  “I…”

  Nico saw the look on his face and put his arms around him quickly. “I’m sure Aila’s alive, and even if she isn’t we won’t have any trouble finding someone to take care of the baby. One thing at a time.”

  Finally Deven nodded. “Right. Let’s get everyone organized.” He walked off to the side a bit, gaze sweeping over the assembly—counting, Neali realized.

  Kalea and Nico were exchanging a look. “Lesela is dead, isn’t she,” Kalea said quietly.

  Nico looked at the ground, then shut his eyes. “Yes. I’m sorry.”

  “You needn’t be sorry, my child…unless of course you killed her.”

  The last part was clearly meant as a halfhearted jest, but Nico looked so stricken that Kalea turned scarlet, tears forming in her
eyes. She turned away, hand over her mouth again.

  “I’ll tell you everything as soon as we’re settled,” Nico said. His voice was shaky.

  Her child’s distress broke through her shock—Kalea immediately looked at him again and took his hand, squeezing it. He looked relieved, and was about to say something when Deven returned.

  “Ninety-six,” he said. “Eighty adults, six babies, and ten older children.”

  “Less than a third of the population,” Kalea said, tears finally spilling. “Dear Goddess.”

  “Nico, we need to move,” Deven said, returning to his side. “We’ve already been here too long. Not to mention every finger and toe here is going to end up frostbitten if it’s not already.”

  “All right,” Nico said. “Mother, if you and Thestel could get everyone into a double line—once the portal is open start sending them through in twos.”

  Kalea frowned. “Do you not want my assistance? It will take you hours to build a portal without help, let alone keep it open that long. We can gather the remaining Weavers.”

  Nico blinked at her, then grinned. “Don’t worry. I’ve got all I need.”

  Clearly unconvinced but too worried about the others to argue, Kalea turned to Thestel and gestured for him to go with her.

  Neali stayed where she was near the front of the line, close enough to watch what happened while the others got organized. She started to offer her help several times, but she couldn’t help it…she was afraid of him. She was afraid of both of them, but not just because they were vampires.

  It was the power. She could sense it even more clearly now that she was nearby. It was black and deep and terrible, though she knew it didn’t mean them any harm. She had no way to understand such power; she had lived her whole life, a comparatively short one of 70 years, here in Avilon where power arose from the moon and stars and trees, from the river, the stone; this seemed to come from dark dreams and shadows, both death and rebirth from the same source. And as she watched Nico lift his hands to begin the portal, and Deven moved up behind him and placed a hand on his back, she could see that power as it rose up, expanded…and looked for all the world like great black wings.