Dark Lady's Chosen

by Gail Z. Martin

  "Yet you live."

  "Not by choice."

  Uri seemed to ponder that for a moment. "Why didn't you burn me, when you found me in the day crypt? Lady knows, we're hardly friends."

  "Because as much as I would have enjoyed it, you didn't lead the revolt. Malesh did. And while your bluster gave him the words to recruit his helpers, you promised Riqua and Gabriel that you'd try to stop him. It kills me to admit it, but you kept your word. I've never killed someone who couldn't fight back. Not even you."

  Rafe cleared his throat. "If there are no other questions, it is time for a vote. Both of the accused freely admit their guilt. Shall the Council rule for their destruction?"

  Jonmarc found that anger overrode fear. Gabriel's eyes gave no clue to his thoughts. The next few moments seemed to last forever.

  Finally, Rafe spoke. "No."

  Astasia looked up with fury in her eyes. "Yes."

  They turned toward Uri, who seemed to relish the suspense. "My answer is... no." He met Jonmarc's eyes. "Don't mistake me. I still don't like you, nor do I like having a mortal lord at Dark Haven. But Malesh was my mistake. He got badly out of hand. And unlike Astasia, I am old enough to recall the burnings. I have no wish to see those days return."

  Rafe stood. "The Council has ruled." He looked to Jonmarc. "Lord Vahanian. I would not recommend that you ride alone in your condition by night. You are welcome to spend the night and leave in the morning." As if he expected a retort, he raised a hand to forestall a reply. "I will personally guarantee your safety. In the morning, you'll find a horse and provisions for the ride. Your weapons will be returned to you." He met Jonmarc's eyes. "We will honor the Truce."

  Jonmarc regarded him warily. "And Gabriel?"

  Rafe nodded. "Lord Gabriel returns to his position on the Blood Council and to his manor at Wolvenskorn without prejudice. Whether he returns to Dark Haven is up to him."

  Gabriel gave Jonmarc a reassuring nod. "I'll see you in Dark Haven once I settle a few things at Wolvenskorn." He glanced toward the Council. "And I'll make sure you have better accommodations here," he said in a tone that warned Astasia that he expected her to comply. Gabriel gave a curt bow toward the others. "Until later."

  Jonmarc did not speak until they were alone in one of the upstairs rooms. "That's it? They haul us in here trussed up like thieves, put a stake through your heart, threaten to burn you and kill me, and then it's over with nothing more than a 'by your leave'?"

  To his surprise, Gabriel chuckled. "After several hundred years, sometimes the form matters more than the function. They feel they've been heard. Rules have been observed. Order is restored. Astasia had her say, Rafe can feel that he's satisfied the regulations and Uri got to be magnanimous. And we remain."

  They fell silent. "Thank you," Jonmarc said finally.

  Gabriel shrugged. "Likewise. You didn't have to defend me to the Council. It was a rather foolhardy thing to do, given the circumstances."

  Jonmarc shrugged. "I owe you."

  Gabriel met his eyes. "I don't know what you saw, there in the temple. But in all the years I've existed, I have only believed one other person to be the Dark Lady's chosen."

  "Who was that?"

  "Bava K'aa, Tris's grandmother."

  "I didn't want this."

  "I know."

  Jonmarc turned away and felt the room begin to reel. Gabriel caught him before he fell and helped him to a chair. "I'll make sure someone brings you food. And while there's no healer here, I can probably find something for the pain." Jonmarc nodded, leaning back in the chair and closing his eyes as Gabriel slipped from the room.

  Every time I turn around, there's someone new in line to kill me. Just like old times. And as soon as Donelan finds out what happened to Carina, he'll make good on his threat. He'll send the bounty hunters after me with a price so high even Gabriel won't be able to protect me if I set foot outside the manor house. So much for being anyone's champion. Before long, a servant delivered a meal of hard sausage, cheese and bread, along with a bottle of dark Trevath whiskey. Jonmarc ate his fill, finishing off half of the whiskey until he could no longer feel his battle wounds. But even the whiskey could not dull the dread he felt over returning to Dark Haven, and despite the strong drink, his dreams were troubled.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  By the tolling of the bells in the courtyard, Carina knew it was the sixth hour of the morning. Still sore and weary from her encounter with the Flow, she climbed out of bed and made her way to the heavy draperies that completely obscured her windows. Holding her breath, she drew them back and waited for the faint rays of dawn to burn her skin. Cautiously, she opened her eyes. A slash of red and orange lit the eastern sky along the horizon as heavy gray clouds obscured the moon, but the cold, pale light did not burn. It was true. She was fully mortal once more.

  Heedless of the hunger that gnawed in her stomach, Carina slipped into a shift and her healer's robes. She knew that Neirin would already be at his desk. She made her way through Dark Haven's upper corridors without meeting anyone, and stopped at the door to Neirin's office. Steeling herself, she knocked. At Neirin's response, she opened the door.

  Neirin looked up. He registered first shock and then genuine relief. "M'lady. It's good to see you about once more in the light of day. I'm so glad the healing was successful."

  Carina nodded, and Neirin sobered. "I fear that you did not come to catch up on news."

  "We need to send guards to Istra's temple in the hills," Carina said. "I saw a vision in the Flow that I believe was a true sending. There may be no survivors. But we owe the dead the honor of a proper burial."

  "The mob begins forming at the front gates once it's fully light, and it won't leave until the sun begins to set," he said. "I can slip two men out if we move quickly. Getting them back in may be more of a challenge. It will take them most of the day to journey there and back again, but if they leave within the candlemark, they should be able to return before sundown if they ride hard."

  "Thank you." Carina paused. "In Isencroft, it's the custom to fly a gray flag of mourning when there are deaths within a household. Is such a thing done in Dark Haven?"

  Neirin nodded. "Yes, m'lady. I'll take care of it this morning. We've not done so at Dark Haven for ten years, not since the last lord died."

  Carina drew a deep breath. "Thank you." She met his eyes. "How does Dark Haven mourn its dead?"

  Neirin gestured her toward a chair and drew a pot of hot water from the coals in the small fireplace that warmed his office. He poured her a cup of tea, which she accepted gratefully. "The custom is the same whether it's a mortal who dies or a vayash moruwho is destroyed. There are eight days of mourning, one for each Aspect. The first four days honor the Dark Aspects. Those who mourn fast from dawn to dusk, and eat an evening meal of cold food without seasoning. No music is played. The mourners light candles and make offerings to the Lady for the safe passage of the souls of the dead. A hedge witch preserves the body so that all may pay respects.

  "On the fifth day, the fast is broken. The last four days honor the Light Aspects. A great party is held in honor of the dead, with feasting and much wine. Stories are shared about those who have died, and they grow larger by the telling. Wenching is encouraged among single mourners to bring new life to replace that which was lost. Most families in Dark Haven have a shared crypt where the mortals are buried and the vayash moruseek shelter during the day. If the dead was mortal, the body is interred in the family crypt. If vayash moru, no body remains, and so a suit of the dead person's clothing is taken to the crypt instead." He paused.

  "M'lady, I am afraid to ask. But your questions bode ill for the return of Lord Jonmarc."

  Carina swallowed hard as her throat tightened. "He's not coming back, Neirin. And I'm afraid he won't be the only one."

  Neirin drew a deep breath and made the symbol of the Lady. "Dark Haven grieves with you, m'lady. We will begin the fast today."

  Carina nodded. "Thank you." She ge
stured to her clothing. "I assume there is something special I'm supposed to wear?"

  "I'll secure what you need and send it to your rooms." He met her eyes. "When the days of mourning are completed, will you return to Isencroft?"

  She had wrestled with that question all night. Carina shook her head. "Jonmarc put too much of himself into rebuilding Dark Haven for me to walk away from it. And there are so many people who need a healer. I'll stay... until another lord is chosen."

  Neirin's eyes told her that he recognized how difficult that choice had been. "This is your home, m'lady, so long as you choose it to be. The staff will honor your wishes with the same faithfulness with which they served Lord Jonmarc."

  She bowed her head as she struggled for control, and finally looked up, knowing that Neirin could clearly see her grief. "Thank you."

  Taru was waiting for her when Carina returned to her room. "I was beginning to worry," Taru said. She had a plate of biscuits with honey and a cup of dried berries along with a fresh pot of tea. "Now that you're healed, you need to eat to keep up your strength." When Carina hesitated, Taru laid a gentle hand on her arm. "I guessed that you were talking to Neirin about making the Passage Fast. Before it begins, you must eat. It serves no purpose for you to collapse."

  Carina nodded, but she found that, hungry as she was, the food had no appeal. The vision she had glimpsed in the Flow haunted her, and any elation she might have felt over the healing was bittersweet at the cost.

  "Riqua and Lisette are worried about you," Taru said quietly as Carina picked at her food. "And if you hadn't noticed, Raen hasn't left your room." Even now, Carina could glimpse the ghost girl in the shadows. "We'll stay with you for as long as you need us. Certainly we'll mark the fast and feast with you."

  "I told Neirin I'd be staying," Carina said. She looked up as if she expected Taru to argue with her. "At least, until another lord is chosen. I want to carry on what Jonmarc's started. And there's so much healing left to do."

  Taru nodded. "I thought you might. But given that ten years passed between the death of the last lord and Jonmarc's choosing, there may come a time when you change your mind."

  Carina sighed. "The world is changing, Taru. The last letter I got from Cam made it sound as if Isencroft is on the brink of revolution. We have no idea whether healing the Flow gave Tris his victory. Either way, it'll be a struggle to secure Margolan. And even though Jonmarc destroyed Malesh, there's no guarantee that will stop the fighting here. There's still a mob at the gates, demanding that we turn over the vayash moruto them. You know what happened to Kolin. The courtyard is full of refugees. How will we know when it's safe for them to go home? Once the madness starts, how do you contain it?"

  Taru looked down. "I don't know the answer to that, Carina. No one does. But having you here at Dark Haven makes a difference. That's all any of us can do-take the step we see, and do what we can."

  Carina finished the last of her breakfast and drained her cup. "Let's go down to where the refugees are camped. It will take Neirin's scouts most of the day to get back. And although I'm in no hurry for confirmation, anything is better than watching the candle burn down."

  It was nearly sunset when Neirin came to the great room where Carina and Taru were tending the refugees. At Neirin's summons, they left their work and followed him to a small parlor where two guards waited. "Tell me what you found," Carina said, taking a seat. Taru laid a hand on her shoulder in support.

  The guard who spoke was a blond man who looked to be close to Jonmarc's age. The other was one of the manor's best trackers. It was the guard who spoke. He had the manner of a seasoned soldier, but his expression was shaken. "There was a great battle at the temple, m'lady. Outside, the snow was dark with vyrkinblood and the dust that remains when a vayash moruis destroyed."

  "You're certain the blood was vyrkin?"

  The tracker nodded. "Absolutely, m'lady."

  The guard continued. "It was clear that the battle continued into the temple. The door was smashed in, and the banks of candles along one wall had been knocked to the ground. Inside, we found the remains of a vayash moru." He withdrew a signet ring from his pocket, and Carina recognized it from Malesh's hand the night of the attack on Westormere.

  "Did you find anything else?"

  The guard hesitated, and then spoke. "We found a pool of blood. Human blood. And this." He opened the sack that lay at his feet and withdrew the pommel of a broken sword.

  Carina gasped as she recognized Jonmarc's sword and fought back tears. "Did you find a body?"

  "No, m'lady. No bodies. And no tracks leading away from the temple. That's the strange part. The vayash morucan fly, but the vyrkincan't. Though I imagine someone could magic away the tracks if they wanted. Not knowing what happened, we didn't think it wise to ride to Wolvenskorn. Weren't sure what our reception would be, barging in without an invitation."

  "Thank you." Carina's voice was barely more than a whisper. Neirin motioned for the two scouts to leave, and they filed out behind him in silence, leaving Carina alone with Taru. When the door shut behind them, Carina's resolve broke. Taru folded her into her arms, letting her sob.

  "It's just as I saw it, Taru," Carina said in a strangled voice. "He's gone."

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Tris was already staggering to his feet as Fallon and two of his guards rushed toward him. He was surprised to be alive, and even more astounded that he had remained conscious. The pain that throbbed in his head and seemed to ache through his bones reminded him that one benefit of losing consciousness was a temporary reprieve from pain. In the distance, he could hear the tolling of the midnight bells from the camp.

  "Are you all right?" Fallon asked, and Tris knew that she extended her healing magic to assure herself even before he spoke.

  "That depends on what you're expecting," Tris replied. It was taking all of his concentration to remain standing. "I'm not dead. That's something." He looked toward Lochlanimar. The explosive force of the Elemental had blown out huge parts of both the battered outer wall and the thick inner wall, but the flames that raged inside would preclude any search for survivors for quite a while.

  "There's no way our men can search the castle until the fires burn out," Fallon said, as if she guessed his thoughts. "Curane might have had an underground escape tunnel. We know there are caves beneath Lochlanimar. But it'll be late tomorrow before we dare go close enough to find out."

  As sore as Tris's body was, the channels of magic were worse. Just thinking about harnessing his power hurt, and as he tried to concentrate, it felt as if the pathways of magic had been blasted raw. With an effort of will, he stretched out his magic toward the burning ruins. He could sense the old dead, the ghosts from the necropolis beneath Lochlanimar. He could sense the stirring of Tabok, Mohr and their companions. They were heading back toward his camp to make their report. And Tris could sense their own battle dead, both those newly torn from their bodies in the night's battle and those who had gathered to be a part of the final stand against Curane. But inside the fireswept castle, Tris could not sense any souls other than the dead.

  He met Fallon's eyes. "If there are survivors, they're beyond my reach."

  "Given what you've been through, I'm not surprised. We need to get you back to camp," she said archly.

  They looked up to see Soterius riding hard toward them. He dismounted and dropped his reins, running to meet them. "Are you all right?" he asked, looking at Tris with concern.

  Tris and Fallon exchanged glances. "Since I'm not dead, I guess the answer is 'yes'," Tris replied.

  Soterius gave him a look that took in his singed hair and burned clothing, and the new blisters on his hands and arms from the scorching heat of the Elemental. "Senne and Rallan sent a runner to find me. They're regrouping so that we can place a watch around Lochlanimar. No one's expecting there to be a lot of survivors, but on the chance a few try to slip out, we'll round them up and bring them back until we can figure out who's who."

 
Tris nodded, and winced at the way it made his head ache. "Make sure you keep them well away from the rest of the camp. We know Curane loosed a plague in there; we don't know for certain whether it's the same fever that Esme is dealing with among the soldiers. The last thing we need is for it to spread."

  They turned to head back toward the camp, and Tris staggered. He would have fallen if Soterius hadn't steadied him, getting under Tris's arm and supporting his weight. "You need to lie down," Soterius growled under his breath. "There's no way you can ride right now. It's going to be a long walk back to camp-unless you've got the good sense to pass out, in which case we can toss you into the back of a wagon without damaging your dignity."

  Tris meant to answer with a snide retort. Instead, his knees buckled and he slid through Soterius's grip to land in the snow. Everything was slipping away from him, receding into a gray void. "I was kidding," he heard Soterius say as if from a great distance as the world around him disappeared into darkness.

  Tris awoke to find himself in his own tent, flat on his back on his cot. Someone had treated and bandaged the worst of his burns, and the headache was now just a dull throb behind his temples. As soon as he opened his eyes, Coalan bent over him.

  "Fallon said I'm to give you this," the young man said, in a tone that told him the healer had vested Tris's squire with the authority to enforce her wishes. "She says it will help with the pain and speed the healing." Coalan slid another pillow behind Tris, helping him to sit enough to drink the warm elixir.

  "How long have I been out?"

  Coalan shrugged. "Almost seven candlemarks. It's nearly dawn. After Esme and Fallon took care of you, they went to handle the casualties. We have a lot of men down. Not everyone got out of the way of whatever that thing was."

  "An Elemental," Tris murmured.

  "If that's what you call it, then I hope to the Lady that I never see one again," Coalan said fervently. "Thought we were all good as roasted, until you turned it."