This Dark Mirror

by Tricia Owens

  Hadrian was evil in at least one way that Caled knew: he’d held onto a love that should have withered and died. Letting it fade would have been the kinder way. But instead, Hadrian had kept it alive, fanning the flames, hurting them both.

  Stubborn, stubborn sorcerer.

  It was so terribly wrong that Caled liked that about him.

  Jessyd, three horse lengths ahead, laughed loudly at something that Gam said to him. Caled narrowed his eyes, wishing he could knife the other man and be done with him. Every word out of Jessyd’s mouth was meant to steer Caled or the others in a direction of the sorcerer’s choosing. Caled had no patience for games of manipulation. It was part of the reason why he was a mercenary. Nothing was more straightforward than death. Clever words could not stop the blood flow from a mortal wound.

  Still, Caled didn’t feel helpless in dealing with Jessyd. If there was a game being played he would play it, and learn where true loyalties lie.

  Though a wise man would first determine his own.

  Sighing in aggravation, he shifted in the saddle, which prompted Hadrian to tighten his grip as if he feared Caled would suddenly dismount without him. A smile tried to tease the edges of Caled’s mouth but he fought the impulse. He couldn’t be a lovesick fool about this. It was his heart—my loins!—which had gotten him into this trouble in the first place. Caled promised himself saner voices would rule this time.

  They must.

  They left the thickness of forest just after midday. Caled was unnerved to see that the rocky hills he had glimpsed through the trees would in fact be reached in less than an hour. He hadn’t traveled through this area of Beyfan before and was surprised that the interior was not flat and desert-like as it was in Jeynesa. The ground beneath their horses’ hooves was solid rock, padded by the occasional patches of weed and grass. Caled would have preferred they took a different route because of the ruckus their horses made on the stone, but Jessyd had apparently convinced Manix beyond reason that it was imperative they pass this way.

  "The Elder seems of a mind to believe Jessyd’s every word," Caled said over his shoulder. "Why do you think that is?"

  It was the first words he had spoken to Hadrian since Jessyd’s comment to them. Caled could feel the sorcerer relax slightly against his back.

  "I don’t know. Manix is wise; I doubt he’s fooled by Jessyd—"

  "And yet, he acts as if he is." Caled eyed the Elder closely. The older man seemed content with their path as he quietly discussed a magecraft lesson with Syellen. No hint of wariness could be seen in the mage’s posture, though it had become obvious to all that the Falls loomed directly ahead.

  "Perhaps he believes some of what Jessyd told him," Hadrian said slowly, with clear reluctance. "Perhaps he feels pity for him."

  "For being a victim of your father’s temper, you mean?"

  Hadrian remained silent. Caled thought of turning around, but decided against it. In a lower voice, he continued, "How much of what he said might be true, Hades? About your father, I mean? Did he treat you the way Jessyd claims he was abused?"

  Hadrian’s grip around Caled’s middle loosened, as though he were about to pull away. Caled immediately caught the gloved hands in his own. "Tell me. If we’re going to face Gavedon at the end, I need to know what type of man I’ll be facing."

  "It doesn’t matter what he’s like. In the end, you won’t be the one who faces off against him."

  Caled stiffened. "It’s my revenge. It will be me on that battlefield, make no mistake."

  "The mistake is yours." Hadrian’s voice was dull. "This has only ever been about my father and me. I saw it. Back then. Someone showed me the future. You were only..." Hadrian trailed off, the sentence unfinished, but Caled heard the words as if they had been shouted: You were only a pawn.

  Familiar rage stole his breath. The other riders ahead of them became bathed in blood.

  "I am no man’s pawn," he snarled.

  Hadrian’s hands flattened over his chest, over his heart. "You were used against me, not against Rhiad. It was my weakness that was exploited. Not yours." He let out a bitter-sounding laugh. "Gods know I have enough of them, but that was my greatest weakness. And it remains so, Caled."

  The red haze gradually bled from his vision. Caled drew crisp air into his lungs and slowly released it. He looked down. The reins of his horse trembled against the beast’s neck, a result of his shaking hand. It was his greatest fear out of Rhiad: that Hadrian had used him.

  He licked dry lips. "How did your father use me to force you to burn down the city? Did he threaten my life?"

  "No."

  Caled tensed. "But you said—"

  "You were the catalyst, but I burned down the city for another reason." Hadrian’s voice dropped. "One which I won’t share with anyone."

  "By the gods, Hades, you try my patience like no man ever has!" Caled pulled their horse to a stop and twisted around in the saddle. "Do you understand where we stand now? We’re on the cusp, Hades. Though the gods strike me down, I’m reconsidering what happened at Rhiad. I am reconsidering you. And yet you insist on keeping your infernal secrecy when the truth may very well change everything between us. Do you enjoy the conflict or are you simply witless?"

  Hadrian’s mouth opened and closed without a sound. One gloved hand began to lift toward Caled’s cheek, then fell away.

  "You’re reconsidering," Hadrian repeated in a hushed voice. "You’e reconsidering me. You finally understand, don’t you? You understand that I never wished to hurt you, that I wish on pain of death that I hadn’t returned to Shard’s Point. I wish I had remained with you and begun a new life with you."

  In his mind’s eye Caled saw Hadrian standing in the streets of Rhiad, fire blazing around him while his face and eyes held crests of frost. Those gray eyes had touched on him that night and moved on. Caled had survived because of it.

  "I understand that we were torn apart in a way which may never be mended." The sharp pain of Caled’s anger melted, leaving behind a hollow that ached. "The only way things might be salvaged is if you tell me the truth about everything, Hades. No more hiding. No more falsehoods." He held Hadrian’s eyes. "How badly do you desire me, Hades? Enough to speak only truth?"

  Hadrian’s expression twisted before he turned away. "That’s unfair—"

  Caled caught his chin, forcing his face around. "Niceties and fairness were burned to ash, Hades. The only thing left to us is the bald, ugly truth. Tell me why you burned down my city."

  Hadrian closed his eyes. He shuddered within Caled’s hold. "A seer showed me two possible futures." He spoke slowly, as if pulling each word from the depths of his soul. "Each were horrible. Each resulted in death. The choice I made was to burn Rhiad to avoid what I believed was a worse fate, but that alone is not what blackens my soul with shame. I haven’t reached the end of the wretched path I chose that night. I haven’t committed every awful act I saw in that seer’s glass. When I do, I will be the most terrible monster you have ever laid eyes upon." He opened his eyes, the gray orbs looking like scarred, battered metal. "It’s bad enough that you know of Rhiad. I can’t share my reasons for doing what I did, Caled. I refuse to. It’s my greatest shame."

  Caled resisted the urge to shake the younger man until the truth fell out of him. He wanted to beat him. To strangle him—anything to put an end to the riddles and mysteries which had ruined Caled’s life.

  But as much as he wished it, inflicting violence would give him nothing. Hadrian appeared resolute. The sorcerer was holding firm for whatever reason.

  He released Hadrian’s face. He leaned back so there was no contact between them. "If you can’t tell me your reasons, at least tell me this: when you were with me during those days, when you and I—" Caled cleared his throat, fighting back memories that were half pain, half pleasure. "When we were together, did you know you would return with your father and do what you did? Did you suspect?"

  As he spoke, his hand fell to the dagger on his thigh. If the an
swer was what he feared, he would kill them both, revenge against Gavedon be damned.

  A single tear rolled down the swell of Hadrian’s cheek. "I knew nothing."

  Caled released his dagger. He turned back around in the saddle. The others had halted their horses as well. Caled avoided their curious and concerned looks and stared down at his fists. The ache in his throat hurt, but he welcomed it. For once, it was a pain he could live with.

  Wordless, he reached behind him and pulled Hadrian’s arms around him. After a moment’s resistance, Hadrian’s cheek fell against Caled’s shoulder.

  "We’re fine," Caled called to the others. He prayed they didn’t notice the hoarseness streaking his voice.

  "One day you will tell me why you put us through this suffering, Hades." He laid his left arm atop Hadrian’s, hugging it to his body. "You owe me that, damned sorcerer. You owe me that."

  ~~~~~

  Less than an hour later, the canyon of the Glass Falls welcomed them like the black maw of a giant beast.

  Hadrian cringed at the sight of the valley. It made him think of a black crystal which had been cleaved through the heart by an axe. The jagged black walls were cut sharply and angled so that the road ahead was little more than a flaw in the stone, difficult to see beyond a few yards. He’d never seen such a black place and every instinct told him that sorcery had been at work here. Looking at the rest of their group, he could see that he wasn’t the only one apprehensive of their next steps. The horses danced sideways as they reflected their riders’ nervousness.

  "What is this place?" Gam breathed, dropping his horse back to ride alongside Caled. Lio too, followed suit, the smaller thieves apparently finding comfort in their larger, armed friend. "I’ve never seen such blackness vomited from the earth."

  Their horses’ hooves clattered over the stony ground, striking discordant notes. As they entered the black-walled passage, Hadrian was alarmed to see their fractured and warped images reflected in facets of the canyon stone.

  Syellen gasped as she looked more closely at the shiny walls. "It’s glass!"

  Beside her Manix shook his head. "So these walls appear, but they are not. They are a highly polished, magickal stone known as Obar. It is unique to this area, but shards sometimes find their way to market. They are used as magickal conduits and focusing stones."

  "Obar," Syellen repeated. She extended her hand to touch the closest surface, but hesitated, her eyes darting worriedly to the Elder. "May I touch it?"

  The mage’s expression tightened, the first time he had shown caution since heading out under Jessyd’s directions. "It would be safer if none of you touched the surface. As I said, Obar is sometimes used as a conduit for magickal energy. It may house danger."

  "Which means what, Elder?"

  Manix’s black gaze fell on Caled. "The Glass Falls are not born of Life. They are an unnatural creation used as a weapon against men in the first War of Beyfan." The Elder’s face grew even grimmer. "Casts were infused into the stone, to be set off like snares once an army stepped foot upon the canyon floor. Though those who devised it are long dead, the energy has not completely dissipated from the area. Hapless travelers such as we risk springing very ancient, powerful magickal traps."

  "Then why did we come this way?" Hadrian demanded. "Surely if Gavedon and the Order have passed through it is no question that there are traps in wait for us."

  "The Glass Falls are closed at the far end," Jessyd said, studying his surroundings with leisurely interest. "When we reach it we will find an underground passageway which your father took. There is no other way into that passageway." He finally stopped his admiration of the canyon to give Hadrian a condescending smile. "It’s alright to have a soft spine, Hadrian. I, too, fear your father’s wrath. As you know, your father is a clever, hurtful man. I don’t relish this any more than his son would. In truth, as his son, I would fear it more, so I understand your cowardice."

  Hadrian’s face heated. He was acutely conscious of the others listening in. "How kind of you to be so understanding and how convenient of you to forget his name is Gavedon."

  Jessyd smirked. "No more so than you forgetting you share the same blood."

  "Enough," Caled barked. "Elder, what do we need to do to keep safe while passing through this cursed place?"

  Manix drew up his horse. "The ground is our enemy." He pointed at the rocky floor which was thickly veined with black Obar. "The passage of horses over the stone sets off vibration which activate the Casts embedded in the Falls. How many Casts still linger in the Falls and how powerful they are remains to be seen."

  "But-but how are we supposed to ride our horses through this without making any noise?" Gam sputtered, his hazel eye darting across the black veined ground like it was following the progress of a mouse. "It’s everywhere."

  "We shall wrap the horses’ hooves in cloth to blunt their impact," Manix suggested. "And then hope that the magick of this place, if it still lingers, is too weak to affect us."

  "But what of traps Gavedon could’ve set?" Lio asked in his quiet voice.

  All eyes gravitated to Jessyd. The brunette sorcerer shook his head, looking amused by their concern. "I rode by his side the entire way." Hadrian tamped down the jealousy those words sparked. "Gavedon didn’t perform any magecraft or sorcery while we passed through these canyons. I would have noticed. He knew the dangers, too."

  "Gavedon may have used magick unbeknownst to you," Caled said. "I don’t trust him not to have taken advantage of a place like this. It’s what I would have done if I were he."

  Gam visibly shuddered. "You, as a sorcerer? Don’t ever suggest a thing, eh?" He tapped his eyepatch. "Me and Lio like you as you are, you beautiful, blood-thirsty bastard."

  The thieves chuckled, but Hadrian watched Caled’s profile. The mercenary didn’t find the situation as humorous.

  "Gavedon may have magicked," Jessyd conceded reluctantly. He glanced at Hadrian and his expression hardened. "But I know what I saw and I trust this route. I’m not out to hurt you. I told you what he’s done to me. What more do I need to do to convince you all?" He pounded the pommel of his saddle with his fist. "I’ll take the lead if you need me to prove myself to you. Then will you believe that I’ve turned sides?"

  "No," Caled said. "But it will help."

  Jessyd’s face turned red again, but he bit his lip and kicked his horse to move it to the front. He dismounted and wrapped his horses’ hooves with strips of cloth torn from his undertunic, and then remounted. Without a look back to see if the others followed, he rode into the canyon, quickly disappearing behind a wall of shiny black rock.

  "You doubt his intentions?” Manix asked Caled. “Or is it simply that you enjoy antagonizing him?"

  "The only one I enjoy antagonizing is Hades," Caled drawled.

  Hadrian kept his face hidden behind the mercenary’s back, savoring a private smile.

  "He is a young man from an unfortunate background who found himself under the control of a domineering, cruel man," Manix replied calmly. Hadrian’s smile faded. He raised his head. Manix was looking directly at him. "Surely you can find it in your hearts to understand someone from such a sorrowful situation? To empathize with him? Or is it more entertaining to poke a wounded beast than to help one?"

  Hadrian looked away. "We’re not alike. We’re not!"

  Caled turned his head slightly. "Easy, Hades," he muttered. "The Elder has a point of sorts."

  "You can’t be—"

  "The Elder is right to some degree, but that doesn’t mean I trust Jessyd with my back. Unless you have a legitimate reason why I should kill Jessyd on the spot?"

  Hadrian was shocked by the words. "You wouldn’t!"

  Caled laughed without mirth. "Don’t be a child, Hades. This mission isn’t about delivering justice; it’s about delivering death. If Jessyd stands in our way, he must be removed."

  Hadrian looked to his right. Gam gave him an encouraging smile. To Hadrian’s left, Lio stared back solemnly. Both
men were Caled’s friends and would fight to the death by the mercenary’s side—Hadrian knew this without asking. And that was precisely why they were here: because death was inevitable, either for Caled or for Gavedon.

  If the Elder were right about Jessyd’s innocence and Hadrian was falsely condemning him—it would be like tying Jessyd to a stake at Rhiad and burning him along with the others.

  "I can’t give you a reason to murder him." Hadrian was sickened by the thought. He nodded at Manix over Caled’s shoulder. "We’ll follow Jessyd. I hope he proves to be what you believe he is."

  The Elder returned Hadrian’s nod and wheeled his horse around. He and Syellen padded their mounts’ hooves and then set off after Jessyd.

  "You don’t have the heart of a killer, Hadrian," Gam remarked as he clicked his tongue to set his own mount in motion. He winked at Caled as he passed the blond. "Knew it all along."

  ~~~~~

  Lio didn’t like thinking about the past. The years before he befriended Gam had been unkind ones, full of misery, hardship, and a loneliness that had eaten him as steadily as any disease. His ma had been a whore. He remembered that about her because she had been murdered by one of her customers. He’d seen her bulging eyes and lolling tongue as her body was hefted over the shoulder of a stranger and taken down an alley and dumped there. Lio hadn’t followed, hoping for a miracle. He’d moved on with his life, learning to feed and defend himself.

  But to his fright, he saw his ma again in the Glass Falls, gazing out from within the glossy black walls with bulging eyes and that same limp tongue. Trembling, Lio looked to the side to his friend. Gam was whistling, the hazel-eyed thief apparently without a care in the world—or a dead mother staring at him from the walls.

  Hoping he had been imagining things even though it wasn’t something he did often, Lio dared another glance at the passing walls.

  She was still there, sliding along the walls to keep pace with his horse, the lower half of her body disappearing into rock but her chest, arms, and head as clear as if she stood behind a rippled, soot-stained window.

  Illusion, Lio told himself, shutting his eye. Or bad berries.