A Dark Tide (Book of One)

by Jordan Baker

  "Isn't there somewhere you can hide?" Lexi asked.

  "I don't know," she said, then she shook her head. "It is all right, I am fine here."

  "If you stay in this place, maybe the soldiers will not come," Lexi suggested, though she did not truly believe it.

  "One can hope," she said, then she smiled tiredly. "It is nice to talk to someone. It has been a long time since I just sat and talked. What is your name?"

  "Lexi," she replied. "What is yours?"

  The woman frowned for a moment, then she looked up, her eyes searching in the distance.

  "I don't know," she said, and her expression was one of confusion and sadness. She looked down at the black robe in her hands and a tear ran down her cheek. "I guess it doesn't matter anymore."

  "Maybe you will remember," Lexi said. "Maybe once Calexis is dead, things will be better."

  "Your words sound so strong, but you don't know how powerful she is," the woman said. "How can anyone stand against the power of a god?"

  "I killed one god," Lexi said. "And I will kill her too."

  *****

  Aaron collapsed against the wall of the winding stone staircase, gripping his head, fighting the stabbing pain that shot through his skull, and fighting to keep the spell that he had made from falling apart. He could barely suppress his power and the shadow was dangerously close to grasping it, and now he was beginning to regret going after the books himself. Perhaps it would have been better if he had let Stavros or someone else find the books, for the power it had taken for him to retrieve the last book had required much of the energy he had gathered in himself, and it had taken most of the night and well into the morning to regain some measure of his strength. Still, he knew that even if he had been able to relay Stroma's instructions to Stavros or one of the others, only the innate knowledge of the god had allowed him to summon the book through the strange window, the pathway to a different existence, so it would not have mattered. Aaron focused his breathing as he leaned against the coolness of the stone, and the pain finally subsided to a throbbing ache that was barely tolerable. It was enough, and he was able to reach out slowly and continue gathering power from the world around him the way he had learned from the Ansari, letting it infuse his body and allowing him to sense so much of the world around him.

  The pain began to subside and Aaron continued up the steps until he reached the top of the tower. He pushed open a heavy, wooden door and walked into an open space that was barely a room, for it had wide, arched portals all the way around, like a kind of lookout high atop the palace. There was some evidence on the floor of birds having taken up roost in the tower roof, but none of it appeared to be recent. Aaron walked over to one of the portals, and he held onto one of the pillars that supported the arch as he stepped up onto the stone rail and looked out across the city. Even though the sky was dirty with clouds and the smoky malaise that rose from the city, the light of day still shone through, lessening the darkness and warming the air, and it appeared that it was already some time after midday.

  Aaron remembered the things that Ashan had told him about the light in the sky on a cloudy day, and he let his senses feel what was beyond the grey clouds, and he smiled when he felt the rays of the sun, even though he could not see it directly. After a few moments, he looked out across the city below, through the shadows and the gloom, and he could feel the movement of so many people, locked into patterns and connected by the magic that fed from their essence. Aaron could how their energy was being directed in a variety of directions then turned toward a central point, one he already knew was the temple of the god. He could feel the crystal, pulsing with energy, growing slowly, and connected by a line of power to one figure, like a spider with a thread connected to a giant web where so many flies has been caught.

  He felt something else in the city, beyond the flows of power, and knew that there were other energies at work, their locations obscured, but there nonetheless, and he wondered that there were a few more than he had expected. Other than Stavros and Calthas, who he knew were trying to find a way to break the safely spell of the crystal, he wondered who else might be in the city, and what might be their purpose. Whomever they were, it appeared they were not subject to the will of the dark god, the queen who now ruled over this once bright and proud city, that was now fallen to shadow and despair, but without his power, he could not tell much more than that, for they were like tiny smudges amid the ever deepening shadow.

  "You must do what must be done, Aaron," Stroma echoed in his thoughts, his voice very distant now, and as much as Aaron felt some pity for the god, he could still not forgive his betrayal, and he hoped the mages could free the people, for he knew that he might have no choice but to accept the truth of fire.

  Aaron sat down on the stone rail, letting his feet hang over the sheer drop, and he remembered something from his past, another memory from long ago, of being held up by strong hands, with a warm, rich voice behind him, telling him about the people and how each and every one of them was important. Aaron now knew that the man was not truly his father, but it did not matter, for he felt as though he was, and he was warmed by the memory, and the lingering love and respect that echoed within him. His thoughts wandered to Tarnath, the old armsmaster who had raised him, pretending to be his uncle, another lie told to protect him, but one that was truth in every other way, and he thought of the words of the mage, Zachary, who had barely been a part of his life, yet had done what he could to guide him, and understood that he should make his own path in the world. And he remembered another, whose love for him had not come in the form of words or actions, but simply a warmth and acceptance that was unconditional, and he regretted that his memory of her was so faint and distant. Aaron rose from the ledge and took one last look out over the city, where so many lives were slowly being taken, then he turned and made his way from the dull light of the overcast sky and down the winding stairs that led to where he knew he would find only shadow and darkness.

  Aaron exited the tower and made his way through the palace grounds, then over to the main courtyard by the gate. The last time he was in this place, it was to escort Ariana on her way to undergo training with the mages on an island in the western sea. They never arrived at their destination after being attacked by the other guards, who had been ordered by her uncle Cerric that she be killed. Aaron wondered that it was almost fortuitous that neither of them had fallen into the hands of the priesthood, who he now knew would have already taken over the ranks of mages. He also remembered that this was where he had last seen his friend, Borrican, who had his own troubles in Kandara, thanks to a war that had been started by Cerric and the black robed priests of the dark god.

  And now, another war was to begin with a peaceful neighboring land, against a people he really only knew about from the books he had read, though his mother was of their forest, a mother he had barely known, who had died because of him. Queen Aria of House of Solari had once been queen of this land, reigning alongside her husband and Ariana's father, King Gregor of the royal House of Coromyr, a marriage that was to have heralded a new age, but it was cut short by their deaths, all because of Aaron's power. Though he had finally discovered what really happened that night when he was attacked by the shadow, it weighed upon him still, for despite the fact that it might not have been his fire that had killed them, he was still the reason they had died, if not the cause.

  As Aaron walked up the steps that led up to the palace, he let go of the spell that had obscured him from sight, for there was no longer any need to hide. As his magic dissipated, the two guards at the top reached for their swords, alerted by his sudden appearance, but a moment later their dead eyes flashed with a dark light and they stood back again, letting him pass, merely watching him with their faintly glowing eyes as he entered the palace. Inside, Aaron found dozens of guards, all assembled in rows on either side of a path that ran through grand foyer, all of them standing stock still and staring at him, but making no move to attack. He noticed that the i
nside of the palace looked very different than when he had last been there. The many galleries that overlooked the entrance hall had been reworked in a much more angular style, with sharp iron and polished stonework that was enameled black. Beyond the many guards, in the center of the foyer, upon the dark grey, wide stone steps that led up to the palace proper, stood a woman, dressed in a sheer black dress that was intricately worked with black and red patterns that spiraled suggestively around the voluptuous curves of her body.

  "Welcome home," she said with slight smile.

  Aaron stopped at the foot of the steps and stared up at her and he could see the dark shadows that flickered within her essence, drawing in the light. He felt the shadow within him call out to her, as though it wanted to return, to rejoin the darkness whence it came.

  "You are Calexis of Xalla," Aaron said.

  "And you are Aaron," she replied. "I recognize you now, though it has been some time since I have looked into your eyes. They seem different now, for you have truly become a child of fire, though you try to hide it."

  "I remember your eyes as well. They are cold and filled with shadows," Aaron told her, remembering the one who had attacked him when he was young. It was that same, cold, predatory look that he saw behind the eyes that glimmering at him now, but unlike the one who had tried to kill him and faltered, Calexis did not waver. Instead, she smiled at him, flashing her sharp, white teeth through her dark red lips, while staring at him with dark intensity and Aaron could feel the dark energy that flared around her, filling the great hall.

  "Come," she said, her voice echoing with power as she took a few steps toward him. "I have prepared a dinner for you. We can dine together and discuss why you have come to me." Her last words echoed again, and Aaron felt the shadow in him urging him forward, but he stood his ground.

  "I have come to stop you," Aaron said. Calexis tilted her head and her eyes flashed darkly at him, but she smiled even wider at his challenge.

  "Of course you have," she said, letting her power subside. "All in good time, my dear boy. There is a tradition in this land of a last meal before meeting one's end, so join me, and after we can see whose end it will be. Come." She turned and looked at him over her shoulder.

  Aaron walked up the steps and stopped next to Calexis, and though he was ready for her to attack him at any moment, he could sense no hostility from her. Instead, she slipped her arm around his and walked with him up the remaining steps to the main palace.

  High above, on one of the upper galleries, in the shadows of an archway, Lexi watched in horror at what had transpired before her eyes. She had scaled the outer wall of the castle and slipped inside a high window just in time to see Aaron walking, arm in arm, up the steps with her mother. It was as though he was perfectly content to be with her, not even flinching when she held his arm, and Lexi seethed inside, hating Calexis even more than ever. Whatever had happened, it appeared that Aaron had already fallen under her control, and now Lexi was more determined than ever to stop her, but she knew she could put Aaron in danger if she was not careful. Somehow, she would have to find a way to separate him from Calexis before she could attack, and she blended into the stonework of the palace and began making her way toward wherever they had gone.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  "Fools," Kaleb muttered under his breath to Nathas, Borrican and Storm as they stood upon a thick branch that was low to the ground and watched the thousands of assembled elven warriors move out in groups, disappearing into the depths of the forest to engage the oncoming enemy.

  At the behest of the court, the elven houses had quickly assembled warriors from every clan and tribe throughout the forest and the numbers that had already answered the call were impressive, and the trees had carried word that more would soon arrive from the further reaches of the elven forest. Each of the elven warrior groups was distinctive in their garb and some in their choice of weaponry, and if their skill in battle were anything like the elven guard had shown in Kandara, they would hopefully be a match for the army that had invaded their borders. Still, the fact that the Darga were using poison to kill the forest could pose a problem, since the elves derived much of their strength from the living things around them. Kaleb and the others agreed that the elves were especially foolish to refuse any help, that of battle hardened soldiers from Maramyr, the surviving guards of Kandara, among whom they had discovered were a number of Rangers, not to mention the two dragons that were sworn to Ariana, who, though she was of mixed blood, was a princess of Solari, the ruling house of Elvanar. Instead, the Maramyrian and Kandaran soldiers would be tasked with guarding the people that had been granted refuge in the red forest, freeing up the elves who had been watching them, so they could join the ranks of the army. The elven court apparently now trusted Kaleb and Nathas enough to let them guard their own people.

  At midday, Quenta had called a meeting of the leaders of each warrior group at the head of the assembled forces, to discuss the battle plan, and make several speeches before the warriors. The members of the elven court were also present and confirmed his story about how Kaleb and Nathas had taken great risk to bring warning of the poisoning of the forest. Quenta was surprisingly forthright about their loyalty as allies, though he also downplayed what value they might be upon the battlefield against the enemy, making it clear that the human fighters, while valiant, were no match for the lizard men or the ensorceled warriors, who would continue to fight even with wounds that would drop a regular soldier. Kaleb and Nathas had stood by during the speeches, effectively on display like a couple of prized captives, the way a hunter would show off a ferocious but lesser beast that had been captured and caged. Having come to understand a little of the nature of the elven warrior culture, they suffered the patronizing indignity of such faint praise with gritted teeth behind stoic smiles and nods.

  Quenta also introduced Borrican by his title, as the Prince of Kandara, the heir to the dragon throne, and told the assembled elven warriors that he and Princess Ariana, the third seat of Solari, commanded two dragons, who could be called upon should the need arise. That statement elicited a great deal of whispering from among the elves, and none of them seemed particularly enamored of the idea of dragons in their forest, their reaction no different from that of the court. Quenta assured them that there would likely be no such need, but that the warriors should be informed of the possibility, to avoid any confusion should he decide to call in the dragons if he saw an advantage, and also making a point of reminding the court elves and the warriors of his right to do so.

  "If only they would reconsider," Borrican commented. "It is frustrating to watch and remain idle."

  "The elves are a proud people," Nathas said. "Many might even view them as arrogant, but their courage in battle is well known, and a point of pride among them. Considering how important it is to them, it might even be considered cowardice for them to accept help from outsiders, and from what I understand of elven politics, until a good number of them come to truly understand the threat they face, suggesting that they might need assistance might be considered an insult."

  "Quenta has faced the Darga," Kaleb said. "Almost every member of his guard was killed. Can't he explain how dangerous is the enemy they face?"

  "Quenta is doing his best to save face after such a loss," Nathas said. "If he speaks too much of the strength of the enemy, it might be interpreted by the other elves as a sign of weakness."

  "I do not like Quenta much, but he is an exceptional fighter," Kaleb replied. "If he says the enemy are dangerous, then the elves should believe him."

  Nathas shrugged. "As I said, it is elven politics, and they are a proud people, each and every one of them."

  "Dragons do not posture in such a way," Storm commented. "If there is a question of strength between two dragons, they will fight and the stronger of the two will be known."

  "Do dragons fight often?" Kaleb asked.

  "Yes, all the time," Storm said.

  "Dragons constantly challenge one another
for no other reason than challenging one another, though the elder dragons can be just as difficult as the elven court," Borrican said.

  "The dragon lands sound fairly dangerous," Kaleb commented.

  "Not for dragons," Storm replied.

  "Fair enough," Kaleb said, shaking his head. "I suppose we should check in on Princess Ariana and make for the encampment in the red forest."

  They made their way down from the low branch to where their horses waited, and each of them mounted up except for Storm, who appeared to be having some trouble. His horse kept snorting and dancing away from him every time he tried to approach. Nathas was better able to cover his amusement than Kaleb, and Borrican rode over to Storm and leaned down from his saddle.

  "The stupid beast will not obey me," Storm said. "It is poorly trained."

  "Try not to think about eating it," Borrican told him, keeping his voice low. "Horses are fairly smart, and it might be able to hear your thoughts, which are fairly obvious."

  Storm scowled at him and focused on blocking his thoughts a little better despite the constant distraction caused by the rumbling in his stomach.

  "Come, horse, I won't eat you," he said, then he turned and smiled at Borrican. "Not yet anyway."

  "Perhaps we should go hunting," Borrican suggested as Storm swung himself up atop his horse. "My father used to enjoy deer, and we do have permission from the elves to hunt in the forest."

  "Where shall we hunt, Akandar?" Storm asked as he turned his horse and followed Borrican to where the others were waiting. "Would we find many of these deer in the forest to the east, near the battle?"

  "We just might," Borrican replied.

  "Very well," Storm said. "We will hunt."

  *****

  With Quenta leading the force that would attack the invaders, Laurana quietly aw to preparations for the defense of the elven city. It was difficult to make such arrangements without raising alarms among the people, since Rolan and the other court elves had spread the word that the enemy would be easily repelled from the forest. While Laurana was aware of the strength of the elven warriors, she had also spent much time reading through ancient archives from an earlier age, learning more of the shadow. If the enemy they faced truly commanded the dark power, then it would be foolish to assume an easy victory, and it was only a matter of prudence to take whatever precautions possible.