Book of Sacha: Dark Fate (The Dark Fate Chronicles 3)

by Matt Howerter

  Sacha stepped even closer to the tattooed woman. “They will be dealt with as we move forward.” She whispered the words.

  Lauren inadvertently leaned closer to hear. Beneath the sweat and dirt, she smelled of cinnamon and some spice Sacha did not know. It was sharp like pepper but pungent as well. It made Sacha think of wine or some other fermented fruit.

  “I will need the names of those that pose a threat to you...” Sacha pointed at the goblin. Everything in the tent stilled, even the sound of breathing. Fear spiked from several of the signatures she still watched, but from the goblin there was only defiant hatred. When Sacha was certain the entire room was watching, she clenched her hand into a fist.

  The goblin dropped like a stone.

  “...So that I might deal with them.”

  SACHA gazed up at the night sky and its double moons.

  Corin, the second moon—the Eye of Eos, as many called it—blazed away in the sky like a beacon next to Corel, the moon that graced the night alone for the balance of the year. Even though Corin was only half the size of its sister moon, its luminosity was twice as bright. Between the light of both full moons, the streets of Waterfall Citadel and the thousands of revelers that packed them were lit almost as brightly as the sun itself.

  Well, Sacha thought. Perhaps not so bright as all that. It was bright enough, however, to make the streets visible even without the aid of street lamps and torches.

  People had come from outlying villages and towns that sat on the very edges of the kingdom to celebrate, trade, and howl at the moons. There were a good number of other activities going on as well, but she tried to ignore them. Marcella hadn’t been seen or heard from since the first tolling of the bell that officially opened the festival.

  It wasn’t just the people of Waterfall Citadel and the country of Basinia that were celebrating. The full waxing of Corin was a cause for celebration for every race she knew of on Orundal that had culture enough to recognize the moons at all. She had even heard tell that the goblin races had some sort of horrible ceremony to mark the new year. More importantly, though, the elves and dwarves had left their largely xenophobic realms to barter and trade with their human counterparts. So far, she had not seen them, though Leanne assured her both races were in the city, and Meagan had breathlessly reported on the elves. According to Cora Barrelon, the number of representatives from either race had been oddly few compared to years past, but neither group had been willing to talk about why. Sacha found herself a little disappointed when neither Erik or Kinsey had been mentioned, in spite of the warrants for both men that were still outstanding.

  She found it amazing how time colored her memory. When last she saw Erik, Sloane had just been murdered, and she had been bound to this nightmare. The weeks of travel prior to that now seemed a cheery and laudable memory despite the desperate and difficult reality that had been the truth.

  Sacha wasn’t sure if she really knew herself anymore. Maybe she didn’t want to. Rebelliousness and obstinacy were a far cry in personality traits from murder and domination. Who had she become? Maybe, more importantly, who would she become?

  Father would be so proud, Sacha thought. It felt like a bitter irony to finally escape the man she had been angry with her entire life, only to become the worst parts of him. I’m such a fool.

  “You’ve done wonderfully,” Alexander said from beside her. They stood in the western square, near a large grouping of nobles. Beyond the courtiers, a line of soldiers stood at rigid attention with crossed pikes. Beyond them was an eagerly chatting crowd that had come to see their prince.

  Sacha glanced at her husband and smiled. “You exaggerate.”

  The prince slowly shook his head. “Oh, I don’t think so. Your intuition and willingness to act have proven you to be one of the most capable people I have at my disposal.”

  She tried to keep the bitterness from her laugh. “So I’m an asset now?”

  If Alexander noticed the tension in her voice, he gave no sign. The look he gave her was a smoldering promise. “Why yes, in a number of ways.”

  “Stop it!” Sacha smacked his arm playfully, feeling her mood shift in spite of her melancholy. “You’re about to address the people.”

  Alexander let the innuendo go, leaving behind the boyish, wholehearted grin that she loved so much. “You’re right, of course. That is a discussion for later.” He arched a dark brow. “I did mean what I said, though. None of this would have happened without your discovery of Lauren and your success in getting her to come to the table.”

  Sacha smiled, but even his compliments couldn’t make it real. She wanted to be proud of those accomplishments, but she would never be free of the guilt she had accrued in getting to them. “Yes, I suppose.”

  Alexander frowned. He could see that her heart was not behind the smile. “You really don’t see it, do you? Your actions might have just saved this nation—”

  “I do,” Sacha broke in. Just like a man, Alexander tried to frame a way to fix things for her. But how could he fix something that he couldn’t even begin to understand? “It’s… it’s just that a lot has happened, and I’m still not certain how to feel about it all. I’ll be fine.”

  “Yes, a lot has happened,” he acknowledged. “I only wish to see you happy.”

  “I am.” She patted his hand reassuringly.

  Lady Cora Barrelon approached them, saving Sacha from further conversation. She curtsied and said, “We are ready for you, my prince.”

  “Wonderful,” Alexander replied. He looked at Sacha. “Are you sure you won’t join me?”

  He had asked her to address the people with him several times before, even though it wasn’t customary. She thought the focus needed to be on him, especially in these times of uncertainty. Besides, she was challenged enough just facing him at the moment, let alone the masses. “Not just now. I will see you after.”

  Alexander took her hand and kissed it. “Until then.”

  Lady Barrelon gave a slight nod of approval and then escorted the prince to the podium. Sacha watched until her husband had climbed the ladder and disappeared beyond the emerald-green and gold hangings that provided the backdrop for his speech.

  “My people!” Alexander boomed to an enthusiastically thundering crowd.

  Sacha smiled in spite of herself. She knew why the citizens loved him so much. She had discovered it for herself, after all. She let the rest of his words fade into the background of her mind. She had seen his address already and had actually helped him develop it in the days just before. It was littered with high principles, bright futures, and all the other trappings the populace needed and wanted to hear.

  Sacha turned away from the stage and began working her way toward one of the many platforms that looked out over the jungles beyond. Thankfully, the nobles and palace staff alike seemed to sense her mood. They melted away from her path with smiles and nods but with no questions or comments. She made it to the secluded perch as if the courtyards and gardens were deserted.

  Sacha looked out over the moonlit forest, wondering how her life might have turned out differently. Not that she disliked all of it, of course. Alexander was wonderful, Terrandal was unimaginably grand, the Rohdaekhann were majestic, and being the next best thing to a queen had definite advantages. However, she could have done without the child-abducting, sister-murdering monster that seemed to overshadow everything good in her life.

  “You have returned safely.”

  Say the name of Mot... she thought as the all-too-familiar dread crept over her shoulders. She refused to face the creature, as if not seeing those horrid black eyes could make them any less real.

  “Are the savages willing to fight?”

  Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes as she wrestled with the fear and loathing that twisted her insides. “They will fight.”

  “You are certain?”

  “The details of the agreement have not been solidified, but sanctuary has been granted in exchange for their compliance and a
id against the coming horde,” Sacha answered. “Lauren, their new queen, continues to send envoys to find and summon the tribes to a gathering. Once the Wildmen are gathered, we will know more of what to expect.”

  A thick silence settled between them while Vinnicus contemplated Sacha’s words. When next he spoke, she jumped in spite of herself. His words were soft, whispered just inches from her ear. “You have done well. It is time you received your reward.”

  Sacha licked her lips and lowered her head. Her hands trembled as she pondered the macabre twists Vinnicus might have lain on this “reward,” but she turned to face him.

  “Rylan!” Sacha cried. She swept forward, lifting her daughter in a crushing embrace. Tears flowed down her cheeks like the falls of First Step. She buried her face in her daughter’s hair and breathed deeply. The scent was sweet, untainted, and so very alive.

  “My child,” Sacha whispered. “How I’ve missed you.”

  “I missed you too, Mama,” Rylan said.

  Sacha choked on a bitter laugh. Her words were so clear! Rylan was growing up, and she was missing it.

  “Are you okay?” Sacha asked, pulling back far enough to be able to see every detail of that precious face.

  “Yes, Mama,” her daughter said. “Will I be staying with you now?”

  Sacha held back the pain that closed in around her heart. She smiled as bravely as she could. “Oh, my heart. If only you knew how much I wish that could be, but just now we cannot stay together long.”

  Rylan’s tiny mouth turned down in a cute pout. “Okay.”

  She set Rylan back on the pavers and turned to talk to the monster.

  He was gone.

  Sacha scanned the area but could find no sign of him. She did find one of his dead-eyed thralls standing patiently in the shadow of a winewood tree nearby. This one had skin the color of strong tea, and her feminine features appeared healthy, if a bit gaunt. Dark eyes watched her movements from a stoic face, but she made no move to speak or approach.

  Sacha walked Rylan in the opposite direction, toward the waiting food carts. “Are you hungry? A sweet, perhaps?”

  Rylan nodded happily. “Yes, please!”

  Sacha grinned. “Then you shall have it!”

  Rylan skipped beside her as they walked to the nearest grouping of wagons and stands from which savory smells wafted in great, fragrant clouds. Sacha could see the parts of her daughter that were Renee. The delicate hands and small ears were tiny replicas of Rylan’s father without a doubt. She had not thought of her former lover in months. Sacha smiled when she realized that the familiar longing was gone, replaced by the love she had come to know with Alexander. I hope you are well, Sacha thought. Wherever you are.

  The rest of her daughter was much more poignant for Sacha. In her smiling eyes and skipping step, Sacha saw Sloane. It reminded her of times past, when she and her twin were young and carefree.

  The memory of her sister made Sacha reflect on her own identity. The longer this charade had gone on, the more their differences had become blurred. Sacha responded automatically to Sloane’s name now, and her own name was fading further and further away. Even Rouke had been slipping more often, calling her Sloane. Regardless of Sacha’s loss of self, Rylan’s smile, her voice, and even the way she walked caused Sacha to recall her lost sister.

  They approached a large man with a thick mane of dark hair who was surrounded by a crowd of frenzied, shouting children. His thick fingers and heavy forearms dug, twisted, and pulled at a large rope of colorful taffy, and he sang as he worked. At his side, a small, cheerful woman held a giant basket full of bits of candy wrapped tightly in waxed paper. The surging crowd of enthusiastic children washed up against the cart, but this appeared to be a dance the couple knew well. Neither adult seemed anything less than joyful as the woman exchanged bits of twisted paper for sticky coins that oft as not had bits of twig and dirt stuck to them.

  “Ma’am, might I have a strand of your taffy?” Sacha asked once she and Rylan had worked their way close enough to be heard above the hubbub of laughter and shouting.

  The merry eyes of the plump woman didn’t even blink when they met Sacha’s. If this candymaker knew who Sacha was, she showed no inkling of recognition. She held out her tin cup filled almost to the brim with bits of shining metal and various tidbits of childhood flotsam. “It’ll be a half a copper, if’n you please, Miss.”

  Sacha’s eyes widened as she looked at the merchant’s outstretched arm and realized she had no coin. How long had it been since anyone had asked her to pay for anything? Had she ever needed money? Even when she had tried to escape her father, it was Renee who arranged payments for everything with the coin she had stolen. She gabbled helplessly for a moment as the joy in the woman’s rounded smile turned to confusion.

  “A copper,” said a vacant voice.

  Sacha almost jumped as one delicate, dark-skinned hand dropped a shining bit into the cup to join the others. It was the thrall.

  The merchant looked between the servant and Sacha. Once the coin had clinked home, the candymaker once again smiled and held the basket out for Rylan while deftly tilting it away from the questing fingers of the other children. “Choose two for yourself, dearie,” she said with a wink, “and one for your lovely mama as well.”

  Rylan gave a delighted squeal and quickly picked out three, holding them up for Sacha’s inspection as proudly as if she had won them. “Pick your favorite, Mama!”

  Sacha took a piece that had pink swirls evident through the waxy paper cover. She turned to face her escort and thrust out her other hand. “The purse,” she demanded.

  The thrall’s face was just as emotionless as Vinnicus’s. She held out a small leather satchel that was bound with a bright brass clasp.

  “Come, Rylan,” Sacha said, taking the heavy bag and turning away from the expressionless thrall. “There are many things to see and do.”

  Rylan and Sacha walked deeper into the milling crowds, leaving the thrall to fall in behind. The dark eyes were always watching, but the servant seemed to be content with following at a distance.

  Sacha was amazed but gratified to see no faces she knew. Even more amazingly, she appeared to be completely unrecognized herself. Celebrants and merchants alike jostled her and passed her by with barely a glance. It has to be him, she thought, considering the shielding bubble Vinnicus had lain on Rylan at Riverside. Sacha might not have been a native of Basinia, but it was unlikely that no one in the thousands of milling patrons recognized her. She concentrated just enough to confirm the shadow of the creature’s power around them before surrendering to the moment and enjoying the time with her daughter. She wished it could last forever.

  All too soon, a tap came at Sacha’s shoulder. She and Rylan had managed to squirm their way to the front of a crowd to watch a delightful play of marionettes. Rylan was squealing and shouting just as loudly as the other children when the wyrm exploded into a shower of confetti under the valiant knight’s lance, but the thrall’s touch quelled Sacha’s heart.

  “It is time.”

  Sacha shook her head, shying violently away from the thrall’s hand.

  Around them, the children continued to hoot and holler while the performers began to take their bows, first by artfully dipping their puppets in acceptance of the applause, then by bobbing their own knees.

  Sacha’s power flared, instinctively responding to the threat. Her sudden anger stoked the boiling power to a frenzy. “I am not ready,” she managed to say while wrestling down the desire to turn the thrall into a thrashing torch right in the midst of the crowds.

  The dead eyes held no flicker of emotion or acknowledgement of the violence lurking in Sacha’s heart. “It is time,” she repeated.

  “Did you believe you could escape me?” The words drifted into her mind, quelling the building flames of her fury. Sacha squeezed her eyes against the tears that suddenly made her vision swim.

  “I don’t want to go, Mama,” Rylan said.

 
Sacha hadn’t noticed her daughter rejoining her, but one small hand slipped into hers. She gripped it almost spasmodically, but Rylan did not complain. Her delicate fingers gripped her back just as strongly as her little girl could will them to.

  Sacha bowed her head in defeat. She knelt, drawing Rylan into a long hug before pushing back only far enough to stare into her daughter’s crystalline eyes. “It won’t be long before we are together for always, I promise.” She pulled her daughter close once more to kiss the top of her head. “I love you.”

  “I love you too, Mama,” Rylan said. Her small arms snaked around Sacha and tightened until her muscles quivered with the effort. They held each other for another long moment before Sacha stood.

  Rylan shuffled toward the creature with her head hanging low, looking back with every step but never faltering.

  You are so brave, Sacha wanted to cheer, but her throat was locked tight. She settled for blowing kiss after kiss as the pair began to walk through the crowd. Rylan looked back one last time before she rounded the basin of a tall fountain and was gone.

  Sacha was left alone in a cast of thousands with only one bitter thought for her company. Someday, Vinnicus, I will make you pay.

  Sacha turned away from the fountain and began walking aimlessly through the cobblestone streets of the Citadel. She might have walked all night with only her bleak thoughts to keep her company, but the crowd in front of her suddenly began to shout and run, scattering in all directions.

  A deafening shriek buried all the human voices as Bora landed in front of her in a thundering rustle of displaced air.

  “Sloane!”

  It was Alexander, of course. He slid from the Rohdaekhann’s back, dropping the last six feet to the cobbles. The prince was still wearing the finery from his speech instead of the usual flying leathers.

  Confused, Sacha looked around. Corin and Corel had fallen almost a third of the way to the far horizon. She must have been walking for hours. Sacha looked back at her prince to find his worried face searching hers. Behind him, Bora hopped from foot to foot in agitation, but one great eye or the other always remained fixed on Sacha.