by Justin Sloan
As he went over to the entrance, Alastar said, “I’m watching you, just remember that.”
“Odd, considering the fact that we’re supposed to be watching for intruders.”
“Maybe that’s exactly what you are.” The words came out before Alastar had time to think about them, but he stared, not backing down.
Donnon laughed with a shake of his head. “Your sister hasn’t taken the same oaths you have, paladin. It would do her some good if you were to remember this.”
“And you think she would settle for a clansman?”
“I think she’ll do as she pleases, regardless of your own prejudices.”
There wasn’t much he could say to that, so Alastar took a spot beside his sister. He made sure he was far enough away that her arm couldn’t find him if it had a life of its own, and then allowed his eyes to close.
While he hadn’t ever really cared for the idea of romance, he found his sleep-filled mind fogging over with thoughts he had never had before. Whether she was joking or not, Estair had gotten under his skin with her comments. But it was more than that. She had also pulled at his interest with side glances, the hint of a smile, and simply the way she walked.
Everything within told Alastar to pay the price for these thoughts, to focus on his duty to the Order. The skin was a distraction, nothing more.
Well, everything except a very logical part of his brain that started as a hushed pulse somewhere in the darkness and grew louder and louder, and soon seemed to be screaming at him—those days are gone!
How could they really be, though? Duty and honor had always been a part of him, for as far back as he could remember. As he thought about it, his mind swirling with the night and pulling him out of consciousness, he considered that maybe his duty was just being redirected. Duty to the land, duty to its people.
Duty to his sister, and any magic user out there who might be wrongly accused.
He would put a stop to those sorcerers, as that was an immediate peril. And then? Well, then he would have to confront the Order of Rodrick and any others in the lowlands who held similar beliefs about magic users.
Then, and only then, he told himself, would he be allowed to consider a woman in the way he had been considering Estair.
With that thought, finally, sleep took him.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Rhona awoke to hushed whispers between the two men, but they stopped talking as soon as they noticed that she was awake. The first emotion she felt was annoyance that they had apparently let her sleep the longest and not given her a chance to stand watch. Second, in spite of the worry in Donnon’s eyes, he seemed to have a hidden smile in there, as if he knew of some deep secret she didn’t.
Her mind rushed back to the evening before, to falling asleep at his side, each sharing a comforting look and a nod that seemed to convey they both agreed that her brother could be a pain.
And yeah, she’d felt a flutter in her chest, but she hadn’t told him about it or accepted the kiss she suspected he wanted to give her, based on the look in his eyes as they moved to her lips.
What had him all worked up?
She stood and smoothed out her clothes. The strong scent of sweat and dried blood was strong in the room, and her balance was off due to a slight ache in one ear. She reached up to smooth out her hair, only to find it in complete disarray.
“What is it?” she asked the two as she approached, blinking and doing her best not to wobble.
“Maybe nothing, maybe something,” Donnon whispered.
“What Mr. Cryptic here means,” Alastar said, also keeping his voice low, “is that we heard scuffling, like feet on dirt, and thought we might have even heard whispers.”
“Maybe you need more sleep,” she hissed, not addressing her comment specifically to either one of them.
Alastar shrugged, then motioned for silence with a finger to his lips.
Slightly annoyed that they couldn’t address her complaints at the moment, but even more pissed at the fact that she wanted a nice bath and knew that she wasn’t likely to get it in the near future, she closed her eyes to connect with the shadows.
There was indeed something out there.
“I sense them,” she said, eyes still closed. It wasn’t like she could see them, but she felt the shadows moving around her like a great lake of darkness. Something was definitely causing a ripple.
“How many?” Alastar asked.
“Not enough to piss your pants over,” she replied, then opened her eyes to see him glaring. “Sorry, still waking up. I’m not used to this, so can’t be sure. If I had to guess, I’d say a handful.”
“Five or six we can take,” Donnon said. “As long as they aren’t the sorcerers, that is.”
Alastar nodded and reached over to smooth out his sister’s hair. “Let’s get moving, but be at the ready.”
She swatted his hand away, smoothed out her hair herself, and said, “I’m not sure how my appearance changes the fight at all.”
“Actually…” Alastar pulled back, assessing her with a smirk. “We might want to keep the crazy witch look. Could scare them off.”
“Personally, I like it,” Donnon offered. “Makes you look…”
“Intimidating?” She teased her hair, so it stood out even more.
“I was going to say wild.”
The look of annoyance that flashed across Alastar’s face was hard to miss, but she ignored it. “Clansmen like their women wild, do they?”
“Aye. We want women that can keep up with us or lead the way. Not subservient cows like in the lowlands.”
“Our women are not cows,” Alastar said, his frustration growing.
“Clearly,” Donnon replied with a wink Rhona’s way.
She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help blushing. Hopefully, it wasn’t noticeable in the dark tunnels.
“If this little flirt session is over, maybe we can get moving before whatever’s out there catches us off-guard?” Alastar leaned out into the passage, glancing both ways, and then motioned for them to follow. “Quickly and quietly.”
“I wouldn’t know how to do either,” Donnon said with a chuckle.
“You test me, warlock.” Alastar turned, finger in the man’s face. “Continue to do so, and we’ll have a problem.”
Donnon sneered as if he’d like to see that happen, but nodded and walked past Alastar, taking the lead.
“He’s just having a bit of fun,” Rhona hissed as she passed.
“That man has his eyes on you.”
“And as I’ve said before, that’s none of your business.”
She could tell the words got to him, but that had been her intent. While he had helped raise her and had always been there for her, it was time he learned that she was a grown woman, even if just barely. She could make her own decisions, and accept a little flirting from an attractive man with a beard if she damn well pleased.
Plus, she found herself wondering about Donnon’s comment now, and what it would actually be like to be with a clansman. Her whole life she had been told they were evil, capable of unspeakable things if they found a woman alone at night. Donnon didn’t seem so bad, and definitely didn’t live up to the horror stories. She wondered if his beard would tickle her inner thighs, and what his gruff voice would sound like when he moaned.
Her one experience with a man had been quite the odd one, she thought as the three made their way down dark tunnels, only lit by a faint glow from her brother. One night in the castle, she had been finishing her bath when Sir Taland had entered. He wasn’t supposed to be in the women’s bathing chambers, but he stood there, leaning against the doorway, simply watching her.
At the time, she had been more curious than offended, and had simply turned and stood, facing him as the water dripped from her nude form. He had licked his lips and brushed his long, blond hair behind his ear as he approached, then guided her to sit at the edge of the bath. Before she knew it, he was kneeling before her, and his tongue was giving her unkn
own pleasures.
It had been a brief encounter, one she had never experienced before nor since, and never discussed with anyone. When it was over, he had simply turned away, ashamed, and asked that she never let word of that escape, or he would lose his seat as a paladin.
How many nights had she lain awake in her night robes, staring at the door and wondering, no, hoping he would return?
But it never happened again, and he purposefully avoided her gaze at all dinners and elsewhere.
Now, she found those same urges returning as she watched the dark form of Donnon walking ahead. His broad shoulders took up most of the hall, and she wondered if, somehow the two of them were ever to be interlocked in ecstasy, would their magic burst forth as they lost control?
It was almost a humorous thought, and she couldn’t help but snicker silently. Apparently, Donnon heard because he slowed enough to glance back at her with a raised eyebrow.
“Everything good?” he asked.
She just bit her lip and walked past him, taking the lead. Instantly, she regretted the action, because now she kept imagining he was staring at her rear as she walked.
Then again, maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.
A swoosh sounded, and the shadows seemed to sway in warning, a subconscious call upon her magic, she imagined, and ducked. With a clatter, an arrow hit the wall nearby.
“There!” she said, pointing in the direction it had come from.
Before either of the others could react, a piercing shout rang through the tunnels, and a second later a spear glinted in Alastar’s glow. Donnon appeared, knocking the spear aside and then kicking at a remnant’s knee so that it busted. He spun and elbowed the remnant in the head before wrapping his arm around its neck and throwing it over his hip. When it thudded to the ground, he was quick to maneuver around it and snap the bastard’s neck.
Alastar’s sword clanged against that of another, and then two more remnant were on top of them as Donnon snatched up the spear and joined the fight to push them back.
While Alastar was fast with his sword, more than once the tight confines of the tunnel worked against him.
One of the remnant nearly landed a blow to his head with its battleax, but Donnon was at his side a moment later, skewering the remnant and snatching the ax out of the air as it fell.
“Now, this is more like it!” he bellowed, and turned back to press the attack.
Rhona closed her eyes, considering the risk of letting the darkness in, letting it carry her forward to join in the fight.
She opened her eyes to see Alastar there, shaking his head.
“Save your energy, we’ve got this.”
He turned to join the fight and, sure enough, within seconds they had taken out the remnant, and the way was clear.
Their heavy breathing filled the darkness and Alastar turned with a smile. Except, another ripple came from the shadows. Something moving away, and fast.
“A scout,” she said, pointing. “He’s gone to warn the others.”
“Well, spirits curse them!” Donnon shouted, tightly gripping his new ax and preparing to run.
Alastar held up a hand, stopping him, and then motioned to Rhona. “Now would be an okay time to pull on those powers of yours… if you think you can handle it?”
Her chest felt heavy with worry, but she closed her eyes and focused.
The ripples became a wave, and then it was like she was at one with the shadows. A form was moving, his breaths raspy and heavy, his stench thick and putrid, so that when she engulfed him, and he fell to the floor, suffocating, it was almost too much for her to keep the connection. Shadows twisted and turned around the man, pressing in on him. Then, with a shout mixed with anger and excitement, she pushed so that the shadows simply took him.
He was gone.
She returned to see her brother and stumbled, but it was Donnon who caught her.
“Is he…?”
She blinked, trying to figure out what had just happened, but then nodded. “Gone.” Donnon’s arms felt comforting, and she was glad he didn’t let go, as her head was spinning.
Still, she found herself feeling better quickly, and wondered if maybe focusing her energy on one person like that instead of multiple took less out of her. Alastar held up his hands and looked about to pray for a blessing of healing, but she shook her head. “Save your energy.”
He was surprised, but nodded and was about to lead the way onwards when he looked back at Donnon and frowned.
“Right,” Donnon said with a laugh as he stepped back, and only then did Rhona realize that the man still had his arm around her. “Just being cautious.”
“Sure you are.” Alastar took off without another look back.
Rhona followed close behind, not wanting Donnon to see her smile. If she was being honest with herself, she liked the attention. That didn’t mean she needed to let him know that.
While she was admitting stuff to herself, she realized she actually liked this shadow magic. This power was unlike anything she had ever felt in life. So many days growing up had been spent looking out from the castle ramparts at the paladins training below, admiring the blessings they were able to pull down with their so-called prayers.
Now she knew that it had all just been magic, even if her brother wasn’t ready to admit it. His light magic combined with her shadow magic. It got her thinking, wondering how powerful the two could be if they set their minds to it—well, if Alastar ever accepted his powers for what they were.
A howl sounded in the tunnels behind them, and Alastar turned, casting a soft glow back that way. His sword lit up as he prayed, and he said, “More scouts, likely. They won’t know which way we went, so we might luck out. But we’d best hurry.”
Seeing by the light of his sword, they darted past old, crumbling roads that lead through tunnels and various buried parts of old cities. Each time they exited one tunnel, they'd breathe fresh air, happy to be out on green hills, only to return to a new set of tunnels shortly after.
The shouting had died down, and they had just emerged onto a plateau that led to a series of lakes and rivers past the valley ahead, when Donnon pointed and swore.
Rhona didn’t need to ask why, as she too saw the plumes of smoke rising from amongst a clump of trees in the distance.
“I take it you know what’s burning over there?” Alastar said.
“If the terror in my gut is correct, aye.” Donnon rested the ax on his shoulder and turned, looking for any sign of danger. “That’s where my village is.”
Alastar didn’t say another word, but simply nodded and pressed on. Rhona’s legs were killing her, and her stomach ached from hunger, but she kept moving. His little girl, Kia… If she was hurt in any way, Donnon would most assuredly lose it. She understood how important this was for him, but wondered what dangers might await them below.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Donnon cared for nothing more at that moment than his little girl and her safety. Leaving her with just two of his friends while she had the black marks of the plague on her had been risky. Stupid even. He had put everything he had into his decision to go find a healer, and he had found one.
But now this? To return with Alastar and his healing magic, only to find his village in flames was more than he could bear.
He was vaguely aware of the other two racing along with him, of plowing their way down through the valley and then following it up through dew-covered bushes to the point that led up and toward his village. Part of him knew it was gone, everything would be gone, but he couldn’t give up hope yet.
They passed the river he’d often taken Kia to when teaching her to swim, and the rock he would always remember where he had once slipped, almost lost control, and then dropped his daughter. He had never taken her to the river again after that, afraid he might lose her, too, after the illness that had taken her mother from them.
Smoke rose in thin tendrils past the trees ahead, not much now. That told him the fire was at its end, and that
it would have claimed its prize long before he arrived.
The worst part was that, had he been there, he would have been able to control the flames, to put a stop to this. Had any of the fire mages been there, his daughter would still be alive. They had abandoned him in his time of need, and he’d have words with them yet.
But for now, he needed to block the negativity out, keep focused, and be certain of what had happened here. Hope burned in his gut, as slight as that ball of hope was, yearning for the off-chance that his daughter was still alive.
Then he was running through trees, and the first burnt house lay in ashes before him. Past it were more, and then he was among it all, collapsing to his knees, staring in horror.
“Kia…” It was barely a whisper. It was all gone. They… they were all gone. “Kia!” Donnon pushed himself up, refusing to believe it, and spun around, looking for any other way they might have survived, any sign of who might have done this.
“Donnon,” Rhona said, arriving at the edge of the clearing, her hand clasped to her heart, the other at her mouth. “Oh, my… I’m so sorry.”
“KIA!” he shouted again, refusing to accept that she could be gone. Not his little girl.
“It’s too late,” Alastar said, looking at the carnage. He walked over and put a hand on Donnon’s shoulder.
Donnon’s first instinct was to swat the hand aside, to punch the man for even thinking Kia could be dead, but instead he bit his lip and let the sorrow ball up in anger. Whoever had done this would pay, whoever was responsible would—
“Father…?” a voice said, and he turned, warmth spreading throughout his body as that hope, the hope that had nearly been quenched, exploded.
There she was, still covered in the black marks, but beautiful as ever. He was kneeling in front of her in an instant, wrapping her in his arms, caressing her hair, and weeping.
“My baby, my amazing Kia.” He pulled back, looking for her protectors.
But she shook her head, her hazel eyes full of sorrow.
“They’re gone,” he said in realization.