Into the Darkwood: A Dark Elf Fantasy Romance Trilogy (The Darkwood Chronicles)

by Anthea Sharp

  She was quiet a long moment, the silence pressing about them. Bran tried not to hold his breath as he waited for her answer. A spice-scented breeze moved through the partially open window, and finally she spoke.

  “As long as I don’t have to go back to the Hawthorne Court, I will go to your Oracles.” She looked up, her expression fierce. “But you are required to spend every moment in Elfhame beside me, Prince Brannonilon Luthinor.”

  “I swear to it,” he said solemnly. “By the seven bright stars, by the palemoon and the bright, I will protect you with my life.”

  This time, he vowed, it would be enough to win her heart. Permanently.

  The pain in Bran’s eyes smote Mara to the heart—yet she had told him the truth. She didn’t know where she belonged.

  But it was too soon to make an irrevocable decision. If they didn’t act now, she wouldn’t have a world of her own to choose. The Void threatened everything.

  She pulled in a long, shuddering breath. “First, we need to destroy the Void.”

  “Of course.” He squeezed her shoulders. “The temple awaits.”

  He stepped away from her, going to gather his cloak and boots, and she gave him a sharp look.

  “We need to break our fast. Have you been in the habit of skipping meals, Bran?”

  He raised one shoulder in a half shrug, which was answer enough. Foolish man.

  “It’s no good for you to tell me to regain my strength if you keep neglecting yours.” She gave him a chastising look. “I know we need to hurry, but we’ve bread and cheese. Breakfast won’t take long. Then we can find out where the Temple of the Twin Gods is.”

  “It’s on the hill below the palace,” he said, pulling on a boot. “My time roaming the city hasn’t been entirely wasted. But I’m unsure of who the Twin Gods are, or what powers they’re rumored to possess.”

  She fetched the bread, trying to dredge up anything she could recall.

  “The people of Raine don’t follow that sect,” she said, sawing thick slices from the loaf. “If I remember aright, the Twins are not particularly kind. Something about fire and darkness?” She furrowed her brow. “I don’t really know.”

  Boots donned, he came and stroked her hair. “Let me resummon my rune of illusion.”

  She set down the knife and leaned against his solid bulk for a moment. “Yes—the last thing we need is for you to be harried through the streets.”

  “I haven’t yet been.” A wry look flashed across his face. “And with you at my side, no one will notice me.”

  “Your height and the length of your sword aren’t easily overlooked,” she said dryly. “I’m just an ordinary human woman.”

  “Parnese is full of many peoples. I have seen one or two men taller than myself. And plenty of them wear weapons.”

  “I suppose.” She handed him a slice of bread and cheese.

  They ate, then made ready to go. Bran insisted she belt on her knife, and she didn’t argue. To be honest, she should get into the habit of wearing it constantly. He draped his cloak over his shoulders, but left the hood down as they departed the inn and strode into the cobbled streets.

  She let him take the lead, as the way twisted and turned unexpectedly. They passed through several small squares, one with a fountain in the center where children laughed and splashed, another filled with tables along the sides where men and women drank tea or glasses of pale yellow wine.

  The further they went from the port area, the more ornate the buildings became. Many of the façades were covered in painted blue-and-white tiles, while small statues of animals posed beside the doors or paraded along the cornices.

  They reached a broad street with a drop-off along one side, and Mara paused to catch her breath and admire the view.

  “Nearly there,” Bran said, glancing at the marble-clad palace perched atop the hill.

  “I hadn’t realized Parnese was so steep,” Mara said. “Or that we’d be able to see so much from up here.”

  The city curved down to the blue water of the Strait, a sweep of red-tiled roofs descending to where the waves sparkled, dotted with tiny boats. Somewhere out there, far beyond the blue horizon, lay Raine.

  She frowned, thinking again of her overheard conversations. If the gossip was right, Raine was in danger from the Athraig—but surely the king and his advisors were aware of such things. The fate of the kingdom wasn’t hers to worry about.

  As she and Bran resumed climbing, bells began to ring, tolling the hour. She’d heard them earlier in the day, but here, in the heights of the city, the air carried the sound—a rich clang and clamor that made her smile.

  “The temple,” Bran said, halting within the shadow of an alleyway.

  Mara drew up beside him and stared thoughtfully at the high-roofed building across the square from where they stood. It was made of reddish stone, a series of broad stairs hewn of the same material rising to the huge, double-arched entry.

  Over each door was mounted a statue in an ornate niche. The left-hand one held the likeness of a young man wearing a dark robe. His curling, shoulder-length hair was painted bright red, and his face bore a remote expression as he stared out over the crowds moving up and down the stairs. One hand was raised, holding a stylized flame gilded with gold that caught the light.

  The other statue was, presumably, his twin. Her robe covered a female body, though she had the same cold face and curling scarlet hair. She held a sword aloft. It was not covered in bright gold, however, but some kind of black material that seemed to absorb the light.

  “The Twin Gods,” Mara said softly. “They don’t look very friendly.”

  “From what I understand, gods are not supposed to be.” There was a wry edge in Bran’s voice. “I admit, I don’t quite comprehend their purpose. In Elfhame, we have the Oracles, and that is more than enough.”

  “Best not to speak of it.” She set a hand on his arm.

  There didn’t seem to be listeners nearby, but one couldn’t be too careful. Especially in a foreign land.

  And most especially outside the temple of two fierce-looking gods who were potentially guarding a dangerous fragment of the Void.

  “What now?” Bran glanced at her.

  “I wonder if we can just… go in.” She watched the ebb and flow of visitors for a moment. “There doesn’t seem to be a line, or a gate. At least, not that I can see from here.”

  “Then we shall try.”

  “Wait.” She caught a handful of his cloak as he was about to stride out into the plaza. “Let me look at you.”

  He turned obediently, and she studied his face, trying to determine if the illusion was at risk of fading.

  “Well?” He cocked an eyebrow.

  “It seems to be holding.”

  “I will keep my hood up, just in case.”

  “If they let you.” She looked at the temple entrance once more. What secrets did that shadowed interior hold?

  Well, they were about to find out.

  They joined the dozen or so people mounting the stairs to the arched doors. As they got closer, Mara could see a priest standing to the side of each open doorway. They didn’t seem to be wearing any visible weapons, but those large black robes could easily conceal any number of blades.

  It didn’t seem to make a difference which of the Twin Gods one entered beneath. She made for the left-hand arch guarded by the flame-bearing twin. Bran followed silently behind.

  The priest at the door looked them up and down and stepped forward, questions in his eyes. Quickly, Mara held up her hands and made the sign she’d seen the women at the bakery use—fingers to palm.

  The priest nodded, the questions in his eyes fading, and moved back to his post. As they crossed the threshold, Bran shot her a look of admiration. She sent him a small smile in return.

  It was cool and shadowy inside, and her husband gave a quiet sigh of relief. Soft murmurs echoed between the columned cloisters lining the walls. In the center of the large space, rows of benches faced a ston
e altar. There, a flame burned in a golden bowl and a black sword stood upright, pointing to the high, rounded ceiling hundreds of feet overhead.

  Behind the altar was an enormous painting showing the Twin Gods. Their implacable stares looked out over the benches, the flickering lamps mounted on the walls, and, presumably, into the city beyond.

  Bran touched her elbow and nodded to an empty bench at the back. Together they took their seats on the hard wood, although it didn’t seem as though any ceremony was imminent. People came in, sat with their heads bowed in prayer, and then, after a time, left.

  Some of the worshippers approached the altar and left coins or other offerings in the polished bowls set out before the flame and sword. Mara kept her head down, mimicking the other supplicants, and surveyed what she could of the huge space.

  Windows high up on the walls let in soft light, but the room was mostly lit by lamps along the side walls and the flame on the altar. On either side of the large central space, behind the arched hallways, were smaller sub-temples. Judging by the statuary and symbols, the one on the left was dedicated to the male twin, the one on the right to his sister.

  “I am going to try to sense the Void,” Bran said softly.

  She nodded and laced her fingers with his. The two of them bowed their heads, and she sent him a small flow of power.

  After a moment, he stiffened. She shot him a quick glance. His eyes were closed, a look of fierce concentration on his face. A droplet of sweat trickled down his mortal-seeming cheek. Despite the curiosity flowing through her, she held her questions and fed him more power through their joined hands.

  Several heartbeats later, he let out a breath and opened his eyes. Frustration and triumph simmered there in equal measure.

  “You found it?” she asked in a low voice.

  He gave a nod, then sent a meaningful glance at the arched doors behind them.

  As they sidled out from the row of benches, a new group of supplicants entered. Mara watched as they approached the altar. Before taking their seats, each one laid two fingers of their right hand across their left palms in some kind of worshipful sign. She recalled the women at the bakery making such gestures, too.

  Then Bran was at the doors, and she had to hurry to catch up to him. The priests watched impassively as they strode out of the temple into the bright sun. Bran immediately tugged the hood of his cloak further over his face, and she knew the light was an assault on his sensitive vision.

  Without speaking, they made their way down the stairs and back into the twisty cobbled streets.

  “It is there,” Bran finally said. “Somehow, the Void shard has been shielding its presence from me. But with your added power, and perhaps because we were so close, I finally sensed it.”

  “So it is in the temple.” Mara pondered this information. “Could you tell precisely where?”

  “Behind the main altar—likely in whatever room lies beyond the main place of worship.”

  “The women at the bakery mentioned an inner sanctum,” Mara said. “I wonder how we get into it.”

  He laid his hand on his sword, but she gave him a warning look.

  “We can’t fight our way through. Yes, I know you’re an amazingly skilled warrior-mage—but you can’t reveal your power, at least not openly. And we can’t leave a trail of innocent bodies in our wake.”

  “The Void will do more than that.” His voice was tight with tension.

  “I know—and I want to protect my world as much as you do. But we need to come up with a solid plan.” She shot him a look. “One that doesn’t involve undue bloodshed and mayhem.”

  They would have to breach the inner sanctum without being captured, or killed, and extract the relic housing the Void—whatever that object might be. She prayed the thing would be small enough to transport easily.

  If not, and Bran had to destroy it in the temple, that opened them up to a host of other problems.

  At least the illusion spell seemed to have solved the constant drain on his wellspring. She could tell by the brisk pace he set as they headed back to their rooms that his energy was already returning.

  “We’ll go back to the temple tonight,” he said, sending her a wry look when she opened her mouth to object. “Only to observe—don’t worry. I would like to see what time they close the doors.”

  “If they do at all.”

  She needed to teach Bran the hand gesture, too, before they returned. Appearing to be a devout follower of the Twin Gods had already proven useful, and she suspected they’d need every advantage they could find if there were to gain the depths of the temple and, at last, defeat the Void.

  14

  The next morning—and what a curious thing that was, to see the fiery orb of the sun ascend the sky—Anneth and Ondo made their way to the edge of the Darkwood. It took several turns of walking, and she found the forest rather plain compared to the glowing opulence of the Erynvorn. All the radiance of the mortal world had seeped up into the sky, it seemed, leaving the land below dull and unshining.

  At last, after traversing a series of meandering paths for what felt like forever, the trees began to thin.

  “Are you certain you wish to attempt this?” Ondo asked, shooting a concerned glance over his shoulder.

  Anneth frowned at him. “I know you’re worried about me, but truly, I’ll be careful. And of course I want to.”

  She’d been wondering about the human world all her life, and she certainly wasn’t going to waste her chance to experience it now—especially since she even appeared to be human. Ondo had cast the spell upon her, and on himself, before they reached the edge of the forest.

  “Mortals generally do not come this far into the Darkwood,” he said. “But we must take care, as we are about to travel the areas they frequent.”

  It was strange to see his features transform to the blunt and rounded shape of a human face, but he was still recognizable. And beneath the façade, they were still both Dark Elves to the core. Or she would be, once her wellspring regenerated and she was able to summon runes again.

  More and more light filtered through the whispering branches, and the damp, needle-strewn soil gave way to grass and flowers. Anneth slowed her steps, looking at the blooms. One plant bore bright orange petals that curved gracefully back on themselves, while another boasted blue flowers shaped like stars.

  She was glad to see that the human world was not as plain as she’d originally thought.

  Then a small lane and the first cottage walls came in sight, and all thoughts of flora were thrust away by her excitement—and sudden sense of trepidation.

  “There is the path,” Ondo said, pointing. “Follow it. Lady Mara’s family lives in the second cottage on the left-hand side. She showed me the place when first we arrived in the human world.”

  “What if they cannot understand me?” Anneth caught his arm, pulling him to a halt. “I didn’t even consider that!”

  She had a sudden, horrified vision of standing in front of Mara’s family and babbling incomprehensibly until they turned her away.

  “Do not fear,” Ondo said. “Whatever magic that enables Lady Mara to understand our speech, the reverse seems to be true here in the mortal realm. Prince Bran has had no difficulty with human speech.”

  “That’s all very well for my brother. But what if it doesn’t work for me?”

  “You are of royal blood,” Ondo said, as if that answered everything.

  Perhaps it did. She dearly hoped so, at any rate. There was no way to know until she’d tried.

  “You’ll wait for me?” she asked, pulling in an unsteady breath. “Just in case?”

  “Yes.” Ondo gave her hand a reassuring pat. “Although I still would prefer to escort you to the door.”

  “But then you’d have to go back into the forest, and that would raise too many questions about who you are and why you’re here in the first place. No—it’s better if you wait. Just… don’t leave right away.”

  “I will bide, milad
y.”

  Anneth gave him a smile she hoped didn’t tremble at the edges. “I’m sure everything will be fine.”

  Bran was the brave one, not her.

  I went after him into the Erynvorn, she reminded herself. And even fought off a gyrewolf. Surely meeting Mara’s family wouldn’t be half as terrifying, no matter how much her heart pounded at the prospect.

  She hoisted her pack, much lighter since she’d left her tent and most of her supplies with Ondo, then stepped onto the small track leading out of the forest.

  “Meet me here next morning,” the scout said.

  She glanced back at him, momentarily startled at the sight of his human features. “I will. I hope my wellspring regenerates soon.”

  “As do I. Be safe, Lady Anneth.”

  She patted the knife at her belt. Both she and Ondo had decided it was more prudent to leave her bow and arrows with him for the time being. The bow was a long-range weapon, and would do her little good on this foray into the village. Little Hazel, that was what it was called. Surely, with such a name, it could not be too dangerous a place.

  As she walked, her senses drank in her surroundings: the smell of wood smoke drifting on the quiet breeze, the strange, hot feeling of sunshine on her body, the sharp cry of some animal. She reached the first wall and brushed her fingers over the mortared gray stones. Humans built this.

  That cottage stood quiet, and she recalled Ondo’s directions. Second cottage on the left.

  Pulse pounding in time to her steps, Anneth continued down the lane. It widened as she went, and she wondered if, by the time it reached the center of the village, it would be a full-blown road.

  She passed the first cottage without a second glance. Only a short distance up the lane lay Mara’s home. A tree grew beside the door, and beds of herbs edged the front of the building. The windows held sparkling, diamond-shaped panes of glass, and the door itself was painted a cheerful green.