The Darkest Revenge

by D. K. Holmberg

  “You don’t?”

  He turned, holding her gaze before turning away, looking out at the remains of the village. “I’ve seen firsthand what happens when people resist Lareth.”

  “What happens?”

  “They lose everything, Lucy Elvraeth.”

  He continued onward, leaving the village behind and heading to a rocky prominence overlooking the sea. The Architect took her hand and Slid her. They emerged somewhere else, with the forest nearby, the scent of the ocean no longer on the air, and the traces of wind shifted, much warmer and far gustier than they had been before.

  A low rock wall greeted them, but that wasn’t what caught Lucy’s attention.

  Behind the rock wall was another village, in shambles much like the last one. Many of the buildings were toppled, the stone scattered, and splatters of dried blood smeared across some of them. A stink clung to the air, and as the Architect guided her into the city, she understood why. Decaying bodies lay everywhere.

  “Rsiran wouldn’t do this.”

  “He would, and he did.”

  “Why?”

  “Do you know what these villages had in common?”

  “No.”

  The Architect paused at one pile of debris. He pointed down, and Lucy crouched to see what he was pointing at. There was a marking on a stone, a symbol, but she didn’t recognize it. She looked up at him, but he offered no answer. Instead, he made his way deeper into the remains of the village.

  Lucy followed, taking her time, staring at the remnants of the buildings, searching for something—anything—that might provide answers. Somehow, the Architect believed that this was Rsiran’s work, but how was that possible? Why would Rsiran destroy villages like this?

  That wasn’t the man she knew. That wasn’t the man Haern knew. Rsiran was a hero to their people, a savior, and because of him, their people had been safe.

  Whatever else had happened here, this wasn’t Rsiran. She didn’t believe that at all.

  “I can see that you need more convincing,” the Architect said.

  “I just don’t think this is the kind of thing Rsiran would do.”

  “You don’t have to think.”

  He Slid to her, grabbing her hand and Sliding her again. They emerged in a wide-open grassy plain. A gentle breeze blew through it, and it was far colder than the last two locations. Unlike the last two, there was no sign of any damage, nothing that would suggest destruction. She turned to the Architect, frowning.

  “What is this?”

  “This was my home,” he said softly.

  Lucy looked around, staring at the landscape. “There’s nothing here.”

  “Not any longer, but once it was a wonderful farming village. A place of hope. Until Lareth came through here, destroying everything.”

  “How do you know it was Rsiran?”

  “Because I saw him. I was young and had not yet taken on any power, and I knew nothing about the outside world. I wanted nothing more than to follow my father and be a farmer, to tend the field you see all around you. Alas, that was not to be. When Lareth came, he destroyed my village and my future. I had to find a new future.”

  Lucy looked around her. It was possible that the Architect was merely trying to convince her, but the way he said it with such conviction, she realized that whether or not Rsiran had really been responsible, the Architect believed he was.

  “Why would Rsiran do this?”

  “I wondered for a long time. Why my village? Why my people? Why me? I came to believe that it was because a priest had appeared in our village shortly before Rsiran attacked. That is the only thing I could come up with. Even that doesn’t make much sense, though when it comes to Lareth, one thing I’ve learned over the years is that much doesn’t make much sense.”

  As Lucy made her way forward, the wind pulled the grasses apart, exposing stone covered by years of growth. It was far greater destruction than she had seen in the other places, with the stone now fully covered, almost buried.

  “How do you know this was Rsiran?”

  “Because he left this.” The Architect reached into his pocket and pulled out a knife. Lucy could tell it was the kind of knife that Rsiran favored. Not only that, but there was a small, distinct mark at the bottom of the blade—the mark of Rsiran.

  The Architect watched her. “You see, I have much experience with Lareth. I know the kinds of things he is willing to do, and I know the destruction he unleashes upon the world. I have seen it firsthand.”

  Lucy continued to look around her. It didn’t make any sense. Rsiran would have no reason to attack like that. But she could sense the conviction within the Architect.

  “Why are you trying to convince me?”

  “Because you can be useful, Lucy Elvraeth.”

  “I’m not going to work against my people.”

  “Did I ask you to?”

  “You’re trying to convince me that Rsiran is… whatever you’re trying to convince me of.”

  “I’m trying to open your eyes and show you that there is more to the world than what you have long believed. I’m trying to help you understand, Lucy Elvraeth.”

  “I don’t want to understand.”

  “You would rather remain ignorant?”

  “I don’t want to remain ignorant, but I don’t believe what you’re telling me.”

  “You don’t have to believe.”

  “I thought you were trying to convince me there was something here so that I would work with you.”

  The Architect smiled at her. “It would be easier if you went along willingly, but don’t mistake this for a request.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  His smile grew a hint of menace within it. “I’ve learned a great number of things in my time following the Ai’thol. Not least is how dangerous Lareth has been. But he is not the only danger that exists in the world.”

  “What other dangers are you getting at?”

  “The kind of dangers that would restrict access to power.”

  “Maybe you aren’t meant to have power.”

  The Architect smiled. “And yet, I do have it. There are others who would prevent me from gaining more power, but you, Lucy Elvraeth, will assist me. Because of you, I will gain access to the kind of power I have sought for years.”

  Lucy studied him a moment before shaking her head. “I’m not helping you with anything.”

  The Architect watched her. “You will.”

  “Do you intend to continue to drug me?”

  “You will be of no use to me if I have to do that. I think I have given you far too much leeway, though I had hoped that I would be able to use you freely. Most who come to the Ai’thol do so willingly.” He ran a finger along the underside of his neck, tracing a nearly invisible scar. “Most recognize that there is much we can offer. In your case, you were given a great gift, and yet you still would refuse it.”

  “We’ve been through this before.”

  “We have, which is why it is disheartening that you continue to fight what you have been given.”

  “I want it gone.”

  “Even after understanding exactly what it can do for you?”

  “I understand that it torments me, nothing more than that.”

  It throbbed, a steady sensation at the back of her mind. She struggled to ignore it, but it was always there regardless. She hated it, something that she doubted this man would ever fully understand. Any augmentation in her ability should have come from the Great Watcher and an opportunity to hold one of the sacred crystals, not from this.

  “It torments because you fight it. If you welcome it, embrace it, that power will grow within you. You have yet to scratch the surface of what you are capable of.”

  “I’m not going to scratch the surface of anything.”

  “That is unfortunate. I think of how many would willingly submit themselves for such a gift, and here we have you, who refuse to take advantage of all that you have been given.”

&nbs
p; As he continued to watch her, a strange stirring came in the back of her mind, building with increasing intensity.

  At first, it felt like he was attempting to Read her, and Lucy fortified her mind, shoving her mental barriers into place, although she’d already proven how ineffective those barriers were when it came to someone like the Architect. He was skilled at Reading, though to be honest, he seemed to be skilled at everything he did. She didn’t know the extent of his abilities other than Reading and Sliding, but they were impressive.

  The longer the sensation continued in the back of her mind, the less certain she was that he was attempting to Read her. There was no attempt to rifle through her mind, dipping deep within it, sorting through her thoughts. If there was, she doubted her barriers would be strong enough to withstand the Architect.

  Instead, she felt something else.

  A part of her started to change. It was slow, subtle, but the longer he stood before her, watching her, the more certain she was that she felt it.

  “What are you doing to me?”

  The Architect only smiled. “What must be done, Lucy Elvraeth.”

  “No.” The sensation in her mind changed, now as if he were digging within her mind, working where he should not be, tearing at her thoughts. As much as she wanted to fight, she didn’t think she could. She lunged toward him, but the Architect Slid away, dancing back from her, a sad smile on his face.

  “This was meant to be easier on you, Lucy Elvraeth. I did not want this for you.”

  “You didn’t want what?”

  “Any of this.”

  “Then don’t do it.”

  “I’m afraid that is no longer an option.”

  The sense of pressure in her head continued, growing stronger and stronger, and she struggled, grabbing at her head, squeezing it between her hands. Pain pulsed within her skull, the kind of throbbing pain she had known when she had first had the implant placed. It was a pain she couldn’t escape from.

  “What is this?” she shouted, but as there was no one around, her voice fell into nothingness.

  “This is you answering me,” he said.

  “This is something else,” she said.

  The Architect shook his head. “This is nothing else. Come.”

  The last was said as a command. Pain throbbed through her, but a part of her mind screaming in agony forced her to comply.

  She took a step after him, then another, and then another. As they walked, the Architect glanced over at her.

  “The pain will lessen the less you fight.”

  “No,” she said.

  “The less you fight, the sooner your powers return. And then you become useful again. You do not want to be unuseful, Lucy Elvraeth.”

  She didn’t want anything to do with them. A part of her rebelled, begging for him to relax what he was doing to her, to give her back control over her body. Another part called for her to comply, so that her powers would be restored. If she could Slide, she could…

  Follow him more easily.

  Lucy forced that thought away. She didn’t want to follow the Architect. She wanted to return home. She wanted the metal out of her head. She wanted a return to normalcy, even if that meant going back to the palace and taking up the role her parents had wanted for her.

  The Architect watched her, and it seemed as if he knew exactly what she was thinking, as if he were able to Read every bit of her struggle.

  Perhaps he could. If so, there might be nothing she could do to oppose it. If he had the ability to overwhelm her mind, to force himself on her, what could she do against him?

  “How?” Even getting that question out was a struggle, and she panted with the effort.

  The Architect watched her, amusement shining in his eyes. “With the gift you’ve been given, you would be able to do the same.”

  “How?”

  “It is an extension of your ability to Read.” He smiled at her. “My people aren’t even the first to use it. Yours do, and they call it something else.”

  “What do they call it?” The pain was easing, but she didn’t know if it was because he wanted to converse with her or because she was doing what he wanted. Which thoughts were hers, and which were forced into her mind?

  “I’ve heard it called many things, but perhaps the easiest to use is a Push.”

  “Push?”

  The Architect nodded. “It is an ability where one can Push for compliance. In your case, I would have you comply with me so that you would stop fighting and become useful. In other cases, we Push for a different type of compliance. The nature of the one struggling determines what type of Push is involved. Not all Ai’thol are able to master this art, but those who do become incredibly useful. And those who become true Masters rise high within the Ai’thol.”

  Lucy’s mouth was dry, and she licked her lips, trying to wet them, wanting to run, to Slide, to do anything but stay here, but she couldn’t.

  “You see the value of this ability?”

  She could only nod, her mind trying to work through what he was saying to her. If the Forgers had a way of controlling others, there had to be some way of opposing it. Rsiran had managed to do so, which meant that she could overcome it, couldn’t she?

  “You are contemplating whether Lareth could teach you how to avoid this, but unfortunately, it takes a highly disciplined mind in order to ignore it. And seeing as how you aren’t disciplined enough to be able to withstand the effect of your gift, I doubt your mind is disciplined enough for this. With time, it could be. And yet, in that time, you will come to understand that you will serve us and serve us well.”

  He swept his gaze around them, looking at the clearing. “It really was quite lovely once,” he said.

  “I won’t do this.”

  He shook his head. “Ah, but you will. And trust me when I tell you that you will be valuable. You might not want to believe that, but you will be incredibly valuable.”

  He took her hand, and they Slid.

  When they emerged, darkness surrounded her. Without her enhanced eyesight, she couldn’t make out anything, but the air smelled stale and stagnant, and there was a damp, musty odor to it. He guided her forward, holding on to her hand, and anytime she tried to jerk free, he squeezed tighter, forcing her to remain in place. She could practically imagine him grinning at her, knowing that she was helpless, that there was no place for her to go.

  As her eyesight adjusted to the darkness, a jingling came to her, the sound of keys on a key ring. When the lock clicked, he stepped her back, swinging open a door that brushed past her before thrusting her forward.

  “What is this?”

  “This will be where you remain, Lucy Elvraeth.”

  “Where I remain for what?”

  “For your training.”

  “What kind of training?”

  Pain suddenly bloomed again within her mind, and tears streamed from her eyes, forcing her to try to blink past them, but she couldn’t.

  “No more questions. Now is the time for compliance.”

  He gave her a gentle shove, and she staggered forward, turning around as the door closed behind her, a lock clicking.

  Lucy raced toward the door, grabbing at it, but it was solid metal, and warm beneath her hand.

  She stepped back, her gaze sweeping the inside of the room.

  She was trapped.

  The longer she was here, the more the pain built within her head. It was steady, a throbbing, and as it pressed within her mind, she could feel it trying to do something, though what?

  Changing her.

  That was the only thing she could come up with, but how would it change her?

  The Architect wanted to make her more compliant. What did he expect to get out of her? What did he expect her to do?

  She paced, falling back into the same patterns she had known when she had first been captured by them. The room was slightly larger than the one where she’d been held in Eban, nearly eight paces across, and each side was the same. She trac
ed her hands along the walls, feeling the rocks, looking for grooves or anything that might help with figuring out how to get free. But the walls were smooth, almost perfectly so, and warm like the door to the cell.

  Lucy took a step back, keeping her eyes closed, wanting pure darkness before opening them again, thinking that maybe she could use that to help her see through the blackness. But even as her eyes tried to adjust, everything remained pitch black. The pain didn’t help, her head pounding, nausea rolling through her, but she didn’t know if that nausea came from the pain in her head or from the feeling of helplessness. She was trapped, at the mercy of the Architect, and she would never get free and see her home and her people again.

  Lucy sat down, tears streaming down her face, hating herself for having left Elaeavn in the first place.

  35

  Daniel

  The inside of the room was filthy. How had Haern managed to remain here? Haern was accustomed to living within the Aisl, which meant he was used to not having the same niceties as Daniel did within the palace, but there were certain standards even he had to appreciate. Staying at a place like this… it was beneath even him.

  But the filth wasn’t what drew his attention. Two Forgers lay bound and unmoving on the floor.

  “Galen captured these two?” he asked.

  Haern nodded.

  Living in the palace, Daniel had had plenty of experience with Galen, but he had thought of the man as little more than Cael Elvraeth’s consort. He wasn’t the sort of man Daniel would ever have expected to be able to do something like this, but after learning that Galen worked with the tchalit, that he was the reason they remained so coordinated—and deadly—Daniel thought he understood.

  “I was surprised by it too,” Haern said. He stopped at the table, grabbing a few strange sharp-looking items before stuffing them into his pocket.

  Daniel frowned. “What are you doing?”

  “These are what Galen uses.”

  “Needles?”

  “I think he’d call them darts, and he throws them.”

  “Galen throws them?”

  More than anything, that surprised Daniel. Not only was Galen some sort of assassin, but he was also a poisoner. And that was after he got past the idea that Galen had been one of the exiles. Cael Elvraeth was beautiful. She could have had any man—Elvraeth or not. What had she seen in Galen?