by D E Boske
“What ‘ere you need, Darian,” said Thimkur. “What has happened, may I ask?” he asked, hoping he did not further anger Darian.
“There is at least one traitor among us and I mean to find out who it is and end them, painfully.”
“What do you mean? How is this possible?” asked Thimkur.
“That is what I need to find out, Thimkur,” said Darian, none too nicely.
“I offer myself freely to you. Do what you need to do, Darian. Allow me to prove my fealty.. I am loyal,” explained Thimkur, sitting in the chair that was before Darian.
Darian began without preamble. His magic was swift, fierce and they all felt the strong pull on the Weave as Darian began. Thimkur jolted in his seat as he felt the young Mage’s magic take hold of him. Sharp, stabbing needles of pain exploded behind his eyes and he did his best not to scream. That didn’t last long.
Darian was thorough and did not bother with compassion, for he would receive none. He used his magic with brutal force and before too long, Thimkur was screaming and covered in sweat. The rest of them looked on in horror and dared not speak. Finally, Darian was satisfied that Thimkur was not hiding anything.
“Next?” said Darian, as Thimkur stumbled out of the chair and fell to the floor. The next volunteer was less anxious, but no less eager to prove his innocence.
Raschel stepped up and sat in the chair, subjected once more to the worst pain he’d ever known. Darian began immediately and Raschel did not stop screaming until it was over.
Each of them stepped up and submitted to the powerful Mage’s will and each one was
filled with indescribable agony. Darian would be a liar if he said he did not enjoy the agony that he put Betremen and Declan through. If it wasn’t for Declan, Trétorna wouldn’t have been alive to injure Kizziah. Betremen was an idiot and deserving of his ire.
Alvos was second to last and was visibly hesitant to let Darian near him. He knew the young Mage’s skill with magic and did not want it directed at him. He knew he had nothing to hide but that was a moot point.
The tall, blonde Mage sat before Darian and the young Mage began. Alvos clenched his teeth together to keep from screaming and somehow, made it through. He was drenched in sweat, legs wobbly, but he managed to stand without falling and held his head up high.
Aganor was last and Darian was no less fierce with his mentor. He had to be sure that none of them was the betrayer. When he found them, they would pay their debt in blood.
Aganor slumped in the chair, nearly falling to the floor. He could not stand right now, he needed time to recover. Darian was powerful, too powerful.
“I’m sorry that became necessary. I need to know that those who travel with me do not intend to betray me.”
“What’s happened, Darian?” asked Thimkur.
“Aslyn is dead,” he said, eyes blazing.
“What? How?” asked Thimkur, angry that someone had gotten to Darian’s consort.
“She must have known them and let them in. I have since tightened up my security and the Gor Li’ Khan will always be with me.”
“Darian, I am so sorry this happened to you,” said Thimkur, genuinely upset.
“I will no longer be taking a consort. It has become too dangerous and I will not risk another innocent life.”
“What will you do, then?” asked Thimkur.
“I will go to the Breeders and fulfill my obligations once The Order has been reclaimed,” explained Darian. “Otherwise, I do not have to sleep alone unless I want to.” They all knew he spoke the truth, the lucky bastard. They were all jealous of the young Mage’s prowess not only in battle, but in all things. He had a reputation that none of them could ever hope to live up to.
After they all left, Darian was alone with the Gor Li’ Khan. He was getting his things ready and going over his list, making sure he didn’t forget anything. He was alone with Nymdal, who seemed pensive and uptight.
“What’s wrong, Nym?” asked the Mage. “You’re not your usual self.”
“Nothing, Darian,” said Nym and Darian knew that he was lying.
“Nym, don’t lie to me. I want to know what’s troubling you.”
“I bumped into Elia the other day and we really seemed to hit it off, but when I asked her
out, she said she wouldn’t even consider it unless you came along.”
“Really?” asked Darian.
“I just don’t understand why.”
“She’s been trying to get with me for a while now. Let’s go see her,” said the Mage, walking to the door.
“What? You can’t be serious, Darian!”
“Do you want to get laid, Nym?”
“Duh,” he responded.
“Then, let’s go,” encouraged the Mage.
“I’ve never… done anything like this before, Darian. I’m not sure I’m comfortable with it,” said the elf, not realizing the Dark Magic must be in control once more. Darian would never lay a hand on Elia otherwise. She’d tried numerous times to coerce him, all to no avail.
“It’s up to you, Nym. I’m not gonna’ force you to do anything you don’t wanna’ do,” said the Mage.
“Have you ever done this before?” asked Nym.
“Many times, Nym. Many times,” said the Mage. “But not since Mogan Dar.”
Nymdal still seemed hesitant, so Darian went back to packing what he’d need. He could
see the interest in Nymdal’s eyes and figured he would give in at some point.
“All right, Darian. Let’s go,” said the elf at last and the Mage smiled to himself.
Elia opened her door to find the impossibly gorgeous Darian and his elven guard, Nymdal. She smiled, opening her door.
“Please, come in,” she said softly, the hunger in her eyes evident. She wondered what had changed the Mage’s mind, but thanked Shenna just the same. Nymdal was exquisite and she honestly would have taken him alone, but decided to issue him a challenge and he’d come through winningly.
The morning sun rose early and the Mage opened his eyes slowly. His surroundings were unfamiliar to him. Where in the Black Hells am I? he thought, feeling ill at ease. He had no memory of how he came to be here. Where is here? He looked around; a very naked elf lay on top of his chest. He could feel her lovely breasts against his hot skin. He felt that they were not alone, turned, and saw Nymdal in the bed with them.
What the hell have I done? He thought, feeling an overwhelming sense of urgency to be somewhere else. How did I get here? The situation did not bother him. He wasn’t embarrassed or regretful of having a threesome with one of his elven guards. He was upset because the Dark
Magic overcame him, yet again, and was continuing to do so at an alarming rate. How long did
he have until he never resurfaced? The Dark Magic would eventually consume him utterly and totally and Darian Brade would be no more. Only a shadow of his former self would remain. A Dark Shadow.
The elf on his chest awoke and began kissing him. When he saw who it was, he froze. “Elia!” he hissed.
“Yes, Mage. You are finally in my bed,” she flashed him a wicked grin. “I enjoyed last night,” she whispered, as she climbed atop him. He figured it was stupid to stop her since they had already… His train of thought flew out the window with the motion of her hips.
He returned to his room to bathe and found an angry Kelindril facing him as he approached. “Where have you been all night, Darian?” asked the Gor Li’ Khan leader.
“Worry not, Kel. I was safe. Nym was with me all night,” said the Mage without elaborating, for which Nym was eternally grateful.
Darian did not spare him another thought. He needed a hot bath and a change of clothes. Only then would he feel himself once more.
After bathing, Darian rummaged through his wardrobe for something to wear. He’d packed most of his clothes, only leaving a few outfits behind, which would come in handy now.
He chose a rich, dark blue shirt and black pants. He pulled on his black leather boots. The black
The Mage carefully looked over everything that he’d packed to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. A knock on his door brought them around. It was time to go.
Kyler stood outside waiting for him and he cracked a smile upon seeing the Mage. Unfortunately, the thief and the bard had not overslept. More than ever, Darian wanted to push Mordinian over the railing to his death. He’d only barely restrained himself last time.
Where are these thoughts coming from? He thought. He also noticed with a frown that Renlyss was among the company. He swore inwardly, but ignored her.
There was a crowd gathered to send them off and Galavad, Tiriel, and the twins were among them. The Mage wrapped his arms around the queen, gently holding her and the babes close to his chest. Tiriel could feel the Mage’s heart beating and felt his warmth. He smelled so damn good, but all too soon, he let them go.
“Please be careful, Darian, and return to us safely,” she whispered, as she planted a kiss on his cheek. The Mage could tell that this display was bothering Galavad, but the king wisely kept silent.
Kinistaya was approaching Darian, and the Mage knew he wasn’t going to be able to leave without speaking to him. The elf’s eyes were sad as he looked upon the Mage. Darian built
a wall around himself. He didn’t want to feeling anything. Not love, not hate and nothing in between.
“Darian, I’m so sorry for your loss,” he said softly. Darian nodded his thanks, but did not speak.
“Can I do anything for you?” asked the ancient elf. He was worried about the Mage. He outwardly appeared detached and cold. He guessed that was how Darian protected himself from feeling the pain of these last two days.
“No, Kinistaya. I’m fine,” Darian said. “Thank you for everything you tried to do for me. I won’t forget it,” admitted the Mage.
They made their way through the forest and the Mage did not bother to see who else had followed along. He no longer cared. Nothing mattered anymore. Nothing. He’d failed in everything he’d tried to accomplish. He guessed it didn’t even matter whether he made it back alive or not. What do I have to live for anyway? He thought viciously, as his mood darkened further.
Graynor, Heshen, and Thimkur walked close to Darian. Alvos kept his distance, keeping up appearances. The looks of scorn he shot Darian’s way were believable and no one doubted the hatred that was evident in the blonde Mage’s visage.
Nephraete walked on Darian’s right and slipped her small hand into his. She could feel his turmoil and sought to calm him. She had no way of knowing that he did not want her comfort. He removed his hand from hers and continued walking without speaking. He didn’t want to feel anything and with the seer so near, his emotions fought to reclaim him. That was something he could not allow to happen.
Tynuviel waited for them near the barrier. She did not look at the Mage, had no desire to ever see him again. She waited for her brothers. She should be going with them, but she was not whole. She wasn’t sure if ever she would be. This was the Mage’s fault. If not for him, she never would have had to…
She stifled a sob as the lancing pain that threatened to overtake her every waking second ripped through her once more. Would she ever be free of it? Could she ever live again? Could she ever love again? Did she want to? These were questions she could not yet answer. She was unable to think clearly as the pain overwhelmed her once more.
Darian was bereft of hope as he followed the Gor Li’ Khan. He did not allow himself to see Tynuviel. He couldn’t bear it. He had caused her so much pain and it was because of him she suffered still. He did not look at her as he exited the ancient forest. He sealed away his love for her and concentrated on what he needed to do to remain alive.
To the Gor Li’ Khan, the Mage seemed indifferent, but Kelindril knew this wasn’t so. He
knew the Mage was a tortured soul and he worried that Darian would be reckless on this journey.
Kelindril knew that the Mage blamed himself for Tynuviel’s pain and suffering and the Gor Li’ Khan leader did not disagree. Darian was responsible, but indirectly. Though he knew this fact did not matter to the Mage. He had gotten to know Darian quite well, which was surprising, given how little time they’d known each other and how cautious the Mage was.
He would keep the Mage safe and never let him out of his sight. The Dark Magic that infiltrated the Mage was not to be trusted. It was dangerous and deceptive.
They walked out of Kiri A’ Nouell, the Mage in front with Kyler, the Gor Li’ Khan never far from Darian’s side. The Mage tried to keep his roiling emotions in check, but anger and despair were his close companions. He ached inside with the loss of Tynuviel, Renlyss, and Aslyn. What had he become? How had he allowed himself to feel these things? When had he become so weak? He’d never allowed himself to fall victim to weakness in Mogan Dar, why now? Was this Delvishan’s doing? He didn’t know, but he didn’t like it. Any of it. It was time to return to the way he used to be, when he was strong and sure, capable and enigmatic.
He allowed his mind to wander to his distant past. He returned to the halls of Piri-Tuma,
to the days when he knew happiness. He had no concerns then, not like he had now. The biggest
decision he had back then was which girl to bring to his bed.
Ah, he thought, times were simpler then. How I wish it were still so. Tynuviel’s pain can never be erased and I can never heal her. I never should have stepped into her life. I never should have talked to her. What was I thinking? A Mage know happiness? True happiness? It is anathema to what we are.
Kyler walked beside his friend, feeling the Mage sort through his emotions. Darian was devastated, though he’d never admit to such weakness. The elf did not understand the Mage’s reasoning. Why did Darian perceive love as weakness? Love could lend you strength, strength you never knew you had. He felt strong when he was with Nephraete. She made him feel like he could do anything. He wished Darian could find someone strong enough to survive loving him. Kyler knew Darian was not easy to love, not really. It wasn’t just about good looks and great sex. These things the Mage had and did, seemingly effortlessly. But were those things enough? Would they get him through the dark times ahead? The elf didn’t think so.
The elf had no idea what had happened to Aslyn, the Mage would not discuss it. Kyler had tried and no amount of drink would loosen the Mage’s tongue. He wanted to know what Darian had found that day, but the Mage wouldn’t speak of it. The Gor Li’ Khan would not betray the Mage’s trust either. They’d rather die than let Darian down. Kyler saw the way Kelindril watched his friend and was thankful the assassin saw something in Darian. For whatever reason, Kelindril had chosen to protect the Mage and Kyler would be forever grateful.
The barrier slid back into place with a soft sigh as the last of the company exited the
Ancient Forest. The day was crisp and cold outside the magical elven kingdom. The sun was beginning to rise and would soon lend them warmth and comfort. They had a long road to travel, but none complained. At least not yet. Even the hardiest warrior could become restless on a journey as they were about to undertake. But for now, the birds chirped and sang their morning songs and they could pretend, for the moment, that everything would be alright.
They walked east, and not one of them was blind to the oppressiveness to the North. Mogan Dar sprawled across the landscape in the distance and Darian couldn’t help but smile at the irony. The Dark Mage had been searching for him since he’d fled the Mage city and Piri-Tuma, but never realized how close the object of his desire was. He’d been within reach the whole time and if the Dark Mage knew, he’d be furious. Darian almost smiled at the thought, but he wouldn’t allow himself to do so. After everything that had happened, he didn’t deserve happiness of any kind. He’d destroyed the lives of three beautiful women, women who lov
ed him, for whatever reason. He didn’t deserve to be happy. He vowed he would never be happy again. What was the purpose anyway? It was futile. He was a Mage of The Order. They did not know happiness. They were to serve Delvishan and the Order. Nothing more.
No matter, thought the Mage, I don’t need such useless emotions cluttering my life.
Alvos watched his friend carefully. Darian had changed so much since he’d left Mogan Dar that he was almost unrecognizable now. This was not the same Mage that had walked those halls. No, he was vastly different now and Alvos was not altogether sure the changes were welcome.
Darian had always been strong and self-assured and he still was, to be sure, but there was a darkness to him now that was not present before. His very presence was pervasive, dark and foreboding. Was that the Dark Magic? Or just the Dark events that he’d lived through? Alvos didn’t know, but he didn’t like it. Darian needed to be strong for the coming days. It was selfish, Alvos knew, but there was no help for it. They needed Darian, because without him, this was all for nothing. He was the only one that must survive this. The rest of them were expendable.
Alvos and Darian had forged a strong friendship back in Mogan Dar. A friendship forged in secret. No one knew they were friends, not even Aganor or Kyler, Alvos guessed. It was unthinkable, a Mage of The Order trusting someone enough to befriend them. Alvos respected Darian and vowed to keep him safe. Darian had helped him so much back in Piri-Tuma and Alvos still could not fathom why the young Mage even bothered. Not only had Darian tutored him, but he’d also taken the blame for some of Alvos’s pranks and the punishments The Order doled out were never gentle. Why had Darian protected him, though? Alvos knew he should hate him. After all, Alvos was much older and had struggled at times on his way up the ranks. Then Darian
came along and blew by all of them, making them all look foolish and weak.
Alvos had been a Master for three hundred years and it would probably be at least as much more before he rose to the rank of Mage. He heard word that there was a young student with great potential that was causing a lot of commotion. Alvos began to hear the rumblings of malcontent and went to see the student who was creating such a maelstrom.