Darkness: A Guardians of Orana Novel

by Nancy E. Dunne

  Relax, Gin, it’s just me. Time to get moving.

  She stood and stretched, and then pushed past Sath toward the stream they had found the night before and splashed water onto her face. Sath rubbed his hands on his arms, trying to warm himself, and finally resorted to stoking the fire a bit. Gin returned and sat down nearby, rubbing her hands together before she warmed them by the fire. Turning his attention back to the horizon, he saw that the sun would soon be rising in the sky over the hilltops. Warm hues of pink and orange spread across the horizon, giving a glow to the snow on the mountain tops as though they were covered with diamonds. He looked around at the plants that bore fruit and wondered if they were safe to eat. They would need to get started moving soon but needed food first.

  “If you’re making breakfast,” she said from the other side of the fire, “I’d like oatcakes with syrup and a quail egg, sunny side up with a steaming mug of hot tea. Hurry up,” Gin said, trying to control a fit of giggles coming over her. Sath scowled in response.

  “You aren’t going to let me live that down, are you?” he said, chuckling.

  “Never.” Gin thought back to her first days working in the Royal household as Khujann’s nanny, and how she was not sure of all of her duties. She had chambermaids to remind her of most things, but one morning she found herself with a sick little cub and no idea where to find a healer. Her first inclination was to heal the cub herself, but she couldn’t run the risk of angering his father, so she decided to ask the Rajah in person what she should do. Sath clearly remembered the same morning in their bond.

  She turned up outside of his bedchamber and knocked, but her hand against the thick wooden door was useless. Finally, she plucked up the courage to push the door open and found that Sath was still asleep in his lavish bed, the same one he had given up for her on that horrible night when Teeand had dragged her to Qatu’anari. She tiptoed over to his bed, trying to figure out as she went which end of Sathlir was what so that if she had to poke him to wake him up, it wouldn’t be anywhere improper. The luxurious bedclothes gave her pause for a moment, and she considered what she saw. Sath, Bane of the Forest, always up for a brawl with an enemy and most at home sleeping rough under the stars, was now curled up in satin sheets with velvet duvets. His four-poster bed was hung with luxurious curtains that could be pulled, she imagined if the Rajah was…entertaining. That thought put her right off for a moment, and she had to look away to rid the image of Sath and Anni in the great hall from her mind. Stirring behind her brought her back to the present.

  “What do you want?” Sath thundered from under the bedclothes.

  “Rajah, if I might…”

  “Oatcakes! Syrup! Quail’s egg, sunny side up, and the hottest tea you can find!” he replied, his voice gruff and still thick with sleep. Gin stood still, not sure how to answer him, as well as mortified that he would speak to his servants in that tone. “Well? Didja get all that?” he snarled.

  “I was waiting for you to say please, Rajah,” Gin said without thinking, then clapped her hands over her mouth. She hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

  Sath came up out of bed with a growl, landing on his feet just inches from Gin. “You will not speak to me that…Gin?” he said, the fire going out of his eyes as they settled on her ice-blue stare. “What are you…I thought…why are you here so early?”

  “Clearly not to ask anything until His Majesty has his breakfast,” Gin said, turning on her heel. “Please attend your son after you have eaten, Majesty.” She giggled as she strode out of the room, leaving Sath cursing and spitting alone.

  “Were you not afraid that morning?” Sath said through laughter as he wiped tears away from his eyes.

  “Hard to say,” Gin replied, smiling at him. “You have to understand, Sath, back then, right after I’d left Ben, I…had no fear of anything. I was pretty sure that there was nothing you could do to me that would be worse than what he had already done. There was no pain you could inflict that would hurt worse.” Her smile faded as she noticed the sad look in his teal eyes. “No, I was not afraid of you, not that morning anyway, more amused.”

  “I—guess we need to keep moving. How about I carry you for a bit? I got more sleep than you did.” Gin nodded, and as soon as they got their campsite cleaned up, he took off running, her weight barely slowing him down at all. She cast an invisibility spell on them that finally worked; Sath inhaled deeply the overpowering scent of sunflowers that washed over his face as he moved. He couldn’t see Gin, but he would be able to find her anywhere by that scent.

  Gin held onto his chest plate tightly, her eyes closed, her head pressed into the space between his chest plate and shoulder guards where her face could feel soft, warm fur. She couldn’t see it, but she knew he was there and knew she was safe in his arms as he ran. Finally, he needed a rest and slowed his pace, but didn’t stop moving. “I think I can see a tower,” he whispered, and Gin felt his words as much as she heard them. Not being able to see Sath awakened her other awareness of him – his ropelike muscular arm that encircled her, the heat that radiated off him in waves, the woodsy, earthy smell of his fur, the sound of his breathing as it sawed in and out of his lungs. “You still okay?”

  “Yes, as long as I do not weigh you down?” she said.

  Sath smiled and swung her up over the opposite shoulder from where she’d been. “This will make it a bit easier to run, though.” Gin scowled at him, but then laughed as he took off running again. “I’m assuming that tower is the edge of the red dragon’s territory, and we are coming up on the tower now.”

  “Yes,” Gin said. “Put me down, Sath, we shouldn’t need to be invisible here.” Sath stopped but didn’t release her at first.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. We are Guardians. If the red dragon is Omerith, he created the Guardians, and he is one—he should recognize us. If it isn’t him, then—I don’t suppose we are any worse off than we have been at any point so far, right?” Sath put her down, and they both shook off the invisibility. “Let’s go find out.” Gin headed up the steps that led up into the tower but saw no one inside—at least not on the ground level.

  “Go around it then? Further into the territory?” Sath looked around behind them, but there was no one there. “Where is everyone? Why do we only find others when we are about to find trouble?” A chill rippled up his spine suddenly, and he saw that Gin was rubbing the back of her neck with a puzzled look on her face.

  Perhaps you should reconsider why you always find trouble, Rajah?

  Having no idea who that voice now in his mind belonged to, Sath looked at Gin, who was staring off to Sath’s left. He turned to look the same way but saw nothing. “Did you hear-”

  “I heard her! Our Mother Sephine grants audience to all her faithful servants, and hopefully, she will be willing to accept you because you are with me.” Gin’s voice sounded different—more resonant and confident—like someone was speaking her words along with her. Her hand was still raised between them, as though to silence him. It did not work.

  “Mother Sephine? What are you talking about, Gin?” Sath looked from side to side frantically but still saw nothing. “I don’t see her—or anyone.”

  “You heard her, Sath, just like I did, in the bond.” Gin frowned. “Perhaps she hesitates to show herself because she is not sure of us?”

  “Maybe I should wait here?” Sath said, only partially joking. The other voice behind Gin’s words was setting his fur on end.

  “Absolutely not,” Gin replied tersely. “We stay together, Sath.” She looked up at him, and he was surprised to see so much fear in her eyes. Usually, he would be able to smell it. How did she do that? “I won’t lose you.”

  “Of course not, Gin,” he replied, still watching her, considering her. “I will let you take the lead here. Sephine is your goddess.” Sath waited until she started walking to exhale, a shaky, rattling sound that got her attention.

  “You okay back there?” For just a moment, it was only Gin’s
voice asking.

  “Sure, just fine,” he lied. All of his time as the Bane of the Forest could potentially be his undoing here. After all, this Sephine was a goddess—the goddess of all of the elves in the Great Forest. Sath, as a Qatu, had never really believed in the pantheon of deities that most of Orana worshipped. Still, he could not deny that there was something here now, something radiating and reverberating against his very skin. A humming sound filled his ears and mind as they drew closer. “Gin, wait…”

  “What is it?”When she turned to face him, his breath caught in his throat. Perhaps it was the nearness to the goddess that she served without question or the raw power of creation that seemed to flow through everything around them suddenly, but Sath could not deny the difference in Gin. Her skin seemed to glow with an inner, golden light, and her eyes pierced his own ones as though her gaze was made of cut glass. Her lips were a rosy pink that he almost had to reach out and touch to make sure they were not actual petals from a flower. “Sath?”

  “Gin…wow, I mean…you’re…” Sath fell to his knees as he stared at her. “I cannot go any closer, Gin. You have to go without me.” He wasn’t sure how, but Sath knew that if he set one foot too close to Sephine, All-Mother goddess and patron of druids and rangers born in the Great Forest, she would end him. Perhaps it was through his bond with Gin, though at the moment, he could not find even a trace of her hum in his mind. “I am sorry, but I cannot.”

  “You must!” Gin tugged on his arm. “You must, because you must answer for what you have done…what you will do…she knows, Sath, but she offers mercy!” Sath stared at her quizzically as Gin’s voice seemed to take on a depth and reverberation that was not her own. When had their bond severed? “Ask for her forgiveness.”

  “No.” Sath got to his feet. “I will not. She leads me to my death, using you to convince me, and I will not.” Gin turned on him, her hands planted firmly on her hips. Twin spotlights beamed from her eyes and settled on him, making him want to look away or shield his eyes, but he held her gaze. “I will not come any closer.” The light in Gin’s eyes faltered a moment, and Sath took that to mean that Gin was fighting the influence of the goddess. “She forgives, Gin, but she will not forget. I will not risk you being injured as a result of my presence.”

  Gin rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands, muttering in Elvish as she did. Sath could make out some of the words, but others seemed to be in an older dialect, like the one she used when she did spell work or when she spoke to the warrior at the log cabin. He took a step closer to her, considering her. He watched as she fisted her hands at her sides, her face overwrought with anguish and despair. It was as though she was having a battle with herself, or with someone that Sath could not see or hear. Suddenly she reached out for his hand and dragged him, surprised and off-balance, closer to her. He could see now a ripple in the air, like the rift in the time trap. Gin fell to her knees, face pressed into the ground. Sath fought to move back from the shimmering fracture, but couldn’t. He wasn’t able to run to escape—or to protect Gin from whatever was about to happen. He pounded on the ground with his fist in frustration before turning back to Gin, who was still prone on the ground. Sath scanned the area; the feel of the very air around them was different—changing. The landscape was changing—how was that possible?

  Blooming trees were everywhere suddenly, and the grass under his feet—as soft as the finest carpets in the royal apartments in Qatu’anari—spread as far as he could see. It had to be an illusion. Animals darted and danced off in the distance. A glistening coal-black horse chased a white horse around trees and shrubs, nipping playfully at its companion’s haunches when it got close enough. Trees that seemed rooted occasionally came up out of the ground and moved a few feet before settling their roots back into the soil. Everything was alive, and the air practically pulsated with life and greenery and spring. Sath rubbed his eyes, expecting things to be back to normal when he opened them again. The scene remained the same.

  “Kneel, Sath!” Gin hissed from her position still face down in the mossy grass. “She approaches, can’t you feel it?” Finding that he could move again, he came to Gin’s side and knelt down next to her.

  “No, I can’t feel it, but this illusion is beautiful,” Sath said, his voice soft. “This is what you protect. This is who you are.” He inhaled deeply, suddenly surrounded by his favorite scent; the sunflower smell was overwhelming. Sath’s eyes rolled back in his head as he fell forward onto his face, much in the same position as Gin.

  “That’s better,” she said as she eyeballed him from her prone status. “Just don’t make eye contact with her and let me talk.”

  “Aye, that is a wise suggestion you make, Ginolwenye of the Trees,” said a booming female voice. Sath’s hands flew to cover his sensitive ears as the sound resounded throughout his head. “What have you brought me, my good and faithful servant? Please, on your feet, my Nature Walker.”

  Gin looked up slowly and gasped aloud—before them stood Sephine, the All-Mother. Sensing the goddess’s presence was one thing, but seeing her standing just footsteps away was almost too much to take in, even for the Nature Walker. She appeared as a giant high elf with blonde hair swept back into an intricate braid at the nape of her neck. Her gown was forest green, made up in parts of tree branches and giant leaves. Around her slender and pale arms were wound golden bracelets in the shape of vines that glinted in the morning sun, just like the ones Gin wore in her ceremonial garb as the Nature Walker. The crown on her head was similarly adorned and held a single green stone at its apex. Completely overwhelmed, Gin pressed her face back into the grass at the goddess’s feet.

  Sephine snapped her fingers, and creatures seemed to pour out of the very air and move between Gin and Sath, surrounding him menacingly. “You are safe here, my daughter Ginolwenye,” the goddess said, her voice musical yet menacing. “The Bane of the Forest will trouble you no more.” Gin looked up at Sephine.

  “He is no longer the Bane of the Forest, Mother,” Gin said as she slowly got to her feet. “Sathlir Clawsharp is the Rajah of Qatu’anari, the Guardian of the Qatu race, and is my dearest friend and most steadfast companion. He means me and my kind no further harm.” The goddess laughed, causing both Gin and Sath to cover their ears.

  “You think you can fool me, Nature Walker?” she said, kneeling down so that she could better glare at Gin. Sath held his hands up in supplication, but one of Sephine’s guardians, a giant treant, glowered at him, as though daring him to make another move. “Why you have dared to be in my presence with one such as this Qatu. Do you not fear the wrath of your Mother?”

  Gin swallowed hard before she spoke. “Of course I do, Mother, but I was raised to believe that for those of us that honor and serve you, you keep no wrath. Only love and understanding,” she said as loudly as her fear would permit. The goddess cocked her head to one side but did not reply. “Besides, I am the Nature Walker and the Guardian of the Great Forest—I speak for you to my people and to those in Alynatalos—there is none closer to you on Orana than I am, so why would I try to fool you? You have my word that he has changed his ways. Why have you made yourself known to me now, when you have not before?”

  “I thought I knew you, my Nature Walker,” Sephine replied. She stood, rising to her full height and glaring down at both of them. “I certainly know those who came before you, following in the footsteps of my most cherished Nature Walker, Draoch. But Ginolweyne, you are a puzzle. I can feel the love you bear for this Qatu—yet you know that with a snap of my fingers, my guardians would tear him limb from limb—and I should, to avenge all of my children that he killed and injured. Why do you risk his life so?”

  “Because I love him, Mother. Because I have seen a change in him. Because I trust him with my life, and I would hope that my devotion to you would give me enough clout to speak on his behalf and vouch for who he is now.” Gin did not break eye contact with Sephine, even as a tiny voice inside her screamed for her to show respect. “We ne
ed your help, Mother; we are far from home and in grave danger, and we need help to return.”

  “Why should I help you?” Sephine asked as she raised a blonde eyebrow at Gin. “This is tiresome.” The goddess moved her lips silently, and a great thunderclap echoed across the landscape. She disappeared in a puff of smoke and then reappeared in front of Gin, the size of an average high elf. Still taller than her devotee, Sephine looked down her nose at Gin. “Well?”

  “You are the Mother of us all!” Gin said, her frustration beginning to show. “You created us and love us and care for us. Why would you not help one of your children in her time of need?”

  “Gin, easy,” Sath said, and then immediately shut up as the treants closed their circle around him.

  “You speak to me this way because you have spent too much time among the lesser races of Orana, just as your ancestor, MY Draoch of the Trees, did,” Sephine said, sadly. “You do not show me the reverence your ancestors did when they bore the mantle of Nature Walker. Over and over, I watch as my chosen turn from me to the ways of the Father of Hate. He commands no power, yet they follow him still? It makes no sense! You are in danger thanks to one of those converts, my child, and I fear that there is not much I can do to make it right—nor, in truth, much I am willing to do. The Nature Walker line will end with you.”

  Gin deflated on the spot. Sath wished he could reduce his guards to kindling and help somehow, but he feared their retaliation on Gin if he made an untoward move. A tiny movement at the side of the druid caught his eye, however. Gin had tossed her staff to the ground and stood, fisting her hands at her sides as her entire body shook. Was she finally giving in to fear? Or worse, anger? Sath stared at her as the skin at the base of her neck began to flare scarlet. Anger. He silently beseeched her to think before she spoke but knew her well enough to know that they were far beyond that point—and he still could not find her in their bond at all.