The Darkling’s Kiss
By
Charlie Richards
The Darkling's Kiss
Part Two: The Daemon Unleashed
Published by Gargoyle Expressions, Inc.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without written permission of the publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Edited by AlternativEdits
Cover Design by Alena Marie
This book is a work of fiction, and all names, characters, places, and incidents are fictional products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is purely coincidental.
First Edition January 2019
Copyright © 2019 by Gargoyle Expression, Inc.
Blurb:
For decades Philippe has lived the life of a thief, keeping apart from society. He steals items for customers…for a fee, of course, which has earned him wealth enough for several lifetimes. Due to his mixed heritage, a volatile mixture of human, angel, and daemon blood—a creature called a darkling—his job is his solace. After a disastrous encounter with a wizard, Philippe has a choice to make—live the rest of his life on the run or commit to a single task to gain a clean slate. Either way, his thieving days are over. Philippe accepts the Council of Wizard’s terms.
He finds himself traveling with Kalylle, a wizard of the second order. Their task is to clear up a disagreement between the dwarf and elven nations, as a war between their peoples would tear Fidelia apart. To Philippe’s surprise, he discovers an unexpected kinship with Kalylle—an attraction that offers both danger to their mission and hope for a future. Except as they run up against one obstacle after another, it becomes clear that a third party is involved, someone with powerful magical resources. Can Philippe overcome the urges of his daemonic heritage so he can complete his quest with Kalylle, or will the machinations of rogue wizards cause him to lose himself to the daemon living inside him?
Part Two: The Daemon Unleashed
Chapter Six
Too early to be served in the dining hall, Kalylle ate alone in his room. He wanted to be on his way by first light. After gathering his things, the wizard headed to the main gardens and found King Salvador on his throne of pillows.
“Will you be leaving then?” the king asked.
Kalylle nodded. “I am. My associate Philippe left last night. I also want to let you know that he borrowed a horse from your stable. He said he’d return it in two days’ time. I apologize that you weren’t asked first.”
The king nodded. “That Philippe’s mount and one of our own was missing was brought to my attention this morning. Will he return it as he says?”
The wizard nodded. “If Philippe says that he’ll return the mount, then he’ll do so.” Kalylle bowed low to King Salvador. “I’ll keep you posted on what develops with the dwarves.”
“Good luck to you, Kalylle, and have a safe journey,” the king encouraged.
Deantmore caught up with Kalylle as he strode down the hallway. Grinning at him, his old friend hugged him. “Are you and my sister leaving on better terms this time?” the elf asked.
Kalylle scoffed. “I’m afraid that when it comes to your sister, there are no terms where I’d be leaving on good ones, Deantmore.” He didn’t want to speak ill of Cerina to her brother, but if the man kept asking, he wouldn’t lie.
Humming, Deantmore nodded. “Chose another over her, did you?” he commented. “She would take that badly.” Deantmore smirked, a knowing look entering his dark eyes. “Your albino friend, perhaps?”
Shaking his head, Kalylle cleared his throat, suddenly discomforted. While he felt only mildly uncomfortable speaking about Cerina to her brother, he had absolutely no desire to speak of his relationship with Philippe with him. Besides, at that moment, Kalylle wasn’t even sure what that relationship was beyond partners in stopping a war.
“Philippe and I just met before this journey began,” Kalylle went with. “I chose my job over your sister, Deantmore. I was not the man she thought I was.”
“Don’t know what Cerina was thinking taking up with a wizard, anyway,” Deantmore commented bluntly, his amused smile softening his words. “Everyone knows you’re devoted to your craft first and everyone and everything else second.”
“And on that note, I must go,” Kalylle stated.
Deantmore chuckled. “What? You mean you don’t want to talk about the lightning generated between you and your friend?”
Kalylle snorted. “Most definitely not,” he growled, shaking his head at his exuberant friend. “Stay well, Deantmore.”
The elf stopped in the middle of the hallway, put his hands on his hips, threw his head back and laughed.
Shaking his head, Kalylle pulled his gaze away from the guffawing male and strode from the castle. A chuckle escaped him. Deantmore had enough mirth for ten men.
An elf stood in the courtyard holding the reins to Kalylle’s horse. He thanked the stable hand and took the lead rope attached to the animal. After riding the nearest lift down to the forest floor, Kalylle mounted the prancing horse and urged the excited mount forward. It responded with a lunge, taking off through the trees. Knowing that time was short, he let the animal stretch its legs, galloping swiftly.
He wondered idly how Philippe fared. He still felt overwhelmed by the gifts the younger man exhibited. With the ability to turn invisible at will and walk through walls, he certainly had an advantage as a thief. The darkling must have been exhausted to finally have been spotted by the Council of Wizard’s researchers. Philippe probably never would have been caught if they hadn’t involved Canto.
Kalylle shivered as he remembered the strange tingle that had gone through his body when the man had shared his memories with him. As he thought about it, he lifted a hand to his lips and rubbed them absently. His dick thickened, and he shifted in the saddle. Riding with a hard-on was not a comfortable experience, so he adjusted his train of thought.
No wonder Philippe hides from the world.
His talents would make him in demand, but the unpredictable control he had over his emotions made him dangerous. What had the Council threatened him with to get the darkling to help? Obviously, they had an ulterior motive for his involvement.
Dismissing what he couldn’t hope to guess at, Kalylle vowed to focus on his mission.
Kalylle galloped through the small town where he and Philippe had been driven out of a few days before. This time, no one made a move to stop the wizard. Once beyond the town, he slowed. The horse beneath him blew heavily, its sides heaving as it struggled to catch its breath. Kalylle kept the animal at a walk, knowing he’d been pushing it hard. The pause also gave Kalylle a chance to cast an Eagle Eye spell.
Pulling out four rune stones, Kalylle chanted softly. He separated his spirit from his body, taking the form of an ethereal sparrow. Mentally flapping his filmy wings, Kalylle’s psyche soared above the trees. He searched around him and in his path for any obstacles. Kalylle wanted to avoid any trouble that would slow him down.
The forest teemed with animal life, but nothing out of the ordinary stirred. A doe drank at a stream, a pair of wolves frolicked with their pups, and a mother bear taught her cub to fish.
Seeing nothing to slow his travel, Kalylle returned to his body.
He urged his mount into a trot and kept moving. It grew late, the shadows stretching between trees by the time he found an acceptable place to hole up for the night. Not
bothering to build a fire, the wizard curled up in his cloak and fell asleep near his mount. He woke just before dawn, mixed powder in a cup of cold water, and made tea. Downing the beverage quickly, he continued on his way, munching contentedly on dried meats as he rode.
Though it had taken fourteen days to get to the elf capital of Silvermoon, it took Kalylle only ten days to return to the foothills of the Ssilliar Mountains. When he slipped through the secret wall by the bush, several guards met him.
Obviously recognizing him, the captain of the guard nodded. “Welcome back, Master Kalylle.” The dwarf pointed at one of his men. “Lead Master Kalylle back to the city proper. Take him to King Corak.”
The soldier saluted, tapping the fingers of his right hand to his chest and then executing a half-bow from the waist. He then bowed to Kalylle, saying, “Please follow me, sir.”
Kalylle nodded to the soldier, who started down a torch-lit corridor. He lost track of time as he followed the soldier through one twisting tunnel after another. Tired of walking in the semi-darkness, Kalylle felt a measure of gratefulness by the time he reached the throne room. Still, his underground hike had cut off several days of riding through the cold mountains.
The throne room was in the main hall that Kalylle and Philippe had walked through on their first trip to see the king. At that time, their audience had been at the evening meal, so they hadn’t seen him there. The carved pillars stretched into the dark expanse where Kalylle knew the ceiling must be. King Corak sat on the massive stone throne. He rose when he saw Kalylle enter.
“You’ve returned!” King Corak greeted jovially. “And within one moon! Do you have the sword? Have the elves admitted their belligerence?”
“I’d prefer to speak of this matter in a more private setting,” Kalylle requested, bowing his head respectfully for an instant. Then he glanced meaningfully at the soldiers scattered around the great hall.
King Corak’s eyes narrowed, but he still descended the throne and led Kalylle into a small study that branched from the hall. He indicated Kalylle should have a seat at a small, round table before settling into a chair himself. “What’s this about, Kalylle?” the king asked, all pretenses dropped.
Kalylle eased into the chair the king had indicated before stating, “The elves don’t have your sword, King Corak. There’s treachery afoot by a third party.”
King Corak leaned back in his chair and frowned at the wizard. “How do you know this?”
“Someone in our midst is a traitor. Philippe and I couldn’t find any animosity from the elves, but we did find guilt here.” The king straightened and opened his mouth, probably to protest. Kalylle held up a hand, asking for a moment of patience, and went on. “We also feel that there’s treason within the Order of Wizards. I’m going there next.”
The king sat deep in thought for a moment. Lifting a hand, he stroked his beard. “Why do you think that?”
“Several times in our travels, Philippe and I were attacked. Once by bandits, who could’ve been hired by anyone, once by trolls which had somehow been coerced out of their mountain home, and also by a minotaur,” Kalylle explained. “We know magic was used because of the trolls and the minotaur.”
King Corak rose and began to pace the small room. “Where is Philippe now?”
Kalylle paused. He wondered that himself. What may or may not have been going on between Philippe and Feline had never been too far from his thoughts, and every time he’d allowed his mind to wander, that was where it’d gone…to Philippe. It’d been years since he’d experienced jealousy, but he was man enough to acknowledge it…at least to himself.
It was damn irritating.
While Kalylle knew the Council had insisted on Philippe joining him, he didn’t know the terms of his employment. Not for the first time, Kalylle wondered what Philippe was getting in return. What would the Council offer a thief? His freedom perhaps? He’d never heard of the Council making deals, but he figured with Philippe’s abilities, he could be a special case.
After all, what prison could hold a man who had the ability to walk through walls?
“He’s on his way to Crood,” Kalylle told the king. “We found information that has led our investigation there. He believes he can find answers to who hired the bandits.”
King Corak nodded slowly. “And why do you believe that a dwarf is guilty but not an elf?” he asked gruffly.
“Philippe and I believe it has more to do with blackmail than actual malicious intent,” Kalylle explained carefully. He didn’t want to offend the king. “At the dinner we attended when here last, Philippe felt a guilty party in our midst. He couldn’t tell who, but he could tell that they were sitting at the lower half of the table. I’d like to take some time to question those who sat at the lower end of the table that day.”
“What do you mean by felt?” King Corak asked, wary confusion filling his tone.
“Philippe has the ability to discern what emotions those around him are feeling. There was a lot of anger at the table, which was to be expected, but not the guilt. I believe someone, a wizard perhaps, may have coerced one of the dwarves who ranks a little lower on the political scale. We found that the three messengers you’d sent never reached King Salvador. He wasn’t even aware that the Sword of Brindle was missing until we explained it to him.”
Kalylle paused for a moment, thinking, before adding, “We also noticed that every elf we saw wore a soft leather shoe or boot. There were scuff marks on the statue showing where the person who stole the sword stepped to take it down. An elf’s shoe wouldn’t have left any marks on the statue’s surface.” Kalylle pointed down at the dwarf’s footwear. The dwarf king wore boots, hard soled boots that reached halfway up his calf. He continued, “Most of the dwarves I’ve seen, however, wear those same hard soled boots that you have on.”
The king sat back down across from Kalylle. He nodded. “All right, but you can’t accuse any of them. Just question them as to where they were that morning. You can do it in here. I’ll send for the eight that sat at the lower half of the table that night.”
Kalylle straightened. “You know which ones were there?”
King Corak stood again. “Of course! We have scribes that keep track of who’s with the king at all times. That’s for security purposes, of course,” he claimed with a wry smile.
The wizard lifted one brow, his lips curving into a smile. “Intriguing.”
The dwarf king left the small study, calling for a page. Another dwarf appeared carrying a platter of food. Kalylle recognized Daton. “Hello again, Master Kalylle,” the dwarf greeted. The wizard thought he spotted some relief in the aide’s smile upon discovering that Kalylle was alone. After seeing the curious looks and overhearing comments while traveling with Philippe, he didn’t find it at all surprising that the darkling chose to remain cloaked while in towns. Daton kept talking, and Kalylle forced himself to focus. “I’ve brought you some bread, cheese, dried meats, and fruit. I thought you might be hungry after your journey.”
Kalylle returned the friendly dwarf’s smile. “Thank you. I am but didn’t realize how hungry until I smelled that wonderful cheese.”
After giving Kalylle an opportunity to help himself to anything on the platter, Daton set the remaining food on a small sideboard against one of the walls. As he ate, he read from one of the leather-bound volumes found on a shelf above the sideboard. Before long, dwarves started straggling in. He asked each where they were the morning the sword disappeared. He spoke with seven of the eight dwarves in question and then took some time to verify their stories. As far as he could tell, everyone’s story checked out.
Kalylle returned to the throne room and King Corak. The king joined him back in the study. “So how did it go?” he asked gruffly.
“I spoke with seven of the eight. From what I could tell, they had nothing to do with it. There is still one who hasn’t turned up, though.”
“What? Who?”
Kalylle showed the king the list of eight names giv
en to him by the scribe. “A man named Faldor.”
“I’ll have him tracked down immediately. In the meantime, Daton can lead you to a room, so you can get cleaned up and rest more comfortably.”
The wizard bowed his thanks and followed Daton from the small study. The page led him to a large room, then left. Kalylle poured water from a pitcher into a stone basin and used the water to rinse the road dust from his face, neck, and arms. After donning clean robes, he relaxed on the bed and fell into a restful sleep.
Kalylle woke to the sound of pounding on the door. “Enter,” he called, sitting up.
King Corak strode into the room. He nodded to the two bodyguards following him, and they stepped back out, the second dwarf closing the door securely behind him. Kalylle knew that they waited on the other side, ready to aid the king should he call for them.
“Faldor is missing!” King Corak stated without preamble.
Kalylle rose from where he sat. The king spoke of the eighth dwarf who hadn’t shown up for questioning. “This behavior does make him look guilty,” he mused, rubbing a hand over his face to get his sleep-sluggish brain back up to speed.
Nodding, King Corak agreed. “The guards saw him exit through one of the tunnels soon after my summoners called for the eight you needed.”
Kalylle frowned, thinking. “Well, now we know who stole the sword, but why?” The king didn’t bother answering, but Kalylle hadn’t expected him to. Rubbing his chin, he asked, “What position does Faldor hold?”
King Corak helped himself to some bread sitting out on the table. “He’s in charge of messengers,” he told Kalylle before taking a bite.
“Did he send any messengers to the elves?”
The king shrugged. “He reported to us that he did, but we’ll need to check his records to be sure. I’ve already requested the books be brought to me here.”
As if on cue, a sharp rap sounded through the door. “Come,” Kalylle called. A dwarf entered laden with two tomes and several scrolls. He dumped his burden on the table, bowed, and scurried from the room.
The Darkling's Kiss: Part Two: The Daemon Unleashed (The Daemon's Descendants Book 2) Page 1
