Remnants of Night (Darkest Despair Book 1)

by Keri Salyers

  “Ve’Sath, that is not why I’ve come here.”

  “Oh?” The giant man calmly pulled at his gloves. “In that case, let us go somewhere more secluded. My destroyers will keep your… friend… company.”

  “He is to join us as representative of the Pelthocian King,” I quickly said.

  The small humoring smile that had turned up the corners of his mouth melted into a look all knew only too well. The Warlord did not like being told what to do. Not even at the height of my power would I have dared. I might suggest and advise but to outright say his thoughts were wrong? No, I wasn’t that crazy. This was a man who kept a pit with uncontrollable fiends in it just so he could threaten to throw those who irritate him in it. Destroyers have literally pissed themselves when facing his cold rage. Scouts have killed themselves rather than come before him, carrying bad news.

  But something had him in a good mood and I wasn’t exactly sure it was just my presence. “I will indulge you in this, my King. Bring him!”

  Taking three steps to his one, I walked with the Warlord and tried not to think about how they would be ‘relocating’ Ianarius. Sure I didn’t like the arrogant bastard, but he had taken a kick to the ribs just for the chance of bringing his King valuable information. Ok, more than a kick. And having been the sole catalyst to the portal spell just to save his pupil’s the risk? I hated to say my thoughts were improving where he was concerned but they were. He was still an insufferable jerk, though. “It pleases me to see you return. Rakmorath has been waiting.”

  “Ve’Sath… I…” How exactly did one go about telling a homicidal maniac that you weren’t planning on sticking around?

  The double doors were made of thick metal and were thrown open to allow the heat inside to escape. A blazing fire pit lay in the center of the high-ceiling room. There was a dais in which lay multiple furs, a humungous sheathed sword sat on a stand behind. The floor around the fire pit had rows such as a stadium might have, just three. The Warlord glanced back at me as he entered the room and the red light lit his armor and his black eyes with a piercing fire. Then he decided to test me. “Your son has been making quite the name for himself.”

  My heart felt like it suddenly locked up on me. My son. My boots attempted to trip me. I hadn’t seen him for so long, hadn’t even given any thought of him... Did I mention I even had a child? I guess when you get to my age, you forget to mention the pleasantries. And I wouldn’t be making Mother of the Year any time soon.

  I’d like to be able to say he had been a product of love, of a tryst I had had in my younger years or even a fling with someone a cold-heart like mine could have fallen for. Alas, there was no such thing in my past. Cenav was a bargaining chip, nothing more. His father was—is—the leader of the most prolific and powerful Sarkkrai clan. The Warlord was the epitome of all they prize, fierce, strong and feared. And I had struck a deal with him in order to gain the backing of all his people.

  Let’s just say, you get exactly what you ask for when dealing with that type of person—human or Sarkkrai. While he was no tender lover hiding beside a tough façade, I’ve never met a being with that much physical stamina. But then, even sex was like a competition with them. I had promised him a son of both our bloods and I was his until I conceived.

  After the birthing, the child was taken from me. I saw him only briefly but to be honest, I was rather pleased about that. Every so often I would hear his name mentioned and out of curiosity, would view his whereabouts from afar. Cenav… my beautiful imperfectly perfect child… He grew quickly, thanks in large part to his Sarkkrai blood. Much like his father, he was growing immense in size and stature but he was not a perfect Sarkkrai to the eye. He looked different. How long had it been? How old would he be now? Has he mastered a second form? Could he take to the skies? Would he… know of me?

  Ve’Sath had brought up our child to unbalance me, I knew it and he knew I knew. “Ah, yes, he is becoming a true destroyer.” There was a great deal of pride in his voice, a swelling in his chest, which both pleased and worried me. On one hand, it was good to know Cenav was still in favor with the Warlord; those that fell out of such often times didn’t live long enough to rectify the situation. Two, it meant he was becoming like his father. He was committing cruel atrocities. Did I have the right to feel unhappy about that? “You gave me a wonderful tool, a powerful weapon. He has been training near constantly and I can see the gleam in his eye that someday soon he will challenge me.” Ve’Sath grinned, his teeth red in the fire’s glow. “When that day comes, our blood will rain like Zarhsha tears and all who watch will be bathed in the glory. My son will rule over our people; no one will be able to stand against him. I will not live forever but my seed will oversee the throne of the Sarkkrai.”

  “I am glad that he is well.” I wasn’t going to fess up that his words twisted my heart and couldn’t think of anything better to say. But this was Ve’Sath I spoke to and he knew me like no one else did. His boots echoed in the dark corners of the room as he paced over toward his dais.

  “You’ve changed much.” Loaded words.

  “I have.” No sense in lying now. “I have traversed a new world, seen new things. I have tempered my steel.”

  “And do you… enjoy… this new world?” The Warlord asked.

  “I have come to see its merits.” I was suspicious of the direction of the conversation.

  “You intend to return? Perhaps you have found another?”

  Ah. So there it was. Even a Warlord gets jealous. “No,” I replied truthfully. The last relationship I had been in ended on fairly good terms. Meaning, I didn’t melt him into an oozing puddle when I found him making eyes at some other woman.

  “Good. I will kill any who thinks he can replace me.”

  Normally such a statement might make a lady feel loved, wanted or cherished but when Ve’Sath said it, in such an emotionless flat tone, it reminded me that this man is not one who made empty threats. Actually, he rarely made threats at all. He didn’t have to. You either did what he said, or he would disembowel you and choke you with your own entrails. I’ve seen him do that before. “And what about what I want?”

  He eyed me silently for a moment. “What you want isn’t as important.”

  Even I, knowing this man and knowing his people for as long as I did, was taken back by that. “What? Not important? You forget, I was considered a god amongst your own people.”

  “I didn’t forget. And if I have you, what do you think that makes me?” The Warlord strode to me, close enough to where I could feel his presence physically, smell the leather of his glove as he raised his hand to take hold of my chin. He tilted my head back to look up at him; the self-satisfied look on his face did not quite mask that manic dangerous light that always hovered just behind those black black eyes…

  There was a jangle of metal and a shuffling of feet that demanded our attention. The Sarkkrai had thought up a way of moving the Pelthocian mage. Ianarius looked positively nauseated amidst what looked to be forty pounds of thick half-rusted Rakmorath steel chain. When I looked back at Ve’Sath, he had returned to his place on the dais. The destroyers hustled the mage forward and kicked him back down onto his knees before the fire pit.

  Fire pit…

  The moment I made the connection, the fire blazed. The flames roared up to the ceiling, chasing away all the shadows. None of the Sarkkrai so much as flinched. “Ah! I am glad to see you both made the journey!” Came the all-too-pleased voice of Invyrchal.

  “Yes, well it’s a little difficult to change one’s mind when one finds themselves suddenly a mile over land…”

  The fire being chuckled. “That’s what spells are for, silly girl.”

  Silly girl? Honestly, my patience was running out. “Was it you who told the Sarkkrai how to deal with mages, should they ever manage to catch one?”

  “The aversion to unnatural metals? I suppose you could say I might have let that slip. After all, you never know when a mage might just… fall from the sky.�
�� He—I was beginning to think it was male—tucked his arms behind his back. There was a rustle of chain; through the link between us, I could feel the sharp stab of anger from Ianarius. “Couldn’t have you mucking up my plans, my boy. No hard feelings. Now then, in exchange for your presence here, I will answer your one question—the question posed by the Pelthocian King. The Sarkkrai are not plotting war. Yet. The reason no divination can breech Rakmorath is, as you are now beginning to see, all due to my interference.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Because the not-knowing would eventually drive the Pelthocians into bringing you back. They are so predictable. I fortified the Sarkkrai defenses and the Pelthocians fell right in line.”

  “Say I believe you, why would you need me to be brought back to Lehiras?” My gaze flickered to Ve’Sath, who watched me like a giant predator with unblinking hooded eyes. “I am not… that person any more. I have changed.”

  “I know,” the Invyrchal replied. “But absence makes the heart grow fonder. I wanted you to get it into your head how much you would miss that other world. That, Earth.”

  “I was brought here to be reminded of that? I didn’t need to leave to know how much it means to me.”

  “Oh I believe you did.” The fire being dropped his arms to his sides. “That way, when I threaten to destroy what you’ve come to cherish, you will have no choice but to do as I say.”

  ~*~*~*~

  CHAPTER 5

  I blink my eyes, shock not quite letting another emotion take over. Destroy? Did this sputtering camp fire just threaten my new realm? My world with its dismal skies and loud noises, its non-magical transportation and its fabulous form-fitting jeans? Oh no you didn’t! Righteous anger flooded my limbs and threatened to steal my breath if I didn’t use it right then and there. Maybe I would forgo the yelling and just skip right to the incinerating!

  Invyrchal snapped and reappeared close behind me. “Don’t do anything foolish. I would hate for you to ruin your reputation with our dear friends the Sarkkrai.” He placed a hand on my back below my nape and—I swear it!—my spell was gone. Gone! The power to douse his life was scattered like a dream upon wakening. I rocked forward and turned to face him, my unblinking eyes drying in the heat being put off by his flame body.

  “What did you do?”

  “Oh nothing. Nothing at all, really,” he snapped back to the fire pit and took a seat on the metal rim with the rising flames at his back. His voice lost its coating of mocking humor. “Now that I have your attention, I want you to return to Osiril and tell them what I said, then I want you to return to your new life.”

  “What is the catch?” I asked, mind still reeling from the possibilities.

  “You will then seek me out there. If you do not, I kill everyone. Every day you wait, I will heap more tragedy upon the world, starting with Rutherford. Find me or become the reason for its destruction, either way—what fun I will have,” Invyrchal laughed, rocking back. There was an air of menace to his words that was on par with Ve’Sath; this creature would do exactly what he said he would do.

  “Fun? You do this for fun?”

  “Does that motive sound oddly familiar, Darkest Despair? Oh and take the mage with you. It will make things easier and you will need the help.” Invyrchal strove to his feet and blinked to stand before the bound Ianarius. “I won’t make you, of course. You, I will let decide on your own but I know your type—knowing that you could prevent thousands of lost lives will drive you to act. Their world does not know monsters like we do…” The fire being was back in front of me again. “Do not fret, my dear. I will give you clues to follow. For now, I will be lenient.”

  “This will end. When I find you, you will leave the world in peace,” I told him, finding strength in my own words of conviction.

  Invyrchal cocked his head. His reply came a few breaths later. “It will only end when I say it will end and unfortunately for you, I hold great interest in both you and this Earth. Be a good girl and do as I say and maybe this will even be pleasant for you. Anger me and you will wish that your kind did not have such long lives…

  “Seek me out. I need to speak to our illustrious Warlord so I am going to cut this little meeting short.” With that, Invyrchal turned his fiery back and I found myself back in the castle of Osiril, staring at a fire pit in a strange room. The fire was empty and the room was near pitch, the only light coming from the open door behind me. There was a thump and Ianarius popped into view, falling immediately to his knees. The chains were gone but apparently not the nauseating feeling. He spat out the nasty bit of metal the Sarkkrai had put in his mouth, gagging and nearly vomiting right there. Sucking in deep lung-fulls, his disorientation didn’t last. Either through fortitude or simple male aversion to showing weakness, the mage got to his feet, wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve.

  “Something to be said about Sarkkrai hospitality…” I commented dryly. “Always leaves a bad taste in your mouth.” Ianarius glared at me, spitting off to the side and wiping his mouth again. “I always thought that unnatural metal would put your kind out. How about that…”

  “I am a master. I am no snot-nosed novice,” he replied. “King Burend must be informed of what we’ve learned.” Having gathered himself, he pivoted and strode quickly from the room.

  I stared at the empty fire pit for a moment, pondering what all this meant. This Invyrchal proved more than once not someone I could easily brush aside; he can teleport people from inside a warded area, he knows guarded secrets about mage-kind, he has Ve’Sath’s ear and is in league with the Sarkkrai. And, most of all, he could extinguish my spells before I had even begun them. Decidedly slower, I followed and by miracle (and trailing the leaking emotions of a certain mage) found the throne room.

  Ianarius was already speaking to Ostas. The King was listening intently but I doubted he was not aware when I entered. When I approached, I got the tail end of their conversation. “…glad for Pelthocia but at a loss for words for this… other world. As King, I do not like the idea of giving in to this Invyrchal nor do I like having our Master Mage absent for an unknown period of time as well as putting yourself in harm’s way. As any man, I would wish to offer as much assistance as I could.”

  “And does my opinion count at all in this?” I asked with spread hands. “I did not say I wanted any assistance from Pelthocia or its Master Mage…”

  “If you truly wish to become a protector instead of a villain, you should be thankful I am even considering.”

  “I wish,” I said tersely, “to be neither. I only wish to continue the life I have made there but obviously that’s not going to happen. Perhaps if I find the bastard, he’ll realize that Lehiras is much more fun to terrorize. I don’t need help in that. Especially from the likes of you.”

  The man’s eyebrow tweaked. “If you insist on lying, barricade your nonsense behind a better shield.”

  I could feel anger rising up toes to fingers. Frustration, worry and anxiety tainted the purity of my anger and I wanted an outlet right then and there so much I probably would have burned the damn city... excuse me, City… to the ground, if it weren’t for the added emotion of sorrow that threatened to blur my eyes with their tears. Earth would pay for my transgressions. If I didn’t go back, the world would pay, of that I had no doubt.

  I could feel the hotness of my face; I was beet-red and the telltale color shamed me. I wouldn’t cry frustrated tears in front of these men! I wouldn’t! Ducking my head, I made a show of rubbing my brows as if the anger had nearly won out. Was I fooling them? I don’t really know.

  “Will you return to this other world?” Ostas Burend said, his voice soft and un-incriminating.

  “Yes,” I said with a bob of my head, barely able to trust my own voice.

  “You will seek out this scoundrel and learn what he plans? You will do what you can to protect this other world from him?”

  “I am going to try.”

  “That is all that can be asked. Be their protector. T
hey do not need to know your past. Suffer for them and know the unsung hero’s burden.”

  I swallowed. Hero? Me? I could do that. Yeah.

  “Pelthocia will provide what we can, you need only ask.”

  I nodded, feeling more like myself then I had since I got here. I was a King, practically a god to the Sarkkrai; I don’t quaver from a challenge. Invyrchal was stepping on my toes and I got big feet (er, in true form, natch). I could handle this, I handled Ve’Sath after all (Ooo, naughty!). I straightened my back and looked Burend in the eye. “I will head out first thing tomorrow morning but before I leave, I believe you have something of mine that I would like back.”

  The Harbinger’s eyes had already focused in our direction prior to our actually being visible. Always vigilant, my assassins, even here and under these conditions. I could see him well enough in the dim light where he sat as far from the prison bars as he could, back to the cold stone wall. There was a smattering of old straw on the ground and a discarded blanket. His clothing was moldered, having rotted on his thin malnourished frame throughout what had to have been many years of incarceration.

  The lantern was lifted higher at my shoulder and the light lit the inside of the cell, causing the Harbinger to cover his face with a snarl. The guard chuckled. “It really hates light.”

  “No. He just doesn’t want to show his true face to those he considers enemies. It is a dishonor and you’ve left him nearly without the ability to even do that. Lower the lantern.” Portions of the hands that covered his face looked to have been cut off and mangled without being able to fully regenerate. That it had healed at all meant that the Harbinger had found a blood source. I glanced about for mice or rats, instead finding food dishes lumped in a corner. The contents were rotten and foul. I’d bet that he had drug the bowls just out of reach of the guards in attempt to get them to come into the chamber. “You were feeding him?”