Braden’s eyes slid to the side. Quinlan frowned, knowing well that reaction and not liking it in the least. He had seen that look on his brother’s face too many times before. Usually right before Braden explained why he had made some decision that Quin knew he wasn’t going to like but had better start getting used to.
Quin lifted a finger, shaking his head as he took a step toward the bed. “Oh, don’t you start, Braden. Don’t lay there scheming up justifications before you even tell me what you’ve gone and already done. Now, where did you send her off to?”
Sephana roused from sleep, bringing a hand up to rub at her eyes as she squinted up at Quin blearily.
“Go back to sleep, my dear. I very much doubt you had any part in this,” Quin told her brusquely. Then he glared down at his brother with his arms crossed over his chest.
Braden squirmed himself into a reclining position against the pillows, pulling the covers up to cover Sephana’s shoulders and most of his own chest. He glanced sideways at Quin with an irritated scowl.
Reluctantly, he admitted, “I sent her back to the Temple of Wisdom.”
Quin’s mouth dropped open, eyes widening. “Why would you do that?” he demanded. “Master Remzi surely reported her presence there the moment she left! That’s the first place they’ll be looking for her to show back up!”
“It’s possible,” his brother agreed. “But there is also a very good chance she can win Remzi over to our cause. The man’s reasonable, Quin, and we need him. I thought it worth the risk.”
Quin raked his hair back away from his face before scrubbing his hand over his darkly whiskered chin. “This is unbelievable. The way you treat me is appalling, Braden. I would never disrespect you so.”
Braden frowned up at him, a look of incomprehension clouding his face. “Disrespect you?” he repeated. “Quin, she’s just an acolyte.”
Quin drew himself up very formally, holding his hat before his chest with both of his hands. Rigidly, he stated, “Merris is my apprentice now, Braden. And I’m in love with her.” At the look of astonishment on his brother’s face, he continued defensively. “Look, I didn’t mean to have feelings for her, but that doesn’t change the fact that I do. And it doesn’t excuse your actions.”
Clinging to the blankets, Sephana sat upright on the bed, pulling the covers tightly around her body. She gazed up at Quin with eyes full of honest sympathy.
Braden bowed his head, finally nodding in resignation. “Then I’m sorry, Quinlan. I didn’t know. I mean, you’ve only known her for, what? Two weeks?”
Quin sucked at his lip, staring down at his hat in his hands. He was fingering the brim, rotating it slowly in his grip. “I understand, Braden,” he acknowledged somberly without looking up. “You couldn’t have known. But next time, please trouble yourself to ask.”
“I will. I’ll go out and look for her.”
“No. That won’t help at all.” Avoiding his brother’s eyes, Quin turned toward the door, replacing his hat on his head and muttering, “Merris is a resourceful girl. She’ll come back.” He reached for the door handle. “I believe I’ll just help myself to a spot of wine. Why don’t the two of you get dressed.”
Merris gazed up at the high vaulted ceiling graced with a colorful tile mosaic. Soft magelight glowed from the four corners of the room, illuminating the walls and the columns with a diffuse and scintillating glow. Merris marveled at the elegant sophistication of the chamber, every detail meticulously presented to emphasize the majesty and splendor of the Lyceum and yet subtly reduce the status of the visitor.
The man standing behind Merris placed his hands upon her shoulders and applied a gentle but consistent pressure, forcing her downward to her knees. She complied, lowering herself to kneel upon the chamber’s sumptuous woven carpets. Her hands were bound behind her back, rendering the action a bit awkward. She gazed ahead, eyes wide with a heady excitement laced with fear.
The man who entered the vaulted chamber was not at all who she’d been expecting.
Merris shivered, a feeling of dread overcoming her as she stared up into the ominous face of Cyrus Krane. The Prime Warden of Aerysius stopped in the doorway of the room, pausing there to consider her with an expression of distaste. Oddly, he was wearing the indigo robes of the Lyceum in place of the black robes of Aerysius that were his custom. Over the whole affair he retained the white cloak of a Prime Warden. Merris wondered what the change in wardrobe might signify.
He strode toward her, reaching out his hand and taking her by the hair, wrenching her neck back until Merris was forced to stare upward into his sinister black eyes. She gasped at the lack of humanity in Krane’s stare. He looked utterly different from the last time she had seen him, the day she had followed him down into the tunnels beneath the cellar. Krane no longer carried himself with the dignity and composure of a Prime Warden.
He looked rather like a demon, eyes sinister pools of shadow.
Krane coldly examined her, taking in the features of Merris’ face. He did not appear pleased at all with what he was seeing. Still with his hand entwined in her hair, he spoke down into her upturned face:
“You’ve always had such a high opinion of yourself. It amazes me; your audacity knows no bounds.”
He tightened his grip on her hair, leaning forward until his face was scant inches away from her own. “Somehow you found out that I’d discovered the little secret you’ve been hiding. That’s why you followed me that night. You must have come across the order I’d signed to have you dismissed. Were you going to try to blackmail me into letting you remain in Aerysius? Was that your plan? As if I would ever let a child as damaged as yourself accept the Transference.”
Merris swallowed, perspiration beading on her brow. She could do nothing but gaze up into his cruel eyes, mouth open and panting. A chill fear crawled over the exposed surfaces of her body, raising goose pimples on her flesh. She wanted to turn away, hide her eyes from the terrible intent written in Krane’s shadowed visage. But he had her too tightly by the hair; she had no choice but to confront the sinister fury of his gaze.
“I only need one last sacrifice to unseal the Well of Tears. I will enjoy harvesting your blood. The service brought about by your death might be enough to justify the miserable burden of your life.”
He smiled cruelly as he released her with a shove, spilling her backward to the ground. Merris collapsed upon the rug, tears welling in her eyes. She opened her mouth to beg for mercy, but the words would not form in her throat. Only silence escaped her quivering lips; it was not his will to let her speak.
Tears spilled freely down her cheeks, raining from her chin. She had come so close to fulfilling her dreams. The power she had always aspired to had been practically within her grasp. She could feel it, stirring through her, filling her with its promise, every time she lay with Quinlan Reis. She had every right to make it hers.
But now those dreams would be forever lost.
Cyrus Krane had seen through her, seen through to the gaping hole where her heart should have been. He had discovered the monster that lived inside her, the darkness of her soul that she had labored a lifetime to conceal from the eyes of others.
Merris remembered well the night the monster had come to dwell within her. She had been only a little girl at the time, living on the streets of Aerysius. She had been made to look on as her mother had been savagely raped and then bludgeoned to death. Then her attacker had turned his attention to Merris. He had taken her back with him, had kept her locked away like a special trophy, exacting pleasure from her pain for a very long time.
The monster within had been spawned during those months of torture. It had been nursed on the blood of her innocence, weaned by the death of her childhood. Its coils had wrapped tightly about her soul, clutching and constricting, squeezing out the pain of emotions until only a comforting numbness had instilled itself in their place. It was a monster condemned to be forever greedy, forever hungering, with an appetite for power and control that co
uld never be satisfied.
Somehow, Cyrus Krane had found out about her inner monster. He had conspired to send Merris away down the mountain, to dismiss her from Aerysius altogether. So Merris had decided to follow him, to find out something she could use against him as a bargaining chip. Something that would force him to allow her to remain.
How foolish she had been.
Merris bowed her head and cried in desperation, unable to do anything more.
“Don’t be so quick to rush to judgment, old friend.”
Merris whirled at the sound of the voice coming from behind. Gaping, she found herself staring up into the imposing face of Zavier Renquist. She tried to scuttle away from him as he strode briskly toward her, but her bonds prevented her from moving out of his way. He stopped in front of her, lowering himself to a crouch until he was at eye level with her face.
She stared up at him with wide and fearful eyes. Prime Warden Renquist was an imposing man, broad of shoulder, with long brown hair pulled back and gathered in a braid at the crown of his head. He wore the same white cloak as did Krane over the flowing blue robes of the Lyceum.
He leaned ominously forward, examining her closely in the harsh glare of the chamber’s magelight. His shadowy eyes stared deeply into her, down into the very depths of Merris’ tormented soul. He seemed to approve of what he discovered there; the corners of his mouth drew upwards into the faintest hint of a smile.
“You lust for power of your own,” he murmured after a long moment of consideration. “I can sense the hunger for it within you. I can satiate that desire.”
Behind him, Cyrus Krane growled, “Merris Bryar is an acolyte of Aerysius. She is my responsibility to dispose of as I see fit.”
Zavier Renquist did not remove his eyes from Merris. He reached up, caressing her cheek, drying her tears with the palm of his hand. “She is an acolyte of Aerysius no longer, my friend,” he uttered with his back yet to Cyrus Krane. His hand moved to the other side of Merris’ face, stroking away the dampness left behind by her tears. His hand then went to Merris’ arm, tracing the red, textured scar that encircled her left wrist.
“This woman before you is an apprentice of the Lyceum,” he stated with confidence. “She is under my own jurisdiction. And believe me, Cyrus, I am more than pleased with what I see here.”
Zavier Renquist smiled down upon her in an almost fatherly sort of way. He then leaned forward to press a gentle kiss against her forehead.
“You are Merris Bryar, acolyte of Aerysius, no longer,” he pronounced ominously. “You have become an apprentice of the Lyceum. Upon the death of your current master, I will find you another. In return, I only ask that you agree to two very simple terms. Does that condition sound agreeable to you?”
Merris nodded eagerly, her eyes glistening with gratitude.
Zavier Renquist smiled, patting her hand. “Very good. By what name shall you be called?”
Merris swallowed, gazing up into the Prime Warden’s trenchant face with a newfound sense of wonderment. She drew in a deep breath, finding strength in her voice at last. The thrill of excitement that stirred within her veins made the sound of her tone almost breathless.
“I am … Arden Hannah.”
The Prime Warden smiled, obviously pleased with her selection. “Arden. That means ‘passion’ in the language of my own people. From this day forth, you will be known to the world as Arden Hannah, apprentice mage of the Lyceum. Now, my darling, let us talk about preparing you for the Rite of Transference.”
“Rite of Transference?” she gasped, a sharp thrill of excitement surging through her veins. “Prime Warden, I don’t understand. Who will I be receiving the Transference from?”
“Quinlan Reis,” Zavier Renquist responded with a shrug. “Or Braden Reis; whichever brother I fail to sway. Remember those simple terms you agreed to?”
The woman named Arden Hannah could only nod, stricken speechless with euphoric desire.
Zavier Renquist unmade her bonds, taking her hand into his own and lifting it up to her lips. He allowed her to press a kiss against the knuckles of his right hand, smiling warmly into her lovely face.
“The first of my terms is this: you shall betray your friends. After you receive the Transference, you will commit your soul to Xerys. You will then join the alliance I have forged and help us save our world with the power of the Onslaught.”
Arden’s eyes gleamed in the warm glow of the magelight that scintillated along the walls of the chamber. She ran her hand through her hair, taking up a platinum curl and twirling it between her fingers. Tears of gratitude gathered in her eyes.
“I don’t know how to thank you,” she whispered in response.
12
Of Light and Shadow
Braden examined the garments his brother had left behind for him on the carpet. He held up the first article, a thigh-length black tunic. Beneath it was a pair of worn but serviceable trousers and a patterned kafyah, a type of traditional scarf donned by warriors of the clans before going into battle.
There were also items for Sephana’s use that would render her less conspicuous on the streets of Bryn Calazar. The thick wool dress she wore marked her too obviously as a woman of the Rhen. Quin had provisioned her with a short silk gown that was at once both practical and lovely, matched with a pair of bright leggings. The combination would free up her legs and allow her to blend in with the local populace.
They donned the new clothes, Braden slipping on the scale male vest over his tunic, girdling the whole affair with the war belt Elessar had given him. In a leather pouch attached to it, he discovered the small wooden horse he’d carved as a child, yet another gift from the clan chief. He held the tiny stallion in his hand, smiling down at it sadly before tucking it back into the pouch at his waist. Then he wrapped the kafyah about his neck, tying it in place.
Turning, he caught sight of Sephana slipping into the turquoise dress of gauzy silk. Seeing her in the sleeveless gown with its vibrant hues, Braden couldn’t help but stare. In the fashion of his homeland, Sephana looked radiant, her beauty unbridled and enriched.
“Gods, woman,” he muttered, staring at her in open admiration. “You never stop reminding me of how lucky I am.”
Sephana smiled at him gratefully. “You look … fierce.” She somehow managed to make the statement sound more like a question than a compliment.
Braden grinned wryly. “That’s rather the point, actually. A little intimidation is never a bad thing.”
“I suppose it’s not,” she agreed just as the sound of the door opening made them turn to look.
Quin entered the room, hefting a wine bottle in his fist in a gesture of greeting. Braden nodded indifferently in his direction, all trace of his prior levity gone, sapped away by the sudden appearance of his brother.
“How much have you had to drink?” he wondered testily, staring down at the new chain upon his wrist as a means of avoiding eye contact.
“Not nearly enough, I assure you,” was Quin’s saucy response. “Surely you can’t fault my lack of sobriety while facing the end of the world?”
“It’s not the end of the world,” Sephana corrected him mildly. “Just our world.”
Braden blew out a heavy sigh, exasperated by his brother’s flaws. “I told you that I need you, Quin. That means all of you.”
“You’ll have all that’s left of me, Brother,” Quin assured him. He strode forward into the room, throwing his head back and draining the last dregs in the bottle. He then tossed the container down on the floor and flopped down onto a carpet.
Braden stared at the bottle rolling noisily across the bricks, following it with his eyes until it finally came to a rest against the wall. He shifted his gaze back to Quinlan. For the first time he realized that his brother had changed into a different outfit, as well. No longer was he clothed in the stained and rumpled robes of the Lyceum. Instead, he was garbed in the rich silks of a nobleman.
He wore a black kaftan longcoat over a pristine
white tunic, silk trousers and a long vest of gold damask. He still retained his Rhenic-style hat, though. He had even shaved; the wiry and unkempt beard was gone, replaced by a well-groomed mustache. He wore his dark hair oiled back, curling neatly over his collar.
“You cleaned up,” Braden remarked. “Thank you. It’s an improvement.”
Quin merely shrugged. “I had to find something suitable to be buried in.”
His voice was absent its normal wry undertones of wit. It took Braden a moment to realize that, for once, his brother was being absolutely serious.
“What do you think?” Quin asked, indicating Braden’s new garments with a resentful nod. “Good enough for your own funeral? I had a hard time picking those out, you know. It’s a dreadful thing, actually, dressing your own brother for his grave.”
Braden winced, casting an anxious glance back over his shoulder at Sephana. “It’ll do me just fine,” he managed stiffly.
“Don’t be cruel, Quinlan,” Sephana admonished, looking pale.
Quin dismissed her with a grunt, moving to kneel down beside the pile of items he’d tossed down on the floor earlier. Braden scowled, trying to make sense of the jumble of clutter as he watched his brother rummage through the diverse collection.
Gradually, he found his consternation replaced by a growing sense of wonder. “Are all those artifacts?” he breathed, dropping down to crouch by his brother’s side.
He reached down, picking up the first object that caught his eye: a silver rod ending in a wolf’s head. Quin nodded in response to his question. He was still sorting through his collection, appearing to be grouping objects by category.
Sephana sank down to sit on the edge of the bed. “I don’t believe it,” she marveled. “Where did you get all this?”
The Complete Rhenwars Saga: An Epic Fantasy Pentalogy Page 165
