A Time of Darkness (The Circle of Talia)

by Lister, Dionne

  “Let’s hope empathy is something else our races have in common.”

  Gabrielle gave him a wan smile as they stood. Walking back to the castle, she tried to appreciate the sun on her face, but it wasn’t easy.

  ***

  Gabrielle and Karin spent the day playing cards and sketching—the Inkran was more than proficient at drawing still life and portraits, a pastime the queen also enjoyed. Conversation was limited, although Karin was picking up Veresian quicker than the queen expected. After dinner, when they retired to the queen’s private sitting room, Sarah joined them and brought the wine they had spoken of that morning.

  Leaning back into her silk-covered armchair, Gabrielle sipped red wine out of a crystal goblet. The wine heated her tongue with its spice and she swallowed, savoring the warmth. The room was quiet, save for the low trilling of the crickets—the fire remained unlit in the unusually warm night. Gabrielle spoke, her words as smooth as the wine. “So, Karin, tell us more about your home. Did you live with your parents?”

  “Mama and Papa?”

  “Yes.”

  Karin hesitated, attempting to formulate her answer. Her speech was slow and her accent clipped, but they understood her words. “I lived with Mama. My father was not with us. Now he is dead.”

  She bowed her head, hiding any emotion, as was the Inkran way.

  “I’m sorry, Karin,” said Sarah. “Do you have any sisters or brothers?”

  Head down, she answered, “One brother. He is smaller, but taller.”

  “Oh, you mean younger. How old are you, if I may ask?” the queen ventured. Karin’s almond-shaped brown eyes met the queen’s and were no less captivating for the resignation clouding them.

  “I am twenty-winters old.”

  “Oh, you look so much younger. I thought you might be sixteen,” said Sarah, who reached down and scooped a handful of sweet, dried frocus berries from the plate next to the wine bottle. “Have you tried these? They’re good.”

  The queen’s maid did her best to lighten the mood, but it seemed a night for suffering suffocating emotions, facing what one would rather walk away from, and secrets.

  Gabrielle stared at Karin, wondering why the girl, of all people, had ended up here. She wanted to get to the heart of who this girl was. Karin, so unreadable, her Inkran heritage the master of all teachers in that respect, but the queen still sensed there was something important yet to discover. And she planned to unearth it tonight. Gabrielle opened her mouth to speak, but a chaotic flapping at the window startled her. She turned to see a blue feather floating to the ground—the same sky blue as the family crest. A harvel perched on the thick stone sill, black eyes staring out of a midnight-blue face. The predator’s curved beak preened at the lighter breast feathers, dislodging another one.

  Karin rose calmly and padded to the window, careful not to startle the visitor. She cooed an impressive imitation of the bird’s tongue. Fixing its gaze on her, it tilted its head to one side, listening. When Karin fell silent, the bird nodded once then flew away. Gabrielle and Sarah looked at each other and back at Karin.

  The queen stood and joined the Inkran at the window. “Karin, what just happened? Who are you?”

  The girl’s eyes met the queen’s. Without flinching, and with the calm air of royalty, she answered, “My father is King Suklar. I am second in line to the Inkran throne. Ashander is my pet. I talk to her. She will let my mother know I am all right.”

  Gabrielle was too stunned to hide her shock. She returned to her chair. “Sarah, be a dear and pour me another drink, please. And just when I thought my day couldn’t get any worse. Please come here, Karin. We have much to discuss.”

  “Yes, Your Highness.”

  Gabrielle gulped down her wine. Why the honorific? What was she trying to say? Did she have the girl’s support? It was a long night. Gabrielle sent Sarah to bed some time before dawn while she spent the night learning about Karin, her country, and family. As they rose to seek their beds, a rap on the door interrupted them.

  “Yes?”

  The muffled voice on the other side of the door answered, “It’s your guard, Philip, my lady. I’ve come to let you know a dragon and a realmist await you downstairs.”

  Before Gabrielle opened the door, she turned to Karin. “You do know I can’t possibly let you go now. Our countries are at war. I will have to post two guards to accompany you for the duration of your stay until my husband says otherwise. I wouldn’t let the truth of who you are get out either; there are, unfortunately, some Varesians who would sooner kill you than see you returned to your homeland. Now go and get some sleep. I’m afraid I’ve kept you up all night.”

  Karin curtseyed, her face unreadable. “Yes, Your Majesty. I understand.”

  Gabrielle let the girl out and gave instructions to her guards. After attempting to fix her hair, which she was not used to doing, she hurried to meet the new arrivals. Even with strands of dark tendrils escaping her braid and the shadowed ridges under her eyes, no one could mistake her for anyone but the queen as she strode into the king’s reception rooms with the elegance and straight-backed assuredness she had practiced since childhood. Gabrielle hoped the new arrivals could be trusted because she needed their help.

  Suffering the continual torture of not knowing if her child was alive or dead, revenge was her primary motive, but Gabrielle also had a plan. Talia needed to go to the final war united. What the queen proposed might be their only hope. Putting on her friendliest smile, she appeared in front of Warrimonious, the imposing, gray dragon; and Astra, the diminutive realmist from across the ocean. Astra wore a loose-fitting purple dress and her chocolate-brown hair fell in tight ringlets to her shoulders—violet, cat-like eyes watched Gabrielle with a serene stare. The queen almost felt naked in front of the woman’s knowing gaze.

  “Welcome to Bayerlon. I’m so glad you’re both here.”

  The dragon bowed his massive head, and Astra dipped a curtsey. Warrimonious spoke; his deep, confident voice wrapped Gabrielle in security—she definitely felt safer now than she had in a long while. “It is our pleasure, Your Majesty. I will be staying until my wife returns. Have you heard any news?”

  The queen hesitated and realized he must mean Arcese. “Oh, she’s your wife? Congratulations; she’s an extraordinary dragon.”

  Gabrielle felt strange, as she wasn’t used to having polite conversation with dragon captains, or dragons in general, come to think of it.

  Warrimonious smiled—a sight Gabrielle was trying to get used to. “Have you heard anything?”

  “No, I’m sorry. They only left yesterday, so they wouldn’t have reached Klendar yet. Don’t worry. Zim and Agmunsten are quite capable of looking after her, and to be honest, she seems able to look after herself.”

  “I wouldn’t normally worry about her, but….”

  “But what, Sir Dragon?”

  “My beloved wife is with child.”

  “Oh, congratulations again, it seems. Have you tried contacting her?”

  “I’m unable. Normally we can speak mind-to-mind, but it’s like shouting over such a long distance, and anyone else with the ability would be able to hear us. It is imperative that her mission not be compromised. The enemy mustn’t know we are coming.”

  “I understand. Why don’t we discuss this later?” Gabrielle now stood close to the dragon, and she placed a soft palm on his thigh, patting it in a calming gesture. “You must both be hungry, and I have so many questions to ask Astra—I want to hear all about where you come from.”

  “The Academy?” the woman asked, purposefully being obtuse.

  Gabrielle smiled and pretended her question had not been fended off. She enjoyed being direct, and if others were reluctant to follow her lead, she would wrangle them to her way with stubbornness renown throughout Bayerlon. “No, Astra. I would like you to tell me about Zamahl.”

  “As you wish, Your Majesty.” Astra inclined her head and Gabrielle noticed the twitch of a smile on her lips.

>   “Please follow me to the dining hall.” Gabrielle walked with purpose. Her husband was away doing what he could for Talia; now it was her turn.

  Chapter 25

  Zim landed with a thud, any grace forgotten in his urgency. He spoke into Arcese’s mind. “Sister of mine! Put up a fire shield. I shall melt the glass. Arie’s shield will not hold much longer.”

  “Zimapholous!” She resisted the desire to embrace her brother. Her joyful exclamation was all she allowed herself before dredging what power she could hold from the Second Realm and creating a protective bubble inside Arie’s. As she tied the power off, hairline cracks slithered haphazardly over the original shield, and just before it shattered into the ether, Zim breathed scalding flame. The attacking shards melted and fell to the floor—glowing, red slag pooling on the stone.

  Kwaad turned to survey the new arrivals. “What? More of you to have fun with? Oh, this really is my night. I get to kill so many.”

  Its laughter, harsh and devoid of mirth, pricked goose bumps on Agmunsten’s skin before echoing into the night sky. The monster reached sharp-boned arms out and gathered Second-Realm power.

  Zim flinched at the amount of energy he could sense being siphoned and knew if he didn’t act now, they would all be dead. He summoned natural power and shot razor-sharp slices of energy to each side of a steel beam in the roof frame. The blue laser cut both ends of the weighty beam, and before Kwaad could release his spell, a shrill groan pierced the air. Steel fell.

  Arie and Boy screamed, as it appeared that Verity might be crushed, but Zim’s aim was true, and Kwaad suffered the blow. The creature was pushed to the floor but lay under the wreckage for only seconds before the beam shook and rolled to the ground, crushing stone tiles to sand as Kwaad stood. Arcese and Zim drew more energy, fearful that none of them would escape. This monster was stronger than anything they had anticipated.

  “What about Verity?” Boy whispered to Agmunsten. He had looked for her as soon as they landed and had not taken his eyes from her since. Agmunsten didn’t answer, and Boy realized the realmist was channeling, something he had seen him do a few times. It seemed everyone was intent on fighting the monster, but who was going to save Verity? He had to try.

  As Boy slid off Zim’s back, both dragons loosed their power. A crack rent the air as Kwaad’s returning energy met the dragons’ in the center of the room. Fluorescent green pushed against pure white, death edging closer to the dragons. Arcese shook with the effort, and Arie could hear her panting. The young realmist also drew energy and fed it into their stream, knowing if they were hit by Kwaad’s power, he would suffer the same fate as the dragons: swift death.

  Boy snuck across the floor, unnoticed by the warring parties. Verity watched him come and stood. “Oh, Boy. You came! Oh gods, thank you, thank you.” Her tears flowed freely, and she flung her arms around his neck.

  “We don’t have time now. You can thank me later, Princess.” As much as he wanted to prolong the embrace, he knew there was no time. “We need to get out of here. Which way?” He gently disengaged himself from her arms. “If the dragons can’t hold on, we need to find another way out.”

  Verity looked at the double doors she had entered what seemed like a lifetime ago. Boy’s gaze followed hers and he grabbed her hand, pulling her towards them.

  Kwaad’s life-ending energy continued to creep towards the dragons. Zim stooped, Arcese breathed heavily, and two divots of concentration pitted the skin between Arie’s eyes. They were losing, even though it was three against one. Agmunsten saw what was happening and reached through the corridor too—if he overextended himself, he would die, but if he didn’t try to help they were dead anyway.

  And then the energy stopped encroaching on the dragons. Movement near the doors had captured Kwaad’s attention. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  Verity and Boy froze under the red-eyed stare; both teens could feel their hearts pounding against their chests, and the princess squeezed Boy’s hand.

  Zim called out, “Over here: both of you. Now!”

  Boy wanted to run out the door—it was right there, a foot away—but if they could get on Zim, maybe they could fly away and escape. Then Boy realized Kwaad would not let that happen, and shook his head at his foolishness; he actually thought he might be able to save Verity by running somewhere. They could never run fast enough, not from that. Boy knew what he had to do. “Go, Verity. I’m right behind you.”

  She looked at him: fear and hope, appreciation—a collage of emotions in her eyes. He quickly kissed her cheek and pushed her towards Zim. “Hurry; your mother is waiting.”

  She tripped over her torn dress but managed to stay on her feet. Not daring to look behind to see if Kwaad was after her, she sprinted for the black dragon. Kwaad looked at Boy as if to say I’ll deal with you later before taking measured, calm strides towards Zim.

  “Get her and go, Zim. I’m right behind you, Brother,” Arcese urged.

  Zim wanted to argue but knew if he hesitated, they would all die. Maybe they had a chance to get the princess and Agmunsten to safety. The Circle needed to be whole, but Arcese and Arie weren’t members—Talia could win the coming war without them if they had to ... so the prophecies said. Drawing what power he could, he held it and waited.

  As Verity reached the dragon, Agmunsten leaned down to help her on, but Kwaad was almost upon them. We can’t fail now, Agmunsten thought. Gods, not now: he stretched further.

  Boy saw how close the evil creature was to those he cared about and knew this was all his fault. He didn’t want everyone to die, not because of him. Needing to do what he had set out to when he ran away from Bayerlon, he trotted behind Kwaad, spying a thick shard of glass—as long as his forearm—on the floor. He picked it up and ran, the glass slicing where he gripped, pain screaming up his arm. He grunted but kept going, seeing his target.

  Kwaad reached for Verity, claws extended, ready to rip her from safety. Again Arie willed her to hurry. She scrambled on Zim’s back, sweaty palms slipping on the saddle. Kwaad’s talons grazed her back.

  Remembering his mother one last time and the day in the forest when he had betrayed Verity for Leon, Boy struck, plunging the glass into the back of Kwaad’s leg. The shard sunk deep, and Boy screamed as his palm split wide, slick fluid drenching his hand. The creature faltered: it was not immune to pain. “Fly!” Boy shouted, “Fly!”

  Zim released his power, pushing force against the floor, giving him an accelerated takeoff. Arcese did the same. Both dragons launched into the air, furiously beating leathery wings.

  Verity, Agmunsten, and Arie watched as Kwaad bellowed, turning instinctively to rake Boy’s chest with bladed fingers. Verity cried out, “No!” and Arie turned his face away, shaking with violent sobs. Not my friend. No. Please, no. Agmunsten’s tears, something he thought he had out-aged, came as they hadn’t for two-hundred years. You’ve done us proud, Son. I’ll make sure they know you’re a hero.

  Skin parted like butter, and Boy felt pain and warmth as blood flooded from his chest. Boy smiled through the agony and metallic crimson bubbling through his grimace. “You … didn’t … win.” He collapsed to the floor, and Kwaad howled into the space where the dragons had escaped. Fury hazing its vision, Kwaad gave into its gormon lust. Plunging its mouth into the child, the thing that was Kwaad fed and thought through the satisfying crunch of human bone: They won’t be so lucky next time. The horde is coming. Soon. So very, very soon. It laughed, blood dribbling down its chin.

  Chapter 26

  Waking in the afternoon from a fitful sleep, after going to bed near dawn, Bronwyn saw Avruellen’s bed was vacated and made. Her aunt never needed as much sleep as she did, and Bronwyn always tired first. It was frustrating being bested by an older person all the time. Bronwyn dressed and hurried to the kitchen, hoping food would be available between lunch and dinner, as she was light-headed from hunger. Entering the warm, flagstone-floored space, she saw Corrille chopping vegetables.

 
Hoping they could get over their recent troubles, Bronwyn approached her. “Hi.”

  Her stomach clenched in fear of rejection. Corrille, after a time, looked up but didn’t smile. “Hi.”

  “How are you?” Bronwyn almost cringed at the awkwardness of the conversation. How had they gone from telling each other their most intimate secrets to hardly speaking?

  “I’m chopping vegetables in a kitchen. How do you think I am?” she hissed through closed teeth. “Your aunt has managed to make my life miserable ... again.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m sure she didn’t mean it to be torture. I guess she just thought we should try and help some way since we’ve practically invaded their monastery.”

  “Trust you to defend her. I thought we were friends, but I was wrong.” Corrille pounded the blade on the chopping board as she dissected a carrot, causing the supervising cook to raise an eyebrow.

  Bronwyn sighed, blinking back tears. “But we are friends; at least I want us to be. What did I do wrong? Since I woke up on that ship, you seem … different. I feel like, well, like there’s some invisible barrier between us. I don’t know. Can you tell me why?”

  Corrille looked up. Hate burned in her eyes. Bronwyn stepped back, feeling as if the other had stabbed her with the knife she held. “You abandoned me, Bronwyn. When you left with that panther, you left me to that evil woman’s mercy and then worse. Do you know what I’ve been through since I last saw you? Blayke is the only one I can trust now; he loves me; he saved me. You showed what a true friend you were when you abandoned me without a second thought. Now, if you don’t mind, I have work to do.”

  Corrille’s face was flushed with anger, and Bronwyn felt the heat of her hate radiating in waves. Bronwyn swallowed, her appetite gone. She had lost her childhood friend, and it wasn’t even her own fault. There was nothing she could say to make Corrille listen.

  Wiping a palm across her eyes to clear away the tears, Bronwyn searched out Avruellen; there was a lot to do before the ritual tonight, and it was going to be dangerous. None of them knew what to expect. The day the gormons invaded en masse was nearing. Bronwyn shuddered as she walked the halls. “Drakon, you bastard, don’t fail us now,” she growled under her breath.