by Lauren Dawes
On the wall to her left, she saw a door—the wood held together with large iron rivets. On the wall to her right, she saw a mirror image of the first door, and in front of her was a third door, but this last one looked as if it had been sealed up tight.
She stepped towards the first door, the one on her left, her fingers reaching out to touch its iron handle. Turning the ring, she pushed the door open slightly, waiting to see if someone or something would come to investigate.
When nothing happened, she gently toed the door open further, holding her sword before her as the light from the joining room spilled out onto her feet. Looking through, Taer surveyed a room identical to the one she was standing in.
It was empty, except for a fireplace, a sealed-up door on the adjacent wall and another door directly opposite her at the other end of the room. Taer walked quietly through the room, keeping her senses alert. She glanced at the small hatch and the fireplace as she passed, noticing the same dead ashes in the hearth as before, but also noticing the charred piece of jewelry she had thrown back in.
Taking a closer look, she could see the imprint of her thumb from where she’d wiped it clean.
“Impossible,” she breathed, looking back toward the door she’d come through. She stood up and strode back to the doorway, looking inside. The room she was staring at was identical to the one she was standing in.
What. A. Mindfuck.
Marching over to the sealed door, she pressed her nails into the edges, trying to find a way to open it. But no matter what she tried, no matter what she did, the door simply wouldn’t open. Then she went back and tried the sealed door in the first room. It was the same there—the door was fastened shut. Approaching the door she hadn’t opened on the other side of the room, Taer twisted the handle and pushed the door open. It mirrored the other two rooms, right down to the smudge of her fingerprint on the valknut in the ashes.
Taer realized then that this was Darrion’s mental shield, and she needed to break through it, just like she had broken through Korvain’s. She thought back to her conversation with Zarail, trying to remember everything he’d told her.
“Darrion liked to think he was better than all of us, but he went through the same shit we had all been through. His family had been slaughtered by Odin and his Valkyries, just the same as ours had. But for some reason, his rage was a lot more potent than ours.
“I never found out exactly what had happened to them, but it had to be more than just simple slaughter. Anyway, he ruled us with Njord by his side. He was ruthless in everything. He was the best fighter there was. He didn’t seem to fear death and that gave him an edge over everyone else.”
“Was there anything you saw that could be used to exploit him?” Taer had asked.
Zarail seemed to think about her question for a minute before saying, “There was one thing that happened that seemed to ruffle his feathers.”
“And what was that?” she’d asked, practically smelling the blood in the water.
“There was one Mare who walked away once he’d seen what Njord wanted us to do. You see, Njord wasn’t just training us to just go after Odin. He wanted us to go after all the Aesir—male, female, old or young—it didn’t matter to him. Njord wanted them all dead.
“This Mare and Darrion had been close. I’d heard they’d come from the same village before Odin had swept through it like a plague. One day, this guy decided he couldn’t kill anyone anymore, not without a reason. Darrion tried to reason with him while we were all eating together one evening. The guy wouldn’t listen and left the table, telling Darrion he was mad if he thought fighting the Aesir was going to bring his family back.
“Just before he made it to the door, Darrion was up from his seat, stalking towards him. I watched him pull a blade from the holster on his thigh and wrap one arm around the guy’s chest from behind. He spun them both around to face the room. Darrion’s eyes were wild. He bared his fangs and stabbed the blade into the other guy’s throat repeatedly while eyeballing every single one of us.
“He was sending a message, and we got the damn thing loud and fucking clear. Once the guy was on the ground, Darrion snarled three words which have stayed with me since then.”
“What were they?” Taer had asked, her mouth dry and the blood pounding furiously in her ears.
“Nobody leaves me.”
Taer focused on producing a fantasy meant to break Darrion’s mind. He wasn’t afraid of losing his guild. He was afraid of losing his Mares’ loyalty. She conjured up an image of Korvain walking away from him, then another of Adrian not dying, but instead standing up to Darrion’s threats and cruelty.
She made him believe that Adrian had beaten him and walked away with her, safe, vowing to never serve him again. Taer watched as the door in front of her began to shudder and shake—not noticeably at first, but soon the vibrations became more violent. It shook so much that cracks began to form in the wood surrounding it, the timber splintering into jagged shards.
The sound was deafening, but Taer stood strong, her blade ready. She waited until the door slid open slightly, and with the handle of her sword gripped tightly in her palm, she walked towards it, wondering what she’d find on the other side.
With her sword raised, she reached out and pushed the door open the rest of the way. Stepping over the threshold, she found herself in darkness. She blinked when a flicker of light ignited in front of her, revealing another aged door directly ahead. It was identical to the door she had just come through, and she hoped once she stepped through it, she would be in Darrion’s mind—in his dreams.
Loosening her grip on her sword, Taer pressed her free hand against the wood, feeling its coarse grain beneath her fingertips. The door opened silently, and Taer took a moment to collect her thoughts before stepping through it.
She walked through a shroud of darkness, the blackness seeming to thin out the further she walked into the recesses of Darrion’s mind. The gentle lilt of the old language suddenly filled her ears, and the silhouettes of two small figures crouched down close to the floor appeared gradually through the haze.
Breaking free of the last of the black fog, Taer found herself in a familiar room with a fireplace and three doors. In front of her were a little boy and an even younger looking girl. Their backs were to her, their focus on something on the ground in front of them.
Taer approached them cautiously, gazing over the boy’s shoulder. They were playing with a set of carved wooden animals and dolls, giving voices to the figurines and laughing at what they were saying to each other.
“Darrion? Get you and your sister washed up for dinner,” a woman said behind Taer. Spinning around, she saw a woman with raven-dark hair dipping a wooden spoon into a cauldron hanging over the fire burning in the hearth.
“Five minutes more, Mamma,” the little girl pleaded, looking up from the game.
“Now, Ara. Father will be back in from the fields any moment and he’ll be hungry. Now, go with Darrion and clean your hands,” their mother replied, not even looking away from her task.
The girl looked at her brother. “Dar, can we still play later?”
Darrion gave his sister a lopsided smile. “Sure, Ara, let’s just do as Mother wants now and we can play after dinner.”
Taer backed up a step as the two rose to their feet. She got her first look at a young Darrion and the sister who never had the opportunity to grow up. His blond hair was very pale, and his eyes incredibly blue. If she didn’t know any better, she would have had him pegged as a light elf for sure. His sister, on the other hand, had the typical coloration of a dark elf—dark hair, dark eyes—just like their mother.
They walked straight past her and through the door to Taer’s right. A few moments passed before they reappeared again, the front of their tunics wet from where they’d wiped their hands dry.
As they walked past her, Taer stuck her hand out to touch Ara’s hair, her fingers drifting straight through the little girl. From the corner of her eye, Taer no
ticed the wall shimmer a little, Darrion’s dream seeming to shiver at her intrusion.
Taer didn’t know what that could possibly mean, but before she had time to think about it any further, the large front door opened and a tall, strong man stepped inside. Taer could see the family resemblance.
“Pappa!” Ara squealed, throwing herself at her father’s legs and holding on tight. Darrion followed his sister, wrapping his arms around his father’s waist while their mother came over to her husband to plant a chaste kiss on his cheek. The husband smiled lovingly at his wife and scooped Ara up into his huge arms. He wiped his sweaty forehead on her, the little girl squealing and trying to wriggle free of his grip. The male laughed, the sound booming around the small room. The love he had for his family was more than apparent.
Taer’s eye caught that same shimmer as before, except this time it seemed to be a little stronger, blurring the scene in front of her. As she watched, young Darrion and his family faded in front of her eyes.
“How did you get in here?” The dark, dangerous voice filled her ears, fear skittering down her spine, chilling her skin and turning the blood in her veins to ice. Her fingers squeezed the grip on her sword as she turned around to face her brother’s killer.
Chapter 42
Darrion stood barefoot in the middle of the room. The cramped, wooden house had given way to a vast, wall-less black space. His pale blue eyes narrowed as he took in the katana clutched tightly in her hand.
“I asked you a question. How did you get in here?”
Taer couldn’t tell if he was afraid or just pissed off that she’d been able to get past his defenses, but in the end, it didn’t really matter. She had made it. She had gotten past his mental shields and made it inside his twisted mind to finally confront him …
And that thought gave her strength.
She had done it. All the training Korvain had given her, all the times he had told her that she wasn’t ready to face Darrion, and she had still done it. She smiled to herself, refusing to answer Darrion’s question.
The Mare returned her smile, baring his fangs at her. “I see Korvain has taught you well, if you’ve been able to get past my defenses, but did he teach you how to survive once you were through, I wonder?” he asked, his hand dipping into his pocket casually.
Taer’s whole body tensed and her fingers cinched tighter around the handle of her sword, but then she relaxed her grip. She held all the power in this little exchange. She had invaded his dream. Darrion liked to think he was holding the gun, and she let him think that, but it was her finger on the trigger.
Darrion leered at her and began jiggling the contents of his pocket around. A muffled clicking sound filled the empty space, seeming to echo around Taer. Her eyes darted down as he pulled out the contents of his pocket to show her.
“Your brother’s teeth,” he said, watching carefully for her reaction. Taer didn’t give him the satisfaction even though inside her anger was clawing and scrambling to get out. “I would have liked to remove them while he was still able to feel pain, but,” Darrion shrugged indifferently, “you can’t have everything, can you?”
Taer couldn’t stop the growl vibrating from her throat. “Killing you is going to give me so much pleasure,” she retorted, her voice morphing savagely, as the green veins forged into the katana flared brightly for a moment.
“Promises, promises,” he replied brashly, dropping Adrian’s teeth back into his pocket. “I’m the only one here who’ll enjoy that particular pleasure. Let’s just hope you last a lot longer than your brother did.”
Taer shrugged. “I think you’re forgetting who is in control here, Darrion.”
“Is that so?” His benign smile unnerved her more than she wanted it to. His cockiness had to be a bluff—a cover. She was the one who was in control. She could kill him, right here, right now.
Her grip tightened on her katana. “The only one who’s dying is you, Darrion.”
His expression cooled. “Do you think you can kill me just because you’ve found your affinity?” he goaded, trying to throw her off her game. “You know your brother never found his, but I wasn’t surprised by that. He was never a born Walker. I only took him on because Korvain would have walked away if I hadn’t, and I couldn’t have had someone else controlling the last pure-blooded Mare in all the Nine Worlds.”
Taer made sure she stayed cool—detached—even though what Darrion was saying made her want to kill him a thousand times over.
He laughed. “I see Korvain’s coolness has rubbed off on you,” he said, his hands already on two throwing blades. With the smallest movement of his wrists, he flung them both at her.
The sharp bite of blood hit the air, a small crimson spray decorating both of her cheeks as his blades nicked her skin. Taer’s eyes widened when she realized what had just happened. Darrion shouldn’t have been able to harm her. She had infiltrated his dream, not the other way around. Suddenly, Korvain’s warnings held much more weight. Darrion was obviously more powerful than she had ever thought.
It didn’t matter. She would kill him, and the victory would be even sweeter knowing she was the underdog. Taer wiped the blood away from her face. “You missed,” she said with a bold smile.
“I never miss,” he replied smugly, launching another knife at her. She tried to dodge it, but Darrion’s reflexes and strength were too great. The blade lodged in her shoulder, blood oozing from the wound a few seconds later. Wincing, Taer pulled it free and dropped it to the ground.
“You’ll run out of knives soon,” she taunted, bringing her katana up in front of her, her two-handed grip showing her white knuckles.
Darrion smirked. “I’m just toying with you, Taer. I started this with your brother and never got to finish it. Now I’m doing what I never got to do.”
She bared her teeth at him. “You’ve had plenty of opportunities to kill me in my dreams. Why haven’t you done it yet, if you’ve got such a hard-on to finish what you started with me?”
Her question only broadened his smile. “Oh, Taer, if you don’t know how I like to prolong suffering, you truly don’t know anything, do you? I would have played with your brother a lot longer if he hadn’t made me angry. I’ll admit that I lost my control back then, but I’ll more than make up for it by torturing you.”
She ground her teeth together, not wanting the words to have such on effect on her … but they reminded her too much of how she had gotten Adrian killed. But before she buckled under weight of her guilt, she remembered Aubrey’s words.
Remain unaffected and you can overcome any enemy.
Determined, she told herself she was better than this. She wouldn’t let her emotions get in the way.
Detached.
That was the way she had to be.
Darrion was just another target she had to hit.
Taer moved in, confidently handling her sword, letting her affinity for the steel take over. She swung at him, aiming for the top of his collarbone, but Darrion faded just out of her reach as the swoop of metal through air sounded, the tip of her blade only inches away from drawing blood. Taer spun around, her eyes flashing with anger.
She saw him launch another blade her way, but she deflected the attack with her sword, the clang of steel on steel ringing through the non-existent room.
“Too afraid to face me like a man?” she spat, stalking towards him.
“Me? Afraid of a little girl?” he retorted. “I don’t think so.” He grabbed another blade, but held onto it this time. Darrion surged towards her, thrusting the weapon with exquisite skill. Taer knew the length of her blade gave her an advantage, but she was slower, and Darrion was going to exploit that weakness.
Getting inside her guard, he dragged a deep swipe across her ribs with the tip of his dagger, her close-fitting shirt splitting apart in a rush of blood. Pushing the pain away, Taer brought her blade down over her head. Darrion danced away just in time, but he wasn’t fast enough to miss the sweep of her leg.
He
went down hard, his eyes flaring with a potent mixture of anger and surprise. Taer sent him scurrying backwards on his hands and feet as he dodged a flurry of swings from her katana.
In the next breath, Darrion had sprung to his feet and maneuvered his body around, circling behind her. Taer followed his every move, careful to make sure she didn’t stumble and fall like he had.
“You’re getting sloppy,” Taer shot at him, her fangs bared.
His gaze dropped down to her side. “I’m not the one leaking all over the place.”
Taer let his words roll off her. Keeping her eyes trained on his body, she said, “Don’t speak too soon.”
Shifting her feet, she closed the space between them, her katana ready to draw blood. She brought the weapon up across her body.
Darrion’s leg kicked out while her sword was raised, his foot landing directly against her sternum. With a curse, she jerked backwards, dropping the steel as she fell. Her fingers grasped desperately for the handle again, finding it. But before she could bring the sword up off the ground, Darrion slammed his foot down on her lower arm, pinning her there and sending pain shooting through her body.
Taer’s chest heaved up and down, her options running through her head. From the corner of her eye, she could see one of Darrion’s knives lying on the ground, her blood still wet on the blade. If she could just reach it …
Taer bit back a scream when Darrion began to grind his heel into her flesh. She tried to twist away, but Darrion put more pressure on the joint between her wrist and hand, taking pleasure in the way her bones ground together. She let go of the katana.
“I’m going to enjoy watching you suffer, Taer. I’m going to make you regret ever coming to me like this. And if you think death is going to give you any peace, know that you’re wrong. I will make sure you survive this, and I will torture you in your dreams until you break.”
“You’re a sadistic sonofabitch,” she spat back. “But at least I know you’ll only be breathing for a few more minutes.”
