Rise of Darkness (The Watchers Book 2)

by M. Lee Holmes

  “My Lady, there are two riders approaching the castle.” Myranda, who had been trying desperately to rub the sleep and pain from her eyes, looked up to Valindra with curiosity.

  “Riders?” She asked bewildered. Who would risk their lives coming to the castle now? She pulled the blankets away and stood. Her bare feet touched the cold floor but she paid it no mind as she threw her robe over her shoulders and stepped to the window where Valindra stood.

  The maid had not lied. There were two horsemen approaching the castle. Both had hoods draped over their faces, blocking their identities from Myranda’s view.

  The man standing guard underneath the barbican halted them and Myranda watched as a brief exchange happened between them.

  “The High Protector has returned.” She said solemnly. She could not see her face but she could feel Rhada’s presence from below. And though her heart was filled with dread at the sight of Rhada, it quickly vanished when she looked to the other rider and knew it was Mayvard, her Mayvard, returning home from his long journey. She did not even bother getting out of her bedclothes and into something decent to greet him in. She turned and ran as quickly as she could, throwing open her chamber door and rushing through the halls towards the main entrance where she could greet him.

  Myranda halted at the end of the corridor and stared impatiently at the front doors of the castle. The two guards who stood within watched her with confusion until a knock came from the other side, informing them to open the doors at once. Both guards grasped the rusted, iron handles and grunted as they pulled the heavy doors open. Light poured in from the outside, blinding Myranda once more. She held a hand to her eyes but did not close them- she wanted to watch as the love of her life returned to her.

  Mayvard’s silhouette appeared from the blinding light. Myranda lowered her hand and felt a smile spread across her face. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes as the light faded and his face came into view.

  Before she knew it, Myranda was running down the corridor and leaping into his arms. Mayvard instinctively caught her, staggered and nearly fell backwards. Rhada reached a hand out to help steady him and Myranda loosened her grip from him. She pushed herself back to look him over and realized how filthy and exhausted he was. His hair and face were smeared with mud and dust from the road. His leathers were scratched and worn. He stood slumped, as though his own weight was too much for him to carry and Myranda knew his journey had been a hard one.

  “You need a bath and some rest, Mayvard.” She said in a low tone, reaching up and stroking his dirty cheek. “Come, I shall assist you.” She smiled.

  “I can see to those things myself.” He replied stubbornly. “You must go with Rhada.”

  Myranda was confused by Mayvard’s order and looked to Rhada with troubled eyes. The High Protector appeared to have seen some trouble on her journey. Her eyes were dark and sunken in as though she suffered from a terrible illness. Her skin was paler than usual and her leather armor hung loosely off her now boney frame.

  Mayvard, noticing the troubled look in Myranda’s eyes, tried to convince her. “I will see you later tonight, after I am rested. You need to go with Rhada now. There are things she must discuss with you.” As much as Myranda did not want to leave Mayvard’s side, the thought of being alone with Rhada was much more troubling.

  “Go, before anyone sees you.” He commanded impatiently and without another word, he pulled his hands free from Myranda’s grasp, turned and left her alone with her enemy.

  Myranda slowly turned to Rhada who looked ahead down the corridor. Her eyes seemed to be unable to focus on anything and Myranda sensed a terrible darkness about her that she could not explain. She looked to Rhada’s hands, which held tightly to Bloodbinder, and watched as they shook from fright or weakness or both. Suddenly, Myranda knew why Mayvard insisted she accompany the High Protector. Something terrible had happened to Rhada during her travels and she had not returned the same.

  “Come.” Myranda said as she stepped in front of Rhada. “Let us go to your chamber for privacy.”

  Rhada nodded her head and tucked Bloodbinder underneath her arm. “You must help me.” She said as she reached her free arm out to Myranda.

  Myranda did not make a move to help Rhada but stood, staring curiously at the High Protector’s shaking arm. Does she actually want me to touch her? She wondered suspiciously. Never before had Rhada allowed anyone to touch her nor had Myranda ever heard her ask for help.

  Rhada’s eyes turned soft and pleading, begging Myranda for aid but it wasn’t until she began to sway and nearly lost her footing that Myranda reached forward and grasped her arm, holding her up. She wrapped her other arm around Rhada’s shoulders and shuddered at the coldness of her touch. Rhada’s skin had turned icy and her body seemed weak and frail under Myranda’s strength. She wondered how Rhada was even alive.

  “Slowly.” Myranda said as she began leading the High Protector down the corridor to where she knew Rhada’s chambers were. Thankfully Rhada had requested rooms on the main floor of the castle when she first arrived. The King and Queen had been astounded by her decision not to take the lavish rooms of every High Protector who had preceded her, but Rhada claimed that if ever there was an invasion, she would never make it to battle in time if she had to run down all the stairs from the top floor.

  After what seemed like hours, they finally made it to Rhada’s chamber door. Myranda pulled it open, being careful not to loosen her grip on Rhada, and led her inside.

  The chamber was dark and smelled of mold. It seemed that no one had attended to the bedding or opened the curtains since Rhada had left.

  Myranda pulled Rhada to her bed and helped her balance as she sat on the edge. She grasped Bloodbinder by the hilt and laid it across her lap, breathing heavily, as though the journey to her chamber had been too much for her.

  Myranda walked to the curtains and pulled them open just enough to let some light into the room. Though Myranda found the small bit of light blinding, Rhada seemed not to notice at all.

  “I shall go fetch Valindra. She can clean your sheets and make a warm bath for you.”

  Rhada shook her head. “Sit with me for a moment.” Though Rhada was clearly ill and weak, the authoritative tone in her voice had not vanished. Myranda knew she had no choice but to obey. She sat on the edge of the bed next to Rhada and looked to the far wall instead of into her cold eyes.

  Rhada hesitated for a moment before speaking. She seemed to be trying to find the best way to tell Myranda what had happened, or perhaps she was embarrassed to tell her.

  “You were right.” Rhada said, making Myranda turn to her in disbelief. Never did she think she would hear those words be spoken by the High Protector. “Tyos has been destroyed. There were only a few survivors when we arrived and now I am certain there are none.” Myranda knew the sound of regret in Rhada’s voice was genuine and suddenly, she felt a pang of sadness grasp her heart.

  “I was hoping that I had been wrong.” She whispered. The memory of her vision, which had seemed so long ago, returned to her. She could see in the distance the great wall of flame as it ripped through the village. She could hear the frightened and pained cries of the people of Tyos as they were consumed, helpless to stop it. She knew that hundreds of innocent lives had been lost but the thing that disturbed her most was what had caused it. Myranda knew in her heart the darkness had returned. All she had to do was look into Rhada’s eyes and see it there. Rhada had been touched by that darkness and she had brought it back with her. With all the turmoil of the realm’s chaos, Myranda had all but forgotten about the trouble in Tyos. Now, the troubles of the realm seemed so small in comparison. Rhada’s state of being could testify to anyone that an evil force lurked in the north, and it was preparing to destroy both sides.

  Myranda stood slowly and looked down to Rhada with fear. She could feel Rhada’s icy touch still on her skin and felt the warmth being sucked from the room.

  “You have seen him, haven’t you?” She
asked and Rhada’s gaze fell to the floor in shame. She nodded her head, unable to admit in words what had happened that terrible day.

  Neither of them spoke for several moments as Myranda took in this news. She felt her heart begin to flutter with panic and the coldness of the room swirled around her, making her grasp her arms and shiver. She looked to the open window and wondered how it could be. How could he have returned? She knew the story- the Lord of Death had been destroyed, or so the tale goes. But perhaps he hadn’t? Perhaps he has been in hiding all these years, gathering his strength and waiting for the right time to strike. Certainly a Sorcerer as powerful as he was said to be could easily have lived this long, and may yet have hundreds of years ahead of him.

  It was Rhada who broke the silence. Her voice came in a soft whisper that seemed to travel with difficulty through the thickness of the cold air.

  “I have seen the one called Amag’mar and his presence has lingered with me. His shadows have stalked me all the way back here and you must help me be rid of them.”

  Myranda shuddered once more. Rhada’s words rang in her ears and filled her with dread. “Have they taken over Tyos?” She asked, afraid to know the answer.

  Rhada nodded her head and turned her gaze upward towards Myranda. “Help me,” she whispered, “before the shadows return.”

  “What would you have me do?” Myranda asked. She knew she could not fight against such a foe- she did not possess the strength.

  “You must do that which you vowed to never do- you must enter my mind and rid me of them!” Rhada said this with anger but Myranda could not say if the anger was directed at her or the shadows.

  Myranda stepped a few paces back, away from the High Protector. She shook her head and raised her hands defensively. Though she had mind-melded with Lady Ashryn in her final moments, she had done it to give the poor woman some sort of peace of mind. She had vowed to never mind-meld with anyone. She found the idea of it appalling and shunned her own sister for it. She also refused to do it because the crown had declared the act illegal and punishable by death. Myranda feared the day may come when the people of the realm no longer held her in high regard as the most gifted Sorceress and began to call her a Witch, just as they called her sister. She had no desire to give the people cause to do so.

  “I cannot.” She whispered as she continued to back away. She suddenly found herself against the wall and had nowhere to run to.

  Rhada’s eyes narrowed as she stared at Myranda with obvious hatred. The grayness of them darkened until they appeared almost black and slowly she got to her feet, keeping Bloodbinder tight in her grasp. She stepped closer to Myranda and stood before her, brimming with anger and burning Myranda with her gaze. She reached her shaking hand out and grasped Myranda by the scruff of her gown with surprising strength and pulled her close to her face. Myranda shuddered again as the cold surrounded her and made her feel as though she could not move.

  “Do it!” Rhada hissed with loathing. “Or watch the kingdom fall!”

  There are three different levels of mind-melding, all accomplishable by only the most gifted Sorcerers.

  The first level was the most commonly known and used. Out of the three, it required the least amount of concentration and most Sorcerers who dabbled in mind-melding only achieved this level. It was the ability to read someone’s thoughts. The Sorcerer could enter a person’s mind without them becoming aware of their presence and know exactly what that person was thinking and planning to do.

  The second level of mind-melding required a much deeper form of concentration, and many who had achieved the first level found the second level too difficult. It gave the Sorcerer the ability to not only read the target’s mind, but to control their thoughts and manipulate their feelings. One who was truly gifted at this level of mind-melding, such as Myranda was, could force a person to do their bidding without the person ever realizing their actions were not by their own will. Many Sorcerers had done terrible things to the people of Kaena. There was a history book written long ago that told of a King who had been controlled by an evil Wizard. That is when the practice of mind-melding had been made punishable by death.

  The third level of mind-melding was by far the most difficult to achieve and throughout history there had only been a few who could achieve it. Not only did it require the deepest form of concentration but it also required an understanding of the mind and how it actually works.

  Not many people knew of the second consciousness, and those who had heard of it did not understand what it was. Only the most talented Sorcerers who had traveled there truly understood the meaning of it.

  Myranda had achieved this level of mind-melding three times before, all on her twin sister, Syranda. They practiced when they were children, forming their ability to enter each other’s mind, not fully understanding the consequences of such a dangerous act.

  When a Sorcerer enters the second consciousness, they enter the target’s dreams. There, they can see the person’s deepest, most intimate thoughts- thoughts that not even the target knew they possessed. The Sorcerer can then change the target’s dreams, for better or worse. Myranda had never heard of a good Witch or Wizard helping someone be rid of their nightmares. The stories are always told of nightmares being planted into the target’s mind, causing them to think their nightmares are real, making them go mad.

  A famous tale of a knight who fought valiantly during the War of the Witches over a thousand years ago, said that a Witch had seduced the poor knight and planted images in his dreams, making him think his own men were Wizards trying to take over his soul. He snuck through the camp at night, lighting each tent on fire as he passed and burning his entire regiment alive. He then turned the torch on himself, thinking that he himself was a powerful Wizard that had to be punished for his crimes.

  There were only two people in the world that Myranda knew of who could achieve the third level of mind-melding; her sister Syranda and herself. As she looked down to Rhada, who lay stretched out on her bed, she knew there was another who could mind-meld at the third level, and from what Rhada had told her, Amag’mar’s abilities were so powerful, he had done it whilst she was awake, making her a prisoner to her own nightmares.

  “What you must understand, if you are to overcome this, is that the shadows you speak of are not real. They are a dream, one that has convinced you that you are their prisoner.” Myranda stood at the edge of the bed looking down at Rhada. Her eyes were as menacing as ever and she still held tightly to Bloodbinder, the only thing that kept her nightmares from consuming her.

  “But they are so real.” She said in frustration. “It is not like a dream at all. It is as though I am awake but unable to see. And the cold…” Her voice trailed off and she closed her eyes a moment.

  Myranda knew the High Protector was suffering but she felt no pity for the woman. She felt guilt- guilt for thinking that Rhada deserved this fate. She tried to shake the thought from her mind. No one deserves this fate. She told herself stubbornly. Mind-melding is the greatest form of evil and no matter the victim; it should never happen to anyone.

  Reluctantly, Myranda reached out and grasped Rhada’s icy hand. She held it for a moment and looked into the High Protector’s eyes, waiting for the feeling of pity to come. When she still could not force herself to feel concern for Rhada, she let go of her hand and stepped away. If it were not for the impending attack on Axendra, Myranda very well would consider just leaving Rhada to her fate.

  “If I am going to attempt to clear your mind of these nightmares, you are going to have to let the shadows take you.”

  Rhada’s eyes widened at this news and her clutch on Bloodbinder tightened. “No.” She said firmly. “I cannot do that… not again.”

  “You must!” Myranda said with frustration. “I cannot help you if I don’t know what I am battling against.”

  Rhada shook her head. “You don’t understand what it is like.” She turned her gaze away from the Sorceress and looked to the light pouring in
from the window. “I fear that I shall never wake again.” Though her eyes were averted away, Myranda could see fear in them. Never before had she witnessed fear in the High Protector. It was a look Myranda was not accustomed to seeing on her face.

  “I will not lie to you. There is a possibility you will not wake. The Wizard who did this to you possesses powers that far exceed my own and I am uncertain if I am capable of fighting it.” Myranda stopped pacing and sat on the edge of the bed. She waited for Rhada to turn her gaze back to her before speaking again. “But we must try, mustn’t we?”

  Rhada sighed and nodded her head. She slowly turned her gaze back to the open window and said; “I must speak with Mayvard first. Bring him to me when he is ready.”

  Myranda suddenly felt her heart grow warm with joy. She turned her head and looked towards the door, wanting nothing more than to run from this cold room.

  “May I go to him?” She asked; hating the fact that she had to ask permission from the person she detested the most.

  Rhada nodded her head and kept her gaze on the morning light. “Will you help me to my chair first?” She asked quietly, apparently hating the fact that she had to ask Myranda for help just as much as Myranda hated asking for permission.

  Myranda took a step closer to Rhada and grasped her arm tightly. She helped pull her to a sitting position and watched impatiently as Rhada slowly swung her feet over the bed and stood. She made certain not to loosen her grip on her sword as she walked towards the chair that sat in front of the open window. Myranda kept her grasp tight on Rhada’s arm to prevent her from falling, even though touching her skin made her own flesh feel as though it was turning to ice.

  When Rhada was positioned in her chair, she thanked Myranda and turned her gaze back to the window. Myranda suddenly realized that Rhada had no faith in her ability to save her and she was simply trying to get one last glance at the world before she slipped back into the darkness, perhaps forever.