“You’re heartless,” Darshun whimpered, tears cascading. “Truly heartless.”
She now came so close he could feel her icy cold breath upon his face. She looked him right in the eye and he found it hard to turn away. “I must admit I really did enjoy the time we spent together. I never had as much pleasure in seducing a soul as I did yours. Something about you is different than the common warrior. I felt it during our moment of passion, which I will say was much better with you than it is with my King. You display a childlike innocence while at the same time having courage, striving to do what you call is ‘right.’ Yet you’re torn in different directions, different understandings unsure of your destiny which gave me all the more desire to manipulate you. However, there is one thing I’d like to know.” She ran a hand over his chest and down toward his belly.
Darshun’s body grew tense and rigid by her touch and he held his breath.
She then trailed her hand across his right arm and back to his shoulder, gently grabbing a clump of his unwashed honey brown hair seeming to inhale the scent of him and all he’d been through in recent days…dirt, dry blood, musky oil and a slight trace of cinnamon—which is what his hair normally smelled like when clean. She tossed the clump in his face. “How has your body changed so much in less than a month? You look a decade older from when I last saw you. Explain this to me.”
“I age fast.”
“Glad to see you have a little courage left to speak sarcasm.” She stepped closer.
Her eyes piercing his with a gaze he thought would melt him.
“A second time I ask, how has your body changed in so little time?”
Giving in like a puppet he answered, “Shajin Island—a place Nasharins go to train.”
“Oh? Outside this realm?”
He nodded.
“I assume that was the excitement you babbled on about when dropping me off at Zithel.” She grinned. “Only to come back and find the city slaughtered.”
He sighed. “It matters not; not anymore. Nothing does.”
“Spoken correctly, because from now on I will dominate you. Your whole world belongs to me. Every thought, desire, action and need I decide your fate. For you should know it was I who spared your life on the outskirts of Zithel. With that arrow I could have just as easily pierced your heart instead of your side. Then again, perhaps I did pierce a piece of your heart.” She laughed, seeing the hair on Darshun's skin crawl, witnessing an erection, knowing his spirit cried out for his ‘love’ Aurora. “Do not worry my poor man,” she spoke in a softer, less dominant tone the way Aurora did. “You shall indeed have a life with me”—she finished in a whisper—“as my slave.” Talvenya kissed him long and hard on the lips, tasting his tongue and the innards of his mouth.
At first, Darshun fell into a state of ecstasy, answering back with his own tongue, exploring the inside of her mouth.
Then Talvenya's hand ran across the necklace still hanging on his chest, and an overwhelming sickness and nausea like he felt on the mountain when she’d touched it, suddenly brought him out of the darkness for a moment and he glared at her in disgust.
Seemingly puzzled by his gaze she released her lips.
Darshun spat a mouthful of saliva in her face. “Never touch me again witch!” he snarled.
Clearly, she hadn’t broken him as much as she thought. Anger flooded her expression. For a perfect Goddess to be rejected by her slave—a slave she secretly adored by the flesh—was highly offensive. Especially the remark ‘witch,’ comparing her to a hideous creature, ugly not only on the inside, but the out as well—hideous above all. She grabbed his throat and dug in her fingernails. Her grip was tight, nails poison, burning his blood like acid as it trickled onto her hand. She looked as if she wanted to kill him badly, and it would have been easy too. His fragile life at that moment was in her hands. Unexpectedly, she let go, but not until she took her other hand and punched him in the gut.
Feeling like iron had been pounded into his belly, Darshun cried out in pain, coughed excessively and gasped for air.
“Beat him severely then cast him into the Gershom Pits,” she commanded the Cullach.
They unchained him and he fell to her feet. Then they brought out their whips and prepared for the beating, cracking them loudly beside Darshun’s head to frighten him.
When they attempted the first lash Talvenya intervened, holding up her hand motioning them to stop. “Wait,” she said, stepping onto the back of Darshun’s head, holding him still. “You know, Darshun, I had planned on making your pathetic last days here easy. You have no idea the pleasures I would have given you. You could have been my most treasured servant. But no one speaks to me like that, no one! Now you will understand the meaning of pain.” She raised her leg, the spiked heel of her boot suspended in the air, and as Darshun turned his head Talvenya jabbed the heel down into his left eye. He screamed in agony as his eye became like soup. Then, she kicked him in the forehead splitting open his skull. He smashed back against the wall and fell upon his face like a dead man, lying in a pool of his own blood. Talvenya smeared some of the blood onto her boot and inserted the footwear into his mouth, forcing him to taste it.
The Cullach looked befuddled, wondering why she’d nearly killed him, when he was to be cast into the Gershom Pits for long hours of suffering.
“He will not die just yet. This Nasharin can take a lot more. Now do as I commanded.”
They began whipping him.
The sudden stings brought him out of dizziness and he cried out.
Abandoning the room, Talvenya licked his blood that had trickled onto her hand, smiling at his cries of pain.
The Cullach whipped his back, face, arms, legs—every part of his body so badly that chunks of flesh fell off and bones showed. He became a bloody mass. It wasn’t much longer before his body went numb, though he didn’t care about pain anymore. He didn’t care if he lived or died. What hurt the most was his soul, feeling like he’d been cast adrift in an ocean of never ending sorrow.
“So, this is one of the great Nasharins? I don’t see what’s so great about him. He is pathetic.” The Cullach took out a knife to slit Darshun’s throat.
“Stop you fool!” the other intercepted. “Queen Talvenya wants him alive.”
“Nasharins have killed so many of our people not that I cared about them. Still, I want him dead.”
“No. The Queen specifically commanded us to beat him, not kill him. She wants this Nasharin to suffer the rest of his days in captivity.”
“Yes I know, in Gershom’s Hall, where prisoners are cast into deep dark pits with no food, water or light. They die slowly, painfully and alone.” He grinned.
“I know that! What is your point?”
“I have already cast disobedient slaves in them. There’s no more room.”
“And—you neglected to tell her?”
“Of course.”
“You do not defy the Queen. If she were aware of this she’d turn you to stone.”
“Relax, I have a better idea. Let’s add insult to injury and throw him in with that she-elf. History shows her race hating Nasharins more than anyone. Why, I’ve heard stories of Elves torturing Nasharins like you would not believe. She’ll make him wish he’d never been born.”
Looking at Darshun's thrashed, mutilated body he replied, “Ha, I think he already wishes that.”
“The Elf will prolong his suffering, probably worse than the pits. In the end, Talvenya will thank me. Come on. Let’s hurry before she comes back.”
They each grabbed one of his legs and dragged him out of the room, up a stairway—Darshun's head repeatedly smashing against each step—and across a long hall. Besides his back scraping over the rugged stone, vaguely Darshun couldn’t really see any detail or understand what might be happening, except for maybe a horde of hideous spirits circling him laughing, enjoying his torture. Gods of the Dark perhaps? It did not matter. He no longer cared.
Finally, the Cullach stopped beside a prison
er cell—the only cell among that corridor, flipped Darshun over and kicked him in his already wounded ribs, breaking a few more.
While one Cullach unlocked the barred gate his comrade got ready and quickly tossed Darshun's massacred body in.
The other relocked the door. “A present for you Kelarin. He’s Nasharin. If you find the desire, you may do to him what you will—for as long as you will.”
They laughed loudly and walked away.
With the little strength Darshun had left he tried to focus on who else might be in the room, the individual the Cullach spoke to, but he could only make out a thin figure with long hair standing amongst the shadows.
Gradually, the figure approached him.
Good. Perhaps he would finally die and all of this would be over. These were his last thoughts before falling unconscious.
~~***~~
The sky looked black and the clouds blood red as Darshun found himself standing upon a mountain. The stench of death came from everywhere while bodies lay scattered across the rocks, maggots and flies hording them.
Elwin, Mythaen, Captain Alaric, King Loreus, and the Hagels from Loreladia. Uncle Seth, even Mirabel—all gone.
From the top of this mountain he could see the earth, now lifeless. Smoke rose on the vast distant hilltops, animals had gone extinct vegetation seemed to be no more and rivers consisted of everlasting blood. “I have failed—I have utterly failed and the earth has become a void of darkness and death."
“For the first time in your life, you've spoken correctly boy,” said a lucid voice, mystic and mysterious.
Darshun looked to his side to find who owned the voice.
A figure, stood about ten feet high, its face cloaked in shadow, eyes consisting of flame. Horns rose from its skull while a set of wings stretched out from its back, the span massive. Its chest and torso looked to be bare with darkish skin and onward down it wore a long dark-purple garment, loose like a dress. Admittedly, he or 'it' stood beautiful and frightening at the same time.
“Who are you?”
“I am the Bringer of the Light, the Morning Sky, he who stands before Abidan the Holy One. I am Lucifer, commander of Legion.”
Darshun lowered his head. “If that is who you are, then I am unworthy to be in your presence.”
“Correct, boy. You are unworthy of anything. You are a failure, an utter disappointment. Abidan is ashamed to have ever brought you into existence, he hates you."
These words caused great distress in his soul. “Is there nothing I can do to make amends, Bringer of Light?”
“Ask yourself, heathen boy, but not before looking around and witnessing the destruction you brought to the world. Even your father Mirabel, whose body lies beside your feet, rotting. Yes, even he is ashamed to have ever saved such a waste. Why, his very words this morning were 'the Cullach should have finished what they started.' ”—he spoke the sentence mimicking Mirabel's voice.
Darshun began to weep.
“There is no point in going on. Take a step forward to the edge and throw yourself over. Only in that way shall you reconcile the damage. Come on boy, do it!”
Darshun thought long and hard. He did fail and the evidence of it lay all around him. He couldn’t seem to shake the overshadowing feeling of sorrow smothering his soul. It hurt to breathe. Perhaps this 'Bringer of Light' spoke with the voice of Abidan, besides how could a God of the Light love a Nasharin? He indeed took a step forward to the tip of the edge. One more step and it would all be over.
“Yes, yes!” Lucifer cheered, his tone vibrating with ripples of ecstasy. “It is the only comfort left. Now—DO IT!”
“Darshun—Darshun…” a beautiful voice called. “Do not be deceived dear child.”
He turned around and to his amazement witnessed a lady with long dark hair, ice blue eyes and cream colored skin. She wore a blue mantle with an astounding long, white dress, trailing the ground. White light shone all around her, glowing like a star. Never had he seen such beauty. This Goddess buried Aurora—Talvenya in a second. It felt like an awakening, perhaps a final mercy before a bitter end. The feeling she omitted differed from 'Bringer of Light,' a feeling he could not explain.
She looked to Lucifer, casting a terrifying gaze.
He stepped back, hissing like a monstrous snake. “You have no power here woman,” he snarled, revealing a set of fangs. “The boy failed, he is mine—”
“Restrain your tongue serpent of darkness!”
Immediately his words, which at the time were still coming out of his mouth, fell silent.
“I come in the name of the most Holy One, Abidan. You are no 'bringer' of the Light, Lucifer. You are a betrayer to the Light. And I tell you only once, be gone by His name!”
Lucifer extended his arms while growling viciously, then became a mass of black snakes, all of which scurried away, all except one. Tasting the ground with its tongue it slivered over to Darshun, attempting to drive its fangs into his thigh, fangs dripping with venom.
The lady got in between them and crushed the serpent's head with her bare heel, grinding the black ooze into the rocks. It became dust. She then faced Darshun.
He’d become dreadfully afraid. Not because of Lucifer. Rather this—Goddess, so to speak. He could not bear to even look upon her immaculate form. For he’d become slime, dirt—hideous and above all…a failure. Part of him wished to be crushed under her heel, just as she’d done to the snake. It would be well deserved.
The woman set her eyes directly on him.
In shame, he lowered his head.
“Please do not think so lowly of yourself,” she spoke softly. “This quest is not over.”
Finding the strength to speak he answered, “Of course it is over. I have failed. Look around you. Tell me what you see?”
“I see wondrous varieties of flowers omitting sweet smelling scents. I see animals strolling, children playing and people singing. And I see you, a young Nasharin with incredible strength yet to be unleashed.”
He raised his face to her, slightly angered. “Why does a spirit of Light mock me at such an hour? Nothing exists now but death, and it was because of me. Do not tell me I have strength, it was tested, and I failed! Please leave me be so I may end my life.”
“If you do that, then what you say about yourself is true and I am the one who is deceived. My gift however, shows otherwise. You see, I possess the gift of Timesight. I can see into the past, present and a possible future. What I see now is the present.”
“That is impossible,” Darshun scoffed.
“How can you be so sure?”
“Listen lady, I failed. The evidence is all around. Open your eyes and witness the carnage. The Dark won. Even that messenger said Abidan hated me, and I just can’t—I just can’t live on.”
“The only shame you should feel is shame in making such a statement. Abidan most certainly does not hate you. Rather, he loves you more than you can fathom. That 'messenger' is a betrayer, the first being to allow selfish pride to dominate. He is no servant of Abidan and one day, he shall be judged, as everyone will."
“That doesn't excuse my failure. As I've said, the evidence is all around.”
“This ‘evidence’ you see, ignore it and tell me what your heart says.”
Strangely, something in him knew she spoke the truth. Perhaps in fact he’d been deceived in a way he couldn’t understand. Everything appeared real. He could taste the bitter air, smell death, listen to the rivers of blood flowing. The overwhelmingly feel of the pain of loss, of defeat. Though it seemed true a glimmer of hope returned when he’d first laid eyes on this woman and indulged himself with her strange, peaceful presence. What she spoke felt truthful within his heart. Could this be just another torture of the Dark? To ‘seem’ like there could be hope, when in truth there was not? Was this woman Talvenya in yet another disguise? He couldn’t take such thoughts and feelings any longer and fell to his knees while weeping bitterly.
The sight of this nearly moved the lady
to tears. She knelt down beside the poor wounded soul. She touched his brow, gently caressing down his face. Then she held him against her soft breasts, stroking his head. The feeling immaculate and heart-warming as Darshun leaned back, meeting her eyes. The splendor of her being seemed almost too much to bear, and her scent reminded him of spring flowers after a long barren winter.
“I know it is hard, but in time you will see…all things will be made clear.”
“What things?”
“The reasons you were born, your destiny. For do not be deceived Darshun Luthais, the Dark longs to take you out of this realm because your heart is strong. They fear you—the warrior earth has waited for two thousand years. Do not give into them. Do not give up your life when there is still hope—and a great hope it is. Listen to my voice and come back to the Light.” She touched his chin, gently forcing open his mouth and blew a breath of her own down his throat.
Darshun bathed in the warm breeze, soothingly filling his lungs.
“Come back my love.”
~~***~~
Darshun awoke because of the gentle touch of someone rubbing his brow and the singing of beautiful melodies. He opened his eyes and gazed upon whom he thought was an Angel. She had long honey-brown hair, grayish-blue eyes and orange-red lips that reminded him of a beautiful autumn day.
While his head rested in her lap, she continued to sing, not realizing he was conscious.
“Hello,” he said.
“Oh my, you are awake!” she answered, grabbing his forearms and helping him sit up.
No more than two feet across from her, he stared into such gorgeous innocent eyes. “Are you an Angel of the Light?”
“No,” she giggled. “My name is Kelarin. I am an Elf from the city Ashhaven.”
Darshun looked at her pointy ears, wondering why he hadn’t noticed them earlier, along with the thinness of her body. She must have weighed no more than a hundred pounds, a feature common of Elves, so Darshun had been taught. “Incredible! You are the first Elf I ever met.”
Crossing Forbidden Lines (Guardian Series Book 2) Page 9
