Darkness Risen (The Ava'Lonan Herstories Book 4)

by Emanuel, Ako

  “Not that we can prove,” Luyon said, “but in all likelihood, yes. With the attack on the egwae - I have no doubt, but my personal feelings cannot be brought to a Court.”

  “What will you do next? Trying to follow all the leads on those aberrant av’tuns will take too much time and only let the trail grow cold.”

  “We must wait for the others to awaken and plan our next move,” Luyon said with finality.

  Du’jidi was the third to come back to consciousness. He opened aching eyes slowly, stared up at a beautifully molded ceiling. Wanting nothing more than to close his eyes again, he instead looked to the side, to see Ikan’be and the unnamed warru staring at him. There was not any concern in their expressions, but there did not need to be. They were joined by the First and Fourth Voices of the High Queen.

  “Good,” he croaked, pushing himself up painfully. None of them moved to stop him. He saw that he had been lying on a sumptuous couch, and that not far away N’mbu’yi and Han’vonda also lay on similar couches. “How are they?” He gestured to the two prone warru.

  “They will live,” Ikan’be replied, sitting back.

  “Good,” the warru leader said again, trying to ignore the headache that sprang up behind his eyes. He cocked his head slightly at Dariaku’s presence, but asked nothing. “The first disrupted av’tun led to a dead end. We need to start at the head of the Dio’gin pearl Trade.”

  “Why not use the list of names that the Doan gave us as the starting point?” Dariaku asked. “See if they are tainted.”

  “That could only work if one has the sight of Ag’ko,” Du’jidi said in a casual tone. He raised an eyebrow.

  Dariaku felt an ironic smile tug at his mouth. So that is why I was called! he thought, wanting to shake his head. “Yes. I need to know what the shadow of the taint looks like.”

  Before Du’jidi could answer, Han’vonda moaned and moved. Dariaku again felt his gaze drawn to her, like a flower drawn to dawn, and she opened her eyes and returned his alert attention. He stood and came forward, held out his hand for the plush pouch that held her crystal av’tun map, that she had not let go of, even in senselessness. She blinked and raised it slightly, did not protest when he took it gently from her hand. Then she sagged back. She was still weak.

  “May I?” he asked. At her nod, he opened the pouch and let the half-globe slip into his palm, luminescent as one of the moons in mid-eve. Pale fire blossomed from within the frosted representation of half of the world of Alona. He turned his intent gaze to the semi-globe, moved to the curving marble wall of the suite amid the stares of the others, and flipped the globe at it. It turned its flat plane to the wall and stuck, and the map bloomed from floor to ceiling around it in ghostly radiance, showing the network of av’tun potentials almost as Han’vonda saw it. The new, warped, deviant av’tuns showed also. He stepped back to study it, his Goddess-Sight making everything stand out clear in rainbow-shattered relief. The others clustered around him, intrigued.

  For a quarter of a san’chron he gazed at the map, in which time N’mbu’yi awoke and was tended to. He stood still, his arms folded, his eyes roving over the pearly-translucent map. When he spoke, his voice startled the darkness.

  “There is a place on this map where av’tuns do not go,” he said.

  the light turned...

  Jarisa paced round and round her suite, trying not to wring her hands, caged in a bower of mid-eve. It had been turns and turns since she had taken the Kwabanian Record scroll. Surely someone had found the Priest and novice she had injured, by now. Surely someone had found the broken ground, noted that the scroll was missing. But there was no outcry, no frantic search, no Priestesses flurrying to the High Queen and her Voices, trying to steal a gran of time to tell of the taken scroll.

  She paused by the veranda arch, peering around the edge, without showing herself, in the direction of the Temple.

  And are they keeping the theft quiet? she wondered, trying not to worry at her lip with her teeth. Do they have some secret means of finding the scroll, and are just waiting, waiting until after the answer to the challenge to come for me?

  Movement at the Temple caught the corner of her vision and she scurried back, letting the beaded curtain fall, then cursing her own stupidity. Surely the movement of the curtain was like a clarion call to those searching. Surely they were on their way to question her, now, to make her confess.

  And what is the punishment for stealing sacred texts? Will I be Outcast for all time? Or will they merely think me insane, driven mad by physical contact with the scroll?

  It pulsed suddenly from where she had hidden it, in the secret cache in the floor of her suite. She turned and saw the hunched figure that had led her to the scroll crouching over the cache, pawing at the floor above it. The rich carpet that concealed the edges of the thick block covering the cache was casually ripped to shreds, and the soft marble underneath scoured with shallow furrows.

  “No,” she hissed, surging forward and waving the half-seen thing away. “No, don’t do that, you will block the opening if you do that, and then we’ll never get it out!” she knelt and pressed the lid of the cache. It grated and screeched and reluctantly opened, revealing the scroll and the precious things it lay on. Gathering it up, she looked around frantically and snatched up a carry tube, stuffed it inside to conceal its wavering, dancing light that pulsed in time to her pulse. She knew, though, that the leather scroll tube would not hide it for long.

  Jarisa put the strap of the tube across her body, and looked around. All the servants were out enjoying the festivities of the De’en’nu celebration. If she left now, no one would notice until Av’dawn.

  She began to pack feverishly, trying to think of all the things she would need for a long journey and failing, ending up with a motley assortment of half-folded clothing, some coins and jewelry, a single comb, a few toiletries, her old j’tali of service gone by, her favorite bow, and a few other things that came to hand with barely her notice. She put on the three ill-matched travel packs, took one last look around at the mess she had made, and started to build an av’tun when she realized that she did not know where she was going.

  *:Este,:* the hunched figure, observing her actions without helping, grated in her mind. It shimmered away.

  Este was as good a start as any. She av’tunned away.

  the light turned...

  Soku sat at the head of the oval table. Seventy other Queens, all Lesser Queens of small Border or near-Border Lons, sat facing her. These were her sisters in peril, Tribes that would be annihilated by larger Tribes in the Ottanu’s bid for power.

  The lain was sealed. Not even the light of Av penetrated, nor could air, even, pass through the barriers in place. Not whispered thought, or a spying word. The lain was as secure as rites and oaths could make it, as were the occupants secured; they had even sworn ancient blood-oaths, that would be deadly if broken.

  “Sisters,” Soku said, looking each of them in the eye, “we are here on common purpose, a purpose begun at the Bolorn’toyo, and now nearing flower. All are agreed in this?”

  “Yes,” Zydoba sul Asanti said, sitting at her right hand. “You have lived up to your oath-claim, sister Doan. Each and every one of us had been approached in some way - overt, subtle, cajoling, threatening. We have been told of being isolated by our neighbors, ostracized, cut off, consumed by larger Tribes. But these threats have no bite - with our Port arches, we are not limited to local Trade anymore, and cannot be intimidated into capitulation. And our neighbors cannot ignore us, for they will want use of those arches themselves. Our new Yakan’tsu has protected us well.”

  There were nods and smiles all around.

  “You have all been given preliminary approval to begin mapping out a site for your Port Arches, and, pending investigation into our private and public Trade records, we are approved to begin construction. I foresee, however, the next line of attack will be against those self-same records, and against our households and families; either Voi
ces or Heirs or consorts, or all of these. Steps have to be taken to protect the records - that is the purview of the Trade Circles and their administrators, and they have enlisted the help of the Gadayi to keep them inviolate. We, however, must take our own steps to secure what is ours.”

  More nods, but of comprehension and understanding, in addition to agreement.

  “You will be a primary target yourself,” Iani sul Gaido said suddenly, “as the head of this Yakan’tsu.

  “Yes,” Soku acknowledged, “and I intend to be a very tempting target, as a matter of fact. I anticipate our enemies will use - most unsavory means to turn my allegiance, too. I have plans, in that event. “

  “We must protect you,” Eyaba sul Madib protested.

  “If we want to know the Ottanu’s ultimate plan, my protection cannot be perfect,” Soku averred. “Don’t worry. I have plans to guarantee my safety.”

  “What do you want of us?” Peindawa sul Shundi asked.

  “We have the sociopolitical protection that was the primary function of our Yakan’tsu. But now we must also prepare to fill our alternate purpose. Conflict is coming, Sisters, strife from within and possibly from without. We must be ready to support the Heir to the High Throne, to lend her aid, to open our Ways at her need. We must support her claim to the High Throne, should it come to that, and part of the wealth and power that we will wield must be bent to that purpose. So Trade well and successfully, my Sisters, and be ever vigilant.”

  There were solemn nods all around. Soku waited a small sils, and the other Queens, aware that she was not quite done, looked to her.

  “There is one more thing,” she said quietly. “A thing the populace must not know right away. Our enemies have - a counter - to av’rita.”

  “A counter?” Zydoba asked, and the hushed edge to her voice told of incredulity, and a thousand other, screaming emotions. “You mean, a way to defeat av’rita? Then - then what are we to do? All of our security is founded on the strength of av’rita!”

  “We will have to find a new strength,” Soku answered.

  the light turned...

  Jahun’no finally caught up with the High Family ol’bey’woman, D’rad’ni in her suite of lains. He immediately put up a privacy screen, and at her enquiring face, clenched his jaw.

  “I assume that you have examined the Heir,” he said.

  “Yes. She is recovering well.” The ol’bey’woman did not mention the Jur’Av’chi. If that was what the warru ol’bey wanted to discuss, he would have to do so with the High Queen.

  “There is something else you should know,” he said, and the tiniest hint of urgency made D’rad’ni come alert. But then, having begun the conversation, he seemed reluctant to disclose his findings. He sat gazing at the backs of his hands, where the skin was a bit lighter than the rest of him. Finally he looked up.

  “The Heir wielded ama’av’rita,” he said. “She used it to call lightning from the very air.”

  D’rad’ni jumped to her feet. “She’s dying, then!” she cried, running to grab her satchel of implements.

  “She is not.” His calm voice and a hand on her arm stopped her in her tracks. “I examined her just after it happened. You know she was poisoned. The - the poison, I believe, has - changed her somehow. Made her able to use a forbidden form of av’rita.” He related all that had passed when the army of the enemy had surrounded them.

  D’rad’ni sat back down. She was silent for a long time.

  “We must consult with the Gadayi,” she said.

  CHAPTER XV

  in a fervor of ritious joy, the light turned...

  Gavaron was in as full command of his power as he could be in the land of light, in command of the gift from his father’s blood and family. He had learned much about the grounds of the estates that held him and his fellow and sister captives, even though Fekniri had blind-folded him for their rides each turn - his lor’rita let him see without his eyes. He had, over the time that he had been here, fine-tuned his di’rito’ka and lor’rito’ka. He knew the layout of the compound he was kept in, and the system of guards securing the route he planned to use in his escape. He had his liberation and the liberation of those around him worked out to the gran. Only one last thing needed doing. He had to kill Varo.

  Varo came awake. It was just before the second moon rise, Loriku a silver slice on the horizon. He knew Fekniri was going to come for him this eve - she had had that hungry look all through the turn. He shuddered at the thought of pleasing her - he could not endure much more.

  Something stirred in the back of Varo’s mind, like a thought trying to surface. Then he heard a voice almost like his own, but infinitely colder, ask, Have you enjoyed this life?

  No, he answered himself. No.

  And before he could form another thought, cold, steel-laced fingers wrapped around his mind. He screamed, but whatever had him had taken control of his body away - almost as if the body had belonged to the thing gripping him and he had just been borrowing it. The exchange of control had been so smooth that he had not even felt it.

  Please, he pleaded. Please, no!

  You have served your purpose, the other said, squeezing, and Varo screamed again, fighting the force that was cutting into his psyche. He sensed the steel-tipped fingers hover above him... searing pain... darkness.

  Gavaron packed away the dead and shredded psyche-puppet that had been Varo.

  the light turned...

  The Stable’Marm, Fekniri, led him to their secret place beneath skies that threatened rain. She had put the muffles on his hoofs, not knowing he could move as silent as a shadow when he wanted to. They came to the deep cave mouth and entered, followed it to the cave decorated as a lavish sleeping lain.

  She hooked up his choke chain as she usually did. His wrists were secured in front so that he could embrace her - she really liked that. But she chained him within reaching distance of the unoccupied pallet. The chains gave him the slack to lie down on his lower belly.

  After everything was secure, she turned and smiled at him, slowly loosening the straps of her training outfit.

  “I want you to do something special for me this eve, loverling,” she purred, peeling the tight leather off of her upper body. She came forward and he automatically kissed her, not even having to think of his hate for her to simulate the passion she desired.

  “What is that, Mistress?” he asked, because she expected him to ask. She grinned impishly and climbed onto the half raised pallet, bent over and wagged her hips, looking at him through half-closed eyes.

  “I am not allowed to make you separate - so I want you to make love to me - with your mouth.” She stroked her riding crop along her inner thigh.

  Gavaron cringed inside. So far, he had been able to avoid that, though she had tried to get him to do that once before. When he had refused that first time, she had whipped his hide bloody, then healed him, then whipped him again, her fury had been so great.

  “Mistress, I-” he began, but the rest was cut off as she jumped off the pallet and jerked on the choke chain. He grabbed at it as it cut into his neck and cut off his breath.

  “You dare!” she yelled, sliding off the pallet and hauling on the chain with all her strength. “You dare to refuse me again?! Insolent, stupid animal! How dare you?!”

  He managed to dig his fingers under the leather-wrapped links and he pulled the power of Loro into them, corroding them from the inside out.

  “P-please, Mistress!” he gurgled out, fighting to get the words around the chain. “G-give me - an-another ch-ch-chance!” He grit his teeth and pretended to continue to strangle as the chain parted under his hands and went slack. He held it still, so that she would feel tension as she yanked on it.

  Fekniri came right up to his face and slapped him as hard as she could. He was hard-pressed to keep a hold of the disintegrating chain.

  “Don’t you ever refuse me anything again!” she hissed at him, hanging onto the chain as if she wished to break his neck. “I ma
y not be able to kill you, but I can make your life an everlasting eve-mare! I can order a choke chain made of razor links that will leave the loveliest decorations upon your neck, and a velvet covered whip that won’t mark your hide, but will make every step you take a study in torment! Don’t test me, ‘yori’kin, you want to remain in my favor, trust me!”

  He nodded frantically, holding his breath and willing his face to turn red and the veins to pop out. Finally she relaxed her hold on the chain and he gasped for air, dropping to his knees. She turned away, dropping the slack of the chain altogether, and resumed her former position on the bed, but with her back to him. She knelt upon the edge, and worked at rest of the snaps to her costume.

  “Now come here and serve me properly, royal mount. You will have to cool my temper to get me back to the state of mind where you can pleasure me.”

  Gavaron picked himself up off the ground. His neck hurt only a little, since he had been able to break the chain. But this eve was the last eve he would feel its presence upon him. He dropped the remains of it carefully to the ground, and moved closer to the pallet than his chains would have allowed, breathing hard.

  Foolish to trust the fetters on him! She had learned nothing from his tack eroding or the chains breaking at various times. The tethers on his mind had been stronger - but not strong enough. She was, he had realized some time ago, in love with him. And she probably believed that he, in some small measure, loved her. And perhaps, in some small twisted way, he did, out of pity, which made what he was about to do at once all the harder and all the more necessary.

  He lifted his arms and put them about her, a little awkward because his wrists were still bound. He pulled her back in his embrace, kissing her neck, her shoulders, her back, really meaning it this once, for it would be the last time. He used the power of Dio, putting it into his kisses so that they were ten times more erotically stimulating than they ever were before. She gasped and shuddered with each one - he could feel all her pleasure points, and he exploited them mercilessly, stimulating her nerve-endings with his di’rita so that each kiss sent her into a paroxysm of pleasure. She was so overwhelmed that she did not even notice when his hands came apart to hold her fully, or bend her over so that he could kiss down her spine. All she could do was gasp in time to his rhythm, moan to his guiding touch, move to the mounting melody of delectation he wrought within her. He turned her around to kiss her mouth, and she gave herself up to him, not cognizant that the choke chain was gone as she wrapped her arms around his neck. She melted against him, in ecstasy, as he peeled away the bottom half of her outfit and ran his hands over her body. He kissed her throat, her sternum, her breasts, raising her to his mouth, then finally lay her back, as though he were about to fulfill her command. And when he kissed her belly, he made certain muscles within her contract so that she thrashed in orgasm, crying out to the thick walls of the cave.