Scion’s Sacrifice (The Guardians of Light Book 3)

by R. Michael Card

  Davar stopped, hesitating. He couldn’t go any farther. One step beyond the walls, and he was the Blacklord’s toy once more, which was exactly what the vile wizard wanted.

  His heart churned as he watched the assassin land in the hills below St. Antin, then leap again down towards the army on the plains below.

  He had to try. If he didn’t, he’d loathe himself for being a coward.

  He soared out into the night. His one leap alone would take him to where the assassin would next land. Within less than a minute, he could be back within the walls of St. Antin.

  But that would be far too long.

  Already the Blacklord was raging around his mind, breaking down his barriers to get in. He put all he had left into bolstering the defenses of mind, soul, and spirit, but he knew the other man’s power far exceeded his. It was only a matter of time, a very short matter of time. Again he pushed the limits of his power harder and farther than he ever had before, but he was tiring far too quickly at this rate. He knew it wouldn’t be enough.

  “No, you don’t!” This from a voice nearby.

  Senia.

  An instant later, the flat of Emberthorn’s massive blade hit him hard in the stomach, sending him flying backward. “I’ll get her back!” the scion called sailing forward into the night.

  He landed hard, his back smashing into the cobblestones in the bailey of St. Antin. The Blacklord shut out once again. His body healed quickly from the harsh landing, bones and sinews knitting together, but he was so exhausted from overextending himself in such a short period of time that even this healing was a strain. He simply lay there, staring up at the stars of a clear spring night. The chill bothered him little, able to call fire or bolster his body’s defenses against the cold. But his inability to leave these walls clung to him, cloying and curdling within his belly.

  He slammed his fist down into the paving stones, sending fragments flying as he shattered the rock. All of his power and still he was trapped. He couldn’t leave the abbey, couldn’t save Cass. He wondered if he ever would be able to leave, even after he was fully cleansed.

  Senia landed next to him. “One healer as ordered.” She lay Cassine’s body down. “There are still assassins around if you wanted to help.”

  Davar blinked. These were his people now and he should help. He nodded.

  Though his strength was dwindling, he reached over and touched Cass. He wasn’t trained in healing, but his physical talent was strong and he sent a wave of it into her. He could feel his reserves draining, but it was worth it. The gash on her head closed slightly and she started awake with a gasp.

  “Heal and defend yourself. I’m going to help the others,” he said and kissed her, seeing the wound on her head now closing from her own efforts.

  “I’ll be fine,” she said, “go.”

  He smiled and rose to help Senia.

  He let his fury at his incompetence fuel his hunt and give him the energy he desperately needed. The assassins seemed to have been after specific targets. He didn’t realize he was getting close to Shadowfang until the sword called to him.

  Help me! The voice was an odd, twisted echo of the joyously evil sing-song it once had been.

  Get out! Davar commanded and reinforced his mental defenses.

  He was near the archival vault. He’d never been here before, but he knew it from Cassine’s description of the place: a massive room, deep below the abbey, with a great metal door usually locked by several means, mundane and magical.

  The door was slightly ajar, more than enough for a person to slip through.

  An assassin stepped out with a load of weapons, all Aehryn-Gift artifacts. One of them was Shadowfang.

  The hallway was tall and the assassin tried to jump over Davar. A flick of his wrist sent one of his swords flying. The black-clad man died in probably one of the most painful ways possible, the blade buried to the hilt between his legs. The dead man and the weapons he carried crashed to the ground with a loud clanging and clattering.

  Four more figures emerged from the vault, all assassins.

  Davar picked up the nearest weapon, a long hafted axe. It was incredibly heavy, as was the case with some of the artifacts, too heavy to be wielded effectively by most people, except their scion. With his great strength, he was able to heft the weapon in one hand, even if it strained his waning power to its limits to do so.

  The four assassins attacked as one. Two threw daggers. The other two leapt at him. The daggers were a distraction. He knocked one away with the sword still in his off hand, letting the other sink into his shoulder.

  He instantly realized he’d made a mistake.

  The wound was too much, especially in the shoulder of the arm holding the massively heavy axe. He had to drop the scion weapon to give himself the energy to recover.

  He pulled out the dagger with his now free hand, but he’d taken too long to do so; the other two assassins were on him.

  He blocked one attack, his sword deflecting the assassin’s blade as the man descended on him. The other attack, to his already wounded side, bit deeply into his upper arm. His shoulder wound still hadn’t fully healed and his ability to heal himself was slowing as he reached the limits of his endurance. Even the block in his mind that deadened pain was weakening and he grit his teeth at the shock of this most recent hit. The two men near him moved to the sides, flanking him as the other two threw more knives his way, slowly moving in.

  They were too many and he was too slow. Davar managed to take one down, his sword delivering a crushing blow to the base of the neck, nearly decapitating the man. But that left Davar’s other side exposed and he felt the burn of a blade sinking deep into his abdomen. He tried to simply evade the knives, but one bit into his leg, hitting a vital spot then falling out with a gush of blood. He kicked the man near him, but it was a feeble strike and despite crushing the assassin against the wall, the man was still up, still going, if dazed.

  Davar grasped the wound on his thigh, trying to stop the flow of blood, but he felt the hot liquid oozing through his fingers. He staggered back. He needed more time. He poured every ounce of energy he had left into healing his leg and abdomen. The wounds closed, somewhat, the flow of blood from his leg now only a trickle, but he was spent. His head spun. He knew he was finished if he didn’t do something quickly.

  “Shadowf—” A dagger bounced off his skull taking a slice of scalp and hair with it. Then a man hit him full force, knocking him down.

  Too slow, far too slow, he punched at the assassin. His arm was blocked and in the next instant, a blade opened his throat. His life drained out of him.

  Back when he’d belonged to the Blacklord, anytime he’d been overextended in combat, the Blacklord could shunt more energy into him.

  But that wouldn’t happen this time.

  His vision blurred, going dark, and he knew he had failed.

  In that instant, before he died, he also knew with a sickening dread that he’d doomed the world. For without him the prophecy of the fall of the Blacklord could not come to pass.

  He felt a blade sink into his chest, into his heart. Then he felt no more.

  His eyes flashed open, his body rejecting the blade in his chest, pushing it out, his wounds closing, raw earth talent-energy rushing into him, filling him.

  “No!” A desperate cry, echoed through the hallway. The voice had been Cassine’s.

  He threw the man on his chest off, bashing him against the wall, shattering bones. That assassin went limp. Davar rolled to his feet with the grace and speed he was so used to.

  A surprised assassin stood before him and died before he could react, neck broken. Another leapt at him and he easily dodged to the side knocking the man’s weapon away and bringing an elbow down on the back of the man’s neck, breaking it.

  He swung around, ready for more, but none presented themselves. The only other person around was Cass, down the hall a ways, looking exhausted, leaning against the wall.

  She waved a weak, limp a
rm. “Hi, love.”

  He ran to her, barely breathing hard. “Was that you that brought me back?”

  She nodded.

  “I thought you had to touch someone to heal them?”

  “So did I,” she said with a faint smile. “Until now.” She tried pushing herself off the wall, but couldn’t do it. “Gods, but that took a lot out of me. I thought you were dead.”

  “So did I.” He turned around slowly again. “I should check in the vault to make sure there are no more.”

  “Go,” she said.

  He did.

  The vault was massive. There was no way he could search it all quickly. If he did it would still be easy enough for someone to evade his search and slip around him. So he sent his life-sense out. There were several weak essences in the hall, people dying, no others.

  He ran back to Cass, pulling her from the wall, supporting her.

  “Take back some of your power, there are wounded in there who need healing and you’re a lot better at that than I am.”

  She nodded and he felt some of his earth talent energy slip from him. She perked up, standing on her own.

  “Bring them all to one spot. That will make it easier for me to heal them all quickly.”

  Davar ran off to do so.

  He found four monks still alive, if barely, and brought them to her. She was able to heal them all, despite their extensive wounds. Afterward she sat back with a heavy sigh. Even having taken some of her power back, she looked tired and worn.

  He took a moment to wonder at the attack. What did this mean? Was it the beginning of a new offensive or some last ditch effort by the Blacklord’s armies? Whatever it was it had worked well, if not as well as it could have. They hadn’t taken any scion-weapons, but they had nearly killed him and he was certain that dozens, if not hundreds of monks had died tonight. This would be a solid blow against the forces of the abbey.

  Yet more intimately, he wondered if he’d brought this all down on his new allies. The assassins had carried Cass away, almost certainly a ploy to get him to leave the abbey and return to this father. When he hadn’t they had been doing their best to end him and had almost succeeded. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d somehow caused this attack with his mere presence. But perhaps that was a bit arrogant.

  His thoughts were interrupted by Cass. “Is this all the monks here?” She motioned to the four she’d healed.

  He nodded.

  Her eyes showed a grave concern. “Gods, I hope some escaped. There were more than a score of monks working down here and if these are all that remain…” She shook her head.

  “I’m sorry, Cass.”

  “You have no need to be. We did all we could.” She let out another heavy sigh. “I’m going to take a nap now.” And she did, laying her head on her arms on the cold stone floor of the archives. She was asleep within a few heartbeats.

  He smiled faintly, also exhausted, but not ready to sleep.

  He left the vault, closing the massive door, and swept the area. When he met Wyllea doing the same, he told her of what had happened.

  “Gods!” she muttered, shaking her head. “Far too many died tonight.”

  “Are we clear now?” he asked.

  “I believe so.”

  “Good, if you need me, I’ll be in the archives sleeping.”

  She gave him an odd look at that but said nothing.

  He returned to Cass, curled up next to her, and let his body rest.

  Chapter 16

  Cassine had little chance to recover from her exhaustion.

  Hundreds of monks were dead, but more were wounded. There had also been attacks on the western kingdom’s armies camped in the hills around St. Antin. Generals and officers killed, many wounded, all in all a devastating blow.

  Cassine had been busy for days healing and tending to the wounded. Only a few of the Daughters of Ehlani had survived. The Daughters had been another target of the assassins. It was a strategic move, killing those who could heal. Of the twenty-seven sisters, eighteen had died. High Sister Olinda had survived only through the sheer power of her healing ability. She’d been left for dead with wounds grave enough to ensure any warrior’s demise, but she’d drained her earth talent to heal herself as best she could. She still bore a scar on her forehead, which she kept as a reminder to be vigilant. Cassine had no time to work on Davar or Starsong for more than a week. Even once she did, he insisted she rest before they continued.

  When she did finally get back to Davar, she found the last vestiges of his darkness had spread once again. It was like a pillar of black marble in his soul, hard and sturdy. She’d need to chip away at it, finding veins within the marble to isolate and eliminate, weakening it until the core could be dealt with. This was the heart of Davar’s darkness, the vilest stains on his soul, the worse of his life before.

  It took another week, working only in spurts when she had time, to banish enough strands within that massive block to weaken it to the point where Cassine thought she could then deal with that solid core.

  Finally she had the time and had regained enough energy to feel she had a chance to eliminate the final blackness for good. She’d slept well the night before as her healing duties had decreased enough to allow for a restful evening off.

  She sat next to Davar on his cot as he lay on his back. He too would have to work hard today during the cleansing process. Laying her hand on his chest, she looked him in the eye.

  “Ready?”

  He nodded. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this.”

  She flashed him a smile then drew in a long breath and began.

  When she was inside his soul, it was an almost physical place for her. A vast space now filled mostly with light. There was no ground or sky, just light. In this light, there stood the pillar which sucked in all illumination around it. Stood was a relative term as there was nothing to stand on. It hung in the space, stretching high and low, as thick around as a great and aged oak. Though it was hard as marble it was riddled with holes and flaws from her work so far on weakening it. Even drawing near it was uncomfortable, it wanted to suck the light out of her soul and fill it with inky, writhing darkness. Yet she drew close enough to connect with it, touch it, for that was the only way to eliminate it.

  She felt Davar flinch and tense as she began her work. In some ways this process was like removing a splinter from the skin, only the splinter was a mile long pillar and as such it was that much more painful to remove. Cassine couldn’t see the memories Davar was experiencing, but she could feel the emotions associated with them: hate, joy at destruction and violation of innocence, anger and rage, and perhaps the worst of all complacency at deeds which would horrify the most hardened of men.

  Ever so slowly, the pillar lost chunks that crumbled into nothing, but the bits were small still and Cassine had no illusions that this was still only the start of a lot of work for them both.

  Time was hard to perceive in this place of the soul, but Cassine knew that hours had passed. Davar’s body in the real world was a mess of sweat, as he alternated between moaning and screaming as they worked harder and harder. There were great gouges in the column of darkness now, but it was still so vast as to seem impossible to cure. Yet they had to push on. Cassine was certain that if left unfinished it would work itself back to a strong state in the time they took to rest. She was exhausted, and she knew Davar was straining his limits as well, but still she pushed onward.

  And she was rewarded with a surprise, even if it wasn’t a pleasant one.

  Another chunk of blackness fell away, this time revealing a fiery core within the dark pillar.

  It was like a vein of blood, but it carried only evil, distributing it to the pillar, feeding it. This was the reason it regenerated so fast, she was certain of it.

  She connected with the red, pulsing line and instantly flinched back. It had been too much, too corrupt, too malevolent for her to touch for long. But she forced herself to contact it again and this time it was
her screaming out in the real world.

  Through that scream, she made a mental connection with Davar and asked, This, can you feel it? What’s here? I think if we can eliminate this, the rest of this evil will fall away.

  Yes, I feel it. And even though it was a mental reply, it sounded like he spoke through gritted teeth. It’s… indescribable evil. I think you’re probably right. Do what you must and let’s finish this.

  She forced all of her power of soul onto this vile heart of Davar’s evil and felt it send a rush of feelings and memories which overwhelmed him for a moment. She sensed his body tense so hard that it arched, his back leaving the cot. Though her eyes were closed she knew his mouth was contorted in a scream, but no sound came out, so extreme was the sensation.

  I can’t. His mental voice was only a gasp.

  You must.

  She was being consumed, burning as well, at least her soul was. Every moment in contact with this cord of purest evil defiled and corrupted her. She could feel traces of darkness seep into her soul, thin tendrils now, but the longer she stayed in contact, the stronger she knew they would grow.

  This isn’t me! He cried out to her mind. This is him, his evil, I—

  This is you, it’s a part of you, even if it was him who instilled it here so very long ago. It’s a part of you now, and you need to accept it, deal with it in order to move past it and eliminate it. So do what you must! I can feel it weakening, but it won’t go away until you are strong enough to release it.

  It’s too much!

  Nothing is too much for you. You’re the most powerful man I know.

  She felt his resolve shift and strengthen; some part of his spirit wouldn’t allow him to give up. Cassine felt a presence with her, though she saw no other entities within Davar’s soul.

  Another voice joined them, though it was distant, almost too faint for Cassine to hear.

  Fight him, my son, as I did. He didn’t win. He never bested me. All he could do was kill me in the end.