Lords Of The Dark Fall - Fabian

by C A Nicks

  Afterwards, Tig touched her tongue to the salt on his skin, breathed with him and thought about his words. Why was she so set on remaining childless? Cowardice or practicality? A bit of both, she decided. Here in the shadows and quiet of the night it was all too easy to dream of a child, all sweet and soft. A child that looked like him and who would lend comfort and support to her fading years. The morning light would remind her that childbirth was risky and single-parenthood only for the wealthy and most dedicated.

  Rubbing slow circles over her stomach he said, “I would love to see you swelling with my child.”

  She covered his hand with hers. “Our child.”

  “Yes.” He sounded surprised. As if that concept had only just occurred to him. “Our child.”

  A catch in his voice. An intense longing. They loved each other, but was he ready to hear this?

  “A child needs a mother and a father, Fabian. Brothers and sisters, too. It’s a lifelong commitment and well, if you’re not planning to be here...”

  “And I, of all people should know that. I gave my children everything but the one thing they needed most.”

  She kissed him, trying to take some of the sadness from his voice. “From what I hear, children of powerful rulers rarely see their parents anyway. You did what you thought best for them. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

  “I cut them from my life because I could not bear to see them grow and fade into old age. To die before my very eyes. No man should have to watch their children die.”

  “Amen to that.”

  “We’ve too much on our plates to be having this conversation. It’s the wrong time. Concentrate your efforts on the madjina and Warrington.”

  Fabian rolled his head to the side to face her, his eyes dark pools in the lighter shadows of his face. “This time next week I may be dead. What better time than this to think about leaving something of myself behind? It terrifies me to think that I might disappear as if I’d never been.”

  He clutched at her so tightly, she bit her lip to stop herself crying out. Mumbling an apology, he let her go. She hadn’t wanted to coerce him with words of love. And she definitely didn’t want to trap him here with a child as blackmail.

  Was it selfish to want him to stay for her and not because they’d conceived a child and he felt responsible for it? If he did die during the challenge or falling into some black hole would she regret having denied him?

  Orange light gilding the window-glass heralded a new day. From the hen-coop, she heard the muffled crowing of the cockerel stirring his harem, urging the lazy from their beds. Fabian sat up, blinking, finger-combing the hair from his face. She rubbed his long back, touching the bumps of his spine, the indents on either side and thought again of a son, tall like him. Eyes as dark as night. Serious and strong.

  She wasn’t a coward, she was a fool. A fool whatever decision she made.

  Fabian slipped from the bed. Bent to retrieve his discarded pants. Stepped into them, purpose in his movements. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he slid into socks, laced up his boots. Brisk and efficient, a man on a mission.

  A gentle kiss, his expression pensive as he left her for his early-morning training session. The last three condoms lay discarded on the rag-rug. No time for the long ride into town to purchase more and who had the cash to spare for that anyway? They’d long been classified as an expensive luxury item by politicians who wanted to encourage procreation. Repopulation was a hot political topic.

  When the condoms ran out they would just have to stop having full sex.

  Yeah, that was going to happen. She could almost see fate standing in the wings, waiting to make a grand entrance into her life. To take the decision out of her hands.

  Sometimes you just had to go with the flow and trust that she had your best interest at heart.

  Chapter 17

  The madjina rather disconcertingly resembled her grandmother. Tig had been expecting diva seductress who would be all over Fabian. Failing that, wrinkled crone with a warty nose like those in the fairy-tales of her childhood. Then she’d discarded both ideas as too obvious and thought they might get some mysterious robed figure with unnatural eyes mumbling incantations and scaring her half to death.

  By the time Hal’s wagon turned into the bend in the road, his mysterious passenger at his side, Tig’s imagination had her riding around the yard on a corn-broom, cackling, spewing fairy-dust and turning them all into toads.

  The loaded rifle slung over her shoulder made her feel a little more confident of handling whatever situation unfolded. She lifted the binoculars, noticing with annoyance her shaking hands. She frowned. Next to Hal sat an elderly woman with grey bubbly hair, a pair of cat-eye spectacles perched on her nose, an easy smile on her lips. On her lap, the woman carried a bag which she clutched with both hands. That couldn’t be the madjina.

  Tig rehearsed her speech while she hitched Cafino to the rig. The beast munched happily from the bag hanging over his mouth, blissfully unaware of the enormity of what was about to happen.

  They would meet here because she hadn’t been able to get word to Hal about relocating to the Gerrely’s place. Then they would travel separately to the old deserted farm and Fabian would get his hearing and find out once and for all if this world held enough magic to spirit him home.

  He emerged from the bathing room, bare to the waist, rubbing his hair with the drying cloth. When he saw her with the binoculars he climbed the porch steps, dropped the drying-cloth onto the porch rail and came to stand beside her.

  “Is she with him?”

  “Not sure,” she said, a little thrown by the normal-looking passenger. “She doesn’t look like a madjina. Here, see for yourself.”

  He took up the binoculars. Cursed softly as he focused on the wagon. “What trick is Hal playing?”

  “I don’t think he’d dare at this stage. Give me the binoculars. I don’t want them to know we’ve been spying. Did you prepare the blood?”

  Her gut twisted at the thought of the lamb he’d slaughtered specifically for the blood the madjina would surely demand. It doubled her resolve not to have this happen on her land.

  “In a glass bottle. Already in the rig,” he said never taking his eyes from the approaching wagon. “Blood makes potent magic. Can I trust this woman?”

  “I’ve no idea. Was up to me, she wouldn’t be here. Dress, I’ll tell them we’re meeting at the Gerrely’s.”

  “I will not do anything impulsive. Please don’t worry about me.”

  “I’ll always worry about you.” She tilted her chin at the kitchen door. “Be quick. I don’t want that woman on my property for longer than she has to be.”

  Tig called the dogs to her before the wagon arrived, putting them on guard. She also quickly visualised a protective circle of white light around herself and touched the image of the fish on her arm for good measure.

  The old lady greeted her with a serene smile as the wagon rumbled into the yard. Tig descended the steps, one hand casually on the rifle. Close up what she’d mistaken for a genial grandmotherly figure turned out to be a sharp-eyed woman whose gaze went far beyond the physical. Tig shifted uncomfortably. Like Hal’s mind probing only a hundred times magnified. This would not be a pleasant experience.

  She threw Hal an annoyed glance. He cut in before she could vent her frustration.

  “Let me introduce Senna. Senna, this is Tig. She told me you want to meet us at the Gerrely’s. Is that right?”

  Damn, but the woman was good. Tig inclined her head in greeting, noting the pearls circling the woman’s neck, the rings adorning her fingers. Magic and money, two things you could always guarantee went hand in hand.

  “We’ll meet you there.” She wanted them gone before Fabian appeared. Her protective instincts had kicked in big time. And then she wondered if it might not be a good idea to insist they arrive together. No sense in handing Senna the advantage by letting her scope the place out in private.

  Fabian appeared at the d
oor, packing the rest of their weapon arsenal she noticed with great relief. No jacket so the weapons made their point. The short sword hanging at his back, the fighting knife sheathed at his waist. He carried the crossbow as if it were a part of him moving with an easy grace, descending the steps to stand behind her, one hand on her shoulder.

  “Is this the madjina?”

  “This is Senna. Senna, this is Fabian.” Hal beckoned with his fingers. “Come forward, she would like to meet you.”

  Tig expected some protest or at least indignation at having been summoned like some lackey. Senna’s mild appearance seemed to have surprised her more than it had Fabian. But then he claimed to have seen magic in many more forms than she.

  And he was a desperate man, though he hid it well. The madjina would know and play her cards accordingly.

  “Closer, my son.” Senna’s voice matched her appearance, quietly modulated but surprisingly sure. She leaned a little as if sharing some secret. “You have a gift for me. Why don’t you bring it?”

  “I have a better idea. Why don’t we all go over to the Gerrely’s farm as Tig requested. Go, we will follow you there.”

  Nice one. Tig bit her lip to stop the satisfied smile. Hal’s eyebrows lifted a fraction.

  “As you wish.” Another smile. No offence at Fabian’s gruff manner or fear at his sheer size. Had to respect the woman for that.

  They took the dogs with them. More for the illusion of security they provided rather than for protection. The cowardly mutts would jump from the rig at the first sniff of the so-called haunted ground and would cross that barrier for no one.

  Fabian seemed perfectly normal this time. No fade-outs. No rambling about things she could not see and feel. They stood together in the yard while Hal handed Senna down from the wagon. The woman made a show of straightening her long skirts and brushing the dust from her jacket before nodding encouragement at Fabian.

  “Bit of a silly ritual in this day and age.” She dropped her gaze to the small, glass bottle clutched in his fist. “But gods and demons alike demand their tokens and it doesn’t do to anger them.”

  Not in the one true god camp, then. Tig could only suppose her appearance helped her stay under the radar of the god-squad. Most of her sect had been purged years ago.

  The token was duly handed over, tucked safely into Senna’s bag. She placed the bag carefully on the seat of the wagon and for a moment stayed in place, her back to them, both hands braced on the side rail. Tig heard her muttering, saw her look up, her head moving slowly from left to right. An uncomfortable prickle moved down Tig’s spine.

  “Give me your hand.” Senna turned abruptly, signalling for Fabian to raise his left hand. Fabian regarded the old woman impassively.

  “For what reason?”

  “Well, since my services come very expensive I thought I’d take a peek and see if it’s worth proceeding. Like to know my clients can pay, in one way or another. Raise your left hand.”

  A slight hesitation, then Fabian lifted his hand, palm forward. Nice and steady, which was good. Tig remembered to breathe.

  Senna’s face creased with concentration. She stared at the palm, tipping her head for a better view and then reached out. Before Fabian could move she had him in a grip so firm, he stumbled and stepped sideways to avoid falling on her.

  “Oh, I do apologise,” she said, not sounding sorry at all. “Some days I forget my own strength. Now, let me see. Hal says you’re a traveller. By what means did you come here?”

  “You are the mage. You tell me.”

  “I like your spirit. Tig is a lucky woman.” Senna pulled him closer and touched his palm with her free hand.

  Hal had started at the comment. Just a brief stiffening, but Tig didn’t miss the warning look he’d thrown at her. She shook her head to clear the thought he’d sent her. She was his. Ultimately, she was his.

  Senna waved Hal away with an agitated flick of her wrist. “Be still, Hal. I can’t concentrate with your thoughts flying around.” She refocused her attention on Fabian.

  “A thousand years bad. Oh my.” Senna chuckled to herself, bending over the palm for a better look. Satisfied, she curled his fingers into a fist. “How fallen are the mighty, eh? Take back your hand. I can help you in your quest at a price of ten thousand Kadoums or the equivalent. If you wish to pay in kind, I could even do it now.”

  Now? Tig didn’t have to think about sliding the gun from her shoulder, about bracing it and pulling back the bolt. The outrageous demand for ten thousand Kadoums hardly registered.

  When Hal put his hand on the barrel in warning, she shook him off causing him to jump back in alarm.

  “Show some respect,” he said through gritted teeth. “You’re waving a loaded weapon. Have a care.”

  Didn’t she know it? Loaded and ready to fire. “No one is doing anything now. Not until I find out what you really are. What do you mean by payment in kind?” This she addressed to Senna, finger hovering over the trigger. Stupid not to have expected something like this.

  Senna stood her ground, casually smoothing a grey curl from her forehead. Something was definitely off in the hint of a smile that caught the corners of her mouth. And had she just licked her lips? Tig’s trigger finger trembled, lurid child-hood tales of witches and candy houses whirling about her mind. Suddenly she wanted to laugh, hysterically. Get a grip, girl. Just a greedy old bat with a talent for spooking people out of huge sums of cash.

  Fabian hadn’t moved. He stood where Senna left him, fingers still curled into a fist, eyes vacant. That was more worrying. She couldn’t go to him without lowering the gun.

  “Oh, don’t worry, Tig my dear. He’s all right. Just giving him a little glimpse of what he seeks. To prove I’m not a charlatan out to fleece him. A little window, as it were. Come back to us, Fabian.”

  “No.” The word tore from Fabian’s throat with such anguish Tig nearly dropped the gun. “No,” he screamed again, his fist white from the struggle to keep it closed. One by one his fingers sprang apart. His eyes opened and for a split second she saw the depths of his disappointment. The horror at finding himself back here in exile and all-too human. A bead of sweat cut a path down his forehead, over his cheek to disappear into his collar. His eyes flicked from side to side. Tipping back his head he looked up into the sky, squinting against the glare of the sun. And then he lowered his head and turned his gaze to her.

  His shoulder sagged. Relief? At seeing her? Or was that wishful thinking on her part?

  “Are you okay?”

  He managed to look mildly insulted at her assertion the madjina had rattled him in any way. Back to normal then. Hal, too shook his head in confusion, as if he’d also been off some place. For a minute or so it had been just her and Senna.

  Gently, Hal reached out and lowered the barrel of the gun. “I think we have everything we need. Senna, you will overnight at my place? I’ll drive you home in the morning.”

  “Of course.” The madjina took Hal’s offered hand, pausing only slightly as she passed Tig. A narrowing of her cold grey eyes and then she was climbing back into the wagon, arranging her skirts and placing the leather bag primly on her knee.

  “When you need me, just call,” she said and there was that look again. A look that said she’d seen things about Fabian that Tig had not. She’d cast a shadow over what they had. A shadow that would be hard to shake off.

  Poor Fabian. Had the woman somehow made him believe he’d gone home? A clever mind-trickster could do that. The stunned expression remained, his movements stilted and fumbling. When he made two attempts to get into the driver’s seat Tig urged him along the bench and took up the reins herself. A sick feeling pooled in the pit of her stomach. Being spooked by ghosts was one thing. By the living - oh god in his heaven, that innocent looking granny had scared the pants off her. She had goose-flesh just thinking about her.

  At the boundary to the property they picked up the subdued dogs. Both crept into the rig, squeezing themselves into the
foot-well of the rear seats, making themselves as small as possible. Not even a whine. Sitting on the skewd gate-post a large Frey-bird watched them with unblinking eyes. No danger there, they only preyed on the dead.

  “What did she show you? Whatever it was, you know it was probably a trick, an illusion?” She hadn’t missed Fabian’s quick glance over his shoulder as they turned onto the main track. No use suggesting this was the worst of bad ideas and they should never go back to that place. How would he resist?

  “Home. She showed me home.” He leaned his elbows onto his knees. Head bowed as he remembered. “How long was I gone?”

  “A minute, maybe two. You kind of zoned out for a bit. As if you were sleepwalking.”

  “A minute?” He shook his head. Rubbed his face in a weary gesture. “I was in one of my smaller palaces. Walking on solid earth, breathing the fragranced air. Talking to my advisers. They were talking to me. It felt so real.”

  “She could have got any of that from Hal. He knows you were some big hot-shot. Everything about you says you know power and command. I didn’t trust her before and I trust her even less now. And what did she mean about payment in kind? No one but the top men around here could scrape together ten thousand kadoums.”

  “Best that you do not know.”

  She nudged him, now they were clear of the place feeling some of the dread that had settled round her heart lift. “In the old fairy-tales the madjinas were hideous crones who lured children into their houses and then feasted on them for dinner. Today they work for cash.”

  “Yet little has changed. When I am warlord I will have the cash to pay her.”

  Tig’s heart sank. Yes, better that she didn’t know what the madjina really wanted. “Please don’t go back there. Or see her again. We’ll get you home if that’s what you really want. But not that way.”

  “I saw my true-brother, Marcellus. Spoke to him.”

  She’d seen his anger at having lost his home, but the pain was almost too sad to witness. “Was coming back a shock?”