Ashayna raised one eyebrow. “Should it be? I haven’t been here long enough to hear any of your stories.”
The searing aroma of rising power invaded Sorntar’s nostrils for a third time. Tension thickened faster than he could hope to soothe. Priestess Halnora must have tried to read Ashayna’s power, and his little human bondmate, being equal parts stubborn and fearful, would consider it an invasion. Which it was, but no fit of temper would take back what the priestess learned.
He situated himself between them. With Ashayna at his back, Sorntar faced Halnora. “Priestess, if you will excuse us. I believe Ashayna has learned enough of our history for one night. Too much and it will be wasted. Perhaps tomorrow will be soon enough for her next lesson.” He phrased it calmly and politely. A feat of no little skill, with him squeezed between two volatile women. Halnora studied him coolly before nodding her head and walking away.
Ashayna radiated rage and power all along his back, her magic’s cloying scent enough to steal his breath. A Larnkin-induced argument brewed in the air between them. He turned to face her, only to find she’d darted around his other side, heading for Halnora. If the angry set of Ashayna’s shoulders and the soft glow of power outlining her hands was any indication, the outcome wouldn’t be good. Sorntar sprinted after her. Catching up, he wrapped his arms and then wings around her before slapping a palm over her mouth. Ashayna couldn’t scream. Instead, she clawed at his forearms and tried to land a few kicks, which tangled in her long skirt.
Her teeth scraped at his palm.
“With my talons plastered across your face, biting me would be a bad idea.”
She grunted something unintelligible. He lifted his palm away to hear her out.
“If you don’t let me go, one of my kicks will eventually render you infertile, so…”
He covered her mouth again and started to drag her backward, toward the shelter of some small trees. Hampered by her long skirt, she wasn’t able to land a solid kick, but did clamp down onto the meat of his thumb. Sorntar held back a curse.
Priestess Halnora couldn’t have missed hearing their scuffle, but she only paused once without looking behind before continuing her unhurried exit. With the elder gone, Sorntar pried Ashayna’s teeth from his hand then laid his mouth close to her ear. “No matter how unruly your Larnkin makes you, never allow it to pit you against any of our elders! Control yourself.”
“Let. Me. Go.” Ashayna shot him a rage-filled glare.
She tried, and failed, to tug free of his arms. If Sorntar let her go now, she’d run away and he’d never be able to soothe the rift between them. He stroked the curve of his talons along her forearm, begging wordlessly for her to understand.
“Please, Ashayna, you must listen to me. Please.” He let her go. She didn’t bolt immediately, instead crossed her arms while continuing to glower at him.
Neither spoke. Several moments passed, then Ashayna met his gaze. Her shoulders slumped, her tanned cheeks colored a livid red. “I don’t know why I acted so…I wouldn’t attack an elder. I wasn’t...” she paused, then tried again. “Perhaps if she had asked permission to…to do whatever she did, I might have taken it better, but…I know it doesn’t excuse me for my utter rudeness and absolute lack of diplomacy.”
Ashayna looked lost. He pitched his voice to be soothing. “I know your short temper isn’t normal.” She shook her head, but wouldn’t look up at him, so he sought to explain in a gentler manner. “You will find the time ahead a trying one. When Larnkins are on the edge of waking, they enter into a dream-like state. We cannot control our body while we sleep, nor can a Larnkin fully control its actions during this time. There will be more tense moments in days to come. I will help you get through them, as you will help me. As for the trigger, Priestess Halnora sought to read the essence of your Larnkin. Its purpose for being, so to speak.” He shrugged. “Sadly, elders don’t always worry about niceties. They are old and powerful. Disrespect them at your peril.”
“I’ll do better,” she said with a grimace.
“And I’ll try to give you more warning in the future. Some elders are more personable than others.” He offered, “You’re doing quite well.”
Her eyebrows scrunched together in thought. “Thanks for keeping me out of trouble.” She took several steps away, only stopping long enough for him to catch up.
Anger spent, the tension which had been between them all day was gone. He found himself wishing they had more time to talk, to enjoy the quiet of night, but Ashayna was exhausted.
The night breeze ruffled his feathers, a delightful sensation on his skin, cooling the remains of his nervous energy. He watched clouds pass over the smaller moon’s disc. Longing to join with the sky in an evening flight was almost overwhelming. His wings stirred restlessly. With everything that had happened, he had not known the freedom of flight in many days. Sorntar indulged himself in one more glance at the inviting sky before leading Ashayna back to the palace.
Chapter Ten
After only three days, Ashayna already knew weapons practice was going to be her favorite new lesson. Today’s practice-ring adversaries fought without armor and both were faster for its lack. Sorntar’s swords bled liquid flame, flickering and snapping with each strike. He circled his opponent in a tireless dance. Caltanwyn, the youngest of Marsolwyn’s sons, matched Sorntar’s lethal dance with equal skill.
Walking around the practice ring’s perimeter, Ashayna studied their techniques from different angles, trying to pinpoint strengths and weaknesses. Both had fought other opponents and couldn’t be fresh, yet neither showed signs of tiring. In a blur of speed, Caltanwyn raked his claws across Sorntar’s abdomen. The phoenix danced away from the blow.
Other than a few welts, Sorntar seemed fine. Ashayna let her eyes roam over him for signs of injuries, just in case. Sorntar gave Caltanwyn a slight bow then leapt back into the fray, showing he was still in good form.
Marsolwyn joined Ashayna. “Enjoying the duel? Sorntar does have nice form, doesn’t he?”
Heat climbed Ashayna’s face, her eyes remained locked on their fight. “Yes, what I’ve learned watching Caltanwyn fight will help improve my fighting style. His technique differs from Sorntar’s.” She rubbed her arms, appreciating wardstones for their ability to block strong magic. Outside the ring, power still pressed against her skin—soft like fur, but without protection it had stung like a handful of bees.
“It’s just your body’s sensitivity to magic, one of the rarer signs a Larnkin is soon to awaken. Stray magic flares and emotional outbursts are more common symptoms.” Marsolwyn replied to Ashayna’s unvoiced thoughts.
She regarded the lupwyn with a frown. “That explanation is more concerning than the condition. And yes, I’m already familiar with the emotional outbursts.”
“Don’t let it spoil your enjoyment of the match.”
“Too late.”
The opponents slashed and thrust at each other with greater speed. Ashayna fisted her hands with worry. “Are they trying to kill each other? One slip and someone’s going to lose a limb.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Marsolwyn replied. “The weapons are warded before a practice so they can’t actually cut—too messy to clean up. The worst Sorntar will get is a few bruises. Besides, healers always frown when younglings get hurt in a strutting contest.” A toothy, lupwyn grin accompanied her words.
Ashayna ignored Marsolwyn’s last comment and focused on the match. After several more rounds, Caltanwyn knocked one of Sorntar’s swords flying. A moment later, the lupwyn tripped up the phoenix and Sorntar joined his sword on the ground, displacing a small cloud of fine sand.
“I declare the match won,” Marsolwyn stated.
A sharp pop issued as the wardstones released their shield. Sorntar sprang to his feet. The two opponents bowed, and Caltanwyn gave Sorntar a few pointers. Sorntar exited the practice ring with his wings clamped tight to his back.
“You’re getting no pity from me,” Ashayna said. “
Now you know how I felt getting whipped in a duel in front of an entire military camp.”
Sorntar’s expression relaxed marginally. He fanned his wings in the cool breeze. “We must return to the palace soon and get cleaned up if we are to make it to the council chambers a candlemark after noon.”
“Joy. I’d almost forgotten that bit of fun.”
With luck, the testing would be over quickly. Maybe they wouldn’t find anything else strange about her power.
***
Freshly washed and, after a few bites of food to satisfy her hunger, Ashayna stood in front of another pair of doors. Here, deep below, the city’s weight pressed down until she could feel it in her bones.
The four guards—one silver-feathered phoenix, two grey-furred lupwyns, and a sleek, tan gryphon—stood with stony expressions. They could have been statues. None moved even enough to ruffle fur or feathers. They stared ahead with unseeing eyes, barely breathing. She sent Sorntar a questioning look. “So, now what?”
“I couldn’t tell you, I’ve never been in the Council’s inner chambers.” Sorntar shrugged.
Ashayna nodded towards the guards. “Why are they standing there like that?”
“They see with more than their eyes. If assassins attempted to hide by any magical means, those guards would know of it and dispatch the enemy long before they became a threat.” He laughed at her look of disbelief. “We do have very formidable enemies. However, you need not worry. We’ll undergo over a century of training before we are allowed to fight anything truly dangerous, and then only beside an elder.”
Ashayna’s teeth snapped together. He’d alluded to their lengthened lifespan before, but it still came as a shock. “Ah. That should be time enough.”
The doors swung open, saving her from thinking more on Sorntar’s startling admission. The gaping maw of darkness effectively hid the passage’s length. Sorntar arched his wings, sucked in a deep breath, and strode into darkness. She hurried after.
The passageway came to an end at another set of doors. Sorntar pushed these doors wide and they emerged into a large, six-sided chamber lit with mage globes. At room’s center a table took up a full third of the floor space. This deep, there were no windows. In their place, ten great paintings stretched from floor to ceiling, depicting various species. Each person—or creature, for one showed what must be a dragon of legend—was holding some weapon or obvious item of power. Each akin to Sorntar’s flaming swords, yet different. The word ‘talisman’ settled in her mind. The hair on her arms stood at attention, and the small of her back was suddenly damp with sweat.
“Ashayna, it’s incredible.” Sorntar’s voice came in an awed whisper. “These are portraits of the Twelve Talismans and their Wielders—the greatest workers of magic we have ever known, created by the gods to be their judgment and vengeance. I’ve heard tales of them and seen faded images in old scrolls and books. Never, in all my imaginings, did I believe such paintings existed.”
“Judging and punishing only the wicked, I hope.”
“Oh, yes. They are Light’s champions.” Sorntar studied each portrait, his intrigued expression never wavering. Looking past her to a portrait behind, he narrowed his eyes in frustration. He motioned to the panels, counting them. His frown deepened.
“Something wrong?” Her voice echoed eerily back to her before whispering away.
“There are only ten panels when there should be twelve. Each panel is titled. The leaders are missing.”
Ashayna turned in a complete circle as she studied how far apart each set of paintings was from its neighbors.
“Sorntar, the doors—there must be panels on their reverse sides.” As she said it, her magic stirred and a sense of dread assaulted her. She almost spoke out, but before she gathered together the words, Sorntar raised one hand and with a slight gesture, both massive doors swung shut with a muffled thump.
The mage globes’ soft light revealed two panels. One was of a human woman holding a sword across her lap. The other image, that of a male phoenix, had an ornate staff topped by a silver falcon braced against his hip. Ashayna sucked in a breath. Her eyes darted between one picture and the other. Sorntar could have posed for the artist. The other, the human, bore a vague resemblance to her. Coloring was all wrong—silver-white hair, milk-pale skin, eyes the color of frost—yet there was something familiar. Like looking at a portrait of an ancestor or a mirror into the underworld, one which showed a ghostly image twin to the living. The chill in her blood swelled again, climbing up her spine with icy fingers.
“It can’t be. We can’t possibly be them.” Sorntar’s voice, low and harsh with strain, didn’t reassure her. He motioned, giving a name to each image. “He was the Judge; she, the Destroyer.”
“Look again, look closer, they are not us. See, she has features more refined than mine, with a more polished look to her skin, and her bones are less heavy set. The….the Destroyer, she is beautiful as I never will be.” Ashayna evaded his disbelieving gaze, willing to grasp at anything to explain away the few unsettling similarities. “Nor is the Judge a replica of you. Your skin tone and feathers are both darker than his. He is more heavily muscled than you, bulkier or maybe slightly shorter. These are just paintings. They could resemble any number of people.” She didn’t believe her own words.
He nodded once in a quick, jerky motion. After three slow, deep breaths, his coloring returned to a healthier hue. “And we don’t bear the Marks of the Twelve, may the God and Goddess be ever merciful.” He gave Ashayna a shaky smile. “The records say the Twelve are born with the symbol of their Order above their hearts.”
“You agree we’re not of the Twelve. I assume that’s a good thing, but just what are these Twelve?”
“They are the embodiment of power, young ones.” Priestess Halnora stood behind them, resting a hand on an ancient, rough-hewn stone table. She took her place among the other councilors.
Ashayna looked for a second door and spotted another set of panels ajar. That the entire council had come in without her hearing, warned her they used subtle magic. Queen Talnarra raised a hand, and in an elegant gesture, she motioned for them to come forward. Mage globe light reflected off her obsidian talons when she reached for a stone goblet.
“You have seen the portraits; now you understand why we must test your Larnkins.” The queen held her goblet out to Ashayna. “Once we are certain you are not one of them, your training as a mage shall begin. And Ashayna, even if you are not chosen to become one of us, we will not harm you.”
The last words held no comfort. Even if they didn’t raise a hand against her, there was still room for much suffering, if her fears about Larnkins proved true. She wanted to rail at whatever fate had brought her here, but screaming in her head wouldn’t do her a scrap of good; neither would resisting and having one of the guards pour liquid down her throat. She approached the goblet tentatively and wrapped her hands around its sturdy base.
Queen Talnarra gestured again. “You need only drink a few swallows.”
Ashayna sniffed the silver liquid. It had a mild, earthy scent. “Tell me how this works.”
“It’s water taken from sacred pools deep below this chamber. The blessed water nulls the person’s shielding magic, allowing the Larnkin a route by which it can temporarily leave its host to form the bond. If you drink only a small amount, it will disable your ability to shield long enough for us to read your power.” Queen Talnarra gave Ashayna a studying look. “I know this is strange. We are asking you to trust us when we will not yet trust you, but this is how it must be.”
Raising the goblet to her lips, Ashayna took three swallows then handed it to Sorntar. The liquid, thicker and warmer than normal water, held a slight metallic tang.
Sorntar watched her.
She arched a brow in challenge. He drank quickly and then placed their goblet back on the table. They waited for a handful of heartbeats. Still nothing happened. Ashayna hesitated, perhaps the delay was normal, but what if it wasn’t?
As if the queen’s words were a trigger, the first effects of the liquid slithered through Ashayna’s blood. A force holding the world at bay bled away. Like trying to hold water in her hands, her power drained through her fingers, leaving a warm tingle behind.
The others in the room felt old, powerful, their mage gifts burning along her mental awareness, almost strong enough to feel with her physical body. Sorntar’s power flared strongest, calling to her. The compulsion was tempting. Only sheer stubborn will allowed her to step away.
Sorntar must have experienced some similar consuming pull, for he uttered an almost-unheard cry and stumbled back a half-dozen paces.
“We shall separate you for the testing, to give you peace from the constant demands of your Larnkin.” The queen gestured for her son to be removed. Priestess Halnora forced Sorntar towards another corridor. He hesitated. Two other council members stepped forward to help the priestess.
Ashayna was led away in another direction by Marsolwyn, followed closely by Queen Talnarra and King Kysoran. Passing under an archway, she arrived in a new chamber similar to the one they had just left. This one was lit by a central wood-burning fire. It gave her some comfort the Elementals didn’t depend entirely on magic.
She took one deep breath and prayed she would pass this test. After her small request, she tried to keep her mind free of thoughts.
Marsolwyn gestured for her to sit on a wide, padded bench close to the fire. “Relax, Ashayna, it will be over soon. I know you will make a fine mage. This is just a formality.” She shrugged. “Personally, I believe it’s something they put the young ones through to teach them humility.”
Ashayna didn’t find Marsolwyn’s jest amusing. Distracted by the lupwyn, she missed Queen Talnarra’s approach. The phoenix’s curt command to relax and close her eyes resonated along Ashayna’s nerves, causing a betraying twitch in her hands.
In Deception's Shadow Box Set: Book 1-3 Page 11
