In Deception's Shadow Box Set: Book 1-3

by Lisa Blackwood

  Sorsha followed his gaze.

  The chamber was small, octagon shaped with a sloping ceiling. Growing from the rough-hewn stone of the roof, an opaque crystal stretched toward the ground, not unlike a stalactite. Bluish light flickered in its heart as the magic awoke. Sorsha’s heart picked up speed and her breath hitched. Nervous energy coursed through her veins in time to the pulsing of the crystal. Oppressive power flowed out from room’s center, heating the air. Fog rose from the floor, the dampness making it even harder to breathe. Sorsha’s lungs burned with the need to cough, but she held it in, fearing the Oracle’s reaction. It reminded her of a wild beast. She’d treat it like one—a dangerous and unpredictable one.

  “Be calm,” Shadowdancer whispered, his lips almost brushing her ear. “It responds to our magic. Fear makes our magic flare, and the Oracle reacts.”

  “Easily said,” she mumbled a dark curse under her breath and sought to calm her racing heart.

  The flickering of the crystal pillar slowed, its magic calming.

  Perhaps Shadowdancer was correct.

  Nothing happened for several moments and Sorsha wondered if the Oracle had returned to its slumber. She wouldn’t have minded if it forgot about them. With the earlier oppressive power no longer swirling around her with such violence, she could almost think clearly again.

  Shadowdancer stepped away from her side and slowly approached the Oracle Stone in a non-threatening manner. When Shadowdancer stood within touching distance of the crystal and still hadn’t come to harm, Sorsha released the breath she’d been holding.

  Shadowdancer halted before the pillar and gave it a deep bow. “We beg your aid. There is a great darkness hunting our land.”

  Within the Oracle’s crystal heart, power pulsed with a renewed rhythm. A soft throbbing reached her ears. Her senses tingled with the rising power in the small enclosure. After a moment’s thought, she pinpointed just what unsettled her about the sound. It matched the beat of her heart.

  “I know of the darkness. I smell it upon you. The Dead King has warned me of the new danger to our land. But you came for something else. You seek a personal boon.” The Oracle’s voice was deep yet soft, some snatches of words stronger than others, like a barely heard conversation carried upon a changeable breeze.

  How the Oracle could sound so threatening with its soft tones was beyond Sorsha. Its magic flared again. She winced as power raised the hair on her arms to attention. While the pillar didn’t have eyes in the traditional sense, she felt it looking at her, assessing, judging. Did it find her lacking?

  “Shadowdancer speaks the truth,” she said instead. “We come for advice and help.”

  “I aid only those worthy of help. Do you wish to see what you once were, long ago, before the Circle of Twelve was broken?” At its words, light bled across the chamber’s rough, stone walls, causing the shadows to swirl and dance. Blurry images began to form from the shadowy chaos.

  It was tempting to look, and Sorsha found her eyes trying to make sense of the swirling colors. But something else—a deep sense of unease seeping from her Larnkin into Sorsha’s bloodstream—had the hair at the back of her neck standing at attention.

  Just as an image was coming into focus, she jerked her eyes away and yanked on Shadowdancer’s shoulder, turning him away from the undefined danger. Stiffening her spine and summoning up every bit of Stonemantle bravado she could muster to face the menace in the air, she cleared her throat and said, “Looking back, to dwell overlong upon former greatness, of heroic deeds, and long-ago victories, does not make us worthy now in this life. More a weakness, I should imagine. One which could lead to arrogance and pride.” Sorsha drew a quick breath before rushing on. “And yes, we came for a personal boon as you said. But should not worth be judged by what we are now, what we are willing to undertake, what we might yet accomplish with your aid?”

  At her words of challenge, the shadows slowed their dance, the miasma of power vanishing back into the stone of its birth, and took with it the images of herself from another life.

  Perhaps it was for the best, instinct told her she might not like what story the images told.

  “Come closer. I will hear what you would say.” The Oracle’s soft, whispery voice slid along Sorsha’s senses, raising a clammy sweat all along her lower back.

  She waited, her breath turning stale in her lungs. At least the Oracle hadn’t said no outright. Does that mean we are worthy? Sorsha wondered. She exhaled and then drew in another steadying breath before taking a step toward the Oracle. Shadowdancer echoed her movements. She avoided looking at the walls as she made the short journey to chamber’s center. Closer, the Oracle’s presence was overwhelming. Sorsha scrambled to gather her thoughts, but Shadowdancer got there first.

  “Members of our families are in danger. We need your help to save them.” Before it could answer with a ‘no,’ Shadowdancer continued. “We’re damaged—but that is obvious.” He made a vague gesture encompassing his human body. “We don’t ask your help in healing our Larnkins for our own purposes.”

  “Are you certain of that?”

  Shadowdancer blanched and looked down at his feet. In that moment, Sorsha could see their doom flickering in the Oracle’s crystalline heart. But then Shadowdancer took her hand and raised his eyes to the Oracle once again. “Yes, I am certain. Certain when I first thought of coming, it was with a great burning arrogance to be whole again, to be a Stallion Mage so I could bond with Sorsha. Certain if you’d asked me half a moon’s cycle ago if I came seeking a boon for selfish reasons and I said ‘no,’ then it would have been a lie sliding past my lips.” Shadowdancer sighed, his shoulders slumping. “But since I met Sorsha, she’s been teaching me lessons, forcing me to confront myself in ways I never have before, and from the first moment I opened my human eyes, she’s taught me about self-worth, and that love can heal wounds better than even the most powerful of Larnkins.”

  His words brought a fierce blush to Sorsha’s cheeks and she had the sudden urge to hug him, but refrained since she sensed he wasn’t done yet.

  “With Sorsha’s help, I’ve come to accept this new body, even with its limitations. And would happily live out the remainder of my days in whatever way would most please her.” Shadowdancer’s voice, which until then had held a gentle quality, hardened, taking on a sharper edge. “But there is more at stake in this world than just our happiness. Trensler is a danger to all living creatures, as is whatever darkness is controlling Sorntar. Someone must take up the challenge and confront these two evils. Sorsha and I, weak though we are, offer our lives to the Light. So I can now say with an honest heart and mind that we come, not to gain greatness ourselves, but so we may save our loved ones, as well as the families of others.”

  The Oracle’s flickering light mellowed to a gentle brilliance. “Sorsha’s Larnkin is not as damaged as yours. Hers I can share power with, speed her healing, but you,” the Oracle’s light took on a harsher quality, “You, I cannot restore to what you were before.”

  Sorsha’s heart sank to her stomach. She’d been certain the Oracle had power enough to heal Shadowdancer’s Larnkin. Now what were they to do?

  “I cannot heal your Larnkin, but I can share pieces of my power to shore up its defects.”

  Sorsha detected a hint of avoidance behind the words. The Oracle wasn’t telling them everything. “You can help Shadowdancer? Make it so he can awaken an archway to the Wild Path? Run down his enemies? Fight Trensler’s acolytes?”

  “Yes. All that, and more.”

  Sorsha was convinced the Oracle was holding back some essential detail.

  Shadowdancer stiffened next to her. A sideways glance confirmed the santhyrian’s eagerness. He leaned forward, his arms stiff at his sides, fingers slowly curling into fists. He looked as attentive as a hound on a scent. Sorsha intervened before Shadowdancer’s need led him into a trap.

  “And what is the price of this... boon?”

  Power flared along her senses. Bright light
accompanying the Oracle’s fit of annoyance. Blinking rapidly, she cleared the spots from her vision.

  “Fear not, it will cost me more than it will cost your santhyrian lover. What I must do is more than sharing power—I must give Shadowdancer pieces of myself. All who look upon Shadowdancer will know he serves me. He will serve as my Harbinger, be my physical eyes and ears in the world.”

  Sorsha glanced at Shadowdancer and whispered into his mind. “I knew there was more it wasn’t telling us.”

  Shadowdancer gave a little shrug, his raised eyebrow saying ‘what choice do we have’ as clearly as if he’d spoken aloud.

  “There is one other stipulation.”

  Sorsha cleared her throat. “And what is the price we must pay?”

  “Duty,” the Oracle whispered. “That you both serve the Light as you did once before. And die if that is required. The ultimate price. No matter how much Shadowdancer wants to cosset you, your fate is your own.”

  Blunt honesty had always been one of Sorsha’s favorite characteristics in a person, but just this once she could have done with a little less honesty. But what was said could not be unsaid and she didn’t see as they had much of a choice in the matter. “And if we are willing to pay this price?”

  “Then I will help you both become Members of the Twelve, as you were meant to be.”

  A heavy, leaden feeling settled in Sorsha’s middle. She didn’t think becoming Members of the Twelve sounded particularly easy or painless. But if that was what fate had decided, Sorsha saw no reason to fight it—not if the salvation of her loved ones lay down that path.

  “For you to understand what has become of the Twelve, you must first know your history. The Great Mother and the All Father created seven immortal servants. These Servants work the will of the gods. All was in harmony until the time, millenniums past, when Lasharra the Lady of Fire, Creator of the Stars, vanished from the world. None of the other Servants knew where she had gone.”

  “Dakdamon, the Lord of the Mists of Time, was the second eldest of the Servants and Lasharra’s mate. In his pain, he rebelled against his creators, raging and defying them. In those early years, the battles were like nothing after them. Stars died in the sky, planets turned molten. The universe was in chaos. None of the other Servants would fight one of their brothers.”

  “So the Great Mother and the All Father set their mortal champions upon Dakdamon.” Images swirled to life on the walls and a battle took shape. Tiny images moved against a landscape soiled by war. Bloodied grass, blackened tree husks, deeply scarred earth from devastating mage blasts, and bodies beyond count showed the horror of war. Copper scent filled the small chamber and sounds of the dying reached her ears. From the dark shadows at battle’s edge, a large shape wavered into being. Dakdamon stood over the carnage created by his army as he ground something beneath his large-taloned feet. A flash of light brighter than lightning and a high-pitched, eerie cry echoed over the battle field.

  “That was the first great defeat of many they were dealt that dark day. The Falcon Staff was sundered and shortly thereafter her Wielder, the Judge—whom you now call Sorntar—followed his Talisman into defeat.

  “The Twelve defeated Dakdamon, but they themselves were dealt a mortal blow. Their leaders destroyed, the Falcon Staff shattered—the remaining Twelve did the only thing left to them. They imprisoned Dakdamon. Killing him was beyond their power.

  “For age upon age there was peace. But unknown to us, Dakdamon had another weapon—one even he decided was too great an evil to release upon creation. Only recently have I learned of this danger. The Wardstones guarding Dakdamon’s prison shared dire news with me.

  “The Wardstones whispered of how Dakdamon tried emulating the gods by creating life. He attempted to create another being like himself. A being that would not know heartache. One that was self-sufficient, requiring no second half.

  “It needed no one, not even its own maker. Dakdamon created an abomination which is capable of feeding on every Larnkin it comes in contact with. Even the other Servants are not safe. Dakdamon taught it too well. It knows how to hide from the other Servants.” The fog rising up from the floor churned with increasing agitation. “Once it consumes enough lesser Larnkin, it will take on those of greater power, then one of the Talismans, then it will have the power to rival one of the lesser Servants. Once it consumes a Servant, it would be powerful enough to take out another and another. If left unchecked, one day it will seek out its creator and devour Dakdamon, just like all his siblings. Then it will go after the Great Mother and the All Father. They will defend themselves—and all of Creation will suffer for it. Already it has been busy. I detected its power upon you both.”

  “Trensler.” Shadowdancer’s one, snarled word echoed in the chamber.

  “Yes, the human by that name serves Dakdamon’s monster.”

  Sorsha sensed as the Oracle reached out, its power and presence coiling around them. “There is one thing you must do.”

  “Tell us, please.”

  “Lord-Master Trensler seeks one of the Twelve Talismans for his master. The Falcon Staff rests in a temple situated high on a mountain plateau, eight days east of here as a santhyrian gallops. Even broken, the Staff still contains great power. If Trensler takes the Staff and feeds it to his master, the creature will become a greater threat. It will be able to consume more Larnkin more quickly as it spreads its influence across our land. If that happens, even the Twelve may not be able to contain or destroy the creature. Find the Staff before Trensler does. Bring her to me. But your duty doesn’t end there. If you wish to help your loved ones, you must strengthen and unite the Twelve. Ashayna and Sorntar will again lead the Circle. They are presently working through personal issues.”

  Was that a hint of dry humor she heard in the Oracle’s whispery voice? Sorsha shivered.

  The Oracle continued, seemingly unconcerned by Sorsha’s reaction to its words. Though, she doubted it missed how she edged closer to Shadowdancer.

  “All the Twelve live in balance and unity with each other. As more of the Twelve are found, all will benefit and grow strong once again. But if the Falcon Staff is devoured by Trensler’s master, the Twelve will forever be broken.”

  “I know of the temple ruins of which you speak,” Shadowdancer said and bowed deeply. “I give you my word. I will do all in my power to fulfill my duty to the Twelve, and to you. I willingly become your Harbinger.”

  As Shadowdancer’s words echoed to silence, Sorsha affirmed in a softer voice, doubting herself to the core. How were they to defeat Trensler? They’d barely escaped with their lives the last time.

  “I have told you all I can to help you with your journey. Now you must hurry, for there is a patrol of Trensler’s men heading for the temple where the Falcon Staff rests. Trensler has a three-day lead. You must get there first.”

  “Oracle, I am glad you are aiding us, but why not set the might of the Elemental Council against Trensler?” Sorsha’s voice was serious, but tinted with curiosity.

  “If you and Shadowdancer fail, I can strip away the power I intend to bestow upon you, and Trensler will only feed upon what power your weakened Larnkins possess. If the council leads an army into a trap, then Trensler has a greater feast.” The Oracle’s magic flared as it drew its power back into itself. “Stealth has its merits. Besides, I knew you long ago and read your worth then. Even if only a small amount of that survived, then you are more suitable than many to lead in a time of crisis. May you know success with this turning. In a chamber below this one, you will find the blessed waters a bonded pair would use to forge the bonding ties. But that same water is a part of me and can perform what must be done. Go and seek your destiny.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Sorsha watched as Shadowdancer bowed to the Oracle a second time. He mumbled his thanks. Sorsha almost chuckled. Thanks? Thank the Oracle for telling them how slim their chance of survival was? How, if they failed, Trensler would have a snack instead of a feast? She’d keep he
r thanks to herself. Sorsha eyed a dark void in the wall behind the Oracle Stone’s pillar. Certain it hadn’t been there moments ago, she crossed the chamber to investigate, and found a set of curving stairs leading down into darkness.

  Shadowdancer came over to join her, his body a line of reassuring warmth behind her.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  He peered over Sorsha’s shoulder. The narrow stairs led into a seemingly empty void, which, Shadowdancer mused, was somewhat more encouraging than any other of the day’s developments. So long as nothing was lying in wait for them.

  Sorsha raised her hand and closed her eyes. Power flared across his body in a pleasant wave as a mage globe burst to life above her outstretched fingers. With a silent command, she sent it floating down the stairs. He leaned closer and laid his hand on her shoulder. Looking back, she offered him a weak smile. Then, squaring her shoulders, she peered back down through the shadowy stairway.

  No hint of movement caught his eye. Not that he really expected any. Nothing would be foolish enough to make its den in the Oracle’s abode. He couldn’t sense any great pool of magic in the rock below. All he could sense was a stairway, bare walls, and dampness. He paused at the entrance a moment more, then slipped around Sorsha and proceeded down the stairs two at a time.

  “Wait for me,” Sorsha called from behind him. The annoyance in her tone lightened his mood.

  He slowed so she could catch up. Then they walked in silence for a time. The stairs seemed endless. Was it him, or was the air growing warmer and damper the deeper they descended?

  Just ahead, Sorsha’s mage globe flared in the air current. A breeze ruffled his hair, feathering the fine strands into disarray. The air held a fresher taste to it now, and a hint of magic.