Daughter of Light (Follower of the Word Book 1)

by Morgan L. Busse

  It is time, Daughter of Light.

  Rowen spun around, but found no one there.

  Time to show him the truth.

  She spun the other way, only to find the field empty. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the man draw closer. Fifty feet…Twenty feet…

  Heat began to fill her, boiling up from deep inside her chest. I can’t, she screamed in her mind, remembering the first time she had used her truthsaying power, seeing the darkness inside Cleon. But the heat continued to burn through her, racing toward her palm.

  Do not fear, Rowen, the voice whispered inside her mind. I will be with you. But you must hurry. Your entire city is at stake…

  Rowen sat up with a gasp.

  She looked around. There was no field. No trees, no grass, no Eldaran ruins. And no man walking toward her. She was not outside at all. She was in some sort of chamber, and—she looked down—she was covered by a sheet.

  Candles burned in sconces along the stone walls, barely lighting the chamber. There were three rows of five beds that filled the room. Each bed held an occupant covered with a white sheet. She could hear the soft breathing of those around her. The subtle scent of lavender filled the air.

  Rowen sat in the last bed in the corner near a lead-lined window. Looking through the glass, she could see the night sky, looking exactly as it had in her dream.

  But she was here, and not out there.

  Rowen took a deep breath and placed a hand across her chest. She could still feel the heat of her power, ebbing and flowing inside, though not as strong as it had been moments ago. It had seemed so real.

  You must go, Daughter of Light.

  Her heart quickened again. The dream…it was real? Rowen looked down at her hand. It glowed with a faint light. She looked up. Fear twisted inside her middle until her chest hurt. She knew what the dream was now. It was a summons to finally meet this man, a real man…and to show him the truth.

  Her hand began to tremble in her lap. Her stomach tightened into a knot and her mouth went dry with fear. The heat inside her chest flared. Rowen touched her chest as if to calm it. The heat slowly cooled. She dropped her hand and squeezed her eyes shut.

  She never wanted to use that power again.

  “Please, Word,” Rowen whispered. “Please don’t. Please don’t make me do this…” Her thoughts conjured up images of what she might see. “I can’t—”

  I will be with you.

  Rowen covered her face with her hands and pressed her palms into her eyes. Hazy light filtered red through her lids from the mark on her hand. She heard the rustle of sheets. A soft snore replaced the noise. A faint metallic smell mixed with the lavender scent in the room.

  Rowen knew she had a choice to make. Did she believe the Word? Would she do what He was asking her to do? There was no more time to debate. She could feel time ticking away with each heartbeat. She had to make her decision now.

  A woman in the bed next to hers moaned. Rowen brought her hands away from her face and looked over. In the candlelight she could see the woman’s face wrapped in white linen. In another bed over, a man with both arms bandaged lay sleeping. A young man dressed in a healer’s robe sat in a chair in the opposite corner from her bed, his arms folded across his chest, his head tilted to the side in sleep.

  Rowen looked across the room and took a closer look at the people who lay in the beds around her. Each one was hurt by this bloody, senseless war. She balled her hands up in her lap. How could her going outside the city gates do anything to stop it? She should stay here and heal these people. How could touching one man save the people around her?

  Trust me.

  Rowen opened her palm and watched the mark pulse with faint light. Then she looked around the room again. If there was a chance that touching this man could save all the people in this city…

  She let her breath out sharply and threw back the sheet. She eased her way off the bed, and found her boots on the floor. Rowen picked one up, shoved her foot in, then picked up the other.

  A faint rumble filled the room. She stopped and looked up. For one panicked heartbeat, she waited for boulders to come crashing through the walls. A flash of light dashed across the window. Rowen watched the brilliant light explode then fade immediately into darkness. Her shoulders sagged with relief. It was only thunder, not catapults.

  As Rowen pulled on her other boot, she realized a summer storm could work to the White City’s advantage. Summer storms in these mountains were wild and unpredictable, filled with tempests of rain and destructive lightning. Such a storm could slow down or even halt the Temanin’s assault. Unfortunately, it would not be stopping her tonight.

  Rowen stood. Her head swam for a moment. She held onto the wall until her body steadied. She took two deep breaths and looked around. The healer in the corner didn’t seem to hear her. The others in the room kept sleeping. She turned and made her way between the beds toward the door ahead.

  Torches lined an empty and quiet corridor. Rowen paused and looked up and down the hallway. She could see the set of double doors that led into the Healers Quarter. She was in the northwest corner of the castle. She leaned against the doorway and closed her eyes. In her mind she could see the ruins that lay on the edge of that small field she had found weeks ago. That was where the Word was leading her. But how could she get there? The entire Temanin Army lay between her and that field…

  Rowen opened her eyes and stared off down the corridor. A memory filled her mind. A memory of Lore and a door outlined in blue. The Gateway of the Mountain. The secret passageway through the mountains. And it was right down this hall.

  Rowen turned and hurried down the hall. Silence filled the dark passageway, broken only by the crash of thunder outside and the soft patter of her leather boots. The air grew cooler the closer she drew to the mountainside. Rowen gripped her shirt closer to herself, wishing for one moment that she had brought her cloak with her. But there was no time to go back.

  A small door lay at the end of the corridor. Rowen stopped before it, looked behind her, then pressed down on the long metal latch. The door opened silently. She stepped inside and closed the door behind her.

  The light from her palm lit up the tiny room. She could see the jagged wall of mountain on the far side of the room. Cobwebs and dust filled the corners. Rowen held her palm out like a light and made her way to the jagged wall.

  It took a moment to locate the small indent that activated the hidden door. She pressed her finger inside the indent. A thin blue light appeared, moving across the mountain face, accompanied by a quiet clicking noise.

  Rowen placed both her hands inside the blue silhouette, then stopped. This is it. She stared at the wall. Once you go down this tunnel, there is no turning back. No turning back… No turning…

  Rowen pushed past the words and opened the door. Stale cool air filled her nostrils. Blue fre stones twinkled along the stone passageway. The air grew even chillier. She rubbed her arms as she stepped inside the narrow passageway. No turning back… no tur—The door slammed shut behind her.

  Rowen jumped and turned. Eerie blue light danced along the solid wall. She slowly pulled out her hand and held out her palm. The soft white light from her palm replaced the blue light from the stones. No turning back…

  She turned and flew down the corridor. Suddenly Rowen felt fear settle across her chest. It began to prod her heart, looking for a weak spot within her. What would she see inside this man? What darkness did he hide? Anger? Hatred? Or worse?

  Rowen ran passed the fre stones that lined the tunnel. Fear reached up toward her mind. Remember, it whispered. Remember the man from the inn at Mostyn?

  She stumbled to a stop and leaned against the wall. Visions of lust filled her mind. The man’s touch, his breath, his mind in hers…

  The women, the little girl…

  No, no! Rowen shook her head. The visions dimmed into darkness.

  Rowen pushed away from the wall and staggered down the tunnel. She could see the do
or at the end. She reached it and grasped the handle. Remember, remember, fear whispered. The door disappeared, and in its place stood Cleon. His face twisted up in hatred. “You’re nothing but a witch. You should be burned!”

  Rowen let go of the handle and cowered down. “It’s not real, it’s not real,” she whispered.

  But it is. You’ve seen it.

  “No!” Rowen shouted, the word bouncing off the tunnel walls. She stood up and grabbed the handle with trembling hands. The door swung open. She stumbled out into the cold dark night, the phantom feelings from those touchings washing over her.

  Rowen turned and pushed the door shut with all her might. The lines sealed until the door resembled only a couple of cracks along the surface of stone.

  The tall dark trees of Anwin loomed over her. Behind her stood the sheer rock face of the mountain. Rowen held her hand against her thigh to hide the light and peered into the darkness. She could see no one amongst the trees. But that didn’t mean the enemy wasn’t nearby.

  So she waited and listened, her breath a whisper. The wind stirred in the trees, and an owl hooted nearby.

  Fear settled back inside her chest. Do you really want to see inside the man from your dreams? What kind of darkness does he hide? Fear slid a frigid finger across her heart, causing shivers to run up and down her spine. Do you really want to see?

  Rowen wrapped her arms across her middle and staggered toward the trees. Her own mind started turning against her. No, she did not want to see inside the man. She wanted to go back and be safe. Fear felt heavier with each step. But she kept walking, placing one foot in front of the other.

  Fear grew angry, its voice rising with insistency.

  Something snapped inside her. Heat began to burn inside her breast. It filled her, spreading across her limbs. She felt consumed by its blaze, feeling its warmth burn away the coldness that had filled her veins moments before.

  Fear dropped from her chest and back. Its lingering scream faded behind her. Rowen straightened and felt strength return to her body. The truth she carried inside would not be extinguished by fear.

  She ran through the trees, the power inside growing stronger. Minutes later, she stepped out onto a meadow. Nearby she could hear the sound of rushing water. Rowen looked around and realized it was the same meadow from her dream. With that realization came the same deep sense of peace she had felt in her dream. The light from her palm now shone as brightly as if she were holding a sliver of sunshine.

  I am with you, Daughter of Light.

  Rowen felt the presence of the Word. She looked directly at a spot in the distant tree line, and out from the woods beyond stepped the man with the dark eyes.

  Show him the truth.

  • • •

  Caleb saw light streaming between the trees and knew he was almost there. He moved past the brush and he stepped out into the lit meadow. It was as bright as noon. Ahead he saw the woman, the same woman from the city. She was beautiful and young, her hair looking especially blond in the dark. But it was her hand that caught his attention. It burned with white brilliance, illuminating the woman and her surroundings.

  He took a few steps forward then stopped. She lifted her eyes and looked straight at him. For one second he wavered, the thought of turning back pressing heavily against his mind. But he knew that, if he did, he would always wonder what he had let pass. This wasn’t the sort of thing he encountered all the time. So he began walking again.

  “Who are you?” he said and drew near. His hand rested on the dagger at his side. Somewhere in the dark he could hear the sound of falling water.

  “My name is Rowen,” she said.

  His eyes traveled over her body, noting the simple white shirt and dark pants. Nothing about her appeared threatening, but he knew more than most people how deceiving appearances could be. He stopped a couple of feet in front of her. “Why did you bring me here?”

  Lightning lit up the sky behind her.

  “The Word brought you here.”

  A resounding boom filled the air, then faded away with a grumble. Caleb glanced up at the sky, his mood growing foul at the thought of being caught in some rainstorm. He looked back at her. “Then why did the Word bring me here?” He should have known all of this would have something to do with the Word. Ever since Delshad’s death, the Word seemed to plague his every footstep.

  “I have a gift.” Rowen raised her hand and took a step toward him. “A power that shows the truth inside a person. And the Word has brought us together so that I might show you what is—”

  “Forget it,” Caleb said. “I’m not interested.”

  Her hand fell. “Then why did you come?”

  It was the same question he was asking himself. Why did he come? He could turn back now. Last chance… “I wanted to see if the dreams were real,” Caleb answered. He was going to stay and put an end this. “Most of what I dream is not real…but apparently you are.” He slowly pulled his dagger out. “And now that I know you are real, I want you to stop whatever it is you are doing to me.”

  “Doing to you?” Rowen gave him a puzzled look.

  Caleb scowled. “I want the dreams to stop, the compulsions to stop, and any other mind twisting games you’re playing with me.”

  She shook her head. “I’m afraid I can’t. I have no control over you or your dreams. I’m having dreams of my own. And I myself was brought here by the Word too. He wants me to…to show you the truth.”

  At her words, the light around her hand increased.

  Caleb stared at her hand. “What are you?”

  “Apparently I am an Eldaran.”

  The hair on the back of his neck rose. The word triggered some distant memory, something his mother had said a long time ago. Another flash of lightning brightened the sky, followed by a loud boom. The storm was almost here.

  Rowen held out her hand again. “The only way to stop whatever it is that is happening to you is to allow me to touch you.”

  Caleb stared at her palm, both eager to be rid of the constant dreams and terrified of what she might do. After all, if she really was an Eldaran, whatever that was, it meant she wasn’t human. For all he knew, she might possess his mind and make him do whatever she desired. And as one of the highest-ranking officials in Temanin, that would not be good.

  “Do you want peace?” Rowen asked, looking at him.

  Peace. What a foreign word. Had he ever known peace? Absence of war, perhaps, but real peace? Yes, he desired true peace, a peace of mind where his victims no longer haunted him. Peace of heart where guilt no longer held him in its grasp.

  “Yes,” Caleb found himself saying. “But just how can you give me peace?”

  “The Word said to show you the truth.” Rowen took a step toward him. She was close enough now that she could lift her hand and touch him. “Only after you confront the darkness inside yourself and allow the Word to heal you will you find peace.”

  Caleb looked closer at her face. He could see something now, something he saw on his victim’s face the moment before he killed. Fear. There was only a hint of it, but it was there. She was afraid to touch him. Why?

  Before he could reply or even step back, she placed her hand upon his cheek. It trembled against his skin. Her touch felt warm, almost burning. She closed her eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath.

  Caleb’s instincts were to bat her hand away and plunge his dagger into her chest. No one touched him without his permission. Instead, he stood there under the storm clouds with her warm hand pressed against his cheek. He could see light escaping from the palm out of the corner of his eye. He felt himself begin to relax, the tightened muscles beneath his shoulders loosening. Was she doing this to him? But he felt no magic flowing from the hand. Caleb sighed inwardly. There had been nothing to fear. This woman had no real power—

  Suddenly the air around them began to churn. Light flared from her palm.

  “Aaaaih!” Caleb cried, jerking back. White light filled his eyes and burned through
his entire body. Another scream tore from his lips. He felt the light begin to search every corner of his mind, his heart, his soul…

  He sunk to his knees, holding his hands over his chest. Unbidden, images began to step forward into this probing light. He watched helplessly as his darkest deeds were exposed. He saw the faces of women he had used for his pleasure, the lies he had uttered to cover his indiscretions, the disgust he had felt for those beneath him. No! he shouted. She mustn’t see—

  But it was too late.

  The ghosts of those he had murdered danced across his vision, their pale and distorted faces taunting him. Somewhere along their connection he could feel Rowen’s revulsion at his acts.

  But he had only been following orders. None of this was his—

  The light tore away the scant excuses and deceptive thoughts he used to clothe himself. No, he had taken these lives willingly, for power and gold. And for the pure pleasure of it.

  Caleb moaned and tried to turn his face away. But he could not escape. With each pulse of light he felt himself stripped of everything, until he lay in cold darkness, blinded by the single beam of truth shining over him. He could not run from it. He could not hide from it. Instead, he lay crouched beneath it, naked and exposed.

  And, for the first time in his life, Caleb saw himself for what he was.

  • • •

  Rowen felt as if she were drowning. Her power poured into the man kneeling before her. The depravity of his heart, the darkness in which he had covered himself, overwhelmed her until she felt as dirty and revolting as she saw him.

  Images of women flashed through her mind, along with the acts the man before her had committed with them. The feelings of rage and hatred he carried swirled inside her chest. And the blood…

  Rowen sank to her knees, her hand still firmly planted upon his cheek. This man had murdered so many, the blood of his victims covering his hands and soaking into hers.

  “Oh, Word, I don’t want to see any more.” Rowen tried to pull her hand away, but it would not let go. Her hair now whipped around her face in a sudden wind, and somewhere beyond her power, she could the feel rain falling on them.