Daughter of Light (Follower of the Word Book 1)

by Morgan L. Busse

  You must go deeper, a voice whispered.

  Everything inside her said no, to pull away now. But instead, Rowen obeyed. Closing her eyes, she fell deeper inside the man’s heart, pushing her powers as far as she could. From far away, it seemed, she could hear the man cry out. More blood filled her vision, followed by faces twisted with fear.

  Then everything disappeared.

  Looking around, she found herself in darkness, save for a single beam of light shining over the quivering form of a man, alone and bare. It was him, the same man in whom she had witnessed such darkness moments ago.

  He looked up at her with a face so stricken it pierced her heart. “Help me,” he pleaded. His dark eyes no longer looked cold and hostile, but scared. He lifted toward her a hand covered in blood.

  She stared at his hand. “I-I can’t,” she whispered, torn between revulsion and pity.

  He returned his hand to the ground and lay crouched in a ball, naked and shivering.

  “You see,” said a voice beside her, “even this man, so dark and vile on the outside, yearns for healing and forgiveness on the inside.” Rowen found a man beside her clothed in brilliant white and covered with scars. It was the man from the Eldaran temple. “But you would never have known that if you had not been willing to see past his darkness to the man hurting deep within.”

  “My Lord.” Rowen fell to her knees and bowed her head. Her heart beat so loudly it echoed inside her ears.

  The Word placed a hand upon her shoulder. “You have done well, Daughter of Light. Now it is my turn to do what only I can do.” As the Word walked past her, she felt herself being drawn from the dark and lonely plain upon which the man lay.

  The man looked up, stared at the Word, then collapsed to the ground like a dead man.

  Rowen pulled farther away, and everything began to disappear. But in the darkness she heard the Word speak.

  “Awaken, Son of Truth.”

  27

  Snap.

  Nierne pulled her hands around front. Her bindings dropped from her wrists. She rubbed at the skin, careful to avoid the burns left by the coarse rope. A tingling sense of elation filled her. She was almost free.

  A shadow moved along the tent wall.

  Panic doused her joy. Nierne hurried back to the cushions, her flight hampered by her feet, which were still bound. Frustration and fear swelled inside her chest. She stared at the tent flaps. Was Lord Tala back already?

  The two guards that stood outside the tent flaps moved, then walked away. They were replaced by two new shadows. Nierne let out the breath she had been holding. It was only the guard change.

  She dragged herself back to the dagger and began to saw away at the thicker cords around her feet. What would she do once she was free? The next guard change would not occur for at least a couple of hours…and Lord Tala would probably be back by then.

  Perhaps I had made a mistake, Nierne thought with a pang. She began to saw on the rope with renewed vigor, her brows drawn close in stubborn thought. If he came in, she could hide her hands and feet beneath the cushions. After all, Lord Tala never came near her. He wouldn’t know she had broken free until—

  A shout went up outside the tent.

  Nierne lurched at the sound and the tip of the blade bit into her ankle. “Ouch!” She quickly rubbed the small cut. She grabbed the dagger and crawled back to the cushions. Outside, she could hear more shouts rising. Shadows ran past the tent.

  She turned over into a sitting position and sawed with a renewed effort. Something was going on outside. Had the White City decided to bring the battle outside the walls? Or were the Temanins winning? Either way, fighting in the dark seemed foolish to her, but then again, what did she know of war?

  Nierne pulled her ankles apart to put more pressure on the cords around her feet. She sawed a couple of seconds more before the rope snapped. Elation once again filled her, stronger this time. She was free!

  She scrambled to her feet and hurried across the tent. She picked up the sheath, and placed the dagger back inside. Then she moved toward the chest to place the dagger inside. For one moment, she hesitated, holding the dagger just above the opening. The dagger could be helpful in her escape.

  No, Nierne thought and dropped the dagger. It landed with a soft thud across dark-colored clothing. It wasn’t hers to keep. She would just have to make do without.

  Outside the tent, more shadows passed. Men shouted as they ran by. Nierne watched in alarm. Memories of her flight from Thyra filled her mind. Would she be caught in the battle if she tried to leave? Or worse, would she be killed before she could prove she wasn’t a Temanin?

  Nierne looked toward the front of the tent and realized the two tall shadows that had stood before the tent flaps were gone. She tiptoed across the rugs toward the entrance and carefully peeked between the flaps.

  Everything outside was dark, save for the few fires that burned between the tents. Nierne looked right. No one. She looked left. No one there either. The two guards were gone.

  A couple soldiers ran by. “There, the light is coming from there,” she heard one of them shout. Nierne shifted the flaps to look. A surprised gasp escaped her lips. Nierne leaned past the flaps, consumed by the sight before her.

  A pillar of light swirled and spun as it flowed up past dark trees. Jagged white fissures of lightning danced around the pillar, followed by muffled booms.

  What in all the Lands was that?

  She stared at the strange phenomenon, racking her mind for anything she had ever read to compare to what she now saw. Only one thing came to mind. Her heart beat faster.

  Could it be an Eldaran?

  Suddenly Nierne began to shake. Had she really found one? She could not remember ever reading of Eldarans forming pillars of light, but that did not mean they couldn’t. And often the old scrolls spoke of Eldarans brokering peace in times of war…

  “Word,” Nierne whispered. Tears pricked the edge of her eyes. Her journey was almost done. If only Father Reth had lived to see it!

  Her head sunk down. Father Reth gave his life so that she could find the Eldarans and bring them back to Thyra. Well, she had. Nierne looked back up with determination. And now she needed only to escape.

  She ducked her head back inside the flaps. Nierne took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Think, Nierne, think.

  She fought past thoughts of pillars of light, Lord Tala, and her fear of being caught. Instead, she concentrated on the night she’d been captured and brought here. Tents flew past her mind. She had counted them, both to calm herself and to keep track of where she was going.

  Eleven. Nierne pictured the layout of the Temanin camp in her mind. She hadn’t been able to see everything, so there was a chance she could wind up lost. But it was worth a shot. She opened her eyes. She would need to count her way out of here.

  Nierne went over her route one more time in her mind, then crept back toward the tent flaps. She peeked outside. Nothing, save the pillar of light. The camp was deserted. Everyone had run to the commotion.

  Nierne took a quick breath and slipped between the tent flaps. It felt odd to be outside after living inside that tent for the last week. She walked across the open space toward the next tent. The column of light continued to flow toward the sky. Thunder boomed nearby.

  She fought the desire to stare at the pillar of light. She had never seen anything like it. But the part of her that wanted to live forced her to move swiftly past the tents. Nierne turned left after passing three. Eight more to go.

  Abandoned fires burned low between the tents. Nierne carefully made her way past six more. She met no one. Ahead she could barely make out the tall, dark trees of Anwin. She passed the last tent and broke out into a run toward the treeline. Large ferns and bushes greeted her.

  Nierne went a couple feet into the forest and fell against a tree. She panted with fear and relief. Tiny drops of rain fell across her face. Nierne looked up. No moonlight tonight. She squinted past the treeline. None of the l
ight from the campfires reached past the first couple of trees. Everything beyond lay in darkness.

  Nierne carefully made her way into the forest. After a couple feet, she put her hands out in front of her and felt around. The wind moaned between the trees. Leaves shuffled beneath her feet, and twigs snapped. Nierne turned back every couple of steps to see if anyone had noticed her escape. The camp remained empty.

  After passing the first layer of trees, the light disappeared altogether. She could feel the ferns and made her way around them. Her foot snagged on a root. Branches clawed at her clothes. Still she pressed on through the darkness.

  More rain fell. Nierne wiped her wet hair from her face. Her clothes grew damp. She had no idea where she was going or even if she had gotten turned around. All she could see was darkness.

  A bright arc of light appeared ahead. Nierne stopped and stared. What in all the Lands? The light seemed to be moving—more like racing—through the trees.

  Straight at her.

  Nierne sucked in her breath. She looked frantically around. The arc sped toward her. In its light, she could see some low branches, Nierne ran to the tree, grabbed the branches, and pulled herself up. The arc drew closer. She reached for a higher branch. The air began to fill with the sound of rushing wind. Nierne scrambled for the next branch. “Dear Word, help me, help me!”

  The arc hit her. Nierne screamed. Waves of light plucked her from the tree like a rag doll. The light tossed her high into the sky, suspended her for a moment, then hurled her back down. She screamed again. The ground came rushing toward her. The light washed past her, leaving a wake of darkness.

  Her head smacked the ground, and everything went black.

  • • •

  Men pounded on the second gates. Lore sat on his knees and held his sword to his chest, tears trailing down his soot and blood covered face.

  He had condemned them, his own men.

  The sky lit up with lightning followed by a boom. Thunder roared over the city.

  Lore looked up. “Word,” he shouted. “Please, if You’re going to help us, we need You now!”

  As if in answer to his prayer, a stream of light tore out of Anwin Forest to the west, churning its way toward the sky, white against the dark storm and the coming night.

  “What is that?” a voice nearby shouted.

  Lore lurched to his feet. He gazed at the strange phenomenon. A shiver tore down his spine, causing the hairs across his arms and neck to stand on end.

  Had the Word answered his cry for help?

  Without waiting for a reply, Lore sprinted across the castle lawn toward the staircase that led to the battlements along the second wall, passing men who stood stunned, staring at the pillar of light as it licked the heavens. He ran up the stairs and leaned over the stone edge, peering into the forest in hopes of seeing what was causing the light.

  “Captain.” Geoffrey ran up beside Lore. “What is that?”

  More men joined them on the battlements.

  “I-I don’t know,” Lore said. He had never seen anything like it before. It was a blaze of white light, churning like water toward the sky.

  “I heard you shout to the Word. Do you think… Do you think He is actually saving us?”

  Lore didn’t answer. Instead he stared at the tower of moving light and felt another shiver run down his back. For years he had followed the Word, acknowledging His existence and power, but the moment Lore had fallen to the ground and cried out to the Word, he had cried from desperation, not faith.

  “Dear Word,” Lore whispered, “forgive me. I did not believe…”

  “Captain!” another man shouted. “The fighting…it’s stopped.”

  Lore moved away from the ledge and ran toward the wall that separated the castle from the city. A mixture of wonder and shame filled his soul. Glancing around one of the merlons, he saw faces far below turned toward the sky, lit faintly by the beam of white light surging toward the sky.

  Lightning split the black clouds overhead, followed by a loud boom. At the same moment, the light changed.

  The men below him raised hands, pointing toward the light. Some began to shout. Lore looked back toward the beam of light…

  The topmost edge of the surging tower of light, which moments before had been licking the sky, came pouring down like waves of white water.

  Lore watched in disbelief, his position on the wall giving him full view of the tidal wave of light as it came crashing down. The light hit the ground, then changed direction and began rushing through the trees.

  Shouts of fear filled the air. Lore looked back down and watched as men ran in a panicked stampede.

  The light hit the outer city wall, but instead of passing through it, the light turned and flowed like water toward the Temanin camp in the forest. Lore stood rooted on the wall, unable to move, his eyes following the river of light.

  A heartbeat later, the faint sound of screams filled the air. Arcs of white light filled Anwin Forest, illuminating the trees as if it were day.

  Lore watched the light move toward the front of the White City and pass through the main gates. The river of light rushed between buildings and broken walls like eager fingers searching out every crevice. As the light moved toward the castle, the radiant wave picked up anyone in its path. It tossed men into the air as it hurried toward the wall he stood upon.

  Lore gripped the ledge. He watched the luminous tidal wave draw closer and closer.

  Two blocks away, one block away…

  Light slammed the wall, each arc hammering the stone beneath his feet, shaking him until his teeth chattered.

  Lore closed his eyes, waiting for the light to come pouring over the wall and sweep him away. Terrified shouts filled the air below him. His grip loosened with each hit.

  Then, slowly, the shaking subsided.

  Lore cautiously opened one eye, then the other. He looked over the city wall—

  And saw nothing.

  The light was gone. All light. Not one ray remained, not even the twinkle of a distant campfire. It was as if someone had blown out every light, leaving the world in the darkness.

  Faint drops of rain splattered across his face and shoulders. The sky grumbled and another peal of thunder echoed across the city. Unable to see, Lore listened.

  Below the wall, he could hear sobbing, punctuated by sudden terrified screams that died like the lingering death cry of an animal. The sound made the hair on his body stand on end.

  A hand gripped his arm. Lore went for his sword.

  “Captain, it’s me: Geoffrey.”

  Lore let out a gasp of air. Turning, he saw the faint lights from torches flickering up near the castle.

  Geoffrey’s face stared at him, barely visible in the orange light. “Your Word…did He just save us?” Geoffrey asked in an awed and frightened voice.

  Lore looked back over the battlements toward the far end of the city, where the Temanin camp had stood minutes before. He could not see or hear anything, save the mournful cries of those nearby, down where the light had flowed.

  “Captain?”

  “I…” Lore felt too shocked to think. Had the Word saved them? Yes, he thought with sudden conviction. He believed the Word had. It was the how that eluded him. That light, where had it come from? What had it done to the Temanins—or to the White City’s own soldiers, for that matter?

  Realizing that Geoffrey was still waiting for an answer, Lore turned. “Yes,” he said, noticing more men gathering. “I don’t know how, but yes. The Word—” His throat suddenly felt tight. They were saved, the people whom he had sworn to protect. Lore closed his eyes and felt relief finally pour through his heart. Thank You, Word.

  “And our men?” Geoffrey asked. “Are they safe?”

  Lore opened his eyes. “Let’s find out.” He directed his gaze toward the men nearby. “Bring more torches. We need to find out what happened out there before the rain starts.” As if in warning, the sky grumbled above them again.

  “Yes,
Captain,” several voices shouted at once.

  • • •

  Minutes later, Lore and a handful of guards stood before the gates. In one hand, he held his sword, in the other he held a torch. Lore looked up. “Open the gates,” he shouted.

  The gates began to slowly creak open. Lore felt adrenaline flood his body. What would they find on the other side? He gripped his sword tighter.

  More raindrops fell. They sizzled on the hot tip of his torch. The gates widened further. Lore took a deep breath. This was it. He let out his breath and stepped between the wooden barriers.

  The entire city lay in darkness, save for the small orange flames emanating from Lore’s and the other men’s torches. He held out the burning brand and ventured away from the gate. He squinted into the darkness, relying on his sense of hearing to alert him to any movement.

  Moments later he was able to discern a body, lying face-downward on the cobblestone street.

  Lore knelt and felt along the man’s neck. A heart beat faintly beneath the skin. Pulling his hand back, Lore moved his torch along the man’s body, searching for any injury. Nothing.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his men, armed with torches, moving along the street. No one said anything. No one needed to say anything—the silence itself was deafening.

  Lore stood, his mind whirring. What should they do with the men they found? He quickly counted the torches making their way along the street. There were not nearly enough guards to carry back to the castle every northern soldier they found. Not to mention—

  Someone moaned nearby.

  Lore swung his torch around and spotted a Temanin soldier lying a couple of feet away, dressed in black and red. He moved cautiously toward the Temanin and knelt down.

  A bloody face looked up into his. “The light,” the Temanin whispered. He shuddered and held a hand to his face. “The light…”