Dark Realm: Book 5 Circles of Light series

by E. M. Sinclair

  There was a low buzz of conversation – most were awake now, but before she could join her companions, the Shield Master came towards her.

  ‘Favrian is still rather shocked by your skill with the sword,’ was his opening remark.

  Tika smiled. ‘Between you and me, Shield Master, it always surprises me too, but I’m relieved that it happens as it does.’

  ‘Your squad is too short numbered,’ Garrol went on abruptly.

  ‘It is? Do I need a squad?’

  Garrol gave her an odd look. ‘You do.’ His tone suggested he was not to be argued with on this point. ‘I count you, Shea and Shivan separately. Konya seems to be insistent that she travels with you when you leave here, but as a healer, I cannot count her as part of your squad either. That leaves our three engineers and your three Kelshans. Obviously Sket is your personal guard and thus the squad leader. The engineers can be – obstinate. They can also be – unpredictable.’

  He frowned at Tika’s widening smile. ‘I ask you to accept three Dark guards to complete a half squad.’

  Tika opened her mouth but Garrol pressed on. ‘I had a rather surprising number of volunteers. Sergeant Essa will join you and guards Fedran and Geffal. Fedran is skilled with the sword; he comes with Favrian’s highest approval. Geffal’s skills lie with the knife and the bow, although he is better than adequate with a sword. He comes with my highest approval.’

  ‘And Essa?’ Tika watched Garrol’s eyes.

  His voice softened. ‘Essa is the best. I would come with you myself, but as that is impossible, Essa stands in my place.’

  ‘Willingly? I will not take any who are not willing.’

  ‘Did you not hear me? I said there were many who wished to take a place in your squad – those who have seen you and heard of you.’ Garrol glanced across the chamber where Tika’s companions talked quietly. ‘Their uniforms are ready. The engineers can show the rest where to collect them.’

  He met Tika’s strange eyes and gave her the formal salutation, and marched away.

  ‘The Shield Master says uniforms have been made,’ she said to Onion. ‘He said you know where they are to be collected.’

  Onion scowled. Tika had noticed that the engineers always looked more annoyed when something pleased them, but she had yet to fathom why. She quirked an eyebrow at Sket when he remained beside Kija.

  ‘You too Sket. You are now the leader of a half squad. Sergeant Essa will be your second in command.’

  Sket’s mouth opened and closed but no sound emerged. Tika smirked.

  ‘Off you go then.’

  Sket trailed reluctantly behind Darrick, a hunted expression on his face. Tika did hope Essa’s sense of humour didn’t frighten Sket quite out of his wits.

  ‘Where’s Shea?’ she asked Shivan. ‘Or Konya?’

  ‘Shea’s visiting Gossamer’s house in the town. Konya’s busy with Waxin Pule sorting out every conceivable salve and remedy she might need to dose us with when we go.’

  Tika leaned against Kija’s shoulder, stroking down the long beautiful cheek.

  ‘Is Gossamer settled?’

  Shivan nodded. ‘She’s spending her time in the Academy. She seems content.’ He hesitated. ‘I can feel nothing within the Palace, or the town, but there is something still wrong.’

  Tika shrugged. ‘Even your people must be a bit shaken over Chindar’s – banishment. And to learn that seven others among you plotted to usurp the First Daughter’s authority.’

  Shivan’s bright gold eyes widened. ‘Seven others? I hadn’t heard that.’

  ‘But what about all those who were here when Chindar disappeared?’

  ‘Gossip is not encouraged,’ Shivan spoke rather primly.

  ‘Well you’ll have to get used to the idea that I like gossip,’ Tika retorted. ‘And I don’t approve of keeping all these secrets.’ A thought occurred to her. ‘Surely everyone knows Lerran has been – ill?’

  ‘Of course not. Only people who work within the Palace and a very few others.’

  ‘But when Jenniah goes to market, she must speak of the worry over the First Daughter?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You have very strange ideas in this Dark Realm. Secrecy every way you turn. No wonder no one ever suspected Chindar.’

  ‘Your words were prophetic.’

  Tika jumped: she hadn’t known Corman had come up behind her.

  ‘You said that change was necessary. Your words were too true. Many things must, and will, change, and quickly.’

  ‘Good.’ Tika was emphatic. ‘I would like to visit Lord Dabray, and take Shivan with me.’

  Corman nodded without argument although Tika had anticipated some objections.

  ‘I have not had the courage to go there since last night. I pray to Mother Dark that he is well.’

  So do I, Tika thought as she trotted down the increasingly tedious flights of stairs, Shivan silent at her side.

  In the Splintered Kingdom, the one who no longer remembered his name, or even if he’d ever had one, limped around the rooms of his castle. All the rooms were misshapen to normal eyes but he thought everything about his construction was beautiful beyond compare. He went from window to window, his unpredictable temper rising and falling. He smashed a fist into a wall, the bones audibly cracking as he did so.

  Why could he not form a window that focused upon the girl? He had found some of her associates on various occasions, but whenever that girl had joined them the picture blurred and concentrate hard as he might, the scene winked out of existence. Then days might pass before he found the strength to repeat the attempt to see her.

  Pieces of his Kingdom, shattered and riven through the endless centuries long careening through space, broke away, tumbling to the nearest lands. So he had passed the years until he’d reached this world. The effort involved in stabilising what was catastrophically unstable had left him exhausted. Generations came to birth and lived and died while he recouped some strength. But when he had finally roused he found he was still locked among the planes connecting him to this world.

  He’d begun to meddle, but his own Splintered Kingdom thwarted far too many of his plans. As he was beyond insanity, so was every part of his Kingdom. It amused him greatly to take living samples from the world to play with, to torment, to force to his service. But not once had he chosen to communicate with them, any of them. He saw them all as vastly inferior to himself.

  Through this great length of time, there had been less than a handful of minds who could challenge him. And not one of them had recognised their own strength. He liked to remember his victories as simple, easy. He chose never to recall his own fears, his blind panic at being forced to retreat yet again. And now this girl, this brat.

  He had caught her scent several years ago and had prowled land after land, never able to quite catch up with her. Within the twisted tangle of his shattered mind, he didn’t see his own ambivalence. He knew only that he had to catch her, like vermin in a trap. Somewhere in his distant beginnings, he’d known about vermin, and about traps. Both the making of traps, and the sensations of being caught in them.

  There were times when he yearned to catch her, to rip her physically to shreds and rags of pathetic flesh. And there were other times when he howled and sobbed, knowing she might, just might, be the one to make him whole once more.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Shivan had said he’d felt something was still “wrong”, but hadn’t spoken of it again. When, considerably shaken, he and Tika left Lord Dabray’s cavernous chamber, he’d asked Tika’s permission to say farewell to his mother and young sisters. The family house was along the western coast some distance, but, using gateways, he would not be gone long. Almost absentmindedly Tika agreed. When Shivan left her, Tika watched maids in one of the many lower halls of the Karmazen Palace. Banks of flowers were arranged around the walls, some in pots and some in beautiful tall crystal bases. The scent was delicately pervasive, not overwhelming, and it ebbed and flowed around the ha
ll on the currents of air.

  A maid arranging some tall stems bearing tiny bells of pure white blooms smiled at Tika. As Tika was about to ask her the name of the flower, someone spoke behind her and she turned. A young man smiled down at her.

  ‘If you could spare the time, Lady Tika, Waxin Pule asks you to visit him in his apartments.’

  When Tika hesitated the young man gave her a slight bow. ‘I am Grent, Lady. In Kelshan I was his apprentice. He is too unwell to come to you, which is why he presumes to beg your indulgence.’

  Tika saw the maid to her left glance oddly at the young man, a frown creasing her forehead.

  ‘If Lord Pule wishes to see me, I can come now if you like.’

  Grent’s smile broadened. ‘You are kindness itself,’ he said, indicating one of the many passages which led from the hall.

  Tika left with the young man. The maid, her flowers forgotten, watched Lady Tika disappear from view, and her frown deepened. Wiping her hands on her apron, the maid hurried away in search of Jenniah the Palace-Keeper.

  In the great chamber high above, Tika’s half squad were eyeing each other rather self consciously. Onion was seriously considering tearing the top pocket off his new uniform shirt, just to make it scruffy enough to feel more comfortable. Dog was watching him sternly. Her attitude had changed lately; both Onion and Darrick had noticed it. They suspected they would be bullied into smartening up in this new company and weren’t entirely sure they approved.

  They’d all been issued with sturdy packs and spare clothes and other basic equipments. Despite her unusually smart appearance, Dog had still put her dented helmet safely in the very bottom of her pack. Just in case. The engineers also carried satchels containing the poppers, crackers, and who knew what else, refusing utterly to be parted from them. All four Dragons were on the roof terrace, basking in the afternoon sun.

  Sket paused in mid sentence as he described Plavets to a disbelieving audience and stared, open mouthed, at the door. A man stood there smiling shyly. He wore the blue of Gaharn, a lighter blue than Sket’s new uniform. His rich brown hair was the same shade as his eyes, but those eyes were framed in silver, just as Tika’s were. The man held two small cats in his arms, one brown with black smudges over his eyes, the other a vivid orange.

  Sket was on his feet, hands outstretched. ‘Ren! It’s so good to see you!’

  Ren bent to put the cats on the floor where they sat, rather bewildered but neat and tidy with tails curled round their front paws. Khosa appeared and trotted over to sit in front of the two newcomers who were, in fact, her sons. The Dragons peered in the archway when a wail began to rise from Khosa’s throat and she crouched lower. Her sons pressed against her, wailing in harmony. Sket looked to Ren in alarm.

  ‘What’s happened?’

  Ren stepped carefully round the small heap of cats. ‘Do you remember Bakra – the one like Khosa? He joined his brother, Resh, in keeping Nolli company after Senior Ryla died.’

  A cry came from Kija and she backed onto the terrace, rearing erect and beginning the Song of Farewell.

  ‘Nolli died a few days ago,’ Ren told Sket sadly. ‘But Khosa had sent a message through the gateway asking that Bakra come here. She said you and Tika plan to go to Drogoya.’ He shrugged. ‘I felt I must come too, I must see what has happened to my homeland. Lady Emla felt that Resh should come with Bakra, as they have become very close and Resh grieves for Nolli.’

  Khosa and her sons retreated in the direction of the First Daughter’s bed chamber and Sket drew Ren over to meet their new company. The Dragons’ song had just ended when a scream of anger and rage erupted from one of them. Sket was on his feet again, sword drawn and racing for the stairs.

  ‘That’s Farn,’ he shouted back to the others. ‘Tika’s hurt. Hurry!’

  Feet pounded after Sket, along corridors and down the stairs as the four Dragons lifted from the terrace to follow Farn to the ground. Leaping the last steps to the lowest hall, Sket saw the Palace-Keeper hurrying towards him, a young maid in tow.

  ‘Sir!’ Jenniah called. ‘Oh sir! This girl saw the Lady Tika taken off to visit Lord Pule.’

  Sket listened, scarcely able to contain his impatience to find Tika.

  ‘His apprentice, Grent, told her Lord Pule was too ill to leave his rooms, but I saw him earlier – he was perfectly well then.’

  The names meant nothing to Sket. ‘Where? Where are the rooms?’

  Sergeant Essa pushed forward next to Sket. ‘This way,’ she said tersely and began to run.

  Dark guards rushed into the hall led by Shield Master Garrol. Dog explained what was happening as they joined the rush behind Sket and Essa. They wound through a labyrinth of passages until Essa pulled up sharply. Ahead in the corridor, an elderly man sat half propped against the wall.

  ‘Lord Pule?’ Essa asked cautiously.

  They drew closer, saw his chest and abdomen were blood soaked, but his head moved fractionally, eyes struggling to open. Pink tears streaked his cheeks and stained his grey beard. His hand twitched towards the further corridor.

  ‘Grent.’ His words were just audible. ‘Mother Dark forgive me and protect that child.’

  Blood gushed from his mouth and life fled from his eyes.

  ‘Where?’ Sket roared, glaring up at Sergeant Essa.

  Farn screamed again from somewhere close outside and Sket paused long enough to drag open one half of a double door in the outer wall. Farn’s body pushed the other half to slam against the wall and Tika’s new companions, along with the Shield Master had their first glimpse of a Dragon in a towering rage. Farn’s prismed eyes flashed and sparked, smoke curled from his flared nostrils. Storm was close behind him, equally enraged. Farn rushed after Sket only to find the way barred by another heavy double door.

  Sket glanced back and grabbed Essa’s arm, heaving the huge woman aside as Farn blasted fire at the door. Wood shattered, metal bolts, studs and latches fell melting to the floor and the stone around the door blackened and cracked.

  ‘My word, that’s very effective,’ said a mild voice from somewhere in the smoky room beyond.

  Sket looked at the short plump person of Simert in horror.

  ‘You haven’t - ?’ he stammered.

  Simert regarded him for a moment then he chuckled. ‘Oh no. But she called me you see, so I came. She didn’t really need me.’ He waved a hand to clear smoke from around his face and coughed.

  Sket pushed past and dropped to his knees. Tika lay unconscious but as far as he could tell in a hasty inspection, unhurt. Beside her lay a young man, Tika’s sword standing upright in his chest and an expression of terror on his dead face. Sket pulled Tika towards the threshold where Farn waited and watched anxiously. They were both intent on her when Kazbeck leapt past them, his sword hissing from its sheath. Simert looked surprised and turned back to Grent’s corpse as well.

  A formless darkness oozed from the body, occasional glimpses of a misshapen leg, a clawed hand, a ghastly head appearing within the blackness.

  ‘Oh no you don’t.’ Simert snapped his fingers and the blackness disappeared.

  Essa and Sket both regarded the Kelshan God of Death thoughtfully but after a brief smile in their direction, he vanished. Shield Master Garrol walked forward and withdrew the sword from Grent’s body, examining the blade closely. He bent over Tika.

  ‘Is she hurt?’

  ‘No.’ Sket sounded relieved. ‘A bruise on her jaw. Looks like he just hit her to knock her out but it obviously wasn’t enough. I reckon she must have woken, killed him, before he realised. There’s a scrape on her forehead where she might have fallen and knocked herself out again.’

  ‘I will take her back to the roof.’ Farn’s voice rang in everyone’s heads and they heard the lingering undertones of his anger.

  ‘Come on then.’ Sket lifted Tika and carried her down the corridor to the double doors which led into a garden. He looked over his shoulder with a grin. ‘I’ll go with Farn. You can take those bloody
stairs.’

  The Dark healer Harith provided a truly foul tasting drink which Tika drank under protest but had to admit it took the pain from her head and jaw very quickly. She looked pale, the bruises stark on her skin. She was glad to see Ren and he sat by her where she lay beside Farn in the great chamber, and listened to all his news and the loving messages from her friends in Gaharn.

  Much later, when only Sket and Dog lay watchful, Shield Master Garrol came quietly in. He sat on the floor under Farn’s watchful eye.

  ‘I have weapons for your squad,’ he murmured to Tika. ‘My gift to you.’

  She understood at once that he meant blood metal weapons.

  ‘What have you done with those men?’ she whispered.

  Garrol studied her white face. ‘Lord Pule and Grent have been consumed by cold fire. Lord Pule was of Dark blood, but one who never made either his first transformation or the descent into the Dark. But he served this Realm with great honour for many years.’

  ‘It was the Crazed One again.’ Tika’s words were flat.

  Garrol nodded. ‘We’re fairly sure of it.’

  ‘I will leave for Drogoya in the next couple of days.’

  Again Garrol nodded. He leaned forward and gently lifted Tika’s left hand. He took something from his shirt pocket, something that glinted in the low lamplight when he slid it over her thumb. She held her hand higher in surprise. A broad band, the central band dark, blood metal she knew without asking, held between two bands of silver. It fitted perfectly and she looked into Garrol’s blue eyes in wonderment.

  ‘You made it,’ she said. ‘For me.’

  Garrol’s large calloused hand closed round hers. ‘You would be a daughter to be proud of, had I children.’