He continued through the castle using his senses, even the ones that he kept hidden that he did not like others to know about. Nothing. He couldn’t feel where the darkness was radiating from. It was subtle, nothing more than a minute vibration of energy that hummed around him, taunting him of his incompetency to protect what was his family.
Raking his fingers through his hair, he took the stairs two at a time up to the third floor. His room was at the end of the east wing. There was an empty guest quarters next to his, but other than that it was quiet at his end of the castle. He preferred it that way. At the opposite end of the third floor was Hal’s suite and next door to Hal’s was Rheina’s room.
His hand on the handle of the massive dark-stained wooden door, he paused as he heard the sound of a door opening at the other end. He turned to see Rheina quietly slipping out of her room, but clinging to the shadows of the darkened hall lit only by oil lanterns spaced far between one another.
Sneaking out of her own room? She can be so strange sometimes. Just as he was about to ask her what she was doing, she raised her finger to her lips, silencing him. He stayed where he was at his door, waiting for her to approach him. She didn’t. Instead, she stopped where the last segment of shadows ended, right before the lantern in the hall would expose her to the staircase.
He simply looked at her, unsure what she wanted from him. She beckoned him forward with her hands even though the expression on her face was entirely too bored with whatever game she was playing. Daegan was tired, but humored her. Rheina was like a sister and now he was curious as to what the theatrics could all be about. She was several things, but theatrical was usually not one of them.
Just as he was about to stop in front of her she motioned that he pass her and head toward Hal’s room. After he had passed her, she reached out and grabbed his arm. Instantly, he could sense her concern. Daegan tried to respect those he lived with and kept a mental block up in his mind for their privacy so he would not constantly feel their emotions. As an empath, feeling the emotions of others could be quite a burden. He pointed toward Halister’s door, asking if she was concerned about him. She shook her head no. Pointing at her, he guessed her game again. Once more, she replied no, but this time she pointed at Daegan.
Pulling him close so she could whisper to him, she said, “There are ears here. Something is at work. Do not sleep tonight.”
Shivers went up his spine. There was something different about her voice—or the way she said the words—that bothered him, but he frowned and nodded nonetheless. Even the frown on Rheina’s face at her own words was confusing.
“Goodnight, Daegan,” she spoke softly. Daegan looked back at her, questioning. She straightened her shoulders and walked directly into her room, shutting the door heavily behind her. Daegan turned back to his room, pausing briefly to look back at her door with scrutiny. Something is going on with Rheina. She is entitled and reclusive, but she has never spoken to me like this before—so serious.
“Goodnight, Rheina,” he whispered to her door before heading back to his own door. He pondered her words curiously. This is too much for one night, he thought. He brushed it aside and went about his routine of cleaning his swords and knives that he had strapped to various parts of his body: back, hip, boot, and inner thigh. He tried several times to keep from falling asleep, but eventually he ended up lying on top of the covers of his bed with his hands behind his head, staring out the open window at the moons and the stars in the night sky. It was quiet as he fell into deep slumber.
✠✠✠
Something was pulling heavily at his magic. It was pulling and tugging at the center of his core, stretching and caressing his magic toward some unseen end. The air was heavy; Daegan felt like he was suffocating under a pile of blankets. It was dark and he couldn’t see anything around him. He could feel his body moving, responding to an unseen call of foreign magic. He tried to fight it. He was frightened; for a moment he was a little boy running into the wilderness of Alandria, running toward nothing and away from everything he had ever known. It was suffocating not knowing where he was going, where he would end up, where he would find freedom, where he would find safety.
A spark of his inner magic shocked him into awareness. He was moving against his will. A flash of his body fighting him earlier that day struck fear up his spine. NO! A roar of raw desperation and anger at the very invasiveness of what was happening rose within Daegan. It was primal and it carried the tone of freedom laced within it.
Suddenly, he felt the threads upon his muscles loosen enough that he was able to regain some feeling as his feet were taking steps without him and his arms were moving swiftly at his sides while his fists were clenched. He did not yet have the power to stop where he was going, but at least he was becoming a little more aware. If he was aware, perhaps he could stop whatever was about to happen. And if not, he might wish he was still asleep.
Daegan focused all his magical energy that he could sense within himself, trying to gain more control. Why is this happening? Why can I not stop it? “Agghhh!” With another push of his magic from his core being into each muscle he felt a snap. Suddenly he stopped moving. His eyes flew open and he could see all around him. It was hazy at first, but as he regained his sight, he saw where he was—on the edge between the heavily dense part of the forest within Guardians Grove and the outlying homes of the shifter camp.
Fear spiked in Daegan’s gut. His heart started beating hard and he began breathing heavily. Something bad was about to happen. He was sure of it. Why would he be here? He had friends in this camp, or at least beings that he looked out for. They had already lost so much with the different ones disappearing or having accidents. Perhaps he was just here to observe something. Perhaps he was here to stop something, to save someone? He could only hope, but the fear clenching his stomach into knots told him otherwise.
Standing, hidden near a tight grouping of trees, Daegan was silent. He listened. The sounds of the night were oddly absent. Everything was still. It was eerie and sent chills down his spine. A slight breeze in the crisp night air brought scents from a doused fire mixed with cooked meat not far off. He could hear the sounds of deep sleep coming from several of the small huts closer in to the center of the village-type camp. It was late—or possibly even early—and there were not many sounds of life stirring in the camp. There was, however, a guard on the opposite side of the camp from where he was—he was moving about quite loudly, Daegan mused.
Daegan tried to turn from where he stood, but his body would not obey his command to move. His feet were rooted to the ground, waiting for something. All he could do was try to center the power of his energy and focus it on moving his feet one foot at a time. They felt like they were covered in cement blocks. While he was concentrating on his feet, his other senses told him something was happening. He slowly looked around, paying attention to every detail around him, so not to be surprised when something moved. A bird screeched in the far distance, a call that broke the spell of silence. What Daegan was not expecting was for the movement to be his own.
His feet began moving, following the silent command of another while he was helpless to use his own appendages. Paralyzed... trapped in his own body; only his mind free to witness his actions whether intentional or not. Closer, he moved to the edge of the clearing, sneaking like a sleuth on a mission toward its goal. His vision locked onto a small hut built from blocks of straw and planks of wood mixed together. It was primitive and basic. It was also the home of a twined family. The father was a shifter, the mother, a Faerie, and they had a daughter who had not yet reached the age of maturity, not yet even having experienced her first shift, since she was only half shifter. Daegan had brought them food when things had got tough for them not long ago. He knew that in Feraánmar the shifters were considered a lesser race. He didn’t want to admit it—and he did not agree—but it was unfortunately the attitude from many of the elders in this territory, including the Paladin leaders.
Daegan coul
d not stop his feet. He put all of his strength of mind behind his energy to stop... to turn around... His skin was breaking out in a cold sweat. He could hear them breathing heavily and peacefully in their home. For the first time in a long time, he felt fear... fear for the safety of those whom he considered his people... fear of himself. An echo of the old Faerie woman’s voice rang in the recesses of his mind: “...you are in danger... so are others.”
Closer; his body moved slowly as he fought every step. There was a small fence built up around the home. He had helped them build it to keep their daughter, Katéri, close to home as she was still quite young. Her simple toys were strewn about the sparse and patchy grasses.
He had thought at first she would be afraid of him, but she had ran up to him and looked him in the eyes with no fear at all and told him, “They told me you would come. I am not afraid. You will be stronger.” He had no idea what she was talking about, but she had placed her little hand inside his bigger roughened hand... trusting. His heart was hers in that moment.
Daegan had reached into his shirt and pulled out a necklace, on which rested a black obsidian stone, that he wore at all times. An old man from his past had given the stone to him telling him it was special, so he’d kept it all this time. It was small, but it meant something to him. He had removed the stone and given it to Katéri and told her to keep it safe for him and that if she rubbed it and thought of him, he would be close to her.
She was beautiful, with the natural fairness of the Faeries in her skin and slightly pointed ears. She had big blue eyes and white wavy hair, but she was built more like a shifter, with a more muscular frame and a rounder face. In this time and territory, she would need to be strong as she would already be considered an outcast simply for existing. Daegan sometimes sneaked down after training between patrols of the castle and gave her rides high on his shoulders, bouncing her around until she giggled and kicked her feet.
He had to be strong now. He had to fight the takeover of his own darkness... for Katéri.
Too close. His body pulled him toward their small home. Several yards away, he released a surge of his own energy that he still had control over. It was enough to make his steps falter. Hope flared within his spirit. Another surge of his power and his steps stopped. I can do this. The war within him waged: which way would the balance tip? Toward the darkness that was suddenly making a strong statement that it could erupt at any time now, or toward the light that he had always tried so hard to get close to? He would be light—he chose it long ago—but how to defeat the darkness that threatened his spirit and his own magic to betray him?
He was able, after several minutes of fighting with himself, to finally turn around and even take one step in the opposite direction. Then another. And another. He was advancing. He did not have to fall into the darkness of his soul. He was a warrior; he would conquer this like everything else. Until he couldn’t.
Daegan was pulled forward while he was simultaneously shoved from behind by a forceful push—an invisible hand of magical energy. It was so strong, he could actually feel the shape of a hand pressed into his back forcing him all the way to the ground, smothering his face into the hard dirt and sparse patches of prickly grasses that poked into his eyes and up his nose. He spit dirt out of his mouth as he rolled his head to the side simply to breathe.
Just when he was able to catch his breath, something gripped his ankles like a vise and began pulling. He kicked out, trying to shake whatever it was, but it was futile. He twisted around enough to see that there was nothing there... nothing he could see. He kicked even harder, infusing the kicks with his own magic, but to no avail. He felt blocked, almost paralyzed to use his magic effectively.
Sweat streamed down his head in rivulets. Every muscle in his body was strained and worked with him as he tried to crawl against the pull. He felt fingernails pull back as he dug his fingers deeper, seeking something to grip, to anchor him in place. Panic pushed him to his limits of strength and beyond. His body was stretched to capacity. He was losing this fight, but not his will. He would let the darkness kill him before he gave in.
His fingers released what little they had found to grasp as he was pulled the rest of the way to the little house he had tried to avoid. Daegan was thrust up into a standing position and pushed up against the hut. He couldn’t believe that no one had heard the noise he was making, not even the night guard. Breathing heavily, he tried to figure out what his intentions were regarding this home and this family that he had grown to feel attached to.
Suddenly his body grew hot from the inside. His temperature was rising beyond his control, his vision clouding over, and he saw reds and oranges flickering behind his eyelids. He was burning up inside. On the outside, his skin was burning too, and he tried to run to find relief, but he was immovable.
“Aaaghhhh!” he cried out from the pain, unable to remain silent any longer. Just as he felt his body start to slide down to the ground, he saw a flickering flame on the end of several of his fingers. NO! How did this happen? Pushing his magic with all the strength left within him, Daegan released it to douse the flame and cool his fire. He felt it stir and tingle within him, but to his utter betrayal he realized the fire was part of his own magic and not an outside element using him. He had quick flashes of himself as a child burning things sometimes, then his mother or father quickly putting the flames out and telling him he needed to suppress the fire. He didn’t know why at the time, but now he did... it was part of his darkness. But why this family?
KATÉRI!! His mind tried to break through to her mind, shouting to warn her.
Smoke hit his nose. The house crackled as the flames grew, consuming more and more in their path as it ate its way up the side of the dry, kindling-ready materials that made up this home. Panic flared within him for the family inside... for little Katéri. Daegan shouted out loud to wake them up, to get them out of the home. He didn’t care if they would see what he was doing. He deserved to be taken to the gallows and more for what he was doing—what was about to happen.
The flames continued to grow at a much more rapid pace and still he could not do anything to stop them. He tried to even step into the flame to douse out his own existence. Nothing. The fire was hot and licked at him, but to his surprise did not ignite his skin. Still with wide eyes, he stared unbelieving at the tragedy that was transpiring right in front of him. Everything within him as a warrior--to guard, to protect, to save--was screaming at him to do something... anything.
His feet moved him back into the shelter of the trees that he had first stood behind, but this time he actually tried to move back toward the house. Maybe if my feet are moving, I can overpower it again. He tried and tried again. He was powerless against the force.
From the trees, all he could do was watch. Watch and hope for someone else to save them. His voice fell on deaf ears. Then, after what seemed like an eternity watching and waiting for the inevitable, and in reality what was entirely too fast, the little home was no more. All that remained were piles of ash and bits and pieces of belongings and furniture. It was in ruins; all was lost, even those that once lived inside it.
A pain hitched in Daegan’s chest and his breath caught. As he stared at the ruin before him, all he could think of was little white-haired Katéri and her big blue eyes—how they stared unguarded and knowing into his soul, and how they never would again. Maybe nobody was home, he begged mentally.
He was suddenly released of the hold the darkness had on him. His feet were free and without thought, he found himself slowly making his way toward the rubble and ash. He did not want to be here, but he needed to know... for sure.
On one side of the home, he found crimson coloring on the ground, tinted in the ash—the remains of a shifter. Right next to that, he found light green in the same manner—the remains of a Faerie. His heart sank. He could not see their souls, but he felt them still lingering as he crouched touching the colored mixture of ash.
In that moment, he asked for forgivenes
s, not for himself—he did not deserve it—but for their sake, to help them move on when the Ferriers came. He sensed their arrival was close and he did not want to be there when they did.
Daegan rose with his head hung low. He was frozen where he stood, not because of the darkness this time, but because of what he saw across the room. In what must have been where the little angel slept, she still remained. Lifeless and eyes unseeing toward the sky lay little Katéri covered in rubble and ash. She had not reached the maturity of a twined child in order for her soul to be taken by the Ferriers.
Daegan felt all the color drain from his face as he knelt in front of her and held her outstretched hand. He had done this. Tears slowly rippled down his face leaving tracks in the dirt, grime, and sweat. In her hand, he felt something hard. Uncurling her fingers, he saw the same black stone he had asked her to hold and keep safe for him... and she had. He placed it in the interior pocket of his cloak—once shiny, now dulled like his heart.
He felt them before he saw them—the Ferriers, the beings that carried the souls of those who carried magic from their death to their “beyond.” They were neutral, between darkness and light. They carried the dark souls into Exhile and those of the light through the In-between to wherever their “beyond” may be.
The Ferriers were not exactly solid in state and neither did they seem to have gender. They were the death carriers—neither good nor evil, but something about them Daegan did not trust. He stayed, against better judgment, to watch them as they took the souls of Katéri’s parents, but then as they approached the little girl, they got a different gleam in their opalescent eyes. It gave Daegan the chills. It was understood that you were not to interfere with the Ferriers, but Daegan did.
Daegan (The Age of Alandria: A Companion Novella) Page 4
