by Marie Harte
Sava appeared.
Arim glared at the interruption. The look on the Aellein king’s face promised trouble.
“Arim, I—”
“I know about Ravyn,” Arim said gruffly, standing to an imposing height over Sava. “And I know what you did and why you did it.” Before Sava could say anymore, Arim ordered, “Remove the shields. Now.”
Sava waved his hands and mumbled under his breath.
A rush of Light returned to Arim in the next breath. He sighed with pleasure as he magically cleaned and clothed both himself and Lexa before she could protest. Bad enough Sava had already seen her naked. Arim had no intention of gifting the shifty Aellei with more of his intended’s beauty.
“I’m sorry it had to come to this, but you and Lexa are stubborn creatures, to say the least.” Sava’s face was drawn as he continued. “Words cannot express how deeply sorry I am about your sister. But Arim, even if you’d been there, there’s no way you could have stopped this from happening.”
Lexa stepped forward, clad in the Light Bringer warrior’s garb Arim had given her. She now matched him, black boots, black trousers, and a black overtunic with red piping. Arim’s signature battledress.
Sava’s brows rose as he noted their similar clothing, but he wisely said nothing. Lexa’s scowl clearly showed her displeasure with the garb, but she too remained silent. Both of them watched Arim, waiting.
“It’s time to return home together.” Arim took Lexa’s hand in his, holding tight, daring her to disagree. Her keen intelligence and her ability to read him kept her quiet, if not happy about his decision. He turned back to Sava. “’Sin Garu’s time is at an end.”
Chapter Eleven
Jonas helplessly stared at the chaos in the castle around him, not sure what to do. He was having a hard time standing, his battle with the Netharat having taken its toll. Grief at Remir’s betrayal ate at him, as did the guilt that he hadn’t seen the truth and helped his friend sooner. The knowledge that Ellie might still need his aid had him struggling to teleport to her side. He closed his eyes and locked in on the feel of her Dark energy. In more time than it normally took to move through the between, Jonas found her.
He stayed to the shadows as he watched the sombre group before him, wondering how the Djinn in the northlands fared. During their skirmish with the Netharat, Alor, at least, had managed to break away, working through a gap in the Netharat shield containing them. Sadly, he’d escaped too late to do Ravyn any good.
As Jonas stood in the western kingdom’s central keep, he watched the Storm Lords and their affai circle around the dead body of Queen Ravyn, overqueen of Tanselm no more. Ellie, thankfully, stood protected in the strong arms of her husband. Relief filled him that at least she remained safe.
Alor would need to take control of the Djinn in the North to explain the precarious situation they now faced. Jonas knew it was up to him to explain what he knew to the Storm Lords. He had to make them believe the underlying danger to them all. But he wasn’t sure how to cut through the thick layer of grief covering everyone in the tomb-like expanse of the queen’s chambers.
Another wave of dizziness hit him, and he cursed under his breath when he realised he was bleeding even though he remained in shadow form. A small pool of blood was steadily growing on the floor, drawing the attention of Darius. The Prince of Fire raised a hand filled with orange flame, and Jonas quickly showed himself before he suffered an attack he might not recover from.
“I didn’t mean to intrude,” Jonas said hoarsely as he drew apart from his shadow on the wall and coalesced into a man’s form. “If it could wait I wouldn’t have bothered.”
A frown replacing the anger in Darius’s eyes. He, Aerolus and the others soon surrounded Jonas.
“What happened?” Aerolus asked quietly, the Dark, decadent aura of grief clinging to him like a second skin.
“You look like shit,” Darius growled, his eyes wet with unshed tears.
“They attacked us in the north. I tried to send Alor to warn you…” Jonas slumped and would have fallen to his knees if Darius hadn’t caught him.
“Sit down, Jonas.” Aerolus turned. “Ellie, he needs you.”
She knelt beside him. The look on her face tore Jonas in half.
“I’m so sorry, Ellie. That bastard has been one step ahead of us all along.” Rage burned, that his best friend had been a pawn of an enemy Dark Lord for so long and Jonas hadn’t known. He’d sensed something amiss in Remir, had even conferred with Lexa about Remir once or twice, but he’d never been able to solidify Remir’s guilt. Until today. Until it was too late.
“It’s not your fault, Jonas.” Ellie rested her hands on his shoulders, tensing only slightly when Cadmus added his strength by placing a hand on her arm. She pushed Dark energy through Jonas, and Jonas absorbed it like a starving man.
The Wraith’s Kiss—a spell that caused blue flame to burn its victim from the inside out—lingered like a disease after his battle with those ice wraiths. Blessed Night, but Jonas truly hated the wraiths. His pain eased as Ellie poured her energy into him. Cadmus’s touch aided greatly, as tied as the Earth Lord was to Tanselm, his healing was immense.
In no time, Jonas felt himself, and he hastened to warn them against what he feared was coming next. “One of my men was compromised and barely managed to warn me of ‘Sin Garu’s intentions before dying. The Dark Lord is responsible for Ravyn, and I’m afraid it gets worse.”
“We know.” Marcus spoke in a voice devoid of emotion, the intensity of his rage shining in eyes that turned from blue to black. “A Djinn killed our mother, a Darkling in league with several Aellei.”
“That’s what you’re supposed to believe.” Jonas shook his head, aware the kingdoms were in serious trouble if he couldn’t get the Storm Lords to listen to him. Would they trust his word over the Church of Illumination’s?
“Why wouldn’t we believe it?” Cadmus asked. “I want to think that this is all a plot to make us turn on each other. That’s easier to stomach than that our own citizens, Darklings we’ve taken into our hearts and lives, would turn on us, betraying our hope for peace between our kind.”
“Exactly,” Jonas agreed. “With Darklings and Shadow Dwellers blamed for all this, the Light Bringers will turn on their new neighbours. Strife and discord will grow. The potential unity and strength we need to defeat ‘Sin Garu and the Netharat will be gone as if it had never been.”
“A logical conclusion,” Aerolus said. “But if the Djinn and Aellei aren’t at fault, how then do you explain Sarqua involvement in Mother’s death? How do you know your people haven’t actually turned against the Light Bringers? They’ve been dealing with Church and Light Bringer animosity since they arrived. What’s to say ‘Sin Garu didn’t make them a better offer?”
Frustrated, Jonas stood, not knowing how best to answer. He wanted to tell them he was sure it was the Church at fault, that the Sarqua Djinn were innocent. But what if he’d missed another Darkling like Remir, one enspelled by ‘Sin Garu? For that matter, he didn’t know exactly how Ravyn had died, only that Remir had whispered that the Church had something to do with this mess. Perhaps the Storm Lords had the right of it. Yet his gut told him this was all a part of ‘Sin Garu’s plan to weaken the Light Bringers’ hold on Tanselm.
“We want to believe you, Jonas,” Cadmus said tiredly. He glanced back at his mother, his body tense, his aura impossibly bleak. “But I don’t think we can afford to trust in supposition any longer.”
“Then what do you propose to do?” Jonas asked.
“We send the Aellei back to Aelle and the Djinn back to Foreia,” Darius said bluntly. “We gather our sorcerers and warriors and tighten down like we should have from the beginning. Martial law enforced.”
“Yes.” Marcus looked unhappy about the decision. “I sense what Jonas says may be true, yet keeping Darklings and Shadren here will only exacerbate the Light Bringers’ distrust in their leaders. Already there is talk of removing the Storm Lord
s from power. While I’d gratefully leave the throne to anyone more capable to defend us, quite frankly, there aren’t any. Without us here to marshal our people, the magic in Tanselm is doomed to ‘Sin Garu.”
Jonas could see that Marcus was trying to do what was right, but the Storm Lords needed all the help they could get. “You don’t understand. Remir told me something before he died. It’s the Church. I think they conspired to kill the queen.”
Marcus shook his head. “As much as I dislike the Church, I can’t believe that. They’re extremely bigoted, and I admit their antiquated ideas on Light and Dark need a lot of help, but they would never kill Tanselm’s overqueen. Our mother was the heart and soul of Tanselm.”
Darius added his thoughts. “Much as I can’t stand the Congregation of Idiots, I agree with Marcus.”
“But it’s possible,” Jonas tried, but was cut off by the Storm Lords and their affai beginning to argue amongst themselves. To his surprise, all the affai bonded against the Church, but the Royal Four weren’t so sure. Shit. This was getting them nowhere. Though they tried, no one in the room besides Jonas was thinking with a clear head. The loss of Queen Ravyn had deeply affected them all, especially Tanselm. Jonas could feel the land weeping, her magic surging in fits and starts, no doubt screwing with the Storm Lords’ ability to reason. Even their affai were affected, Alandra more than the others as she wept inconsolably while raging against narrow-minded zealots.
Hastening to divert the pain growing in the room, Jonas carefully siphoned some of their negative energy and tried again. “Listen, I didn’t tell you this before, but Sava and I have been doing some digging.”
“Does Arim know? About Ravyn, I mean,” Samantha asked softly, her arms around Darius’s middle, as if holding onto him like a lifeline. Like her husband, red glints of anger shone in her tear-filled gaze.
“Where the hell is he?” Darius growled while trying to soothe his affai.
“He must know,” Aerolus answered. “The minute Mother fell, we all felt it.” He rubbed his chest, and Jonas felt the ache as if it were his own. Involuntarily, his Darkness latched onto Aerolus’s pain, consuming the seething intensity. “Jonas, whatever you’re doing is helping, so keep doing it. I’m able to think more clearly with you and Ellie near me.”
Cadmus hugged Ellie to him. “I felt as if I would die when I saw Mother, but Ellie’s Darkness saps much of the pain of this loss, making it more bearable, if that makes sense.”
“I’m glad something good can come out of this,” Darius muttered, running his hands through his inky hair. “We don’t have time to grieve, nor would Mother want us to, not now. You remember what Arim told us. We have to preserve Tanselm, not just for our good, but for the balance of worlds everywhere. If ‘Sin Garu takes our world, others with less magic may be next.” He held his affai’s hand. “To include the mundane planes, like Earth.”
Tessa and Samantha looked at one another, their faces drawn. Alandra, however, burst out into a new flow of violent tears so unexpectedly that everyone was taken aback.
“Purie, what—” Aerolus tried to console his affai, but Alandra glowed, her aura changing from one of Shadow to one of Darkness impossibly fast.
Jonas felt the magic within her turn as well, and he grew concerned. The Aellei were more than magic users. They were magic itself. Alandra’s power rivalled anyone’s in this room, to include the conspicuously absent Arim.
“They killed her. Our mother. A loving, giving woman who never hurt anyone. She was so good, so pure. She accepted me. Truly loved me, and now she’s gone.” Alandra made a shriek that sounded inhuman, and Jonas was reminded that she was Shadren, a cousin to those awful Nocumat he hated.
“Alandra, try to relax,” Aerolus said with a deep, cleansing calm. “We all love and miss her, purie. But there is nothing we can do to bring her back. We can only serve her people now, as she’d want us to.”
He drew her into his arms and let her weep, and the other women cried a torrent of tears. The Storm Lords weren’t unaffected, far from it, though each battled the pain growing in the room.
Though he tried not to overindulge, Jonas began feeling the effects from so much negative emotion. Whereas before he’d been unsteady due to a lack of blood, now he felt woozy from imbibing too much power. Magically weakened from his altercation with the Netharat, he was having a hard time shielding himself from absorbing the Light Bringers’ pain.
“I’m sorry. I have to get out of here for a minute. Too much energy…”
Jonas flashed out of the room and into the courtyard outside the walls of the western keep. A mistake he immediately recognised. A throng of angry and grief-stricken Light Bringers mustered around several Church brethren spitting Light Bringer doctrine. The large group was intent on their holy gathering—a gathering he’d interrupted.
Silence reigned for a long minute while everyone’s eyes narrowed on him.
“There, see?” One of the Light Bringers sneered and pointed a finger at Jonas. The thin, gangly older man wore a long brown robe and sported a staff affixed with a large milky-white stone. The stone began glowing, protesting Jonas’ presence, and he inwardly cursed Light Bringer opal.
The churchman continued. “It is as Ordinary Nohjen proclaims. ‘The Light shall ferret the evil Darkness from our world and send it back where it belongs. Holy is the soul that cleanses the impure from its pores.’” He pointed at Jonas. “His kind killed our queen. It is our bound duty as Light Bringers to send this spawn back to hell from whence he came.
“Death to the Darklings and Shadren of our world. Death to all who would welcome them. Down with the Storm Lords. The time has come for a new regime to lead us back into the Light.”
All they needed were pitchforks and torches, Jonas thought with amused dismay. He knew he shouldn’t have thought of this rebellion as humorous, but the overindulgence of energy he’d consumed couldn’t stop his shit-eating grin.
Mistake number two.
The Light Bringers found nothing funny about him and roared their disapproval as they tore past the churchmen towards him. Brother Pain In the Ass turned the orb on Jonas full blast, and he was unable to teleport to safety.
Sharp nails and bony fingers prodded his already tender flesh, newly healed courtesy of Ellie, while Jonas fought for sobriety and escape.
“What, by the Light’s Mark, is going on here?” Arim’s voice sounded heaven-sent as Jonas fought the press of bodies suffocatingly close. “Brother Forde?”
The lead churchman pointed to Jonas. “This creature lives and breathes while our overqueen is dead,” he spat, his silent companions nodding like thoughtless drones. Brother Forde’s eyes widened, and he sneered with a savagery that reminded Jonas of ‘Sin Garu. “And you, oh great Guardian of Storm, bring with you a king of Shadow and a Dark Lord spawn. Our enemy stands freely by your side. What incredible hypocrisy! Your friends are the reason Tanselm is no longer safe. They kill our children, feasting on innocent flesh. Yet they walk beside you as equals.” Forde’s face turned beet-red and spittle flew from his mouth as he screamed, “Did you conspire to kill our beloved queen? Are you in league with ‘Sin Garu, as surely as you are with this Dark slut?” Forde glared at Lexa.
The crowd quieted, in shock. As the silence settled, Brother Forde darted furtive looks around him. Probably looking for an escape route, thought Jonas with contempt. Even Forde must have sensed he’d gone too far. Jonas squirmed to be let loose and fought to see Arim and the others. What he finally saw made him shiver. The fury brewing in Arim stirred his Djinn soul to respond.
Unfathomable Darkness in one so full of Light.
Jonas watched the spectacle unfold before him in awe, aware he was most likely watching Light Bringer history in the making. Sava, he noted absently, looked none the worse for wear. While Jonas had been fighting Netharat and teleporting into Dark strongholds all over the known worlds looking for signs of ‘Sin Garu, Sava looked as if he’d been frequenting the most expensive salons.
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The Aellein king’s long, white-blond hair lay perfectly straight and shiny over his shoulders. His pristine—again white—overtunic and trousers had not a smudge or wrinkle to mar their silken perfection, and his skin glowed with vigour as he stared at Arim, waiting with everyone else to see the sorcerer’s reaction.
The sight of Lexa, however, shocked the hell out of Jonas. She looked like Arim’s other half in similar Light Bringer battle garb. Her skin glowed, a pale cream that shone under the moon’s ambient light, and the inky swell of her hair framed a face too beautiful to be real. Her light blue eyes whitened with anger as she stared at the masses glaring back at her, and Jonas could feel her readying to blow them all to hell.
Arim, however, focused on the churchman, his black eyes turning a rainbow of colour that, Jonas had learned, promised nothing remotely pleasant. With a flick of his wrist, Arim lifted Brother Forde from his small platform in the courtyard several feet above the crowd. The man clutched his throat and gasped, his face red and his eyes bulging from his sockets as he struggled to breathe.
“You dare malign me to our people when we are at our most vulnerable? You would attack me, chosen protector of the Light Bringers, chosen by Tanselm herself?” Arim snarled, his eyes inhumanly bright. The crowd cowered yet remained transfixed, like Jonas, at the wreck sure to follow. “My sister, your queen, lies dead. And you rally our people to war with themselves?”
“Arim—” Sava tried to interrupt, but Lexa shook her head.
“No, Sava. Let him. These fools think to ally with the force that probably took the queen from them in the first place.”
All eyes fixed to Lexa, who stared with seething hatred at Brother Forde and his brethren.
“What? Cursing the Djinn and Aellei here isn’t enough?” She glared at the crowd. “None of you, even those sorcerers in the back, can feel the Dark taint of ‘Sin Garu in these ‘stalwart’ Light Bringer churchmen?”
Arim growled and threw the floating churchman fifty feet through the air into a towering rilk tree. The man hit the thick trunk with a solid slam and slid bonelessly to the ground, blood streaming from his ears. But Arim wasn’t through. He turned on the crowd and began expanding, literally growing into a giant as he addressed them, his size lending his voice an immense broadcast.
