The Darkness of Light

by Tammy Farrell

  Mara stared out on the water, letting her eyes lose focus as the realization struck her. “Did she accept death to protect me?”

  Rowan nodded slowly. “Perhaps. As far as I know, we are the only Dia left on earth, but maybe she thought there was someone after her. Maybe the weight of the coire was too much.”

  Mara swallowed hard, pushing down the tension inside. “Then where is the coire now?”

  “I don’t know,” Rowan said. “The Keeper can give it to another, I suppose.”

  Mara instinctively reached into the collar of her dress and withdrew her mother’s green stone. “She gave me this,” she said.

  Rowan’s eyes lit up. “I thought that was lost with her,” he said. “Do you know what this is?”

  “No,” Mara responded.

  “That is called the Lia Fáil. It is meant to guide the wearer along their destined path. If she gave that to you, then she must have known she was leaving this earth.”

  Mara hung her head, terrified that her mother died for nothing. How could Mara be better off without her?

  She sat quiet a long time, letting all of what Rowan had said sink in. Finally she looked up to Rowan. “The others are Dia as well?”

  Rowan nodded. “Yes, though Annora and Isa are more mortal than Dia. Their bloodline stretches too far back. Corbin is only a half-Dia. His mother was mortal. He has the unique ability to heal others, though we all possess the ability to heal ourselves.” He pointed to her ankle. “You would have healed had you known how to use your Light.”

  “And what about Malcolm?” Mara asked.

  Rowan took a deep, cautious breath. “Malcolm is certainly a Dia. His father was a Cian, which is an exceptionally strong Dia. Malcolm shows the same characteristics.”

  “Oh,” Mara said, unsure if she liked that answer. She hung her head, feeling a heavy sadness push on her, and then she said, “What is my purpose, then? What’s to become of me here?”

  Rowan rested his forearms on his raised knees. “We wait.”

  “Wait for what?”

  “For your twentieth year. That is when our kind truly becomes a Dia, and our powers are at their fullest.” He gave her a warm smile. “And if you’re anything like your mother, your power will rival us all.” He reached out and put a hand on Mara’s. “Your mother was a sort of Dia princess, Mara, and now you will be ours.”

  Malcolm hastily scanned the shelves of texts in Rowan’s study, glancing over his shoulder every few seconds to make sure he was alone. He’d noticed a codex opened on Rowan’s desk the day before with a folded piece of vellum tucked into the seam. That was certainly unusual. Rowan never bothered with the texts. Was he hiding something?

  Malcolm remembered looking through these books as a child. Many were the legends of his kind, recorded by their ancestors through the centuries. Malcolm always hoped to read something of his parents, but there was nothing. All he knew about them was what he’d learned from Rowan. Malcolm’s father was a Cian, a ruler among the Dia that remained in Ireland, but in the year of Malcolm’s birth, his father and mother were dead, and the rest of his kind all but vanished. As a young boy, the knowledge of his ancestry excited Malcolm. The notion of his potential power made him impatient for his 20th year, when the true strength of his Light would be known. Now he was 24 and contented with the Dia he’d become.

  His powers were strong. Much stronger than he had ever hoped they would be. He could shift his appearance to fool mortal eyes, he could affect changes in weather, and his favorite gift of all – he could read the thoughts of humans, a pursuit he often enjoyed. It was clear to anyone who saw him in his true form that he was unearthly. And not only that, but he was long and lean, almost as tall as Corbin, with what he thought to be a handsome face. His features were sharp and straight, and he could easily turn on a boyish smile or a devious grin when needed.

  But right now a cold sweat was forming on Malcolm’s brow and an urgent tightness in his throat. He picked up one book after the other, sifting through the pages for the passage with the strange symbols, but it wasn’t there. When he quietly closed another book and slid it back onto the shelf, he heard a cough from behind him. Malcolm spun around to see Rowan leaning on the doorframe, staring at him with a raised brow. “Looking for something?” Rowan asked, pushing away from the door and striding into the room. Normally Malcolm would have heard someone approach, but Rowan moved like air, imperceptible.

  Malcolm dropped his hand from the book and stepped away. “I was just trying to find some histories for Mara to read.”

  Rowan laughed and sat down in his large oak chair. “Nonsense, Malcolm. She’s been here five days and you’ve not spoken a word to her. And let’s not pretend you’re that thoughtful.” Rowan laced his fingers in front of him. “No. You’re looking for something. You think I am keeping something from you, don’t you?”

  “Aye,” Malcolm said, feeling his face grow hot.

  Rowan smirked. “That’s the thing about you and me, Malcolm. We’ve been in each other’s company so long there is no mystery between us.”

  Malcolm took a step forward. “So what is it, then? What have you been keeping from me?” He put a hand on the table.

  Rowan’s head fell back with a sigh and then looked Malcolm straight on. “I think Mara is the Keeper.”

  Malcolm took in a quick breath and then whispered, “Of the coire?”

  Rowan nodded. “I am fairly certain that Ethnea was the Keeper, and with her gone, the only logical replacement would be her daughter.”

  Malcolm nodded slowly, unsure if the news was good or bad for him. “Does she have it?”

  Rowan shook his head. “You know as well as I do that it’s been lost for so long, nobody even knows what the coire is anymore. But I don’t think she knows where it is, yet anyway.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that she hasn’t yet reached her twentieth year. The gods wouldn’t allow it until then. She may hear the whisper when that time comes, and you and I will need to be watchful when it happens.”

  Malcolm dropped down into the chair next to him, wondering if Rowan truly believed Mara was capable of being the Keeper. From what Malcolm had seen of her, she was no more than a beautifully indignant girl who was weak and unsure of her power. She was close enough to her twentieth year that her Light should be stronger, and from what he knew of it, the coire was meant for only the most powerful Dia, like him. Malcolm raised his eyes. “Do you plan to take it if she is the Keeper?”

  Rowan feigned a look of confusion. “Of course not, Malcolm. She is my niece, my blood. We will protect her. And if she is the Keeper, we will see that it is protected as well.”

  “But it’s not meant to be used,” Malcolm said, seeing Rowan’s deception.

  “We don’t know that,” Rowan said. “All we know is that is hasn’t been used.”

  Malcolm nodded, trying to hide his sense of resentment. Malcolm was a Cian, Rowan was no more than a Guardian of the Children of Light. If the coire should be in anyone’s hands, it should be in his.

  Rowan watched Malcolm carefully and his expression softened. “I have a task for you.”

  “And what is that?” Malcolm asked.

  “I want you to train her; see that she becomes better acquainted with her powers and our ways.”

  Rowan’s proposal piqued his interest, but his motives were unclear. Was Rowan trying to test him, or did Rowan truly believe Malcolm could bring out Mara’s Light? “I can teach her to use her Light, but I’m not certain she is capable of what you think she is. You should have seen her in Moorthrop. She behaves more human than Dia.”

  Rowan’s lips tightened into a hard line. “I suspect that you underestimate her. She is anything but weak; she is only untaught in the ways of our kind.” Rowan’s eyes flared with momentary anger.

  “Very well,” Malcolm said, loathing Rowan’s reproach. “And what of Corbin?”

  Rowan sat forward. “I have another task for Corbin. I want him
to look into the matter of the magistrate. It’s curious that he would go as far as to put a price on her head. I need to know the reasons behind it.” Rowan stood and looked out the window onto the sea. “Mara’s twentieth year comes this autumn. Do you think you can have her at her full potential by then?”

  “Yes,” Malcolm said, though he still had doubts that Mara would surpass even his own meager expectations. “But she may not be all that you want her to be,” Malcolm added.

  Rowan turned a hard eye on Malcolm and then smiled. “We will see, then. But there is something else you must do for me now. I want you and Corbin to go to Dunport. There is a horse trader there named Roch. He will have two horses for you, coursers, and has assured me they are well trained and capable of long journeys.” Rowan threw a heavy leather pouch on the table. “Pay him and bring them back here. I will have Corbin build a stable for them.”

  Malcolm grabbed the pouch and tied it to his belt. Money was really no object to them, and they always had more than enough silver and gold to purchase what was needed. “Will there be anything else?” Malcolm asked.

  Rowan nodded. “Take Mara to the village with you. Now is as opportune a time as any to begin her instruction.”

  Malcolm turned to leave.

  “Oh, and Malcolm?” Rowan said.

  Malcolm looked back at him.

  “Don’t play games with her. She doesn’t need testing, she needs training.”

  Malcolm bowed his head obediently while biting his tongue. He would teach her all she was capable of learning.

  In the great hall, Malcolm engaged his preternatural senses to listen for voices within. He could hear Annora and Isa in the chamber hall, but all else was quiet. When he walked outside, the sky was gray and the ocean rocked heavily onto the shore. He followed the footsteps that led down the beach where the sand meets the base of a sea cliff, and looked up to see Corbin and Mara sitting near the edge. An unexpected stab of jealousy came over him. He walked up the hill to approach them from behind, and then stopped, veiling himself so they wouldn’t see him.

  Mara sat close to Corbin, their shoulders only inches apart from each other. Her delicately woven dress fanned out around her, and her black hair was plaited down her back. Corbin was in his usual black tunic. He sat with his knees bent, and his head turned, listening to her.

  “How could I have been so blind?” she asked him. “How could I not have known?”

  Corbin was silent for a long moment. “I don’t know. My father never told me that he was a Dia. I was only thirteen when he died, but I wish I could have known. I don’t know what would have happened to me if I hadn’t met Rowan.”

  Malcolm was stunned by Corbin’s candor. Many times over the years Malcolm had heard the stories of Corbin’s commander father, but Corbin never expressed anything deeper than that.

  Mara sighed. “Yes, but three hundred years old! How could she have been three hundred years old? How old was your father?”

  “Rowan says he didn’t know my father.” Corbin shrugged. “It’s the same with Malcolm, you know. He doesn’t even remember his parents. It seems as though they abandoned him. Though, he’s never talked about it. I don’t think it bothers him much.”

  Malcolm gritted his teeth. What right did Corbin have to scrutinize him? To his surprise, Mara let out a cynical laugh. “If he can feel anything at all.”

  Her words stung. Had she already forgotten that it was also he who saved her life?

  Corbin shook his head and said, “You have to give him some time. He can be challenging, but he is a strong Dia and sharper than any blade in the king’s army. Rowan is the only father Malcolm has ever known, and now you have come here as Rowan’s kin. Malcolm might feel threatened by it.”

  Mara nodded thoughtfully. “Perhaps you’re right. But there is something about him that frightens me.” She turned and looked at Corbin. “But then again, there is something about all of you that frightens me.”

  Malcolm had heard enough. He didn’t want to give Corbin another opportunity to poison her already wavering opinion of him. With a purposely heavy foot, he walked towards them. They both turned, looking guilty and surprised to see him. He liked that they were uncertain, but he made an extra effort to seem unaware of their conversation.

  “There you are,” he said with a smile to Corbin. “Rowan wants us to go to Dunport. There are some horses there he wants us to bring back.” Malcolm held up the sack of coins. Corbin nodded and rose to his feet.

  Malcolm smiled at Mara and said, ”Would you like to come with us? It’s a town not far from here, probably the largest town left on this side of the realm.”

  There was a flash of doubt and maybe a hint of fear in her eyes. Malcolm tried to reassure her. “You are with us, so you won’t have to worry. I will show you how to move through a crowd unnoticed.”

  Her gaze shifted from Malcolm to Corbin. “I don’t know,” she said.

  Corbin reached his hand to help her up. Malcolm thought he saw a momentary flash of shock in her eyes. Then Corbin said, “Malcolm’s right. We can show you how to veil yourself. You’ll have to learn anyway.”

  “Very well,” she agreed, her pale sage eyes gleaming with energy. Malcolm noted that her Light seemed stronger than it had when they first met.

  They crossed the bridge to Dunport when the market was at its busiest; the perfect time of day for beings such as themselves to go unnoticed. They kept their hoods up and avoided eye contact with any one person for more than a moment. There really wasn’t much danger of anyone suspecting them, but every now and then, there might be a mortal with an overly discerning eye, sensing their presence.

  Malcolm took the lead while Corbin walked behind Mara, shielding her from the usual debauchery so abundant in the busy port town. Malcolm looked back to see Mara’s gentle features tense with distress. “Use your mind to shield yourself,” he whispered. “Feel the energy flowing through you and believe you are unseen. Will it to be so. Most humans won’t even look at you,” he said in his most considerate tone, while silently commending himself for his impeccable acuity. She nodded and continued on as they walked through the green in the center of the village and passed the parsonage house. The masons were adding yet another section to the already immense building.

  The blacksmith was further down the old Roman road, near the stables where they would find the horse trader. Malcolm walked on, but turned back when Corbin called him to go left towards the woolers and cloth merchants.

  Malcolm grunted with irritation but followed behind until Corbin stopped at the stall of a silk merchant. The dark-skinned merchant with a large, crooked nose was in a heated exchange with a woman dressed in a handmaid’s robe. She was quibbling over the price of a thin piece of silk. When a deal between the two couldn’t be reached, she threw the fabric into the merchant’s face and stormed off, muttering curses. The rather heavyset, vibrantly-dressed man scoffed at the woman before turning a critical eye on Corbin.

  Corbin stood commandingly tall before the man.

  “What do you want?” the merchant said with a spitting eastern accent.

  Corbin pointed beyond the folded lengths of fabric to a black silk cloak draped across the table. “I will take that mantle, sir.”

  The merchant stifled a laugh. “Oh no, no, no,” he protested. “That is much too expensive for you. You see that woman there?” He pointed toward the handmaid. “That’s the maid to Lady Ana, and even she couldn’t afford it. Now be gone. Stop wasting my time.”

  Malcolm saw the muscles in Corbin’s jaw clench as he leaned forward and dropped a heavy hand on the table, and with the other slammed a pouch of coins down. This made the merchant jump, his black eyes widening as he snaked his hand towards it and peered inside. His demeanor changed immediately, realizing his mistake. “Of course, of course,” the merchant said. “This is the finest silk of the east. Very fine.”

  Corbin remained unyielding to the now-friendly merchant as he handed over the cloak.

&nbs
p; Malcolm frowned, puzzled as to why Corbin would purchase such a fine cloak. He marched after Corbin and Mara until they stopped in the lane between the makeshift tavern and the baker’s hut. Corbin unfolded the silk mantle and wrapped it around Mara; her eyes were large and uncertain. “Thank you,” she said, her long white fingers sliding across it.

  Malcolm pursed his lips, unsure whether he was jealous, or furious with Corbin. No, Malcolm thought, it was fury. They never traveled in fine clothes. Surely that cloak would draw more attention to Mara than she could hide from. “Are you out of your mind?” Malcolm scolded. “Our goal is to go unnoticed, not make a spectacle of her.”

  “Yes,” Corbin said. “But those searching for her are looking for a peasant girl, not a lady.”

  Malcolm scoffed. “So she can lure simple thieves, then. Is that what your plan is?”

  Corbin shook his head. “With this cloak, you can make her unseen, can’t you?” He raised his eyebrow. There was a note of challenge in his tone, enraging Malcolm further. But he had to admit that perhaps Corbin was right. With Mara not yet able to control her Light, her ability to conceal herself was weak.

  Malcolm exhaled and looked at Mara, her face drawn and confused. “I don’t need it,” she said, removing the cloak.

  “Wait,” Malcolm held out a hand to stop her. With a deep breath, he stepped in front of her, peering into her pale eyes that were now even more vibrant next to the ebony silk. He raised his right hand, calling upon his Light and began to wave a cloud of incandescent mist that faded the moment it touched her. The cloak was now imbued with his magic and would veil her whenever she wore it. Mara looked up at him with awe, shivering as the last of the mist absorbed into the cloth around her. “There,” Malcolm said, giving Corbin an irritated side-glance. “Until you learn to conceal yourself, this will keep you veiled from mortal eyes.”