Rowan groaned with gritted teeth. Mara could see the malice in his eyes.
She took a step towards him, trying to mirror his strength. “That’s all you’ve wanted from me, isn’t it? You sent for me because you wanted the coire, and you didn’t care if my mother died, because it would be easier for you to get it from me!”
There was a flash in his eyes, and she could tell she’d spoken the truth. She squared her shoulders and raised her chin, making sure he saw the spark of Light in her eyes. “Even if I did have the coire, I wouldn’t give it to you. Now get out of my room.”
Rowan’s jaw fell in angry disbelief, and he seemed unsure what to say next. Mara took the opportunity to appear stoic, even though her legs shook like dry branches. She took a careful step forward. “Get out,” she said through clenched teeth.
Rowan glared at her for a moment longer before turning and storming out of the room. When he was gone, Mara exhaled and stumbled back, her hands trembling like wilting leaves. What was she to do now? She sat back down on her bed, still and silent for what seemed like hours but was really just minutes. She could no longer trust Rowan, and as long as he believed she was the Keeper, he would never let her go. “Where do I go?” she asked herself in the darkness. She remembered Corbin’s promise to leave Valenia. Could she leave with him? Would she get him killed like she had Isa? Mara shook her head dejectedly. She couldn’t take Corbin with her. But leaving him behind was almost unthinkable to her, and made her heart ache as though it had been stabbed. She knew it would hurt him just as much, but she’d rather he lived without her than risk his life to protect her from Rowan, or the unknown Dia, or whoever was hunting her.
Her head was spinning with doubts and confusion. She lifted her eyes and looked out the window to the cliff that hung over the sea. Many nights she’d sat there to escape her relentless dreams. “I need some air,” she said, hoping she would find the answers she needed if she returned there once more.
Malcolm watched as Corbin rode off to Moorthrop with Barrett and Ailwen at the reluctant break of dawn. He stood high on the mound, listening to the pounding hooves fade in the distance. He was glad to see them go. Something strange had begun to linger in the air since the previous day, and it wasn’t simply the result of Isa’s death.
As expected, Rowan was utterly distraught over the loss of his foundling daughter. Meanwhile, Mara remained almost catatonic, and wouldn’t even come out of her chamber for Isa’s burial. Annora checked in on her from time to time, but Malcolm knew Annora’s own misery would be of no help in getting Mara to come back to life. Malcolm wasn’t apathetic about losing Isa. Certainly he was sad. After all, she had been somewhat of a sister to him. But there was nothing anyone could do to change what had happened. And it seemed to Malcolm that he was the only one with the sense enough to know they had bigger concerns to deal with.
The presence of the unseen Dia had been near them less than a day before. Malcolm hadn’t sensed it since then, but his instincts warned him it was close, and the only one left to protect them now was him.
As Malcolm watched the fog roll in, he realized that today was Mara’s twentieth birthday. From what Corbin told him, her powers had already manifested themselves in the forest. But they seemed to control her more than she controlled them. Malcolm wished he had been there to see it. He liked to imagine how wild and out of control she must have been in the moments before she killed the sheriff. Even Malcolm had never burned a person alive before. He smiled at the thought. She was so much more like him than she had ever been willing to admit. Now it was only a matter of time before she realized it. All he had to do was wait.
The burial place of little Isa was at the top of the rolling, grassy slope that she most often sat with Mara. Malcolm glanced over to it, and was surprised to see Mara sitting by the little mound of rocks used to mark Isa’s grave. She kept her eyes forward as Malcolm walked up and sat down beside her. He didn’t speak at first, enjoying the chance just to be near her, free from the icy glare she gave him since the night he kissed her. He much rather preferred to be her partner in mourning than the object of her disdain. Malcolm finally drew in a breath and looked at her. “It’s a sad thing to lose a loved one, especially one so innocent,” he said, watching for her reaction.
“Oh?” she said with a slight lift of her brow. “And you are sad?”
Malcolm tipped his head back as if offended. “Of course I am. She was my sister.”
“I see,” Mara said. “One would never know it.”
Malcolm frowned. “And what do you expect of me, Mara? Should I weep as Annora does? Or should I shut myself away like Rowan? I am sad, yes. But death is all around us. It always has been. Even a Dia can’t escape it. Don’t you know that by now?” Malcolm shook his head in frustration. “I cannot forsake our responsibilities for emotion. We are vulnerable now more than ever. Something is hunting us, and I seem to be the only one to remember that.”
To Malcolm’s shock, Mara let out a disparaging laugh. “You are all vulnerable because of me,” she said.
Malcolm stared at her and shook his head. “You are betraying our kind by holding onto these human notions of guilt and morality, Mara. We must simply be what we are. Anything else is certain ruin.”
She turned to him with blazing eyes. “And what are we? Because yesterday I became a killer. What are you? Are you not a malevolent creature? Don’t look so affronted. I know exactly what’s in that soul of yours. I’ve known it from the moment I first saw you. You’re not the same as Corbin. And then, do you know what that makes me? Am I like you, or am I like him?”
Malcolm felt his body tense. “You don’t know what I am, dear princess. You have defined me from the start and never took a moment to see anything beyond it. Perhaps if you had, you may have known yourself well enough to control your power. If I am wicked, then you are a fool. You ignored that side of yourself, that wicked side, for so long, that it came to control you. So stop putting on this act of sorrow for others when it’s really your own self-pity. Those sad, frightened eyes of yours don’t deceive me.”
Mara blinked at him and drew in a breath. “You’re right,” she said. “I knew it was there too. But this is not self-pity you see. It’s truth. Isa is dead because of me.”
Malcolm shook his head in frustration. “Did you stick the dagger in her?”
Mara shrugged. “I might as well have.”
“Isa was meant to die if that’s what the gods wanted. It wasn’t your choice.”
Mara’s lip began to quiver. “And what of the man I impaled and burned alive?”
“You got your revenge. Do you think he shed a tear as he torched your mother? Don’t be ridiculous. Don’t forsake the gifts you’ve been given because of your misguided beliefs.”
Her eyes flickered. “But my gifts are indeed the cause of all this. And I have decided to forsake them.”
“What?” Malcolm wanted to shake her until she came to her senses.
Mara reached up and clasped the charm around her neck. “I am leaving this place, Malcolm. My mother was right to leave this life.”
The sureness of what she said came to Malcolm painfully. Could she be serious? Would she leave Valenia forever? Malcolm knew that if Rowan was in his right mind, he would never let such a thing happen. Malcolm reached out and touched her arm. “If you leave, you won’t escape your demons. You should have learned that from your mother. You will only carry them with you.”
She nodded. “If that’s the case, then I am taking them far away before they can hurt anyone else.” She stood just as a rising wind picked up.
Malcolm felt a distinct sense of dread come over him. He couldn’t let her go. He couldn’t. He rose to his feet and grabbed her by the arms. “You can’t leave. Rowan won’t let you. I won’t let you.”
Her eyes were hard and cold. She reached for the charm around her neck, the Lia Fáil, and tugged the chain loose. “Here,” she said, lifting his hand and dropping the stone into his palm. “You ta
ke it. I don’t care to know any more of my destiny.” She walked away, leaving Malcolm to stand there, thunderstruck.
The warmth of the stone burned hot in his hand as it vibrated with the remnants of her energy. The stone was useless to him. Only Mara could command it. He fastened it around his neck, wondering how much time he had before she left. He couldn’t watch her walk away.
“I have to speak with Rowan,” he said to himself, walking back towards Valenia.
Rowan was in his chamber. Malcolm stormed in to find him scanning one of the many unraveled scrolls in front of him. “What are you doing?” Malcolm asked.
Rowan looked up, startled, and then returned to the scrolls. “I thought she was the Keeper. She was supposed to be. But I don’t know now. She says she’s not.”
Malcolm shook his head. “Is that your concern right now? Do you know she plans to leave us?”
Rowan’s shoulders twitched. “She will not,” he said, not taking his eyes from the scrolls.
“Are you not concerned, Rowan? After what it took for us to find her? She may still be the Keeper, but that will do us no good if she disappears.”
Rowan shook his head. “She will not leave,” he muttered, continuing with his work.
Malcolm watched Rowan with wide eyes. He’d never seen his master so unnerved. “Rowan!” Malcolm called his name and walked over to him. “You need to listen to me. Mara says she is leaving.”
Rowan stopped as if he’d heard a frightening sound and looked up at Malcolm. Then his eyes fell to the stone around Malcolm’s neck. “Why do you have that?” Rowan whispered through gritted teeth.
“I told you. Mara said she is leaving. She took this off and gave it to me.”
Rowan’s mouth became a hard line. “You are trying to take her from me, aren’t you?”
“What are you talking about? I am trying to tell you she’s leaving.”
Rowan’s hands clenched and unclenched. “It’s you, you wicked creature. You are trying to get the coire from her.”
Malcolm shook his head emphatically. “No. I’ve never even spoken about it with her.”
Rowan’s eyes flashed. “Are you the one who killed my Isa too?”
“Of course not. I was with you when she died. What is wrong with you?” Malcolm began to tremble with anger.
Rowan’s full attention was locked on Malcolm now. “Is it you who summoned the other Dia here to kill me as well? Do you wish to be rid of me?”
Malcolm took a step back. How could Rowan turn on him like this?
“Rowan, you are just upset about Isa. I have been with you these many months. I did not summon the Dia. And if I planned to kill you, don’t you think I would have done it by now?”
Rowan shook his head, his eyes never leaving Malcolm’s. “I don’t understand the devices of demons.”
“Look at me, Rowan. Look into my eyes. I know no such powers.”
The corner of Rowan’s lip curled into a wicked smile. “Ethnea warned me about letting you live. I should have killed you like she killed your father.”
Malcolm stumbled back again, Rowan’s words hitting him like a blow to the chest. “Mara’s mother?”
“Yes,” Rowan hissed. “She killed him. He wanted her power. But she warned me that his blood flowed through your veins. I was a fool to let you live.”
This was almost too much for Malcolm to bear. His throat began to tighten, and the pounding flow of blood rushed to his head. “I am not trying to take the coire, Rowan. I swear it. I know nothing of it.”
Rowan began to lurch toward him, his blazing eyes like slits of light. “I don’t believe you.”
Malcolm walked backwards with his hands up in surrender as Rowan closed in on him. But Rowan continued forward and lifted his hand so that an invisible force, too fast and too strong for Malcolm to evade, thrust him across the room. Malcolm hit the stone wall with a tremendous crack and fell to the floor. There was a moment of blindness, but when Malcolm’s eyes focused he saw Rowan standing over him with his back almost hunched, and his arms wide. He could see the haze of air as Rowan propelled another blow, and he moved out of the way just in time. Malcolm rushed to his feet, trembling all over with a fear that was quickly turning to rage. He didn’t want to hurt Rowan. Given how strong Rowan was, he didn’t even know if he could, but the look in Rowan’s eyes told Malcolm there was no choice in the matter.
He would have to fight.
Summoning all of his Light, Malcolm directed it to his hands and pitched a sphere of silvery fire at Rowan. But it wasn’t strong enough and didn’t even make Rowan step back. Malcolm swallowed hard under Rowan’s glare, his eyes fixed upon Malcolm like a hungry wolf. Malcolm glanced towards the open door, hoping that Mara or Annora would come and distract Rowan long enough for him to run, but before he could shout for them, Malcolm felt his throat begin to close. Rowan stood over him, clasping his hands around the air. “You cannot win against me,” Rowan growled.
Malcolm began to claw at his neck, trying to invoke enough strength to stop choking, but Rowan was strong—impossibly strong. He scrambled along the wall when he saw Rowan pull out his sword to strike the death blow that would surely kill a Dia. Malcolm held his hands up in a last attempt to summon enough Light, when suddenly he felt a burning sensation against his chest. He reached for it and when he touched the Lia Fáil, he felt a surge of power. Without any effort, a large ball of light emerged from his hand and flew at Rowan, forcing him back and knocking the sword from his hands. It fell to the ground with a clang. Malcolm grabbed the sword. He could feel the power of the stone further strengthening his own Light, and with a quick breath, he shot another beam of light that forced Rowan to his knees. Rowan roared, trying to free himself from the magical grasp, making the ground shake beneath their feet. And just as he raised his arms to attack, Malcolm brought down the blade on his master, plunging it deep into his chest.
Rowan collapsed to the floor, breathing like a wounded dog.
Malcolm bent down to examine his dying master, a smile of victory crossing his lips. “I was truly your ally, Rowan. And now you have made me your enemy.”
“Fiend,” Rowan spat with a look of defeat in his eyes. “I should have listened.”
Malcolm could see that even in his weakened state, Rowan was trying to draw on his power. A faint light began to form on Rowan’s hand and Malcolm had a flash of thought. He didn’t know where it came from, or what compelled him to do it, but while Rowan struggled to strike back, Malcolm touched Rowan’s chest. Almost immediately he felt his hand become locked on Rowan. He resisted at first, trying to break free, but he soon realized that waves of Light were flooding his body. The energy was warm and intoxicating as it filled him.
He was absorbing Rowan’s power.
His whole body began to throb while the Light moved through him until he thought he couldn’t take it anymore. Then there was a second of silence, and almost as suddenly as it began, the force that held them together released him, sending Malcolm tumbling to the ground.
Malcolm wasn’t sure how long he was unconscious, but when he finally opened his eyes he was in total darkness. He flicked his finger and with incredible ease, all of the candles in the room ignited. He squinted, feeling the pain from the sudden brightness around him.
When he was finally able to regain control of his vision he peered around the room and saw Rowan’s lifeless body. Malcolm tried to get to his feet, but the sheer power of each gesture overwhelmed him. He stood like a newly-born foal, just learning to use its legs. He steadied himself on a nearby chair and put his hand to his forehead.
How had he absorbed Rowan’s powers? He’d never heard of such a thing.
Malcolm took careful, determined steps towards Rowan, seeing that no Light emanated from him now. He almost looked human. Had taking Rowan’s power made him mortal? The drying pool of blood around Rowan stretched wide, and Malcolm couldn’t hear his heart beating. Rowan was surely dead.
Malcolm shook his head clear
and stumbled back onto a chair as he took in the situation. At first he was stunned, but then he recalled Rowan’s confession – Ethnea killed his father. Suddenly he began to feel a deep loathing well up inside him. It was a hatred for Rowan, who had kept him in the dark for his entire life, knowing the truth about what happened to his family. Malcolm wondered if he might have felt differently about Mara, had he known it was her mother who orphaned him.
It was then it occurred to Malcolm that Mara probably had no knowledge of this. What a cruel joke Rowan had played, ordering Malcolm to teach her, and what a fool Malcolm was to love her. He reached up and touched the charm around his neck. Was this what allowed him to take Rowan’s Light? If it was, he now had Mara to thank for it.
Malcolm looked out the window. The sky was dark. If Mara was leaving, she would probably do it under the cover of night.
When he stood up, he marveled at the dynamic power within him, wondering if Rowan had always felt this kind of strength. Malcolm took a deep breath to get control of himself and headed for the hall of chambers. He flung open the door to Mara’s room and found it empty. Malcolm cocked his head, listening. His powers were so strong now, he didn’t even need to summon them to sense her. He marched to the first door of the hallway and found her there, sitting on the edge of Corbin’s bed.
She wore her black cloak and laid next to her was a sack. In her hands, she held the woolen doll she had made for Isa. She turned her head to Malcolm, her sad eyes widening with alarm. “What’s happened?” she cried as she looked him over.
Malcolm savored her shock. “Rowan is dead,” he said simply.
Mara’s mouth opened in horror. “What do you mean, dead?” Her eyes grazed him once more. “What have you done, Malcolm?”
Malcolm’s felt his anger roused by her assumption. “He attacked me! He tried to kill me.”
Mara shook her head over and over as if she didn’t believe him. “And what has happened to you?” she asked. He could hear the judgment in her tone.
The Darkness of Light Page 14
