The men looked at each other with uncertainty.
Malcolm groaned. “Well, one of you is going to have to speak. I don’t have all night to stand here.”
Finally, one of the men stepped forward and cleared his throat. He had dark hair that touched the tops of his shoulders and his face was long and thin, with sharp features and dark, narrow eyes. His jaw clenched as he summoned his courage. “We are soldiers of Atrebatia,” he said.
Malcolm eyed him. “And you betrayed your kingdom and your lord to become wandering thieves?”
“No,” said the man, his eyes insistent. “We were pushed out by the Vikings last winter. They gave us a choice: fight with them or face execution. So we escaped to the mountains.”
“I see,” Malcolm said as he paced back and forth. “And why would you not fight with your conquerors?”
“They would have made us foot soldiers. No more than human shields to protect their warriors. We are soldiers of Atrebatia, not pigs for the slaughter.”
Malcolm liked the way this warrior spoke, even in the face of someone as frightening as himself. The young warrior was lanky, but his shoulders were broad, and he held his head high. And while reading his mind, Malcolm also noticed a hint of the depraved that he liked. “So you know how to fight well, I take it?”
“Yes.”
“And should the opportunity arise for you to become a warrior once more, would you seize it?”
The man looked back to his fellow soldiers. “We would,” he said.
“Well then, I give you a choice: you can join me and become my soldiers, or you can join your friend there. As you can plainly see, I am much more than a mortal man, and in time, I plan to take a kingdom of my own. And a kingdom needs an army.” He could see the thoughts racing through their minds as they looked to one another.
Malcolm was growing impatient. “For the sake of your lives, decide! Would you rather join your friend, or would you rather have riches, land, women, and whatever it is that your fucking mortal hearts desire? I am offering you a chance to have exactly what you seek and yet you gape at me like dogs.” Malcolm let his eyes shine the silvery glow that seemed so intimidating to others.
The bold man took a step forward and knelt down on one knee. The other men quickly followed. Malcolm nodded and motioned for them to rise. “What is your name, warrior?”
The man looked into Malcolm’s eyes, subduing his fear. “Eli, my lord. My name is Eli, son of Annicus of the soldiers of Atrebatia.”
“Good, Eli. I am Malcolm. Was this man your commander?” Malcolm pointed to the dead man.
“He was. And he was also my uncle, my lord.”
Malcolm watched Eli carefully, looking for any sign of resentment. “And you are not bitter that I have just speared him?”
“No, my lord. My uncle is the one who led us into this dishonorable existence. We are warriors and want to fight.”
“So there is no love lost between you and your uncle?”
“None whatsoever, my lord.”
Malcolm could see this soldier was indeed telling the truth. “Well then, Eli, you will be the new commander of this troop. I trust that your skills as a leader will be adequate?”
Eli nodded. “More than adequate, my lord. My father was commander in the battle of Loycott. He gave his life to fend off the invaders.”
“Excellent. Do you and your men have horses?”
“We do. Just over the hill there.”
“Go and fetch them, then. We are heading north. There is something I need to recover before we go back to the western sea.”
Eli nodded obediently and turned with the other soldiers to get their horses.
Malcolm mounted his horse. “Oh, and Eli?” The men stopped and looked at him. “You are all loyal to me now. You betray me, and you will suffer the same fate as him.” Malcolm pointed to the dead man with his spear.
“They wouldn’t have made it this far on foot, Corbin,” Ailwen said. “We should have found them by now.”
Corbin frowned. “I know that, but what are we to do? Just turn back? What if we’ve missed something?”
Barrett coughed and stroked his beard. “If she’s even out here, son. If you ask me, I think that scheming imp, Malcolm, has sent us on a fool’s errand.”
“I fear you might be right, Barrett,” Corbin admitted.
The truth of how much time had passed in their search for Mara filled Corbin with misery. How could he have been so selfish to leave her alone after what happened to Isa? Now, because of his own foolishness and need for revenge, Mara was missing. All he could think about was the last time they spoke and he prayed he would have the chance to right his wrongs. He wouldn’t allow himself to think something horrible might have happened to her; he couldn’t bear it.
It was almost a new moon.
For weeks, Corbin, Barrett, and Ailwen had been riding across the realm, stopping at every town and village, and scouring the forests and hillsides for any sign of Rowan, Annora, or Mara. But not a single person recalled seeing anyone by their description, and Corbin was coming to the conclusion that he would soon have to turn back to Valenia and find out what Malcolm was hiding. Corbin wished now more than ever that he’d ripped out Malcolm’s throat before leaving Valenia. He was sure Malcolm had something to do with this, though he kept pushing away the thoughts, not wanting to believe what his mind kept trying to tell him.
Would Malcolm really hurt Mara? And if he did, why would Rowan allow such a thing to happen? He wondered if Rowan had something to do with it as well. The notion wasn’t as absurd as Corbin hoped it would be. Rowan was old, powerful, and wise. Perhaps he was working with Malcolm. Maybe he was after the coire. Corbin shook his head and dismissed his suspicions. If Mara was the Keeper, he was sure she would have told him, and he was almost certain Rowan wouldn’t do anything to hurt the last of his kin.
Ailwen rode his horse alongside Corbin’s. “If we don’t go back soon, we’re going to end up in Atrebatia, Corbin, and there aren’t enough of us to fight off an attack. I’m sure Mara wouldn’t have come this far.”
Corbin halted his horse, dismounted and led it to a nearby creek. The terrain had been quite flat for the last two days and the horses had covered considerable ground, but they were beginning to grow fatigued.
Corbin looked at his companions, who had also pushed themselves much farther than their mortal limitations should allow. And they’d done it all for Corbin and a woman they shared no interest in.
“Ah!” Corbin groaned and balled his fists. “Where are you!” he shouted into the air, feeling as though his mind might go mad with frustration. He picked up a heavy rock and hurled it across the creek.
Barrett and Ailwen stood in observant silence, waiting for Corbin to calm down. While Corbin was a preternatural man, even he had limits, and he had almost reached them. He sunk down on the grass at the water’s edge and stared into the narrow steam. Ailwen and Barrett joined him to share in his quiet disappointment.
Finally Corbin turned to Barrett. “What do we do, old man?”
“Ha!” Barrett laughed. “Old man? You’re the one taking the rest, son. I’ve still got a few good years in me yet.”
Corbin’s mouth curled into a glum smile. “Well?”
Barrett exhaled. “Well, my boy, we’ve looked through every inch of the northern territory and there’s not a word of her in any of the towns or villages. She couldn’t have gone this far. Either she’s hiding out further south and we missed her or she’s gone back to Valenia.”
Corbin nodded. “I know, Barrett. I know.”
“Have you not been able to sense her with your uhhh…magic?”
“No. That’s what worries me. I should have sensed her or Rowan by now.”
Barrett raised his eyebrow. “Unless she’s back at Valenia and we’re just moving further away.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Corbin said with a sigh.
Ailwen put a heavy hand on Corbin’s shoulder. “We will find her, bro
ther. Maybe we should follow the roads back. I know you said she would stay off of them, but she wouldn’t know her way much past Moorthrop; maybe she took the roads to guide her. We can keep asking in the villages on the way back. She’s not hard to forget, if someone’s seen her.”
Corbin smiled to himself. Ailwen was right. If Mara allowed anyone to see what she truly looked like, they wouldn’t soon forget her. But it was this that worried him the most. How could a woman like her travel through the towns without anyone remembering her face? It was impossible.
“All right,” Corbin said. “We will head back east and take the roads this time. You two had better eat something. You’ll need your strength.”
Traveling the roads back to Valenia would take only half the time they had spent going north. In spite of their fatigue, Barrett and Ailwen only stopped to rest when Corbin insisted on it. So far they had come across two groups of travelers that were migrating west to escape the invasions. The travelers had no knowledge of Rowan, Annora, or Mara, but a glimmer of hope came when they met a group of thieves who attempted to attack Corbin and his men on the road. Fortunately, the outlaws were wise enough to back down from Corbin and his sword, and when given a little coin they revealed they had seen two men and two young women moving south. They were sure one of the girls had a scar on her face. This was promising news, but it left the three travelers wondering who the second man might be.
The farther Corbin, Ailwen, and Barrett moved along the roads, the more hopeful Corbin became that he would find them. He promised himself that once he found Mara, they would leave Valenia and go to the western isles, no matter what Rowan’s objections were.
The waxing moon hung low in the sky as it rose and fell behind the peaks of sloping heaths. The sky was dark when they reached the edge of Crenin forest, but the men kept on their path, more determined than ever to push forward in spite of the nightly dangers that lurked in the trees. The forest was not large in area, but the surrounding marshland caused a thick fog to hang low, blinding them to the path ahead. And the dense canopy of trees above stretched out, blocking the moonlight.
The men took their time guiding their horses down a path that cut through the middle of the forest. Corbin engaged his keen senses, listening to the last of the insects hanging on before the dead cold of winter arrived, and the bristling of leaves as small rodents darted about. These were the noises that calmed him. But it was when he heard nothing that he halted his horse.
The forest was abruptly quiet. Deathly quiet.
Corbin held out his hand to warn Barrett and Ailwen, and they dismounted their horses and drew their swords. The dark gray fog was thick, making it hard even for Corbin to see through it. He moved forward cautiously, listening for any sign of something foreign around them, but nothing stirred. As Corbin continued on, he turned his head when the sound of hurried steps closed in on them. Suddenly the blade of a sword cut through the air, missing him by an inch.
Corbin let go of the horse and held up his sword just as three hooded figures stepped out from the mist. Their faces were covered, showing only their eyes, but Corbin could see by their stances they were prepared for a fight.
Ailwen and Barrett flanked Corbin on his right and left side and thrust their blades at the assailants, but the attackers moved in and out of the fog so quickly that the men lost sight of them with each swing.
Corbin felt the Light within him rise. He focused his energy on his sword when another blade cut though the fog and sliced his leg. He roared and dropped to his knee. Barrett and Ailwen formed a barrier around him so he had time to heal the wound, and in a moment Corbin was on his feet and resumed his defense. His sword began to glow a faint blue with his power, and he realized he would be forced to kill the attackers now. They left him no choice.
He looked to Barrett just as a black figure stepped from the fog. “Grab him,” Corbin shouted. Barrett reacted quickly and before the man could pull away, Barrett grabbed him by the shoulder and forced him to the ground.
“Finish him, Corbin,” Barrett huffed.
Corbin raised his sword and just as he was about to bring the blade down on the hooded man, he heard his name in the distance. “Corbin!”
He knew that voice, but was he just imagining it?
Then it came again. “Corbin!”
Corbin hesitated with his sword, giving another hooded figure just enough time to sink their blade right into the top of his arm. He clasped his hand around the wound. While the hooded attacker lifted his sword to strike the final blow the voice called out again, “Gareth, no! It’s Corbin.”
The hooded man froze with his arms raised over his head and then dropped the sword to his side.
Corbin held his hand to his wound, healing it, but his eyes were fixed on the slow-moving figure that stepped from the fog. He recognized the form. “Mara?” he whispered.
The man standing next to Corbin removed his hood. “This is Corbin?” he asked.
“It is!” Mara moved towards him and dropped to her knees.
Corbin shook his head in disbelief. Was he seeing things? Was he dying?
She grabbed the sides of his face. “Do you see me, Corbin?” she asked. “Corbin, it’s me.” She held his face in her hands and searched his eyes for recognition. Corbin blinked several times, examining her closely. Something about her was different and when he reached up to touch her hand, he couldn’t feel the vibration of her touch. Her beautiful face was still the same, but her eyes were dark, almost black.
Corbin touched her again like she was some kind of vision, just as he had done on their first night together. “Mara? Is this really you?” he asked.
“Yes! Yes!” she cried, gently wrapping her arms around him.
Corbin held her, feeling for the exchange of energy that happened only when he touched her, but he felt nothing. He pulled her back to look at her again. Her face was sickly pale, and her eyes were deep with sadness. “What’s happened to you?” he asked, fearing the answer.
She looked away from him towards another figure walking out of the fog. The person gasped and dropped their hood. “I can’t believe it!” Annora said, holding a sword in her hand.
Corbin turned back to Mara, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Is that Annora with a sword?”
Mara nodded.
Annora ran up to Corbin and gave him a quick pat on the shoulder. “I’m sorry if I got you in the leg. We thought you were soldiers.”
Annora seemed livelier than Corbin had ever seen her, and dressed as a man, which he found surprising. Ailwen and Barrett still stood on guard, waiting for Corbin’s order. Barrett hadn’t yet let go of the man on the ground. The man jerked his arm from Barrett’s grip and removed his hood. Barrett gasped. “What sort of magic is this?”
“This can’t be,” Ailwen said. Corbin watched Ailwen’s eyes dart back and forth between Barrett and the unknown man.
“What? What is it?” asked the man.
Corbin held on to Mara and stretched to see the profile of the man’s face, but his back was turned.
“Thank the gods,” cried Barrett. He wrapped his arms around the man in a great hug and lifted him to his feet.
The man shook Barrett off him. “What the fuck are you doing? Get off of me.”
Barrett wrinkled his brow. “Drake. It’s me, Barrett.”
Corbin’s heart seemed to stop beating for a moment. “Drake?” he repeated in a whisper.
The man in front of Barrett adjusted his clothing and took a deep breath. “I don’t know you, friend, though I’ve been told we come from the same village.”
Barrett shook his head, still frowning, and stepped aside so that Drake was now visible. Corbin couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He let go of Mara and walked over to face the man.
“Father?” he whispered, fearing that he was in fact dead and this was some kind of foggy otherworld.
His father’s head jerked back and his narrowed eyes scanned Corbin, but he said nothing.
“Fathe
r!” Corbin repeated louder and with a hint of anger. “How is this you?”
His father took a step back from Corbin’s discerning eyes. “I…I don’t have a son,” he said in a mystified whisper. His forehead creased as he frowned. “You must have me mistaken. My family is dead.”
Even though Corbin could see the confusion in his father’s eyes, his heart thundered him into a rage. “What do you mean? I am your son! You are supposed to be dead!”
His father shook his bearded face slowly, his eyes locked on Corbin. “I don’t remember having a son,” he said, looking past Corbin to Mara. She walked up to Corbin, and her jaw dropped in shock as her eyes drifted from him back to Drake.
“What is this?” Corbin asked.
Mara shook her head. “He has no memory, Corbin.” She stroked his arm to calm him. “He doesn’t know who you are. He doesn’t even know who he is.” Her eyes looked on him with sadness.
Corbin’s whole body shook and his throat seemed to close. “How are you with him?” he asked.
Mara tilted her head to the side, her dark eyes never leaving his. “Drake was the guard who helped me escape from Moorthrop.”
Corbin almost stumbled back, speechless, shaking his head over and over. His father was dead. This couldn’t be true.
His eyes fell on Mara once more and he reached out to embrace her, desperately trying to feel her power, but there was nothing. He pulled her back and looked at her again, searching for answers. “What’s going on here, Mara? Where is Rowan?”
She dropped her face, but held on to his arms as a heavy silence fell over the stunned onlookers. “Come with us,” she said. “There are some things we have to tell you.”
What should have been a joyous reunion was plagued by uncertainty. Corbin watched Mara walk with great effort, favoring her left side as she led them to a spot not far from the road. She held on to Corbin’s arm as if she might fall and seemed to take gentle steps, like she was in pain. The hovering warm air in the forest had begun to lift, taking the fog with it, and Corbin could make out the embers of an extinguished fire at what looked to be their camp for the night. As they sat, Corbin wanted to stare at the man he knew to be his father, but he was unable to bear the look of confusion on the man’s face. How could he not remember his own son?
The Darkness of Light Page 21
