Scion’s Sacrifice

by R. Michael Card

  “Thank you,” she said in the stillness as that strand of his dark past was healed and set to rest.

  A rush of… something… like nothing he could explain surged through him. Every time one of those threads of his dark past was exposed and cleaned and dealt with he felt it. The only way he could explain it was like he’d been in a dark room and someone, ever so far away, had lit a match or cracked open a door or window. It was only the faintest slivers of light, but in such a dark place it made so much of a difference.

  He could feel the good within him now. It was foreign and often uncomfortable. That evening as he’d held Jato’s life in his hands it had been that fledgling light within him which had stayed his hand, that and Cassine’s voice.

  Yet with the soft whisper of her breath on his cheek that same voice was making him think some very impure thoughts. Now that the memory was fading, put to rest, his emotions roiled and couldn’t settle.

  “Thank you,” she said again. “You could have killed those men tonight and you didn’t.”

  Just a month ago he wouldn’t have spared them. By the Gods, he might have joined them! Yet now that other self seemed so distant. Could he really have been like that?

  Even he seemed surprised at his progress and yet, it wasn’t really him who’d made that change possible.

  “No,” he said after a moment. “Thank you. I wouldn’t be the man I am now if not for you.”

  His eyes were closed, trying not to look at her, trying to suppress his desire to have her. He couldn’t be like that anymore. He could never force himself on her or anyone again.

  Silence stretched for a moment before she spoke and when she did her voice was odd, thick. “I think that’s enough healing for today.” Her hand lifted from his chest above his heart.

  Was something wrong? He opened his eyes as she crossed the small room to her bed. He regretted it almost as soon as he did. Seeing her in that nightdress sent waves of heat through him. The way it clung to her buttocks, shifting with each step, caressing the soft flesh, caused him to become very uncomfortable. It was a good thing he was sitting and the towel was wrapped tightly around him. Nothing would show, but it was all the more painful for that fact.

  When she turned back to him he could see her skin was flushed, from her forehead down to the abundance of cleavage that the shift exposed. Her breathing was quick, causing her breasts to heave rather noticeably against the taut, sheer cloth.

  He had to look away. It was too much. His blood was boiling, his every impulse told him to tear away the two bits of cloth around them and take her in that moment.

  He didn’t know why she was in such a state. She’d made it clear days ago she didn’t feel any attraction toward him. Perhaps she’d sensed his arousal and attraction and that was why she had retreated so quickly.

  He knew he shouldn’t pry into her thoughts, but couldn’t stop himself. It was just a light brushing of her mind to see only her most prominent thoughts. He was so strong in his mind talent and she was weakest in that element, so if he was careful she’d never know.

  Images of the two of them naked in a sweaty embrace flashed through her mind.

  Gods! Perhaps her feelings had changed?

  No that couldn’t be right. She must have been having some reaction to his emotions for her. That’s what had made her flee from him. She didn’t want what she was thinking about.

  He wanted it desperately. He wanted to her. A thousand images of them together flashed through his mind as they did all too often. It was a miracle of self-restraint that he hadn’t ravished her. He didn’t know what it was that had stopped him before, but now he had enough of that faint light within him to know it wasn’t right.

  He wanted her, but not like this, not now, not yet, not with so much darkness still left in him.

  His voice was strained as he said, “Perhaps you should stay in another room tonight.” He still couldn’t look at her, but his mind still caressed hers and he sensed her dilemma.

  I should go, he’s right, she thought. An image of him as he was: sitting on the bed, head turned away, naked to the waist lingered in her mind. No, I’m stronger than this. I can resist. I only want him now because I was so closely connected to him and could feel his desires. Gods, but I hope that’s it. There was yet another quick flash of them entwined in love, quickly dispelled. Though maybe I should go. Maybe I’ve been getting too close?

  “I…” she began, but her thoughts were still too much a whirl to finish. No! Get a hold of yourself Cass, you’ve slept next to him for many nights now, tonight is no different!

  “I think we’ll be fine,” she said, her voice calm and even now. “It’s not like we haven’t been next to each other these past few nights. Unless you really want privacy tonight?”

  It was true, they’d been sleeping close together out in the countryside, but that had been fully clothed on chilly nights. He should tell her to go. He should… but he wasn’t going to. If she could resist, so could he, though it took all his effort to do so.

  “No stay, I’m fine.” He even managed to look at her and smile when he said it. He took his mind from hers, not wanting to hear or see anymore, and quickly turned to the lantern in the room, blowing it out.

  There was rustling as she climbed into bed and he did the same, removing the towel only after he was covered. He was still far more aroused than he’d like, but he could control himself. He curbed his thoughts in the darkness until his desire abated.

  It took him a long time to find peace that night and when he did his dreams were filled with images of Cassine in that flimsy shift… and out of it.

  The next day they decided to move on. The matron of the common house had mentioned that the town near the Lord’s keep would have access to more amenities, which appealed to both of them. It was two days down the road when walking, but they wouldn’t be walking and would probably get there much faster.

  Cassine asked if they could walk for a while in the morning instead of being carried as Davar did his running bound across the countryside.

  Davar liked this idea. He wasn’t sure he wanted to be holding her so tight, even now fully clothed, after the night and the dreams he’d had.

  “It’s a glorious morning,” she said, taking a deep breath of the still misty air.

  He was having trouble seeing it. Sure, the sky was clear, the air fresh, the trees green and swaying in the light breeze that was slowly dispelling the fog around them, but his thoughts were elsewhere.

  He was having trouble thinking of anything except her. His thoughts and emotions were tumbling and twisting inside of him, which he hoped he hid well.

  He had to say something to her but didn’t know what. He had feelings for her, but he couldn’t really say what they were. He appreciated her desire to help him… and she was certainly attractive…

  That was the problem.

  Any thoughts and emotions he had were clouded by his lust and desire for her, which burned a bonfire of passion within him. He didn’t really know how he felt, nor did he have the words to describe it. He’d come to understand the concept of love when he’d been bonded to her, but wasn’t really certain what that felt like nor if this was anything like what ‘love’ should be. There was something like a tenderness, a desire to protect her and not see her hurt. He wanted to be better… for her. Though he wasn’t certain if that last one was just so he wouldn’t feel like a stain on the world when he was near her purity and light.

  What could he say? Was it even worth it to try if she didn’t feel the same way? But perhaps after what had happened last night she did feel the same?

  Gods, but these emotions were a massive pain!

  “Someone’s out there,” she said distracting him from his thought.

  But it was already too late.

  With her words came the twang of a bowstring. He should have been able to react faster, but he’d been so befuddled he moved too slowly. It was a moment too late when he reached to grab the arrow, which was now
embedded in his neck.

  He staggered forward, stumbling to one knee.

  The pain was nothing. His mind was trained to shut out pain, but the arrow had hit such a sensitive spot, piercing his throat and the veins in his neck. He would heal soon enough, but until then there was still the shock from loss of air and blood.

  The world spun.

  Someone called his name.

  Hand shaking, he pulled the arrow out, feeling the wound start to close as he did.

  But he’d been too slow.

  Even as he drew from the element of earth to strengthen and reinforce his muscles and bones, more arrows assailed him. Most were innocuous, hitting in places he could ignore for now, but one hit the side of his head, sticking in his skull just above his left ear. Another, a crossbow bolt from the force of it, blew clean through his abdomen tearing away flesh and organs alike. He could survive it all, could heal nearly anything… given time.

  Time, however, was not on his side.

  He stood, gritting his teeth to do so, as more arrows planted themselves in his back and legs.

  A scream pierced the morning air, clearing his head in an instant.

  Turning he saw men all around, several of them grabbing Cassine. She fought back as only a Multi-talent could, her strength enhanced. She ripped herself away, but they were big men and too many.

  Davar felt a push on his emotions and resisted it. She was sending a massive calming wave through them all. For an instant they paused, relaxed, but their emotions were too enflamed and they were on her again.

  Davar could only spare a moment for her as he was still under attack.

  He leapt high into the air, hearing the shocked exclamations of the men below. He must have been a sight: a pincushion of arrows, his stomach torn open, still able to leap hundreds of feet into the air. Despite air being one of his primary elements he had never learned to fly as Wyllea had, but his leaps were something to behold.

  It gave him a moment to take in what was happening and begin to react.

  But the more he saw, the less he liked what he saw. The first item that burned him was that five of the thirty or so men assailing him and Cassine were the ones he’d beaten up the night before. That explained a lot, but also revealed something to him as well. Any normal man would still be reeling from the attacks he’d inflicted. They should have been laid up for a day or more, but they were fit and hale. This could mean only one thing, one of them or one of their band, was an earth-wizard, able to heal them. More than that, it meant some of those below might also be unnaturally strengthened and tough as well.

  He could deal with that, but two more things were going to hamper him. The first was his injured state. He healed faster than anyone he knew, but it wouldn’t be fast enough. By the time he landed, he’d still be disabled, not at full strength from the sheer number of missiles that had hit him. That alone he might have been able to deal with, but it was the last item that concerned him most. Cassine, despite all her struggles, couldn’t get away from so many strength-enhanced men. Already she was mostly subdued, three brawny men restraining her. If he tried to free her it would put him at risk for more injury… and too many more hits and he might just go down. Yet if he did try to give himself the time to heal, they would undoubtedly use Cassine against him somehow.

  There was one option.

  One terrible option.

  But he could see no other way.

  “Shadowfang!” he called, summoning the sword to him.

  The sword materialized in his hands.

  And his world spun into darkness…

  Kill! Kill them all! I’ll kill everyone! The sheer ecstasy of Shadowfang at the prospect of battle overwhelmed him.

  Alone he was a multi-talent of incredible strength. Together with his corrupted artifact, he was a force of sheer destruction and darkness.

  Using the sword’s innate ability of shadow and illusion he split himself. A tangible, illusory double of him fell to earth on the path he’d been on, while his true self, now invisible, pushed at the air and changed the direction of his descent.

  As the duplicate landed amidst the mob of attacking bandits, blocking attack after attack in a deadly dance, he alighted behind the three men holding Cassine.

  Jato called out a threat: “We’ll cut up the woman unless you surrender.” Even as he did, the three men holding her died from a rapid series of attacks.

  Kill. Die. Slay them all!

  Revealing himself to Cassine, dropping the invisibility that hid him, he spoke through gritted teeth. “Run!” It took all his effort to keep Shadowfang from running her through as well.

  She was clearly horrified.

  He could see himself in her eyes, the bloodlust, his features twisted by the darkness and death he so desired in that moment.

  She used her enhanced strength to jump clear of the attackers into the forest.

  He grinned as he turned to the rest of the men. “You’ll pay for this,” he hissed.

  They will pay! They will die! Kill them all! The maddened glee of Shadowfang rang through him as he began the slaughter of the men before him.

  Their screams are so sweet! And Davar had to agree. Their death-cries rang like chimes, like sweetest birdsong in his ears.

  Blood, from a slash that decapitated a man, sprayed his face.

  I love the taste of blood! More!

  He licked his lips, enjoying the tang of the warm liquid.

  Yes, more!

  The next man who came at him he punched in the chest. Davar’s fist easily broke through bone and reached inside the man to pull out his still-beating heart. He bit into the soft flesh, feeling the rush of blood and gore down his throat.

  Some new part of him reviled the act, but it was well repressed and had no say at the moment. Shadowfang was in ecstasy and Davar too was lost in the throes of battle.

  The fight was over far too soon.

  Davar stood, breathing hard, his body slowly healing from all the wounds taken previously. He plucked arrows from him where he could reach, feeling the flesh close. Looking around he saw the carnage he’d wreaked upon the bandits and Shadowfang sang in joy at the sight. Yet that new part of him, now straining to get out, saw the dismembered bodies: the blood, the bone, and screamed at the wrongness of this.

  “Davar?”

  He spun at the voice. Cassine emerged from the forest onto the road.

  Kill her! Shadowfang demanded.

  He gripped the hilt so tightly his hand turned white.

  No, he told the sword sternly. We will not kill her.

  KILL HER NOW! The call sent him to his knees.

  “Cassine, please, go, I can’t control myself.” His mouth twitched as he spoke, every word a fight to get out. “Please! Go!” Tears streamed from eyes clenched shut as he restrained the sword.

  A cool hand touched his cheek. A warm sense of peace filled him, slowly quelling the war within, drowning out the calls of his blade.

  Her voice was calm, soft and close. She must have knelt next to him. “Even with the bond we shared, I’d never fully understood the struggle, the darkness you fought against until now. I’m sorry.”

  Slowly his emotions steadied.

  He opened his eyes and looked into hers. There he saw sorrow and pain which mirrored his own struggle.

  “I can sense the evil of the sword,” she said softly. “If I let you go it will return. You need to fight it.”

  “How? I’ve never needed to before. I don’t know how to quell the rage.”

  “Remember your mother.”

  Those three words struck such a chord within him, the images of the horrific things his father had done to his mother flashing back to him. Yes, he knew how to fight Shadowfang’s rage, with a rage of his own.

  “No,” Cassine said softly, “Not like that.” Through her touch, she’d sensed his emotions rise. “Don’t think of your mother’s pain, think of the good woman she was, the love she would have had for you if you’d been her child under
other circumstances. Think of her strength as a scion, her defiance of evil. Let that guide you.”

  She was right, of course. Rage begot more rage.

  He drew in a long breath, nodding.

  She removed her hand.

  Instantly Shadowfang was back, tearing at him to kill and destroy. But he did as she said, he envisioned the image of his mother, but without the pain, the strong, good woman she’d have been.

  Shadowfang had no response for that other than revulsion. The good and evil warred within him, but for now, it was a stalemate.

  He regained enough control to stand slowly.

  Cassine rose with him.

  Davar, not wishing to hold Shadowfang any longer, slung the sword through a loop in his belt, it was where his scabbard would usually have hung. Shadowfang’s ranting lessened, but only slightly.

  They picked their way out of the mess of blood and bodies.

  Cassine laughed a little after they’d walked a ways.

  “What?” he asked. He couldn’t imagine anything being funny at this moment.

  “You bathed only yesterday and already you’re a mess.”

  He let out a short laugh, mostly for her. He hardly felt light-hearted at the moment.

  Davar! Where are you? Where have you been? What’s happening?

  The call, though distant was still intense enough to bring him to his knees. Only now did he recall the other reason he’d not wanted Shadowfang back. It acted like an amplifier for his father’s sensing.

  Instantly, he was filled with his father’s black presence, seeking, knowing.

  Davar screamed.

  Chapter 7

  “Davar? What’s wrong?”

  Cassine knelt next to him. Putting a hand to his cheek, she flinched away quickly.