Scion’s Sacrifice

by R. Michael Card

  Something was terribly wrong. The darkness within him was complete, black, a void of seething hatred and vile anger.

  She stood and took an involuntary step back, fear flooding her. She trembled, terrified. Thoughts flashed through her mind of what she’d learned when they’d been connected. The sword would act like a beacon to the Blacklord. As soon as Davar called it, it would have alerted his father. A sinking dread filled her as she suddenly knew what had taken hold of him.

  Davar’s head tilted to look at her, his eyes not his own, a disturbingly serene smile on his face.

  He stood. Then stepped toward her with alarming speed. His hand jerked up to catch her under the chin. He didn’t quite lift her from the ground, but to the tips of her toes, forcing her head up and back if she wished to keep breathing.

  “Davar?” She knew the Blacklord had control of him, but hoped that he might still be in there… somewhere.

  The Blacklord caught the fear in her eyes and laughed, a grating, harsh noise. His grip tightened, his hold like steel.

  “So, you’re the one who snatched my prized toy away from me?” The voice was too high for Davar, the eerie tone sending a chill down her spine. She reached up to try and pull his hand from her throat even though she knew the act would prove useless. She had to do something. Panic was starting to overwhelm her. There had to be a way to reach Davar.

  “He doesn’t even see you as a son, Davar,” she said, though it was hard to speak with his hand constricting her breath. She prayed to Ehlani she could reach the man she knew was in there somewhere. “You mean nothing to him. Fight him, Davar.”

  “He knows that fighting me is futile,” the voice hissed, still calm, in control. “This is a lesson you need to learn, sweetling. One I will enjoy teaching you.”

  She gritted her teeth, determined to do something even if she had no idea what. She had to fight back somehow, despite the dread seeping into her soul. “I’ll fight you with everything I have.”

  “I know you will. That’s what will make this so enjoyable.” He lifted her from the ground, extending his arm, holding her by her neck, cutting off her air.

  “Davar!” she gasped, grasping at his arm.

  “Now let’s take a look at you.” His other hand came to the collar of her dress then ripped it down the front past her hips. Her clothes fell away. She still wore her cloak, but it was pushed back over her shoulders at the moment, not covering her from his sight

  The Blacklord observed her form, but with no lust or desire, more like a horse trader inspecting a new acquisition. He poked and prodded here and there. She made no move to cover herself, not ashamed nor willing to let him have the satisfaction of upsetting her. She should have been flushed, embarrassed, but her fear and determination, more primal emotions, overrode anything else. She still didn’t know what she could do, but for now, she guessed it would only please the Blacklord if she squirmed and blushed.

  Her panic built with each passing heartbeat. She couldn’t breathe. Let him kill her. That would be better than the alternative.

  “Plump, healthy, ready for childbearing… and according to my son’s thoughts of you also a multi-talent. I had only thought to create spawn using a female scion, but a true Multi-talent could produce some intriguing results.”

  He set her down. His grip, though no less firm, no longer blocked her air. She gasped until her breathing returned to normal.

  “Bring her to me!” the Blacklord commanded through Davar’s lips.

  “He’s not the man you created anymore!” she said, though her voice broke and squeaked, not fully recovered from choking.

  The Blacklord laughed again, arrogant and dismissive. “You mean your pathetic attempts to heal him of his evil? It’s impossible! He’s mine and will obey me!” The last was a shout, spittle flying from Davar’s lips. “Bring her!” The command was intense. Cassine flinched away despite still being held.

  Then something changed.

  Through his flesh touching hers she sensed the impenetrable blackness drop away within him.

  Davar blinked, a look of horror and shock a mask on his face. He released her chin, his arm falling limp as he staggered a few steps back.

  Cassine caught her breath and drew her cloak around herself. “Davar? He let you go?”

  “No, not entirely. He’s still there. I can feel him compelling me. I can’t resist him and not even your touch or the memory of my mother will help me this time. I must bring you to him.”

  Her dread solidified into a solid lump in her stomach. She touched his cheek and felt the truth of his words. His body was free to move, his mind free to think, but behind it all was a looming presence guiding his overall actions.

  “But I won’t do it.” The defiance in his voice was thick, palpable. Even as he said it he gritted his teeth as if in great pain. “No. I. Won’t.” He repeated through clenched teeth.

  He moved suddenly, spinning away from her and drawing out his sword. He thrust it into the ground, burying the tip of the blade nearly two feet deep. He released it then leapt away suddenly back toward the west.

  Cassine was left alone on the road, watching his form grow smaller and smaller as his great leap took him farther and farther away.

  Huddling inside her cloak a shiver took her.

  That entire experience had left her drained. Fear still trembled within her. She fell to her knees. Her legs like water, weak from lack of air and shock.

  She was both eternally grateful and somehow sad that Davar had left. He’d resisted his father, saved her and yet… now she was alone, still dealing with that traumatic moment.

  Alone.

  She’d never really been alone her entire life. She’d grown up with two loving parents as well as three brothers and two sisters. Then she’d gone directly into service for the Daughters of Ehlani and joined that family, learning their ways. She’d always been around people.

  Now, nearly naked, kneeling on this road in the middle of some foreign country, her one companion fled from her, she felt the world press in around her.

  Logically she knew she was stronger than this, that simply being along shouldn’t bother her. She had control of her emotions… most of the time. But the awe of meeting the Blacklord face to face had still not fully left her. It troubled her… deeply.

  It took several long calming breaths, as well as a link to her soul and years of knowing how to calm emotions, before she finally felt ready to deal with what had happened.

  And so much had happened.

  To start, there were her feelings for Davar. Not that long ago, high up in the Silver Mountains, she’d told him she felt nothing for him, nothing but the love she felt for all humankind. Then last night she’d felt so much more. It had taken her some time to fall asleep, sorting through her emotions, trying to figure out which were after-images of Davar’s own desire for her and which were her own true feelings. What she’d found had surprised her.

  She did care for him. Apparently, it had developed over her time healing him, being so intimate and close. Yet last night, she had felt… a new type of love. She respected him, his spirit and strength of conviction. He wanted to change. More than that, he was going through with that change, no matter how painful it was. That was more than many people ever did. It would take an incredible man to overcome that much darkness and evil, and she believed he could do it. That made him special and admirable. She had never met any man like him and found herself drawn to him despite his darkness.

  Yet what was even more surprising and confusing for her were the physical feelings. She’d seen many attractive men, and given her profession as a healer not all of them had been clothed at the time. The body held no mysticism for her. No man had ever made her feel like she did for Davar.

  Last night while looking at his large, perfect body, all hard planes and massive curves of muscle, she’d felt something stir within her. Part of it might have been residual from his thoughts of her, but she’d come to realize that not all of it had c
ome from him.

  He made her feel… odd on the inside, her stomach was unsettled and many places a little too warm and… tingly. She wasn’t sure what to call it because it was like nothing she’d ever experience before. Was this desire or lust? She didn’t know. But whatever it was, these were her emotions. She was certain of that much. Her feelings had always been clear to her.

  She loved him, maybe not like a betrothed or bonded, but certainly more than the generic love for all men.

  Even after the carnage of what he’d done earlier on the road, even after seeing the true depths of darkness of his ‘father’, even after he’d abandoned her, this love remained. She knew that the destruction he’d wreaked hadn’t been him, not who he wished to be. It had been an effect of his sword. And she knew that he’d left her to protect her from his father, an act of greatest will and sacrifice. This was what she loved about him, such strength.

  She understood all of this and still wished he hadn’t left.

  There was a small emptiness within her now, a hole. Even after all the soothing of her emotions, this remained, unhealed. Yet what could she do about it? She couldn’t go after him. That would put them both in danger again.

  So finally, after far too much time in rumination, she shook her head and returned to what she needed to do. She was certain that leaving Davar’s sword in the middle of a road wasn’t a good idea. She knew he hadn’t been thinking straight when he’d left it there and didn’t blame him, but it needed to be moved.

  Yet her hand flinched back as soon as it touched the pommel. She tried again but with the same result. It was too dark, too evil. It wouldn’t let her touch it.

  Then an idea struck her. It might not work, but it was worth a try. She collected her torn dress from the road and wrapped parts of it around her hands, the rest dangling from her arms. She approached the sword again and grasped the hilt with her thickly covered hands. She pulled hard. It took a great effort of her earth talent, enhancing her strength to its limits, for her to drag it up from the dirt.

  She carried it, still straining her strength, into the woods. There, far from the road, she plunged it back into the ground. It was all she could do. She hoped it would be enough.

  When she returned to the road, she glanced off to the west, where Davar had disappeared. The mountains stood high and stark.

  No sign of Davar.

  There was a sting in her heart and she grimaced.

  Luckily, she had more to do to distract her. She had no other clothes but her cloak, and that would not do. She walked a little ways back down the road to the men Davar had killed, hoping to find some clothes. It was a gruesome task and part of her reviled searching the torn bodies and the thought of taking anything from anyone, even the dead.

  After a short while of searching, it seemed she’d be spared having to steal clothes. Everything was torn to shreds. There was nothing that wasn’t either covered in gore or required just as much repair as her dress. If she were going to restore anything her dress would be her first choice. She could use magic to mend it, but it wasn’t an easy process. The elements of earth and water could be used on non-living items, but they didn’t respond as quickly or easily as people did to such ministrations. It was a delicate operation, requiring more power than it would seem for such a simple task, but it needed to be done.

  So she sat by the side of the road, uncertain where to go, or what to do except to begin the slow, tedious process of knitting her dress back together.

  Chapter 8

  In one day of frenzied travel, Davar had covered the ground he and Cassine had traversed since they’d left the mountains. He was back on the plateau where she’d first teleported them.

  There he stopped as night fell.

  He was tired, drained from the day’s myriad events as well as resisting the call of Shadowfang and his father. Leaving the sword behind had been his only thought to escape and it had worked.

  There had been a single shining moment when Davar had felt… something… for Cassine.

  He shuddered at the remembrance of his father’s possession and the way he’d treated her. Despite all his desires to see her nude before him, that had seemed an abomination, something so pure coming in contact with something so foul. He had recoiled from it, hated himself and his father for every second of that encounter.

  Seeing Cassine there, exposed, had reminded him of his mother and what the Blacklord had done to her. Another strong, pure woman defiled by the man. But as Cassine had advised him, he didn’t dwell on the rage and hatred of that memory, but the love. That, with his feelings for Cassine, was how he’d been able to break his father’s command. A single moment of sheer opposition to everything the Blacklord stood for. He’d loved in that moment and the Blacklord hadn’t been able to understand, had shrunk back in confusion for only an instant. That had been enough to release the sword, which diminished his father’s hold on him. That in turn, had given him the control to flee back to the west and away from the power of the Blacklord.

  Love.

  That was what had enabled him, for the first time in his life to defy his father.

  His love for his mother.

  His love for… Cassine?

  He gazed up as the first stars emerged.

  Was this what it felt like to love?

  Was he even worthy of such a love with all the darkness within him?

  He sighed heavily.

  At least the call of both his sword and his father were quieter now. He was far enough away that they couldn’t reach him, control him. After a few more days of travel westward, he might escape them all together.

  Then perhaps he could begin to figure out who he really was.

  All his life someone had been telling him what to do, who he was, where he belonged. Even Cassine had been intent on him being good. Perhaps he needed to get away from everyone to find out who he was on his own.

  That’s what he told himself anyway.

  The fact remained that he missed Cassine deeply. Missed her angelic smile, the way her long blond hair moved, the way it smelled. It wasn’t even the call of her body to his base desires anymore, though that did remain. No, there was something new, some tear in his soul at her loss that was so very unfamiliar to him. It was the remembrance of their time together, the intimacy of her healing, the way she laughed, the approval in her eyes when he hadn’t slaughtered those men in the tavern.

  Gods, but he missed her.

  And he’d never missed anyone before.

  He’d known her less than a month, and somehow she’d left a mark on his soul. Actually, there was no ‘somehow’ about it. She’d helped him heal and discard some small part of the darkness inside himself. That was a very palpable mark on his soul. He just hadn’t expected her essence to be such a large part of that.

  Yet he couldn’t go back to her. To do so would put her in danger. He’d fled to keep her safe…

  Hadn’t he?

  His gaze turned east, over the lands now sinking into night’s embrace, toward… her.

  He hadn’t even said anything to her. He’d just left. What did she think of his abrupt departure? Did she understand he’d done it to save her?

  More and more questions circled around in his mind.

  I’ve got a simple solution — just kill her. His guard had come down and Shadowfang had reached him.

  Shut up, Shadowfang, he said, clamping his defenses down.

  And that was the problem. He couldn’t go back east to her, not without coming closer to his blade again, strengthening their connection and that with his father. No, his only course was west, farther away from the darkness in his life… and the one light.

  It didn’t matter how much he loved her. If he went after her, he’d only be putting her and countless others in danger once again. He couldn’t risk it.

  A great wave of despair washed over him at the futility of his life. He’d only just begun to see light, and now it would be snuffed out forever. His soul ached for her to be there
with him but his mind knew it was impossible.

  With a great welling of frustration and desolation, he lifted his head and bellowed a wordless cry of pain into the night.

  He awoke to the first rays of sun on his face, bright and pure.

  He got to his feet slowly, feeling the faint need for food in his belly and ignoring it. He could hunt later, once he was far away from… everything. The ache in his soul still rang through him, but he knew there was no other way but to put more distance between himself and those dark things which called to him.

  Yet he found it hard to leave that morning.

  He delayed, gazing eastward, trying to think of some last vestige of hope, some shred of a notion as to how he might stay.

  Perhaps he could fight his father, but that thought fled as soon as it was hatched. He’d resisted his father but once in his lifetime, yesterday, and he doubted the Blacklord would let such a thing happen twice.

  Perhaps if he returned to St. Antin, there might be something they could do for him? Yet still, that meant getting closer to his father’s control, even if he took a wide berth around Shadowfang. Once within the confines of the abbey he could resist. There was a magic sealed into the walls of St. Antin which had prevented him from connecting with this father. Yet long before he got there, he’d be well within range of his father’s calling and would be plucked from that course.

  For most of the morning, ideas played within his head and were discarded. Some came back to him many times in various derivations, but still nothing could be found to work. In the end, it was clear. The east held nothing for him but a return to his father and with that only pain and darkness.

  West was his only hope.

  So he turned to leap away into the mountains.

  “Please don’t go.”

  He halted himself mid-launch but that much energy needed to go somewhere and he staggered forward, arms flailing, legs wobbling, until he fell to his hands and knees in perhaps the silliest and most awkward display in his life.

  He was furious and yet wanted to laugh out loud at the same time.