Darkness Descends: A Skye Faden Novel

by Alisha Ashton

  “Safe journey, my brother. It will be nice to finally have ya home again,” Taran said and inclined his head to him.

  “The time is drawing near, Taran,” Drostan warned in a grave tone.

  Taran’s expression shifted to concern as he looked back up at the computer screen.

  “The wind whispers to me again, even here,” Drostan continued. “It bids my return, speaks of a storm fast approaching. Perhaps a Gathering would be wise?”

  Skye, Miko, and Aiyana were listening to the cryptic message with confusion evident in their features.

  It was not cryptic for Taran by any means. He nodded solemnly.

  “Aye, a proper welcome home for ya after so many years away,” he said with a forced smile.

  “Strength and loyalty, my brother,” Drostan said.

  “Honor and friendship, brother,” Taran replied quietly.

  Miko sat back down in front of the laptop and gave the verbal play by play of the transformations. He had to promise at least ten times that he would type up a report for the scientists as soon as possible. But considering that they would have Skye’s DNA to drool over, he figured he could put it off at least another day.

  Skye had wandered to the door again. She leaned against the frame while staring out at the gardens and trying to get a handle on the mess of emotions in her head. She honestly did not know where to begin. She felt restless with the lack of fighting to occupy herself. For the past few years since here escape, her days had been the same repetitious schedule. She slept until noon, trained excessively for hours on end, drowned out memories with substantial amounts of alcohol until the sunset, and then spent the entire night hunting. Now people were talking to her, wanting to interact with her. She did not know how that was supposed to make her feel. The desire to be alone was almost as strong as the desire to be near...

  Taran walked up behind her, leaning close to her ear and whispering, “Walk with me, my love.”

  She jumped at the sound of his voice. As wrapped up as she had been in thought, she had failed to note his approach.

  He smiled at her obvious surprise at the fact that he could still sneak up on her. “Soon ya will be able to sense things without paying them any mind, it will be as natural as breathing. For now, ya must remember to call on these new abilities. It will make them more familiar,” he explained.

  Skye only nodded in response. She was not particularly interested in lessons right then.

  Taran stepped out into the gardens and waited for her to fall in beside him. Just as before, her mind was distracted and she sought out his arm as they began walking down the stone path.

  “Are ya nervous aboot meeting with Drostan?” He asked, trying to find the cause for her drastic change in demeanor.

  She gave a soft ‘no’ in response as she studied the passing flowers.

  Taran nodded patiently. She obviously was not in the mood for conversation, which was fine with him. He was content to walk at her side in silence.

  The world was glowing for her again. Everything took on the same dreamlike quality it had when she pictured her mother here earlier. Something in the air in this place was bidding her welcome, asking her to stay, washing over her senses, and dissolving all worries from her mind.

  For nearly an hour they wandered through the garden together. Taran could almost see her soul relaxing with each passing moment. He fell back a few paces and watched her touching the young blooms, the peaceful smile on her lips and the way she would look over her shoulder at him as if checking to see if he was still there with her. Skye seemed to be enchanted by the long dormant magic of this place.

  Throughout his lifetime, Taran had spent several centuries as Guardian of these lands. He could not for the life of him recall the last time the garden had looked so ethereal. It was as if it was awakening in her presence. He wished he could tell her what made the land so precious. It was a knowledge that would undoubtedly intrigue her and he had never shared it with another. His loyalty to the secrets entrusted to him prevented it, however, just as his respect for her kept him from walking up behind her, turning her to face him, and kissing her lips deeply.

  He sighed and looked up at the sun, shaking his head at his damnable sense of honor.

  Skye walked past him and he caught her hand, following along behind her as she ventured out onto the lawn. It took a great deal of time to reach the lake in the distance. She had not failed to notice the way his hand tightened on hers at being so near to the forest.

  “I’m not going in there, I promise,” she assured with a smile.

  His features slowly relaxed before he nodded and released her hand. It did not stop him from standing between her and the tree-line, though. He watched her cautiously. She acted differently out here, and in the garden for that matter, almost drunk off the magic. It seemed as if simply being in its presence had washed away her entire life and all of its torment, as if she had been reset to a carefree and genuinely happy young woman.

  The water of the lake was so still that it was almost a reflecting pool. Skye knelt beside it, gazing down into the image of Taran standing over her shoulder.

  “There was a child born here,” she said softly and watched his lips part in astonishment in the reflection. She smiled triumphantly and turned back to face him. “In this water, a woman gave birth, am I right?”

  Taran eyed her almost fearfully as he sank to the ground beside her.

  “How could ya know tha, love?” He whispered.

  She shrugged and let her fingertips touch the surface of the water.

  “Not really sure,” she admitted. “But I can almost see it. It’s one of those new senses I was trying to describe, like a memory... maybe it’s the wolf’s memory... I don’t know.”

  A sudden change in Taran’s pulse caught her attention and she looked over at him worriedly.

  “Are you all right?” She asked as he continued to stare at her in shock.

  He could not even bring himself to nod.

  She smiled at him, wondering at his reaction, but not pressing it.

  “Do you think we can go to the Isle of Skye today?” She asked as her fingers danced across the water. “It’s early and we’ve got until sunset to get me in the cage. I’d love to go see it.”

  Taran’s mind was on more pressing issues, though. He had just come to the stunning realization that bringing Skye within the walls of Faol Seunta was the single smartest thing the Ashers had done in their entire existence.

  “No, love...” he whispered. “I do nah think tha would be wise.”

  “Oh well, some other time,” she said with a sigh and shrug before smiling in realization. “After all, I’ve got plenty of it to work with now,” she laughed. “Will you give me the tour, then? I’m tired of sleeping at this point. There’s bound to be enough rooms to explore to keep us busy until tonight.”

  He agreed and helped her to her feet, noting the way her eyes stayed locked on the water before she hesitantly turned to leave. He cast a concerned look back at the forest as he took her hand in his.

  Drostan really needed to hurry.

  16: Scent of Seduction

  That night’s transformation was different from the others. Skye was no longer afraid and all of the sedatives were out of her system. Miko had cowered in fear as her fully conscious faol form paced and snarled within the cage. It did not rest from sunset to dawn. For the first time, Skye was conscious for the transformation back to human form.

  Taran watched the beast tremble at the approaching sun and stepped closer to the bars. He knew that Skye was in there, hidden deep inside, trying to find her way back out.

  “Come now, wee one,” he coaxed in barely more than a whisper, not wanting to wake Miko where he was sleeping across the room.

  In a soft tone, he talked her through the change. He could not help but smile when she finally stood nude before him.

  “Well, I must say, it is very nice to see ya,” he admitted with a smirk.

  To his surpris
e, she neither blushed nor sought out a sheet to cover herself with. His eyes widened in astonishment when she instead pressed her body against the bars, gripping them just below his hands and gazing up at him.

  The yellow was swirling within the blue of her eyes now, just as Miko described it. He watched in bewilderment as the yellow engulfed her eyes completely.

  “Good morning, Taran,” she purred.

  Her voice was... different now. It was so hypnotic that he had to struggle to breathe.

  She reached through the bars, pressing her hand to his cheek and studying his features.

  Without his bidding, his eyes rolled closed in response. A low growl rumbled from his throat as he leaned into her touch.

  That scent was back – that mind-blowing arousal which intoxicated him. He could feel himself instinctively pressing against the bars as he inhaled deeply.

  Images filled his mind of exactly what she wanted from him in that moment.

  He opened his heavy eyelids, staring at her through a fog of lust as he walked to the door and unlocked it.

  Her eyes were on him every step of the way, watching as he entered the cage and towered over her. She bit her bottom lip, lifting her chin and letting her gaze wander to his mouth invitingly.

  He was trembling now. His breathing was erratic as he reached out and laid a hand on her bare hip, drawing her closer to him.

  He could already taste her, had already begun to lay out all the things he was going to do to her. The image of taking her from behind, claiming her, biting down on her shoulder as she moaned and gripped the back of his head was nearly enough to break him. Slowly, he leaned down to her. Their eyes locked as their lips nearly touched.

  “Is it morning yet?” Miko asked groggily.

  Taran’s features twisted in panic as the seduction of her scent and voice lost their hold on him.

  He took a step away, eyeing her fearfully. Something was wrong – something that he had no understanding of. She was speaking to him without words, commanding him by scent alone. More disturbing still, judging by the look in her eyes, she was fully aware that she was doing it.

  “Yes...” Taran answered before stepping back out of the cage and closing the door with her inside of it. “But I think it’s safer if Skye stays put for the time being. Lance? Go on upstairs... now.” He ordered, still staring into her eyes worriedly.

  She did not pose a word of protest. She was not speaking at all.

  Her silence only troubled him all the more.

  “Well, damn. This is what I call a good morning,” Miko teased with a grin. “I see Taran’s nudist tendencies are rubbing off. About time, if ya ask me.” He covetously drank in the sight of her naked body until Taran snagged his elbow and dragged him away. “Hey – what the hell! I haven’t had enough time to burn the image into my memory,” he whined as he was pushed along up the stairs.

  The desire to reach the kitchen and get coffee, paired with Taran’s forceful grip, kept him from asking questions for the time being.

  “I need ya to make sure she stays in tha cage. I have to go see... a few friends and it will be safer for everyone if she remains where she is,” Taran said as he watched Miko fumbling around the kitchen.

  “Sure man, whatever,” he answered disinterestedly before scratching his chin and yawning.

  He grabbed a mug from the cabinet, and nearly dropped it when he closed the door and found Taran standing behind it, staring down at him with a severe expression.

  “Jesus!” He cried and jumped in surprise, clutching his chest as he tried to slow his breathing. “Are you trying to give me a freaking... ?” He complained, but Taran cut him off.

  “It’s nah ‘whatever’, Miko. I am deathly serious. She stays put until I come back. Is tha understood?” He demanded as his eyes searched Miko’s for any hint of argument.

  “Whoa, Tar. Tone it down a notch, k? I got it – Skye stays in the box,” Miko offered, holding up his hands and looking at Taran as if he had lost his mind. “Now can I have some coffee, or are you gonna keep kicking my ass with your eyes?”

  Taran arched a brow at that and sighed before stepping out of the way.

  “I may well be gone for several hours. As difficult a task as it may be for ya to accomplish, try nah to do anything stupid while I’m gone,” he growled in aggravation before walking from the kitchen.

  He went downstairs again, retrieving Skye’s clothes and handing them to her through the bars as those yellow eyes burned into his. It was all he could do to get out of there without responding to her.

  Grudgingly, as he abhorred using telephones, he made the call to request the presence of Latharn, the leader of the Tàcharain Fhaol Clan. That conversation led to the surprising revelation that Latharn was already in the area and on his way to Faol Seunta. Taran had been informed by Latharn’s right hand, Cathal, that they would be at the usual meeting place in the afternoon.

  Taran hung the phone up feeling even more worried than before. It did not seem likely that Latharn’s close proximity was merely coincidence. It was even less likely that all the things that were strange about Skye were. To top it all off, Drostan was hearing whispers in the wind... Too much was happening all at once.

  Could it really be time, he wondered?

  He waited as long as his nerves would allow before heading out. Undoubtedly, he would arrive early, but he was growing restless. He needed to put some distance between himself and Skye. His mind kept replaying the look that had been in her eyes, the scent of her, and the silent request she had made.

  The drive out to the furthest end of the castle grounds took well over an hour. It was never an easy trip for Taran to make. He pulled along the gravel road leading to the familiar seaside cliffs and had to take a deep breath to steady himself. The walls of the castle’s perimeter now shielded this area from the world, but it had not always been so.

  At least, not when he had been born there nearly four millennia prior.

  He could still imagine the way it once was – could almost see the towering brochs and homes amongst the fallen stones. It was always painful for him to remember the life he had left behind, the man he had been so very long ago. He could see the faces of his mother and father, of his brothers and sisters so clearly.

  It took several moments to climb from his car and walk across the emptiness that had once been his home. He paused, crouching down beside a crumbling stone. At its center was a carving of the moon. He traced his fingers over it fondly. This pillar had been the base of his tribe’s altar to the Great Mother. With a weak smile, he recalled the day that Drostan and his apprentices had been commissioned to build the monument. In those times, he and Drostan had barely acknowledged one another’s existence. They had been of separate classes, and in those times, class had meant everything.

  Drostan had been an artisan, specializing in the creation of great works of stone and metal. His skill had elevated his social standing considerably, but it was his talent for tattooing flesh that had earned him his substantial wealth. Only the highest of nobles required an artist of Drostan’s caliber for the intricate tattoos that they had earned.

  Taran had been one of those nobles. He was a warrior lord, second in line for kingship over all his clan’s territories. Foolishly, he had seen the members of the artistic class as inferior and intolerably effeminate. He had often loudly and publicly wondered at their purpose – even as Drostan had tattooed him before the rest of the clan. In retrospect, it had not been the wisest move on his part. Speaking ill of a man who had a needle in your chest was hardly a good idea, after all, but Taran had been young and wished to show off his bravery. He had proclaimed that the artisans should be put to better use, namely the defense of the tribe’s lands. At the very least, he felt their time should have been devoted solely to tattooing, and creating weapons for, him and his men. In his mind, warriors were the only ones that served the tribe in a meaningful capacity.

  How unwise he had been, for where was his mark now? What had h
e left behind from his mortal life? Nothing. No testimony could be seen today of his courageous victories over invading clans. Not one scrap of proof remained that he had even existed. He had learned with age to respect the creators – the ones that erected monuments which stood the test of time. They were the ones that passed information from one generation to the next, the ones that served the tribe meaningfully after all.

  And it had been fools such as himself that had all but wiped every trace of his people’s culture from the world. Warriors, destroyers – they had greedily sacked villages for territory and plunder, leaving nothing but smoldering ruins in their wake. As a result of their ignorance, he had heard it told once by a highly respected scholar that no one had lived in this region prior to the time of Christ. More than 2,000 years of his people’s history was gone, never to be discovered.

  Shaking his head at the stupidity of mankind, Taran hesitantly made his way to the cliff’s edge. He gazed down at the water as memories played out for him. Closing his eyes, he recalled the memory of his sweet little Mayra and Bridi playing on the shore below.

  The sea breeze was blowing their dark, curly hair. The sun was glittering in their bright green eyes.

  They had been the youngest of his siblings – twin troublemakers that sought to follow him everywhere he went. He had been in his teens at the time of their birth and grew closer to them than any of his other brothers and sisters. With his parents’ fading health, he had looked after them as his own. It was for them that he remained when he should have been off starting a family, for them that he had waited to ask the woman he loved for her hand in marriage. He felt he was already distracted enough from their care by campaigns for land. A wife and children of his own would have taken more away from them than he was willing to allow. Years passed and, to his dismay, the bright-eyed little girls who always begged to braid his long hair and ride on his back, who he played with and chased around the fields, who he told stories of his battles to at night, eventually grew into stunningly beautiful young women. He had sharpened his weapons daily to keep the suitors at bay. But aside from his extreme displeasure that his sisters would soon be married off, life had been full and happy for him.