“Thank you, Mortimus.”
The hare gave a little bow in response and disappeared from the room. It had been many centuries since Charles had witnessed such interaction with the animal kingdom.
“Now I know I am dreaming,” Rowan whispered.
Bessie passed her the parchment in silence.
“What is this?”
“Read it and memorise the address, dear. You must tell Finn to take you here. Don’t delay.”
Charles did not need to see the paper to know to whom the address belonged. He watched with interest as the older woman raised her hand in the air and signalled to something or someone else. “There’s just one more thing, my dear.”
“Wh… wh… what is it?” Rowan stuttered, still appearing to be in shock. She had failed to notice the gentle hum and a flicker of movement.
With a slight adjustment of energy, Charles focused his vision to the disturbance he had sensed and finally caught sight of the small winged creature fluttering in front of Rowan. Her eyes widened as it settled onto her.
“Albion, if you would please,” instructed Bessie.
From his current position, it was difficult to see what exactly Albion was doing although there was a faint shimmer from Rowan’s lap. Charles inched a little bit closer, careful to ensure his presence remained undetected. He could see the gold dust taking shape into a strange pattern, a light emanating from its centre.
“What is it?” Rowan asked.
Bessie chuckled. “A dragonfly.”
Rowan shook her head. “No, I meant what is the symbol?”
“It’s called a rune. You must show this to Finn, as soon as you wake. It’s important, dear.”
“What if I don’t remember it?”
Bessie raised her hand once more in the air. “You will, dear. Thank you, Albion.”
Rowan returned her gaze to her lap and gasped. The symbol, along with the dragonfly, had vanished. Charles appraised Bessie carefully. He flinched when she suddenly cast a glance in his direction and then looked away. Has she sensed my presence? Or is it a coincidence that she so happened to look across to where I am standing?
If she had sensed him, she gave no further indication of this, her focus once more on Rowan. “We’ve run out of time again, my dear. You must go and speak to Finn. Show him the rune and tell him to take you to the address I have given you.”
“Will you explain any of this to me when we meet?”
“I will tell you only what you need to know. Now you must leave,” Bessie said.
Charles sensed Rowan’s reconnection to her physical body and prepared to depart. The older woman stood abruptly and cleared her throat. Charles paused as she turned in his direction. “Before you go. I must ask that you do allow her to trust him. To trust us.”
She disappeared before he could utter a reply.
Releasing his connection from the dream realm, Charles travelled quickly towards the Lightkeepers, reflecting on her words. At his sudden arrival into the Great Library, Nicolai rose. “Well?”
“Your perception is correct, brother.”
The others murmured amongst themselves as Charles approached the table.
Nicolai raised his hand, the library falling into silence. He gestured for Charles to take a seat beside him. “And so, it begins.”
Chapter Ten
North York Moors, North East England
The surviving members of the Fallen howled and scattered in all directions as the Master continued his rampage. Scrambling past the charred and torn remains of their brethren, they fled into the trees, the Master clearly in no mood to be reckoned with, following their Commander’s latest report.
Alone and with Rivik’s previous words of warning still ringing in his ears, Kane turned towards the fire and swallowed the temper that threatened to rise. “We were unprepared for this enemy. It is unlike anything I have come across before.”
The Master glowered at him and, without any warning, broke free from the flames, a long silver staff gripped tightly in his hand, pointing accusingly. “Your failure to deal with this so-called enemy is inexcusable. Give me one good reason why I should not kill you now.”
Standing his ground, Kane gathered his thoughts quickly and with a nonchalant flick of his hand, replied, “It was a minor setback, I assure you. We shall be…”
He had not registered the attack until pain seared through his core and forced him to his knees. Gritting his teeth, he clutched the wound inflicted. How is it even possible and with just one strike?
The staff, dripping in blood, edged dangerously close to his face. “I do not care for your tone,” the Master hissed.
Kane batted it away. “You do not care for weakness either, which is why you appointed me and why I can assure you that this is nothing more than a minor setback. You asked for a reason why you should not kill me, and I give you that reason… time.” He forced himself to his feet. “There is no time to replace me, and no one in your kingdom strong enough. I’m the only one who can give you what you desire.”
“Be careful, Kane. You are not as indispensable as you think.” The Master spun and marched into the fire. “Deal with this new enemy, and if you fail me again you know what the consequences will be.”
The flames abruptly extinguished.
Anger punched hard in Kane’s gut as he considered the Master’s parting words. This had not been the reaction he was expecting and was utterly unwarranted given that little had been known of this world and the unseen force that had attacked that night. The Master’s dismissive wave of a new threat and his reproach of Kane was as foolish as his attempts to challenge.
‘Know thy enemy’, the words had been ingrained since commencing his training. Kane inwardly kicked himself at just how swiftly he had forgotten that very first lesson. A fundamental mistake and one which had cost him severely. The Master’s attack on him was a clear warning that their relationship, tenuous at best since the night of the storm, now hung by a single thread.
Stepping from the safety of the trees, Barrock gave a low growl. “If he keeps that up there will be none of us left to hunt.”
Kane wrinkled his nose and surveyed the carnage. The twisted and scorched remnants of the Fallen scattered in all directions. “How many this time?”
Barrock surveyed the camp and licked his lips instinctively. “It was enough to cause the rest to flee, Gallo and Rivik included.”
Kane ignored the hint of glee in the Fallen’s voice. “They will earn no favour by acting like cowards.”
“Yet their cowardice has ensured their survival. The Master was in no mood to reason.”
“That may be, but the Master will not look on this favourably, nor will I.”
“With respect, Commander, none of us hold any favour with the Master, including yourself.”
The Fallen’s eyes slid down to Kane’s waist, and the wound inflicted from the Master’s staff. “You really should attend to that. The cut looks deep.”
“A mere graze, Barrock,” Kane deflected.
“For a mere graze, it bleeds well.”
He narrowed his eyes, Barrock immediately taking a step back in retreat. “I suggest you focus on finding your brethren if we are to avoid our heads being served on a platter to the Weavers.”
Barrock hissed and turned his nose to the East, scenting the air once more. “Understood.”
“Once you have found your brethren, clean up the camp and get rid of the filth. I want you to report back to me with Gallo and Rivik, if they are still alive, in two hours.”
Barrock sprinted into the darkness of the forest, without so much as a backward glance.
Grateful to be alone, Kane set off in the direction of his tent. With each step taken, the injury inflicted by the Master smarted and caused him to stumble. Wincing, he leaned against a tree and fought to steady his balance. The pain had reached a crescendo now his shock and anger had dissipated.
He could see that his tent was almost in touching distance, and yet h
e lacked the physical strength to walk towards it. Fumbling around in his pocket, Kane drew out a dagger and carved a healing rune into the air. The energy from the rune seeped into his skin, bringing momentary relief, but not enough to heal him. Seizing his opportunity, Kane pushed forward with everything he had left in him, crying out in agony as the pain peaked once more and sent him crashing through the canvas doorway.
On the ground, he lay with sweat beading his brow and the sound of his blood rushing through his ears. Kane wondered whether this was the beginning of his demise. He had no strength left to call upon; the rune’s effects had failed to remove the wound that had been inflicted.
The ceiling spun in and out of focus, making Kane nauseous. With little option remaining, he allowed the darkness to consume and release him from his physical body.
Passing through time and space, he was vaguely aware of the creatures, watching from a distance. The scratch on his hand throbbed a reminder as he felt it draw closer to him, and yet surprisingly made no further move to attack. Given his current predicament, Kane didn’t slow to consider the reasons why, instead propelling his consciousness forward, an overwhelming sense of relief spreading through him when the chamber doors came into focus. Pushing all thoughts of the creature to the back of his mind, he careered into the Great Hall. The guardian, Morbae, caught hold of him, and both toppled to the ground.
“You’re hurt,” Morbae grunted.
“The wound will not heal,” Kane gasped.
“The Master’s handiwork?”
“Yes, he was none too pleased by my recent report.”
“Show me.”
Kane lifted his shirt grimacing with the effort.
Morbae nodded. “A Lyboria bite.”
“Lyboria?”
“Serpents used to keep prey submissive. The wound itself will heal in two days, but the venom will have taken its effect by then.”
Kane shook his head. “I did not see any serpents.”
“How did you come by the injury then?”
“I was struck with the Master’s staff.”
“A staff?”
Morbae fell silent and re-examined the wound. “Given your current predicament, I am confident it had a serpent’s head. No doubt masked from you when the Master attacked.”
Kane nodded his head. “The staff was covered in my blood, I did not see any serpent’s head.”
“A wound such as this can only be from a Lyboria bite, and if I am right, then this is yet another betrayal. Rest, young apprentice, I must seek urgent counsel.”
“Can I not have an audience myself?”
Morbae eased Kane into the chair. “You’re in a weakened state, and the venom is spreading. There is no time.”
Although exhausted Kane fought against the urge to sleep, fearful of losing the connection. Instead, he kept one eye on the chamber door while focusing all his energy internally to the rising sea of anger. The increase of adrenaline pumped through his veins, preventing him from slipping. Kane continued to seethe at the Master’s cruel attempt to turn him into a mindless puppet.
With his attention firmly fixed on the chamber doors, Kane failed to notice the reappearance of Morbae until he dragged him to his feet and turned him away. Struggling within Morbae’s grip, Kane attempted to spin the guardian around.
A crash of the chamber doors from behind and swish of robes across the floor had Kane pause in his efforts. She was by his side in a matter of seconds, lifting his shirt. Morbae tightened his grip as black fingernails thrust without any warning into Kane’s wound. He screamed as she twisted and dug her nails, scraping deeper and deeper at his core despite his pleas to stop. Tears coursed down his face when her hand finally emerged victorious holding onto an illuminous substance. Pulling a bottle from her robe, she pressed it inside.
“Give me your hand quickly,” she ordered, reaching once again into her robes, this time to retrieve a large bronze dagger.
Kane noted the ancient scribing running the length of its blade. He held out his hand and gave a sharp intake of breath as she cut into his palm. Blood instantly spilling, she motioned for him to hold his hand over the bottle and allow it instead to fall inside. Kane’s eyes met her own, and she shook her head refusing to answer his unspoken question. He remained silent and waited.
“That’s enough,” she told him.
Retrieving a cork from her robes, she pushed it firmly into the bottle. Morbae released his hold and accepted the bottle offered, exchanging this for a piece of white cloth. She smiled and passed it to Kane. He wrapped it around the wound on his hand. Although he had lost a lot of blood, surprisingly he felt much better.
“In the Arvantis, Mistress?” Morbae asked.
She nodded, then pointed towards the chair. “Sit, my young apprentice.”
Morbae disappeared, leaving them alone.
“Disappointing that he has lost his faith in you, yet not much of surprise. He never was one to trust.”
“His actions tonight would suggest not,” Kane agreed.
“It would seem, and a complication indeed. But nothing that will prevent me from fulfilling my plan. I have removed the poison from the Lyboria. The wound will heal as expected in a couple of days. Do nothing to escalate the healing and draw suspicion. He must believe that you are still infected. The blood magic that I have completed will ensure this but do not give him any cause to doubt. Follow his instructions.”
“How can I avoid raising his suspicions?”
“He knows that you do not have the knowledge of the Lyboria and have no inkling of what he has done, therefore nothing to make him think it wouldn’t have worked.”
“Surely he can tell from my words or my behaviour?”
She smirked. “Don’t worry, my young apprentice, the venom of the Lyboria doesn’t turn you into one of his mindless minions. It only guarantees your complete and utter compliance. You would still be expected to act otherwise and behave as normal, however be aware that whatever he orders you to do, you must immediately obey regardless of the consequences. You cannot hesitate in your actions or you will raise his suspicion.”
“But what if that goes against the plan? Lately, he has been unpredictable.”
“Then we shall have to cross that bridge when we come to it. The Master knows you are the best chance he has for success. The use of the Lyboria was a cheap and desperate attempt to keep you under his control, especially as he knows that your power is growing. He must believe that it worked. Otherwise, the consequences for you I guarantee will be fatal.”
“Do you know of the entity that attacked me?”
“I am not familiar with these entities you speak of. However, I have connections within the other dimensional planes which may know more. For now, I would advise you to stay away from the village until we know how to defeat this enemy.”
“That will be difficult. The Master expects me to bring the Tracker and girl to him. He will not tolerate a further delay and his patience is thin.”
“A dilemma, I agree. But you must maintain the pretence of your weakened state. That in itself will give you some protection. The Master himself knows that your wound will not heal for two days. Although the venom cannot infect you, the wound is still open, and you do remain at risk of infection. I trust you have medical supplies?”
“Yes, but I must fulfil the Master’s orders. The Tracker so far has evaded the Fallen, and I’m confident he now has the girl, a two-day delay is too much time lost. We know little of the girl or the prophecy. Even with the form and capabilities I have given to the Fallen, we are limited in our ability to track them. The Fallen cannot travel in direct sunlight.”
She summoned Morbae with a click of her finger. “The brooch,” she ordered.
“Of course, Mistress, a wise choice.”
“The Fallen as you are aware are born from the darkness. In the light they lose their power. But in the girl’s world, shadows are cast, darkness lingers and night is almost of equal time.”
Kane
appraised her features as she spoke, her voice weary. He noted the hard lines of her face and the slight stoop of her frame. Her hair was tinged with grey and the depths of her eyes consumed by shards of ice. The war of the ancients had undoubtedly taken its toll on her.
“I hear your thoughts. You should know that if I am to succeed, there are certain sacrifices to be made,” she explained.
“Let me give you some of my power,” Kane offered.
“The time will come when I will need it. For now, I will bear this loss.”
Morbae re-appeared and dropped the brooch into Kane’s palm.
“What shall I do with this?”
She smiled. “Choose one of the Fallen, your most trusted, and pin this brooch to them. It will merge into their form so there will be no risk of the others or the Master seeing this. The brooch has the power to transform their bite. It is also Lyboria.”
“And then what?”
“Come now, my young apprentice, time spent in a strange world. Surely you must have found those open to manipulation and control? Use their weakness to aid you and if they do resist, the Lyboria bite will ensure their complete compliance. You need allies in this world to fulfil the Master’s plan and avoid attention to ours. I trust you still have the vial?”
The memory of the power he consumed from ingesting a single drop stirred and his thoughts drifted. What would happen if I were to drink all of the blood? Would that give me the strength to stand against this new foe?
Aware that she was studying him, Kane pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind.
She moved closer to him, her lips briefly brushing against his. Kane noted the suspicion in her eyes as she drew back.
“There is something else you have not told me.”
Kane sighed. It would be pointless to deny it. “The blood had an unexpected effect on me.”
“Really? And how much did you consume?”
“Only the one drop as you instructed.”
Her brows furrowed. “I must see this for myself.”
Kane did not resist her arms as they slipped around his neck. She brought him close and kissed him, her lips teasing the memory of that night forward and something else. Parting his mouth with her tongue, she explored further. The kiss strengthened, and to Kane’s surprise, desire stirred. He attempted to pull away.
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