Vengeance From The Dark (D'Vaire Book 3)

by Jessamyn Kingley

  “I assure you, I am well acquainted with Cadlyr and his ever-present spear,” Lorcan said. Edion could not believe it; Lorcan knew so much of his former tribe and yet he believed himself to be mated to Talfryn, the non-existent child of the Cwylld rulers. There was surely madness in his mind to be so clear on certain details but so wrong in such a grand way.

  “How long has it been since you visited the Cwylld?” Edion knew it had to be before his birth as this week was his first acquaintance with Lorcan.

  “I never visited them. They did not care for me. But you are right in thinking that it has been over a thousand years since I got close to any of your, as you say, former tribe.”

  “Do not doubt I have left the Cwylld far behind me. If you truly wish to be a friend, then you will do well to remember that fact. You say your mate was the child of the chieftains and yet you were unable to visit with them? That makes little sense to me,” Edion said with a sad shake of his head. He was still curious about Lorcan, but he also had doubts about whether it was wise to form a friendship with someone so confused.

  “After I met Talfryn, he came to live with my people for a time,” he said after a few moments of silence that had Edion wringing his hands again, afraid his words had convinced Lorcan to leave him standing here alone.

  “He did not stay?” Edion asked in a voice barely above a whisper. It was unusual for a mate to abandon the one person promised to him by Fate and Edion was beginning to understand why Lorcan believed his heart to be dead.

  “A year we had together. Twelve months of loving and laughing. He left me a note to find after he was gone. Talfryn assured me he had never loved me. That he could never care for me and had wanted only my riches but the burden of living with me outweighed his greed,” Lorcan said in a voice dripping with venom and once again, Edion found himself shivering in response.

  “I am sorry for your pain. Fate has been unkind to you.”

  “Do not feel pity for me,” Lorcan snapped.

  “It is not pity I feel. Only sadness. A mate should love you forever,” Edion assured him.

  “Love is a waste of time.”

  “Surely there are others in your life you have loved besides Talfryn.”

  “I had a family once. Friends. Their love was true until their dying breaths,” Lorcan replied and though his voice didn’t change with the words, Edion knew it must bring him distress to think of his lost loved ones.

  “I am sorry you have suffered such loss.”

  “You are fond of apologies.”

  “And you lack hope and are full of imaginings,” Edion retorted, and no one was more surprised than he to hear what he’d said. He didn’t know where his bravery was coming from, but he could not take the words back now that they had been spoken.

  Chapter 8

  Lorcan raised a dark eyebrow at the tart words from his mate. Now that sounded like the Talfryn of old, he thought as memories flooded him. Talfryn had done nothing in halves—his spirit had been bold and he’d stood toe to toe with Lorcan whenever they had not agreed upon a subject. That fierceness had been one of the things Lorcan had loved so much about his Tally.

  The silence continued to stretch and Lorcan watched without interest as this malformed version of Talfryn began wringing his hands. He found himself watching him do that a great deal over these past few days. Lorcan wondered if he was even aware of his actions.

  “I am still here,” Lorcan said and saw Talfryn drop his arms so they hung at his sides.

  “I feared you had left at my harsh words.”

  “I have suffered through worse.”

  “May I ask how you came to lose so many close to you?” Talfryn asked in a small voice, and Lorcan wanted to shout at him. It was Talfryn’s leaving that had caused him to declare war on the Cwylld. His demonic tribe had been easily cutting through Talfryn’s kind until they had discovered those damn rocks that nullified all their powers. Lorcan was the only one that had escaped the ghastly battlefield. The blood of the Acwellan had soaked the earth, and Lorcan had soon declared Talfryn’s life forfeit.

  Now the man in question stood before him and though his appearance was not the same, Lorcan was unwavering in his convictions. All he had to do was continue this farce of forming a friendship and convince this timid version of his mate to cross that magical barrier so he could end both of their torments. Lorcan reigned in his temper and realized Talfryn was still waiting on a response.

  “War,” Lorcan replied and Talfryn gave a bob of his head.

  “War killed many of my former tribe as well. You told me when we met that you were once elven. I know you have left your tribe behind. You must have some people around you to care for you.”

  “Do not try to save me. I want your help as much as I want your pity.”

  “This is a sanctuary. The dragons that have taken me in, they offer a home to those that have no one else. Perhaps you could fill out an application.”

  Lorcan could not help the laugh that fell from his lips. “I doubt your friends would want the likes of me around.”

  “They are not just my friends. They are my family. I can make no promises—”

  “Enough. I have no interest,” Lorcan said. “You have asked many questions of me. It is my turn to ask them of you. You say an illness has left you blind and deformed?”

  “Yes, I have no memory of it.”

  “I have never heard of an elven illness having the power to tear away so much of a person. To distort their face and break an ear in half.”

  “The sorcerers in my family say much the same. But how do we know I was not born with the misshapen face and broken ear? The blindness may have been the only thing the illness has given me. The Prism Wizard says there are sicknesses mentioned in historical writings that can leave an elf blind,” Edion said and Lorcan watched him considerately. The silly elf had probably never questioned the story of an affliction ravaging his body. Lorcan knew no malady had changed Talfryn’s looks and rendered his eyes white.

  “So, you and you alone were born an ugly elf and then Fate was kind enough to blind you so you wouldn’t have to see it?”

  “It does seem rather incredible when thought of in that way but yes, it is not such an unlikely theory.”

  “And this same sickness robbed you of all memories of your life before the blindness?”

  “Yes. I was told I was young at the time of my illness. A youth, perhaps not much past puberty, when I was struck down.”

  “Your family. Surely you were not hatched from an egg. What happened to the elves who brought you into this world? Perhaps they were ugly too, and you came by these unfortunate looks in an honest way,” Lorcan said and barely managed to keep the humor from his voice. This elf that called himself Edion was a simpleton to believe all the lies he had been fed.

  It served Talfryn right, for surely whatever had befallen him it had been done at his own insistence, Lorcan thought. He could think of no better way to flee a mate than to find a sorcerer capable of disguising one’s looks and robbing them of their memory. The Cwylld chieftains had been, for all their hatred of the demonic Acwellan, friendly enough with dark magickind. It had probably taken nothing more than a bit of coin to alter Talfryn’s memories.

  “Not everyone survives illness.”

  “So, they died and your living was a miraculous thing,” Lorcan deadpanned.

  “Your words are mocking. I do not understand why this is something to poke fun at.”

  “This sounds like a story sold to a child, and yet you believe all that has been told to you about your infirmity and recovery.”

  “How can you say such things? You know nothing of me. You know nothing of my illness. You know nothing of the pain I have lived with. I cannot even mourn for those I have loved as I cannot even remember their names,” Edion said as his sightless eyes appeared to well up in tears. Lorcan realized alienating his prey would do nothing to aid his plan of gaining Talfryn’s trust.

  “Calm yourself. I simply wish
to know more of you. Did you not say we are to be friends?” Lorcan asked.

  “My family, they are trying to learn more about what could have befallen me. They are powerful sorcerers and their wish is to heal me. I wish I had a greater understanding too.”

  “You must keep me informed of their progress. I confess I am full of curiosity regarding your maladies,” Lorcan said and watched as his mate gave a tiny smile.

  “A friend would wish to know about another friend’s progress. Are we friends now?”

  Lorcan rolled his purple-red eyes heavenward and said, “Of course. Will you meet me here again tomorrow?”

  “I will be here.”

  “Then so shall I,” Lorcan said and hoped now that the pair of them were “friends,” he would be closer to gaining his trust. He simply did not know how many more of these mundane conversations he could be forced to endure. The past was not something he wished to remember, much less discuss at any length and most certainly not with the one person who had ruined his life. Betrayal had ripped his world apart, and Lorcan wanted nothing more than to no longer have to endure the many tragic losses he had suffered.

  He didn’t want to remember his time with Talfryn or the war he had foolishly started when he had discovered his mate had left him. His parents, his younger brother, his friends, and his tribesmen—all of them dead due to his inability to handle rejection. It was not only Talfryn that had a well-deserved death in front of him; Lorcan’s existence was just as abhorrent. In Lorcan’s mind, he thought the two of them, in a twisted way, deserved one another. Selfishness was their common characteristic, and they would suffer the seeds of their destruction in whatever afterlife existed.

  Chapter 9

  Walking through the woods, Cadlyr was grateful for the respite from his tiny village of three. With so few people about, Cadlyr would have expected his work to be lean but not with his chieftains. They were demanding and they rarely allowed him to finish a task before they added more to his overflowing plate. Incredulously, the pair would then admonish him for his lack of progress.

  Cadlyr had begun to hate them a millennium ago when they’d forced him to betray his brother and best friend. Over the centuries, those ill feelings toward them had done nothing but grow as they kept him at their sides against his wishes. Once that well of hatred was so deep, he feared it would choke him. Luckily for him and sadly for Talfryn, their son lived amongst them with no memory. It was a boon for Cadlyr because the chieftains could never again force him to do something as repugnant as holding Talfryn down while Carvallius blinded him and robbed him of his mate.

  Their cruelty since that dreadful day was mere barbs and demands. It had allowed Cadlyr’s seething emotions to calm and now he was strangely dulled to whatever they threw his way. With no choice but to obey, he simply did his best to survive one day to the next. Death would not come as he was elven, so Cadlyr had no choice but to make the best of his situation. Talfryn, who believed himself to be Edion, was gone and that helped Cadlyr handle his guilt.

  That daily reminder of what he’d done had left the village behind and Cadlyr was grateful. He was thankful that without Edion he could convince himself to forget his own crimes. Thus far forgiveness was elusive, but he hoped to find a measure of it someday. Shoving aside his unpleasant thoughts, he focused on his given tasks. The lost Cwylld were a prey he had no hope of catching. The garden had been tended already today, and Cadlyr considered the search for the scattered Cwylld ridiculous. Those elves were long gone and he could not even fathom which direction to start looking for them, so he concentrated on searching for Latarian and the boy wizard.

  Combing the edge of the woods he knew so well, Cadlyr found himself in a large empty valley. It was void of trees and plants which Cadlyr found odd as the land here grew foliage well. The only thing Cadlyr could think of was that perhaps the owner of the land had overworked it and that was why it now lay barren. Cadlyr marched across the dirt and found a very slight indentation in the ground far in the distance.

  The depression covered a great deal of space for all its shallowness. Moving ever closer, Cadlyr guessed that a building had once stood there. Given the remoteness of the area, Cadlyr decided it made sense that there had been a home in that spot. Cadlyr walked over the sunken soil and saw a fine dust glinting in the sun that shone brightly overhead.

  Kneeling and allowing the earth to sift through his hand, Cadlyr believed he could see a powder of milky white, blue, and even purple. His back straightened as he looked to the sky above with his brow furrowed in thought. There were not many things he knew of that could produce this type of strange dirt, and the one thing that popped right into his head was the magic-stealing stones his people were so infamous for.

  Slowly making his way to his feet, Cadlyr nearly smiled. This was actual progress he could report back to Chief Aniernan and Chieftess Taliya. Whatever home had stood here and whatever power had incinerated one of their rocks, surely this was a trail that could hopefully lead to Latarian and the boy wizard. After all, they were the first people that had been given the damn things. No one else on the planet wanted to deal with the Cwylld, Cadlyr thought with a rueful smile. Bending over to gather a sample to bring back to his village, Cadlyr was, for the first time in a very long while, glad to be heading home. He hoped this would keep his chieftains off his back for a few hours so he could get a well-deserved nap.

  * * *

  “You’re scrying?” Dre’Kariston asked his brother who was muttering to himself as he bent over a bowl of clear water.

  “Isn’t that what it looks like?”

  “Yes, and obviously whatever you are searching for isn’t working out very well or you wouldn’t be so pissy,” Dre’Kariston said as he took a seat across the desk from Dra’Kaedan. His twin was in the office that served as the base of operations for their sanctuary known as Dra’Kaedan’s Coven.

  “I was spying on Edion. He goes out there every day and talks to whoever Lorcan is, but all I can see is Edion talking to what appears to be nothing but air,” Dra’Kaedan said as he slumped back in his chair and pushed aside the bowl.

  “It’s very strange that he’s speaking to someone no one can find any trace of, including our sentinels who can track anything,” Dre’Kariston replied as he stared at his annoyed sibling.

  “I get that. I get that it’s weird, but this is a sanctuary. People are here because they are unusual. If he wants to go out there and talk to a tree he should be able to do that without everyone going crazy.”

  “I agree, but if that’s the way you feel, why are you scrying?”

  “I promised Brogan and Aleksander that this magic shell would keep us all safe. I feel it is my duty to make sure there isn’t someone out there trying to harm Edion. That’s all,” Dra’Kaedan said.

  “Your mate has flown over the area when Edion is out there; has he seen anything?”

  “Nope, just Edion.”

  “What if he speaks to a ghost?” Dre’Kariston asked.

  “I’ve thought about that. It seems like a good theory, but it’s very difficult for us to prove. I was hoping if I scried, it would show some kind of specter.”

  “Well, just because we can’t prove it doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

  “Good point,” Dra’Kaedan began. “Though I would sleep better at night if I could say, ‘Yes, Edion speaks to a ghost.’ Or, ‘Yes, Edion likes talking to imaginary people.’ ”

  “You would sleep better if you could keep your hands off Brogan.”

  Dra’Kaedan gave his twin a wicked smile. “Yeah well, sleep is overrated anyway.”

  “We’ve made no progress at all in figuring out how to heal Edion,” Dre’Kariston said. He knew it was necessary to change the subject before Dra’Kaedan began giving him details about things he really didn’t want to know.

  “No.”

  “I’ve been thinking, and I don’t like this whole illness scenario.”

  “I know how your mind works. You think dark magic
is behind it.”

  Dre’Kariston gave his brother an affirmative nod. “Yes, I do. I think our energy is best spent figuring out how to search him for a spell. It’s impossible to alter someone in any way without leaving a mark on their skin.”

  “Trust me, I know. Remember, my back used to be covered in them. So, how do we do that? We’ve used magic to try and heal him. Casting through him, I sensed nothing dark drag against my spells.”

  “Even when the marks on your back were found, it took a dark sorcerer like Chander to figure out they were harming you and as accomplished as he is, many of the actual spells were a mystery to him,” Dre’Kariston reminded his brother, referring to the Arch Lich.

  “I didn’t say your theory wasn’t viable. I just don’t know how the hell to find this spell or spells on Edion.”

  “I thought we could figure out how to use magic to see through his clothing, but I doubt he would be willing to go along with that given how elves feel about being viewed by anyone but their mate.”

  “Yeah, that won’t work. We need to figure out a way to essentially pinpoint it without disregarding Edion’s dignity,” Dra’Kaedan said.

  “Perhaps we are ignoring the obvious.”

  “If it’s so obvious, how come I don’t know what you are talking about?” Dra’Kaedan asked as he kicked his brother’s foot under the desk.

  “Knock it off. We’re thinking this is something we need to figure out, but maybe what we need is a dark caster. We’ve used light magic and that may be the issue. A necromancer might be able to feel a spell that we can’t.”

  Dra’Kaedan sprang up out of his chair and grabbed his brother’s arm to drag him upright. “You’re a genius. Let’s go find Blodwen and see if she can’t feel the spell. Why didn’t we think of this before?”

  “Because we think warlocks are capable of everything, but the truth is…we’re not,” Dre’Kariston said as he wrenched his arm free of Dra’Kaedan’s grasp. The pair headed out of the office as they began the hunt for their resident necromancer. Blodwen was always happy to help anyone who needed it, and Dre’Kariston knew she would be willing to see if she could find any dark magic lurking in Edion’s damaged body. It would be up to Edion whether he wished to be rid of the spell should they find it, but neither of the warlock twins were going to rest easy until they knew the truth behind these strange afflictions he suffered from. Hopefully Blodwen would be just what they needed to cure at least one mystery surrounding the only D’Vaire elf.