“Well said,” Noirin said to her brother before hugging him to her side.
“He speaks for all of us, Aleksander,” Dra’Kaedan said.
Aleksander gave another bob of his head. “Okay, I see no reason for the three of you to delay this; you can leave in the morning if that suits you. If you need help, call home. We can always send more to lend a hand.”
“Thank you, Aleksander. Thanks to every one of you for being willing to sacrifice all you have worked so hard for to see justice for us. I will never be able to repay the gifts of your kindness. Even though I was Cwylld, you took me in and have never wavered in your acceptance. I’m going to do all I can to end this as quickly and quietly as possible. It would destroy me if any of you should have to pay for the actions of my former tribe,” Talfryn said, holding back his tears.
“I too appreciate the kindness you have shown me since my arrival, especially since I have not been the most pleasant houseguest. This will all end tomorrow. Dre’Kariston will carry back the story of our deeds and know we will not put his life in danger,” Lorcan added.
Talfryn rolled his eyes. “We are coming back too. You really can’t kill me, you know.”
“Be safe and do not be afraid to ask for help. We have dragons and sentinels at the ready to assist,” Aleksander said.
Trystan cleared his throat loudly. “You also have a necromancer and a necromancer/fallen knight hybrid.”
“And a wizard,” Delaney said.
“Two warlock familiaaars,” Renny sang out.
“This is turning into a crappy rendition of the Twelve Days of Christmas. The necros will be staying home because I’m not answering to your father,” Aleksander said to Trystan before turning to Delaney. “You’re a teenager and have to at least come of age before I can put you in danger. And Renny, Dre’Kariston is the only one of warlock blood going anywhere. I know you all want to help, but it will be sentinels or dragons called in should they need it.”
“We’d be honored to assist,” Gavrael said while Gedeon nodded behind him.
“Gavrael just wants another notch on his dagger,” Renny replied with a smirk.
“Or maybe he is just offering to help because he’s—I don’t know…a sentinel…a trained assassin?” Dra’Kaedan snarked to his familiar.
“Speaking of daggers, do we have a weapon to take with us?” Talfryn asked as he realized they’d never considered the practical aspects of their plan.
“I have a perfectly good athame,” Lorcan said.
“You must be out of your fucking mind if you think I’m going to let you use our mating athame to kill my parents and Cadlyr,” Talfryn cried out in a near shout.
Lorcan’s response was to give Talfryn a hard glare. In a flash of movement, Gavrael whispered a word that removed the poison from his dagger and handed it to Lorcan hilt-first. “I believe this will work.”
“Are you sure you wish me to take this?” Lorcan asked.
Gavrael nodded. “Please do not lose it.”
Mirroring his mate’s actions, Gedeon handed his toxin-free blade to Talfryn. “I believe you may want a weapon as well.”
“Thank you,” Talfryn said quietly after accepting the weapon. Sentinels wore their daggers as others wore clothing. The men’s willingness to hand over such prizes humbled Talfryn. The D’Vaires were truly a gift to him.
“All right, we have two armed elves and a warlock with nearly unmatched power. Good luck guys, and remember D’Vaires stick together, so don’t let anyone out of your sight,” Aleksander said.
The family meeting broke up minutes later and Talfryn carried Gedeon’s dagger to his room and carefully placed it on his nightstand. He changed into one of the vibrant pairs of pajamas sewn by Larissa and climbed into bed. Talfryn wasn’t going to be deterred by Lorcan’s foul temper nor was he going to leave the Cwylld village without answers and some punishment meted out to those that had ripped his life apart. Closing his eyes, he wished for a restful night. The day ahead no doubt would prove to be dangerous.
Chapter 23
Lorcan slapped the palm of his hand onto the rump of his black warhorse as soon as he dismounted. He was headed into battle and knew his enemy would not hesitate to harm the animal, and Lorcan had no desire to see the fierce stallion injured or worse. No Cwylld could measure up to the demonic Acwellan; he was at no disadvantage by preserving the life of his faithful steed.
Unsheathing his sword at the same time he unfurled his blood-red wings, Lorcan saw the other members of his tribe mirror his actions. The grassy field around him was soon filled with the beauty of what it meant to be Acwellan. Women stood shoulder to shoulder with their male counterparts as Chieftain Lorcan had been taught by his mother that warriors had no gender. Briefly, he wondered what she would think of Lorcan allowing his young brother to face the Cwylld this day.
At sixteen, Corwin was brazen enough to sneak his way onto the battlefield, and Lorcan had no real way to keep him home. Giving his only brother a firm stare, he scanned the forest ahead for the lavender-clad tribe that his mate, the betrayer, belonged to. Before he saw evidence of an army, a deep coldness began pulling at him down to his very core.
“Chieftain, do you feel that?” Nyley asked from his left.
“Whatever it is, I find my power draining,” Lorcan replied.
“How is this possible?”
Lorcan didn’t bother replying to Nyley; he watched dozens of blond elves march from behind the thick trees. Two Cwylld warriors held long poles with a sturdy wooden chest between them as they trudged toward Lorcan. Once in view of the Acwellan, the men dropped it to the ground and threw open the lid. Lorcan was soon overwhelmed by that biting icy feeling; it hit him almost like a blow and somehow, he instinctively knew it came from whatever was in that large box.
Looking toward it, he noted it was filled to near overflowing with strange milky stones edged in blue and purple. His demonic powers were draining quickly, and he knew everyone here to fight at his side was feeling the same. There was no time to retreat; the Cwylld were charging forward. Lorcan turned his gaze to his little brother and ordered him to return to the camp they had set up not far from the battlefield where his horse was probably grazing in leisure, but Corwin was nowhere to be seen.
Though he would have liked the time to hunt him down, a sword sliced through the air near inches from his face and he raised his own black and crimson weapon to counter it. Loud clangs of steel were erupting all around him, and Lorcan was grateful he’d never slacked off when it came to practicing with various arms. All too soon, he realized he would need to rely on those skills alone as the demonic abilities he usually used to outmatch his rivals were dwindling rapidly.
Seeing his opponent foolishly expose his chest, Lorcan sliced his long blade forward cutting past skin and bone to find the other elf’s heart. Yanking back his arm, he freed his weapon from the now dead man and searched in vain for Corwin. In horror, he saw his two closest friends lose their lives, almost in unison. The Cwylld had begun filling the sky with flame-tipped arrows, and both Nyley and Heriell seemed reluctant to protect themselves and hit the soft earth with chaos reigning all around.
A primal roar began deep inside of Lorcan at the loss of the men who had been at his side all his life. There was no time to mourn; Lorcan was once again forced to lift his sword to save his own sorry hide. Screams rent the morning as the Cwylld were soon decimating the tribe Lorcan had dragged into this war with him.
Suddenly a searing, hot pain registered in his mind and he turned his head to see an arrow lodged into one of his large wings. Before he could make any attempt to remove it, a second one tore through his opposite wing. Lorcan decided to ignore the arrows and headed toward the swarm of blond elves ahead to see that they paid for the carnage they were producing this cursed day.
It occurred to him that he was likely to die, and he would be damned if he would not see as many Cwylld brought down to take the journey to hell with him. Minutes passed, or maybe it wa
s hours. Blood spilled across the grassy meadow and squished through Lorcan’s toes as he suddenly found himself face-to-face with Talfryn’s closest friend, Cadlyr. He eyed Lorcan warily it seemed, or perhaps it was all the blood that seeped out of his now numerous wounds.
His wings dragged in arrow-filled tatters behind him as he raised his sword arm to take the life of someone Talfryn had always spoken of so fondly. Before he could connect with any flesh, Cadlyr seemed to disappear. Before long, Lorcan realized Cadlyr was not the only missing Cwylld. The entire army was hastily heading for the trees.
Lorcan attempted to follow, but it was soon evident that it was only sheer will keeping him upright. In what seemed like slow motion, he looked across the battlefield and found himself very much alone. All around him lay the dead and dying Acwellan, their beautiful wings torn and yet still stunning in the bright sun. Falling to his knees, he never felt the bite of rock and dirt beneath him. His head swam. They were all dead. All of them. He’d driven Talfryn away and murdered those he loved when he’d declared war on his mate’s kin.
Falling facedown onto the bloody ground, Lorcan bled in both body and spirit. Black edged his vision and Lorcan sent up a fervent plea to Fate that he too would die here amongst all those he had surely killed as if with his own weapon. His last conscious thought before the darkness took him was that Fate would have no choice but to see to his death as it was not possible to live without a heart.…
Lorcan awoke with a start from where he lay on the floor. He was not shocked the dream had come to him again of that awful morning so many centuries ago. His brain liked that spot in time and it reminded him how important his mission was to make Talfryn pay. Soon, his people would have their vengeance. Thinking back to the night before, Lorcan found that his view of the D’Vaires was a positive one. They seemed to be nice people and it seemed fitting that such people would have a sanctuary.
One thing was for certain, they were too good for the likes of his mate. He didn’t have any idea what Talfryn was trying prove with his talk of being drugged at their Acwellan home. Even though he was aware not everyone was the biggest fan of Talfryn, none of his people were traitors. It was nothing personal; they simply had no use for members of tribes like the Cwylld who believed the demonic blood of his people was something inherently evil.
Rumors had reached his ears of discontent among his kind, but no names had ever been mentioned and he didn’t think it was strong enough to lead anyone to harm or drug Talfryn who had been their Chieftain-mate. Certainly, no one had hesitated to follow him into battle. Therefore, Talfryn’s story had to be a lie. Shaking off his thoughts, Lorcan got to his feet and grabbed his bag. He’d added Gavrael’s borrowed dagger to it and swinging it over his shoulder, Lorcan left his room to meet his enemy and get this, his very last day, over with.
* * *
It had taken a fraction of a second for Dre’Kariston to locate Lorcan’s memory from his time in Wales and transport their deadly little trio to the forest outside of where the Cwylld called home.
“Grand Summoner, I would have you stay well out of danger. This is not your fight, and I do not want you hurt. I know you are a strong sorcerer, but there’s no reason you cannot cast spells from a distance,” Lorcan said.
“I appreciate your concern, but I’m not afraid of three elves.”
Lorcan offered him a glare. “I know you have no fear of them. Are you not the same warlock that faced Carvallius and won? You must stay protected so you can return to your family in one piece.”
“Fine, I’ll tell you what. I’ll back off should the situation get dicey to protect your delicate sensibilities.”
Narrowing his eyes, Lorcan’s stare grew more murderous, but Dre’Kariston was unmoved. After several unblinking moments, Lorcan finally relented. “You may stay close if the situation is calm.”
“You have my promise to run for the hills if the shit hits the fan. I also promise not to interfere with your plan. The two of you are welcome to handle the Cwylld the way you want. I’ll use my magical skills however necessary to help you get your answers and even your revenge if needed.”
“Thank you,” Talfryn replied. “We may need you to hold them in place to question them. I think we should start with Cadlyr. Aniernan and Taliya are probably not going to answer anything.”
“Great, let’s go find Cadlyr,” Dre’Kariston said.
They walked a short distance in the dense woods and made themselves at home behind a large stump to wait for Cadlyr to wander near. Lorcan had watched him head this way each morning, though he had no clue what exactly the elf was doing. It was not as easy as Lorcan would have liked to be this close to Talfryn and not notice or pay attention to him. He wanted so badly for the other elf to shift his weight, break the silence with words, or even breathe heavily so he had the opportunity to reprimand him, but much to Lorcan’s chagrin he remained still and silent. The time did not move as quickly as he would have liked, but it was less than thirty minutes later when Cadlyr meandered down the path with his spear in hand. He seemed to be muttering to himself as he trudged along, and Talfryn tugged at Lorcan’s sleeve. Shaking off his mate’s hand, he stood to intercept Cadlyr but never got the opportunity.
Before he could take a step, Cadlyr came to an abrupt stop and then shimmered out of sight.
“What the hell?” Dre’Kariston yelled as he came to his feet.
“I don’t know. The Cwylld don’t have any magic. We can’t teleport. How did he do that?” Talfryn asked as he got to his feet next to Lorcan.
With a glance toward the warlock, Lorcan asked, “Do you think it could be the work of dark magic?”
“Shouldn’t I be asking you that? Can’t you sense it?”
“It is too great a distance for me to determine. I suspected it of Talfryn but didn’t know for sure until I touched him.”
“So we’ll get closer to him. Do you know where he spends the rest of his day?” Talfryn asked.
“Let’s head to the village.”
The trio walked the short distance to the Cwylld encampment in silence. Lorcan believed Cadlyr was affected by dark magic, but whether it was there of his own accord like Talfryn’s had been or if he’d been enslaved by the ruling family he couldn’t be sure. He wondered if there was any Cwylld who was not enamored of the black side of sorcery. Carvallius, it seemed, had been very popular.
Once again, Talfryn’s fingers tugged on his tunic. “There he is. Is he farming?”
“You didn’t think your parents would be out tending to their crops, did you?”
Talfryn gave him a dirty look but didn’t bother to reply. Lorcan nearly smirked at him but held it back just in time. Marching up to where Cadlyr was using some garden utensil to accost his plants, he got within grabbing distance before the other elf noticed his presence. To say the blond was startled was a gross understatement; his lavender eyes grew round with fear and his skin turned an ashen color as he noticed both Dre’Kariston and Talfryn standing behind Lorcan.
“Wh-what do you want?”
Lorcan reached out and grabbed Cadlyr’s arm. Touching him confirmed their suspicions. “It is dark magic. A single spell.”
Ripping his limb from Lorcan’s grasp, Cadlyr seemed to recover from his initial response. “No shit, now what do you want?”
“Can you tell what the spell does?” Dre’Kariston asked Lorcan.
“I cannot say for sure. He didn’t have to pay a price as Talfryn did with his sight, so it cannot be as strong.”
“I wonder if the spell was cast at the same time,” Talfryn said.
“You might try asking me,” Cadlyr said, sounding miffed.
“Fine, explain,” Dre’Kariston replied.
Cadlyr met Talfryn’s eyes. “It was put on my back before the plan was set in motion to take you from Lorcan. The spell makes it impossible for me to refuse the orders of Chieftain Aniernan or Chieftess Taliya. They can also summon me to their side whenever they wish.”
Stupidly,
Talfryn replied, “Are you sure?”
“Of course, I’m sure. It’s on my damn back. I was there when Carvallius put it there,” Cadlyr snapped back.
“I wonder just how many people are wandering around with a spell courtesy of Carvallius,” Dre’Kariston mused.
“It’s a damn good thing he’s dead,” Cadlyr said.
“Yeah, you’re welcome,” Dre’Kariston retorted dryly.
“Huh?”
“This is Grand Summoner Dre’Kariston D’Vaire. He killed Carvallius,” Lorcan said.
Cadlyr smiled big enough that it was nearly possible to see all his teeth. “A pleasure to meet you, Grand Summoner. A fine job you did with Carvallius, finally a warlock worth his magic.”
Dre’Kariston gave him a murderous scowl. “Just how many of my people did you kill, Cadlyr?”
“None. I was here babysitting Aniernan and Taliya.”
“Chieftains fight alongside their people,” Lorcan said.
“Not those cowards. Did you see them when we fought your people?”
“I did not,” Lorcan confessed.
Talfryn cleared his throat. “Well, can we remove the spell?”
“Why would you want to do that?” Cadlyr asked.
“We need answers before I kill you,” Lorcan said.
Cadlyr nodded. “I knew I would die as soon as I saw all of you. I just didn’t understand why you would go to the trouble of removing my spell first. I will tell you all you wish to know. Plus, I would like to show you the last of the Cwylld secrets, but only if Aniernan and Taliya are also on your death list.”
“You would expect Talfryn to kill his beloved parents?” Lorcan asked.
Vengeance From The Dark (D'Vaire Book 3) Page 15
