Forsaken (Ancients of Light #1)

by Heather Fleener

  Ella sucked in a harsh breath at his taunt, her face losing all color. In her time there, no one had ever mentioned her marking and the unwelcome reminder hit her hard. Her opponent laughed; his barb had been meant to push her off her game. His mirth turned uproarious when she doubled over and retched right in the middle of the field.

  Kat started to move forward to aid her friend, blue light flashing in her palms. She was going to make certain that particular vampire was in no condition to move from his bed for the next month. Even as Lorcan latched on to her arm to hold her in place, Kendrick was nudging her side with an elbow, nodding towards Ella, “Look at her.”

  She hadn’t straightened yet and her body was trembling. Ella was obviously unsteady, but there was a glimmer of green light flickering in her palms. Kendrick whispered at Lorcan, “Damn man, I hate it when you are right.” Though his answering grin was cocky, Lorcan never moved his eyes from Ella.

  She finally straightened. The green light at her hands was casting an eerie glow. Ella looked down at her palms, in awe of the dancing light there before she unleashed an orb from each hand in the direction of the two that had joined her on the field. Her assault with the previously unrealized magical ability had been entirely instinctive. The pair staggered back under the attack, but rather than finish them, she ceased the onslaught of Light magic. Turning on her heel, she strode across the field. Her eyes mirrored the iridescent radiance that still filled her hands, even as she moved to yank the bangle from her arm.

  Lorcan’s harsh order stopped her midstride, “Halt, Witch.”

  Ella turned on him, furious. “I do not know what game you play, Vampire, but I am done. Done with all of you sons of bitches. Go to hell!” She was furious with Lorcan for forcing her into this and furious that he had let her shame be called out for everyone that had gathered to witness. The joy in discovering she had a secondary level of magic was nothing compared to the fury in her that wanted to strike out at him and the grief that had been raised by the taunt. She needed to collect herself, preferably some place that she could scream her anger and then sob out her broken heart.

  Lorcan was not ready to relent. His response was icy, authoritative, “You are done when I say so Ella, not before. Get back on that field.” He deliberately pushed her then, pulling another bangle from the box, his face unsympathetic to her current condition, “Put this on while you are at it.” If he took pity on her now it would validate her behavior and undermine his authority with his men.

  She blinked once and then again, the glittering of her eyes appearing to grow brighter each time. Ella raised her hand in his direction and extended her middle finger slowly. Her other hand was blazing with the green light when she hissed, “If you think you can, Leech, then you go ahead and make me.”

  Ella released the light from her palm, but too slowly. She had less control over this new magic and her miscalculation was a dire error. Lorcan shadowed well before impact and reappeared next to her. Clasping the bangle on her wrist none too gently, he proceeded to throw her bodily across the ten yards back to the field. The impact with the ground jarred her. Her headlong slide was stopped by a pair of boots on the other side of the field. The dark-eyed Broderick smirked down and extended his hand to her. Ella batted it away with an irate slur on his parentage. As she was attempting to regain her feet, Ella saw Lorcan striding towards her, his sword drawn. Broderick and the other Elite with him took a few hasty steps in retreat.

  Lorcan’s voice was thunderous, implacable, “You will fight me Witch. You will fight me and I am going to knock you on your ass…and then you will get up and fight me again. I will not be done with you until you do not have the strength to get back to your feet.”

  She raised a furious gaze to his and drew the short sword at her hip. Ella spied Myrrdyn, watching from the steps of Laverock and her spirits were buoyed when the Ancient nodded his support to her. It was her turn to smirk, “Good luck with that, Lorcan.” Swinging her sword and holding nothing back, the clash of steel as it met his was loud in the silent courtyard.

  Lorcan had the audacity to smile at her, “Good strike, lass. Try to make it a bit harder next time.” He shadowed and backhanded her, sending her stumbling to her knees.

  Ella looked up at him in disbelief, “You said no shadowing, no magic.”

  He chuckled, readying to defend against her next strike, “If you weren’t using magic, I wouldn’t shadow.” Lorcan’s response was bitingly sarcastic in the face of her confusion, “You think you are not using magic, Witch? You don’t feel magic surging in you this very moment?” Without warning, he swung his sword in her direction.

  Ella met it with her own blade, kicking her foot out at him, which was ineffective since he shadowed away. The brief interval allowed her to gain her feet. He shadowed right back, his weapon coming down in a high arc as he reappeared. She blocked the attack with her sword, this time spinning from beneath the weight of his strike to kick hard into his side. Lorcan had not donned armor and she felt the spike of her heel connect solidly with his flesh. His grunt of pain verified its effectiveness and she hoped she’d punctured the bastard’s spleen.

  He disappeared again, only to appear behind her and throw her down hard to the ground at his feet. The impact seemed to affect her less than it had when he had first thrown her. Ella struck out, sweeping his legs, and sprung back to her feet when he shadowed away to avoid losing his footing near her.

  Lorcan kept up the assault for the next hour and while she began to think he was not giving her the full force of his strength at the end of their fight, she did not think that he had held back much at all in the beginning. Understanding dawned. Her ability with the weapons, her strength, and her speed…it all far surpassed the three months of training she’d had with Kat.

  The side of her face was bruised. Ella could feel it beginning to swell and she could taste the tang of blood from her split lip, but the Warrior of Light had not escaped their confrontation unscathed either. He bore some marks from her attacks and that appeased her. She might not have won this battle, but she had held her own against the strongest warrior in the Light.

  Lorcan shadowed before her once more, sword raised to strike. Ella held up her hand for him to stop and waited until he stepped back and lowered his weapon. Doubling over then, her hands found her knees. She allowed the sword to slide from her grasp in surrender and tilted her head to look up at him, “I have Warrior magic?”

  At his quick nod of assent, she pushed her hands off her knees and straightened, a thousand questions ready to burst past her lips. The unexpected blow from Lorcan’s fist dropped her. He was kneeling next to her before she could rise up, his hand clutching her throat. With eyes blackened and fangs bared, his jaw clenched in when he ground out, “Fire is dominant in you, but I suspected there was more lurking beneath. In order to draw those out, I needed to bind the power from the other magic.”

  Lorcan tightened his grip around her neck, “I told you that you would be on your back when I was finished with you. My people do not challenge me, do you understand?” At her nod, he pulled her up by her throat until his face was an inch from hers. She could see the veiled fury in him and cringed when he demanded, “Do you yield, Witch?” Her answer was not fast enough and he gave her a hard shake.

  Swallowing hard, she answered in a raspy voice, “Yes, Loran, I yield.” Lorcan yanked her arm up and freed her from the bands. He gave her a shove when he released both hands, letting her impact the hard ground again. Standing, he spun on his heel, making certain his voice was loud enough so that both the gathered Witch and Vampire would make no mistake, “Get yourself inside and have Kat tend your wounds. You begin training with the Elite tomorrow. Do not disappoint me again, Ella.”

  Kendrick grabbed his arm as he strode past, shaking his head in disbelief, “Did you suspect she was that powerful?”

  Lorcan spared a glance back at Ella making her way gingerly over to meet up with Kat, “I sensed she had more, but that was more than
I expected.”

  Kendrick crossed his arms over his chest as he carefully eyed Kat and Ella leaving the field, “This is not common Lorcan. Very few Witch have power from more than two Castes; Kaitriana and Myrrdyn are the only ones ever in existence that possess Fire, Light and Warrior magic.”

  Slowly surveying the crowd, Lorcan’s eyes stopped when they landed on Myrrdyn, “Aye, Kendrick. Only Myrrdyn and Kat…and now Ella.” At Kendrick’s inquisitive stare, Lorcan merely nodded in farewell and walked away.

  Lorcan was irked yet again at Myrrdyn and his seemingly endless plots. He had not mentioned to Kendrick that the way the girl had anticipated his blows and his shadowing caused him to believe she also had the Seer ability. He wanted Cade’s assessment of Ella as well, because he was beginning to suspect she would be a Caster too. If his theory held ground, it meant that she possessed the same five Caste powers as Myrrdyn.

  Lorcan walked around to the front of the castle, giving him time to cool his ire. When he strode up the steps, he was surprised to see the very source of his vexation trailing in his wake. Myrrdyn was grinning when Lorcan turned to face him, but just strode on past the Warrior of Light. He was already pushing through the iron doors when Lorcan’s voice abruptly stopped him.

  Lorcan did not move, the intensity of his stare boring into the back of the elder. He put the one question to him that he would not willingly share the answer to with anyone yet, not even Kat. His voice was hushed but harsh, he would accept no deception from Myrrdyn this time, “Did all the Queens possess Warrior magic?”

  Myrrdyn stilled his hand on the door and actually deigned to cast a look back over his shoulder at the imposing warlord to acknowledge the question. His eyes took on a magical sparkle while he carefully considered his answer. Finally, with a shrug, he inclined his head, “Indeed, Vampire…all the Queen possessed the Warrior magic. Our Creator blessed those females to make them most effective in dealing with your kind. It was necessary that all the Queens have your strength and speed.”

  Myrrdyn chortled, knowing that Lorcan was now most certainly aware of exactly why the girl needed to be at Laverock. The Warrior shocked him into silence with his next words though, “How many are still left in the Realm that remember you had flame-red hair in your youth, Myrrdyn?” For once the Sorcerer had no ready retort. He gave Lorcan a scathing glare before stepping through the entry and letting the door bang closed behind him.

  Lorcan stood for long minutes after, studying the light from the now visible moon and contemplating the ramifications of his mate’s predictions from all those months ago. Apparently, the Queens were indeed rising.

  CHAPTER 21

  Nicholas was barely able to contain his murderous rage. The Dark witch spy had hurriedly taken leave from Laverock as soon as Lorcan had proclaimed that Ella would begin training with the Elite. That was not before Nicholas saw Lorcan endanger his female by pitting her against seasoned warriors and then proceed to beat Ella until she could hardly get back to her feet. The bastard had threatened her with fist and fangs. His possessive instincts would not be appeased until he had Lorcan’s head.

  He had also seen the hardness in Ella, the anger, but then the power of her magic rose. Damn Lorcan for bringing it out in her, purposefully, for all to see. Rhydach witnessed the strength of her magic and was demanding that the witch be delivered to him. He too had observed the darkness that was barely leashed in the girl. Rhydach believed that he could nurture that. He wanted the witch under his control and at his mercy, thinking he could turn her to assist the Dark’s purpose.

  If all of that had not been enough to push Nicholas to the brink, he now realized that his time searching outside the Realm for Ella these past three months had been wasted. She had been shacked-up, cozy in his enemy’s home, while he had been driven mad over his inability to locate her. When he had first heard rumors a few weeks ago of a witch taken in by Lorcan, he had refused to consider that it might be Ella, given her complete rejection of any association with the Realm.

  A sudden revelation struck him and Nicholas got pissed. Apparently, Ella did have a role in the Realm and it was as part of the Light faction. Ella knew that he was with the Darks yet she had returned to the Realm and now trained with the best of the Light to end them…to end him. She had agreed, before he marked her, that she was his…always…then she left him to assume a position in the war, directly opposite him. Always was not forever if his intended mate was planning to take his head. Nicholas would not tolerate her betrayal. Perhaps after an extended time in his dungeons she would understand how foolhardy it was to break her word to him.

  Nicholas took himself from Rhydach’s presence, the echo of the demand that he capture the witch still rumbling through him. Dunkirk met him in the hall as Nicholas stormed out and then followed him back to one of his lesser known properties, deep in the countryside of France. Dunkirk appeared just in time to see Nicholas launch a decanter into the wall of his study and then waited in patient silence for the other to collect himself. Nicholas spun on him with clenched fists, knocking a vase from the edge of his desk, “What the bloody hell is she doing?”

  Dunkirk calmly crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the paneled wall, seemingly unconcerned over the display of anger from his friend, “What did you think Ella would do? Wait for you for the next century while you waged war against the Light? The blame for this is on your shoulders, friend.” Nicholas’s eyes were shooting daggers at him. Dunkirk was matter-of-fact when he continued, “You did this to her. You saw the malevolence in her. Now how are you going to repair the damage? Can you fix her and can you do it before Rhydach manages to get his hands on her?”

  Seething, Nicholas stalked up to him with measured steps, eyes blackened, “The witch has chosen her side. Ella knows that I war here for the Dark.” He sneered then, his temper out of control, “I am not going to fix her, Dunkirk…I am going to beat her into submission when I get my hands on her.”

  Knowing he tempted fate, Dunkirk reached out and cuffed Nicholas hard on the back of the head, growling, “What the hell is that matter with you? Have you been with Rhydach so long now that his idiocy has tainted you as well?” Dunkirk straightened from his relaxed posed. His fists clenched and his eyes flickered dark, “Ella had no choice to make…you never gave her one. You pushed her to this and you need to own it.” Dunkirk stabbed a finger into his friend’s chest, “If Rhydach gets his hands on her or you abuse her further, I will personally take your throat, Nicholas.”

  He shadowed away before the argument could escalate to violence, leaving Nicholas in stunned silence. Finally, rubbing his hand wearily down his face, Nicholas went in search of another decanter of his favorite drink. He needed to think long and hard. Dunkirk never challenged him, never opposed him. They had always been in perfect accord in the way they chose to operate within the Dark side of the Realm. Nicholas also knew that Dunkirk never made an empty threat. If he handled the situation with Ella irrationally now, the burly Highlander would be coming for him with a vengeance.

  CHAPTER 22

  That next evening when Ella finally rolled from her bed, her body was still suffering the effects of her altercation with Lorcan. Limping her way into the great hall, the warm greeting she received from each of the Elite was shocking. Lorcan too, when he joined them, had treated her as though nothing out of the ordinary had transpired. He had either forgiven her or forgotten that she’d tried to gut him in the middle of the field.

  For Ella, the three weeks that followed were surprisingly rewarding. Lorcan began her training with the Elite the night immediately after their confrontation. He expected her to perform each and every task that was required daily as part of his guards’ regiment. Individually the males in the group took time with her, training on various weapons and in hand-to-hand, before supervising hours of mock battle between her and other warriors.

  As a result, she collapsed in her bed each dawn, exhausted and bearing bruises from whatever that particular da
y’s activities had entailed. Ella settled into a routine under which she was thriving. Lorcan and Kat noted her increasing propensity for laughter with Colm, Broderick Sayer, Marcus and Lucas. Her healthy glow had returned. She refrained from calling Lorcan’s other men ‘ass-sucking leeches’…at least with any regularity. The late night, gut wrenching sobs from her chamber were also becoming a rare occurrence.

  Every third day Ella took a break from the Elite to focus on her magic. Those days with Kat and Myrrdyn both pushing her hard wore her down more than sparring with the warriors. Under the tutelage of the pair, her powers were rising magnificently. She could combine her Fire with her Light magic to wreak destruction that almost rivaled Kat’s ability. The Warrior magic continued to burgeon too and she was quickly gaining the strength, speed and skill that would make her a formidable opponent for any Dark crossing her path.

  The only serious hiccup in those many weeks had been her encounter with Cade when he evaluated her aptitude with spells. That day’s miserable failure could not be laid at the arrogant male’s feet. His dark good looks, large build and charm immediately reminded her of Cole and Ella approached the entire episode as a trial to be endured. It ended with Cade storming out of Laverock, informing Lorcan that he’d sooner kiss Rhydach than spend another moment in her presence. Her reticence to practice Casting had little to do with it his upset; it was more the oozing green goo that covered him from the head down. Cade would likely smell of rotten skunk innards for a good month, courtesy of Ella. Learning spells had been put on the back burner after a scathing lecture from Lorcan.

  This night she and Kat were sharing a meal in Ella’s rooms. Lorcan and his Elite had been behind closed doors since the sun went down and no word had yet come regarding their training for the night. A short rap sounded on the door and at their beckoning, Jortha entered to advise that their immediate presence was requested by Lorcan.