Duran’s eyes were narrowed, his mouth tight and thinner than usual. “You make light of my concern.”
Ariana laid her hand on his arm. “Of course not,” she said gently. “I just want to make sure you understand there is no need for concern.”
She felt and saw him relax, gradually but unmistakably, and then he said, “If you do need me, you know where I can be found.”
“I do.”
Duty to family done for now, Duran left Ariana alone with her sewing. She sighed in relief when he was gone, and when she sat down in her chair again and lifted from the floor the garment she’d been mending, she held it up to fully survey her work.
Trousers. Roughly made, dark and plain, but soon to be well fitted. If Duran had realized just what type of clothing she was altering, his meddlesome questions would’ve continued for quite some time.
***
Good heavens. Sian kept his eyes anywhere but on Ariana as they made their way down to Level Twelve. She preceded him, and he found it best to look over her head, or at the stone walls that surrounded them.
He had never imagined that a woman wearing trousers would look just so. A woman’s rear end simply did not fill a pair of trousers like a man’s did. There was a roundness to her hips and backside, a tempting curve that could undo the staunchest of men.
There had been many tales over the years of women who disguised themselves as men in order to travel where they should not, or fight, or deceive. He’d always found them amusing stories, and wondered if they were perhaps based in truth.
If the tales were true, the women in question had not been built anything like Ariana Varden. No one would ever mistake that backside for male.
She was actually excited about their foray into Level Thirteen. Her hair was loose and wild, her cheeks overly pink, her lips... well, there was no reason to study her lips. They had nothing to do with this excursion. She’d donned an ornately decorated vest over a plain white shirt, perhaps in an effort to disguise her breasts. The plan had failed. But again, her breasts had nothing to do with this search for the source of the evil which threatened the entire, country, and even the world.
Sian bit back a vile word. The firstborn Fyne could not have been a man, a soldier, a brute who would welcome a battle with evil. Oh, no, instead it had to be this slip of a girl who had no business fighting monsters.
Level Twelve was dimly lit and somber, home to murderers and thieves and a handful of apparently lax guards. Heavy wooden doors with small grates built into them lined the stone hallway. Sian ignored the prison cells, shutting out the whispers and shouts from beyond the heavy doors and following Ariana down a long hall. There was a chill in this place, a chill he didn’t like at all.
She seemed to know where she was going.
“Here.” She stopped at the edge of a worn, stained carpet that was oddly placed on the prison hallway floor.
“Pardon me.” A young guard stepped forward. He and a cohort had been conversing with animation at the opposite end of the hallway, until they’d seen the visitors to Level Twelve. “This is no place for...” He looked Ariana up and down, taking in the vest, the trousers, the serviceable boots. “Who are you?”
“Ariana Varden, healer to the emperor,” she said confidently. “What lies beneath this rug?”
The guard looked taken aback. “Nothing.”
Ariana sighed, and lifted one hand as she turned to face Sian. “There is definitely something here. It’s... dark.” Fear touched her eyes, but Sian did not see panic.
“Is it safe?” he asked simply.
“I think so.”
“Stand back,” Sian ordered. With a wag of his hand, the guard obeyed the command. When no one stood upon the nasty rug, Sian again waved his fingers. The rug rolled up as if guided by invisible hands. The guards were now visibly afraid.
Ariana was amused. “You are such a showoff,” she whispered.
He did not respond, which was just as well. This was no time for teasing. Beneath the rug was a trap door built into the floor, a portal aged by time and neglect.
“Level Thirteen?” Sian asked.
“Yes, I believe so,” Ariana answered softly.
With a whispered word and a twist of his fingers, the heavy trap door swung open, slamming against the floor with a loud whack, and offering a glimpse into total darkness. One of the guards began to inch away from the scene, no doubt planning to run.
Sian lifted his hand and pointed at the cowardly guard. He used no magic, but still the man halted, as if frozen. “Stay.”
“Yes, my lord,” the young man responded.
“We’re going down. I expect you two to stand guard. If we don’t return in a reasonable amount of time...” He glanced at Ariana and lifted his eyebrows in silent question.
“One hour,” she said.
He doubted Ariana would last a quarter of an hour in that pit. Still, this was her call. She was the chosen one, and he was here just to assist her in charging toward her destiny. “If we don’t return in one hour, go to Emperor Arik and request that he send sentinels in to assist us.” Preferably men more competent than these two appeared to be.
“Yes, my lord,” the two guards answered simultaneously.
They were soldiers, and yet they were cowed by his display of magic and the revelation of the pit. Ariana would be at least as good a warrior as either of these two. Perhaps the fact that she was a woman was not the worst of circumstances. She did have a strength about her that he could not deny.
It seemed the unseen prisoners that surrounded them were disturbed by the revelation of the pit. The prison noise increased, and one man screamed. Did they realize that Level Thirteen had been uncovered? Did they feel it?
One soldier collected a length of rope and, when instructed to do so, tied it to a hook on the backside of the trap door. A hook which might have been installed for that very purpose. Sian tested the knot, not entirely trusting the guard, and then he began his descent.
“Don’t you want a torch, or a candle?” one of the guards asked.
“That won’t be necessary,” Sian responded.
He made his way quickly down, using his feet and his hands to give himself a sturdy command of the rope. A fall from this distance would not kill him, but neither would it be pleasant. When he was close to the ground, he released the rope and dropped onto the packed dirt floor.
As Ariana began her trip down the rope, Sian placed himself directly beneath her. If she lost her grip, he’d be able to break her fall. He wouldn’t always be around to catch her, but for today she was his responsibility. For today, he could catch her if need be.
The view from this angle was quite interesting, especially as he cast a spell and the wizard’s light, purple and illuminating, was born and grew. Her descent was slow and deliberate, but not without the display of some small strength. The trousers seemed to tighten considerably as she worked her way down and toward him.
“What do you see?” she asked when she was perhaps halfway down the rope.
He could not very well tell her where his eyes were drawn. “Nothing,” he answered. “Nothing at all. We’ll explore the area when you complete your dreadfully leisurely descent.”
Ariana glanced around and down, just so she could glare at him. She did glare for a moment, and then she began to laugh. “You are not half so fearsome as you pretend to be, I believe.”
Heaven above, he did not want her to laugh. He did not want her to look fetching in her inappropriate clothing. He did not want to care about her.
Ariana was not his to care about, after all. She was a doomed witch, an ill-fated warrior. If all went well, one day there would be heroic tales written about her. She would be the subject of songs and poems of goodness and bravery. It was his calling to prepare her for what was to come. He could not allow even the vaguest of unwanted emotions to cloud his intent.
***
Ariana was grateful for the wizard’s light as she examined the pit that had been—
that was—Level Thirteen. The ground was littered here and there with what appeared to be bones. Some were obviously from rodents. Others were larger, and very likely human. The walls were natural stone, as if they had descended into an irregularly shaped cavern. That stone was much colder than was natural; it was rough and stained with what might be... no, what was... blood. She shuddered as she looked into the dark corners beyond the purplish light that reminded her, so very much, of Sian’s eyes.
She was cold well beyond the actual chill of temperature, so far beneath the surface. It was as if ice formed on her very skin, as if it seeped beneath her skin. Steeling her spine, she made herself step toward the edge of the light Sian created. One step, and then another.
“Stay close,” he ordered, his voice gruff.
She looked back and up to see his face. Sian Chamblyn was a man of great magic. A stoic man. A teacher of great things.
And he was frightened by this place.
“I cannot see what I need to see when I am protected by the light you create,” she explained. “The energy you taught me to see hides from the power of your wizard’s light. I must move beyond it.” She glanced up, to see the faces of the two frightened, curious guards looking down. “I hate to say it, but that door above must be closed as well.” She needed darkness in order to do what had to be done. She also needed the touch of Sian’s hand. As he had done in the great room on Level One, he would assist her by lending her a touch of his power.
Sian did not snap the hatch closed with a twist of his fingers, but ordered the guards to see to the chore. When that was done, the purple light began to dim. It faded, slowly but not slowly enough. Right before the light was entirely gone, Ariana reached out and snatched Sian’s hand.
Maybe she did need the darkness, but she did not want to be alone. Not down here in this awful place.
Sian seemed surprised that she’d taken his hand, even though he must know that she needed his help to see the energies in this dark, dank place. He did not shake her off and insist that she attempt to discover the lingering energies on her own. Thank goodness. The darkness here was so complete, she could not see the man she touched. Maybe in time her eyes would adjust to the darkness, but that had not happened yet.
As Sian had taught her to do just yesterday, Ariana searched for the energies that abounded in this place—with his assistance, of course. His power combined with hers was extraordinary. It was as if he fed her natural abilities in some way she didn’t entirely understand. What would she do when he left, as he had promised he would?
Even though all was black, she could still see—and sense—the evil dark energy that lived here. Upstairs, in the ballroom of Level One, there had been light and dark, love and passion, hate and happiness.
Here, all was dark. There was despair, and hate that reached such depths she had not known such was possible. Ribbons of a sexual anger also lived here, but there was no passion or love mingled with it, just raw, angry need.
Ariana closed her eyes and held on to Sian’s hand a bit tighter. He did not ask what she saw. Not yet. Even with her eyes closed, she could see the evil that existed here. She felt it; she experienced it. Men—and yes, a few women—had ended their lives here. Some of them had lived a long time in filth and misery and blinding need. A need for the drug, for the light that never came, for food. A deep, unquenchable need of a body. Of a man, of a woman.
She jumped when it seemed that something... someone... touched her leg. No, that was not possible. No one had been down here for a very long time. What she felt was the energy that remained from some poor soul. A ghost, perhaps, or the shadow of a pain so great it survived death.
Tears. Screams. Violence. As Ariana stood there, she felt it all, and the sensations did not abate, they grew stronger. Her heart began to race. Sweat formed between her breasts and on her throat. Her fingers trembled. Souls had been lost here. No, not lost, stolen. Taken. By what? Or whom?
A terrible darkness crept around and inside her, cold fingers touched her, and still she felt protected. It was Sian’s hand in hers that protected her, she knew. That large, warm, strong hand that would produce light if she needed light. Protection, if it became necessary. Solace, if the darkness tried to claim her. She had something precious that none of those who had lost their souls here had possessed. She had the hand of a friend, and it kept her from seeing all that she needed to see.
Could she see anything of the horrors here without his hand in hers?
Moving quickly, so he wouldn’t know what she was going to do, Ariana snatched her hand from Sian and stepped away, so that she was truly alone. She heard him curse, and out of the corner of her eye she saw a soft glimmer of purple.
“Not yet,” she whispered. “I’m close to something, but I can’t quite grasp it. What I need is just out of reach, and if I hold your hand or take comfort in your light, it won’t come to me. Let me try to do this alone, Sian. Let me try. I’ll call if I need you.”
Again he cursed, but no light was produced.
It was more frightening than she had imagined was possible, to be alone in this place. The darkness was suffocating, and the black corners seemed to stretch into forever. Ariana stepped away from her companion, her teacher, her protector. This was something she had to do alone. There could be no comfort so close at hand, if she were to discover the secrets of Level Thirteen.
Without Sian’s touch, without his added power, she could no longer see the energies here. But oh, she could feel the pain and terror. She could feel them as if they were her own, and with every breath she took, they grew.
Nothing warm lived here. No yellow light, no sunshine, had ever touched these walls. She took a few more steps, separating herself from Sian and grasping for the knowledge that remained just out of reach. She opened herself to the souls that had been lost here; she felt the pain of their addiction and their longing.
Everything she knew of herself, everything that made Ariana Varden the woman she had become... the love of her family, the care of a teacher, the position of respect she held in this palace... it was all gone. It was stolen by darkness and cold fingers and the pain of the dead that survived. In the dark, she heard a piercing, echoing scream, and for a moment she wondered where it came from.
And then she realized with an icy coldness that crept inside her that the scream was hers.
Sian called her name, his voice sharp and oddly distant. She tried to answer, to guide him to her with the sound of her voice, but no voice would come.
Everything went black, inside and out. Someone else was here, and Ariana Varden was gone.
Chapter Five
How had Ariana moved so far away in the short time they’d been separated? Sian threw wizard’s light in all directions, searching for the woman. No, searching for the scream. It had been a horrible scream, filled with terror and pain. He hated screams almost as much as he hated tears, not that he’d had occasion to hear many of them.
Finally, finally, he saw an arm move into the light be created.
Above, the doorway to this hell opened, and a concerned guard asked, “Is everything all right down there?”
All right. The man was a moron. Nothing was all right, nor would it ever be again. As Sian was about to order the moron to descend and assist, he caught sight of Ariana’s face. Thank the gods and goddesses, she was unhurt. In fact, she smiled strangely. Her eyes darted upward, and she whispered, “Tell them to go away.”
The woman before him sounded well enough. She sounded very calm. The problem was, that wasn’t Ariana Varden’s voice. Not precisely.
The answers they had come here to seek might be right before him. “Everything is fine,” he snapped to the guard. “Close the doorway.”
The man above obeyed, and Sian stepped toward Ariana... or whoever this woman might be. The smile and the voice were female enough, so he felt safe in assuming whatever was inside Ariana was female.
He saw no need to play games. “I am Sian Sayre Chamblyn, enchanter and
tutor to the woman you possess. And you are?”
She walked toward him slowly, not at all afraid. “Once I was empress. My loving husband tossed me down here just because I tried to have him killed. Now I am almost nothing, but not yet nothing. I am pain and sorrow and desperation. I am lost.”
“The empresses who were believed to be dead were released at the end of the War of the Beckyts,” Sian argued. “Who are you, truly?”
Her mouth, Ariana’s mouth, thinned and hardened. “All but one was released. All but one was rescued. I remained. A piece of me still remains.”
“Your name?” There was power in a name, and he might yet need power over this thing before him.
“I was called Diella for a time.”
“What do you want with the woman you possess, Diella?”
The eyes closed, the lips parted sensually. “I want to live again. I want to feel something good. Something... fine and right. I want to experience something besides pain and horror and craving.”
“Your time is past.” For Ariana’s well-being, he should order this ghost, if that’s what it was, from her body. But there was more at stake than one woman’s well-being, and he could not forget that fact. “I will allow you to remain in that body for a few minutes longer, if you will tell me what I need to know.”
“You will allow?” she laughed, and there was too much confidence in the laughter. This former empress called herself a piece of something lost, but she still had power. Power, in this dark place.
Sian lifted his hand and whispered a word. Ariana’s body froze. Perhaps he could not command the spirit away, but he did have control of the physical.
Even though she was frozen, he saw the anger on Ariana’s face. On the Empress Diella’s face.
“Yes,” Sian said calmly. “I will allow.” After a few moments, which he knew to be uncomfortable if the woman who had use of Ariana’s body experienced physical sensation, Sian released her. She no longer smiled quite so widely.
“What do you want to know?” she asked, her voice throatier than Ariana’s, older and angrier.
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