The Darkling Child

by Terry Brooks

  But the boy did not respond. The creature continued to advance, close enough now that it was blocking out several of the fires behind it. Its clawed hands flexed and its maw widened to reveal huge canines.

  “Reyn!” Arcannen snapped, angry now. “Dispatch it or I will!”

  In the next instant the creature fragmented in a cluster of darkness and became bits and pieces floating in the wind. A moment later it was gone entirely. Arcannen found himself exhaling in relief.

  The boy turned to him. “Good enough?” he asked.

  It wasn’t a challenge exactly, wasn’t meant as an angry response, so the sorcerer didn’t take it that way. What it felt like instead was a sigh of relief, a sort of expression of satisfaction at having done what was expected and without giving way to anything that might have caused matters to go awry. But sending the creature directly toward him was a statement, too—a demonstration of the extent the boy could control the magic of his gift. Arcannen had ordered him to find a way to take charge of the wishsong rather than the other way around, and the boy had felt the need to show exactly how far he had come in managing to do that.

  Lariana was at his elbow again. “What do you say to that?” she asked softly.

  He smiled in spite of himself. “I say you have done your job well.”

  But something still felt wrong, and he was determined to find out what it was.

  NINETEEN

  Midnight had come and gone by the time the heavily armed dual-masted flare cruiser had crossed out of the coastal range and begun the slow sweep downward toward the shores of the Tiderace and the ruins of Arbrox. Mallich stood at the helm, maintaining a slow, steady pace through storm winds and heavy rains, his vision considerably lessened since leaving behind the clear skies on the western expanses they had flown through earlier. He wore his all-weather cloak with the hood raised to keep off as much of the rain as was possible, although after several hours of an unceasing downpour he was already soaked through. He peered ahead through the gloom and the emptiness toward the shores of the ocean, hoping his compass had kept him on track to find their destination.

  Below him, seated on opposite sides of the ship’s main deck, were Bael Etris and The Hammer, huddled within their cloaks to ward off the damp and chill as best they could. The former, small and malleable, was barely visible, not much more than a motionless shadow pressed against the railing. The latter, huge and thick, was difficult to miss. They didn’t care much for each other, these two, and neither had done anything to try to change that since they had set sail. They were not airmen and of no help at all in the flying of the ship. They could fetch and carry, but tried their best to avoid doing so. Mallich took some comfort in knowing that their real use would come later, when the search for Arcannen began. He had given thought to enlisting crewmen, which would have eased his workload, but in the end had decided that keeping this venture quiet was more important. He found himself questioning that decision now.

  Still, he had gained unexpected support from another quarter.

  On that very morning, only an hour before their departure, he had come to an emotional crossroads and gone to confront Dallen Usurient, warning him that unless he came with them, the search was off. The threat was simple enough to understand. Usurient had at least as much invested in finding the sorcerer as Mallich did, and ultimately the consequences were his to bear, for better or worse. Since that was so, shouldn’t he be a part of this quest? Shouldn’t he be involved to the same extent as Mallich? Shouldn’t he be there to lend a practiced hand should the need arise?

  In spite of what he had claimed earlier, Mallich was uneasy with the idea of traveling alone with Etris and The Hammer at his back and only the oketar and the crince for protection. Usurient’s presence would even the odds, should things start to fall apart. It would help maintain a balance between those who possessed a semblance of a moral code and those who did not. Looking back on it, Mallich believed he would have ended up going anyway, even if Usurient had turned him down flat. But he wasn’t sure, and now he didn’t need to be. Because after suggesting that being present personally was the only way to guarantee that there would be no further sleepless nights worrying over Arcannen, imagine his surprise when Usurient not only agreed but did so almost as if he had already made up his mind.

  “I think you have it right,” the other said. “This seems to me to be one of those times when direct involvement is necessary. I wouldn’t want to spend my days wondering how this turned out if the news did not get back to me.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” Mallich had said.

  “Besides, I will take a certain pleasure being there when the life goes out of Arcannen’s eyes and I can see he knows who brought it about.”

  There might be something else at work here, Mallich knew. Usurient was nothing if not devious. But he had resolved that the other should take the same risks and, however this turned out, should share the same fate. Besides, the two of them together would have a better chance against the sorcerer than either one of them acting alone.

  Now, skimming the jagged surface of the flats running down to the coastline from the mountains, passing through mist and soaking rain, he watched Usurient leave his post at the bow and start back for the pilot box. When he reached it, the Commander of the Red Slash swung up the ladder and climbed inside to stand next to him.

  “Where do you think to land?” he asked, raising his voice to carry over the howling of the wind.

  “Just ahead. Another mile at most, well back of the ruins. I would leave the airship there and walk in to see if Arcannen is in residence.”

  “How will you know if he’s there or not with this going on?” Usurient gestured at the weather, the rain running down his dark face as he bent close.

  “The animals,” Mallich answered him. “They’ll sniff him out. Even if he’s hiding belowground within the ruins—which I think is likely—they’ll catch his scent. We can ferret him out after that anytime we choose. In fact, better we do our scouting in this weather, when he will not be expecting us, than when it’s clear and he can see us coming.”

  Usurient shook his head. “It might seem so, but he will detect us anyway if we do what you suggest.”

  Mallich scowled. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean he is smarter than you give him credit for. He is a sorcerer, Mallich. He won’t rely on his senses alone to keep watch. He will have set wards in place to alert him to our arrival. He will have strung them all across the flats leading to his safehold. They will tell him we are there the moment we pass through them.”

  “What do you suggest then? We need to get close enough for the animals to do their work!”

  “Indeed. But we need not come at him in the way he expects. Think on it a moment. Why did I choose this vessel for our journey? Why did I insist on leaving now when there was a storm approaching the coast and I knew we would have to fly right into its teeth?”

  Mallich was irritated at the questioning and with the other’s self-satisfied attitude, so smug he could barely contain himself. “Why don’t you just tell me? That way I won’t have to wait a moment longer to appreciate how clever you are.”

  The shadow of a smile twisted Usurient’s thin lips. “This airship is built to fly in heavy weather, and this weather is perfect for concealment. Our approach is all that matters. We’ll fly past Arbrox and out over the sea. We won’t land where he will expect us. And make no mistake—he will be expecting us. His wards are of no use if we don’t cross through them. We will land on a promontory I am familiar with farther north of Arbrox and then follow the coastline, skirting his wards. That way, none will be broken; no warning will be given. Your animals can sniff to their hearts’ content from the coast side of the ruins and tell you all you need to know, and he won’t suspect a thing.”

  Mallich thought it over for a few moments and found no flaws in the other’s reasoning. He gave a curt nod and went back to working the controls.

  They had flown another few mil
es at slow speed through the storm when Usurient had him change course, pointing the bow farther north from their current course to bring them to the promontory he was seeking for their landing. Flying almost blind, Mallich wondered how the other could be so certain of where they were. But rather than argue the matter, he decided to wait and see. The airship edged ahead, plowing the deep haze and sheets of rain, navigating the darkness. The wind had picked up and was blowing harder, and instead of clearing the air it was causing the mist and rain to swirl in sudden gusts that obscured things even further.

  But finally they broke free and found themselves moving out over the Tiderace, and immediately Usurient had Mallich swing the airship back toward land, peering intently ahead, sighting whatever landmarks he could see that were apparently hidden from the hunter. He must have found them because within minutes he had them descending onto a plateau within a cluster of jagged rocks and scrub, settling carefully in place so that the ship could be anchored by The Hammer, who had at last deigned to do something.

  When the airship was made fast, Mallich turned to Usurient, the other two still out of hearing while he spoke. “I will take the oketar now and find the sorcerer’s lair. You can come with me or stay here with them. It makes no difference to me.”

  Usurient gave a quick glance at the giant, where he was still tightening the anchor ropes, and at Bael Etris, who slouched against the railing, watching. “You trust them here alone?” he asked.

  Mallich snorted, his weathered face wrinkling. “I don’t trust them anywhere. But the crince will be watching them.”

  “Then I’ll come with you.”

  —

  Much farther west, a disgusted Paxon and Avelene stood hunched against the advancing rain on the public airfield in the city of Wayford, staring at their grounded clipper.

  “What’s happened is the contacts between the parse tubes and the draws have frayed sufficiently that the power directed by the light sheaths into the draws is not reaching the diapson crystals. This happens over time, which is why the contacts are usually changed out after, oh, maybe ten thousand flying miles or so. The exchange of energy just wears them down in the natural course of usage. Unless, of course, they are weakened deliberately. From no small amount of experience, I would have to say, after looking at yours, that they were tampered with.”

  Grehling Cara paused, his explanation complete, and waited for a response. Paxon was struggling with the fact that the tall, limber young man standing before him was the same boy he had encountered while in pursuit of Arcannen five years earlier. Not yet fully grown, but well beyond his boyhood, he looked like someone else entirely.

  “You’re sure about this?” Avelene pressed, tight-lipped.

  The young man nodded. “Just on the left rear tube, though. The others seem fine. But if you lose that one, your ship doesn’t fly right and your power drops by thirty percent, which creates drag and swerve due to loss of power and uneven response from the thrusters.”

  “But you can repair this, can’t you?”

  Grehling nodded. “By morning.”

  “No sooner?”

  He shook his head. “Replacing contacts is a delicate operation. Everything has to be set precisely and tested to be sure the transfer is solid. Otherwise, it’s like you never did anything in the first place.” He paused. “I can get to work on it right away, once I haul her into the hangar.”

  Avelene sighed. “Go ahead.”

  “Good to see you again, Grehling,” Paxon added, giving the other a smile. “Even under these circumstances.”

  The young man smiled back. “I thought I would see you before now, Paxon. I thought you would come back to visit Leofur, if not me.”

  “She still lives here, then?”

  Grehling shrugged. “Right where you left her.”

  He turned away and directed the men standing in the background to help him float the moored bulk of the clipper inside the waiting hangar so he could begin work. It was odd to see him in charge of the airfield now, succeeding his father as manager, still as bright and quick as ever, and still as knowledgeable. Paxon knew airships because he flew them, and he had known what the problem was from the moment she shuddered and began to lose power ten miles out. It was nice to see that Grehling had picked up on it immediately, having become every bit as skilled in the art of airship repair as he had demonstrated he one day would be five years earlier.

  “I don’t understand,” Avelene said, taking hold of Paxon’s arm and guiding him toward the manager’s office so they could be out of the rain. “How could anyone sabotage our airship? It was under guard at Arishaig the entire time we were there. We were ambassadors, not some casual visitors. No one would have been allowed close to that ship.”

  “A better question might be why,” Paxon added, settling into one of the hard-backed chairs where they would wait out their time on the ground. They could have chosen to find an inn, but it seemed too much trouble for the few hours that remained until morning, when the clipper supposedly would be fixed.

  Avelene shook her head. “One explains the other, I imagine. Maybe the damage was done in Paranor before we even set out. It wouldn’t be the first time we harbored an enemy in our midst. Especially if it’s one working for Arcannen.”

  Paxon nodded, but he didn’t think this was the case. It would be too much of a coincidence to have that happen again so soon. Besides, Arcannen’s network of allies and conspirators had been broken when he had fled Wayford for parts unknown. He had been in hiding for five years, several of those spent in the wilds of the Tiderace’s coastal regions. It didn’t feel right.

  “We’re missing something,” he offered quietly. He paused. “Maybe someone else has a stake in this game, someone we’re overlooking.”

  She gave him a look, pulling back the hood of her travel cloak to reveal her dark hair damp against her face. Looking off into the darkness, he missed the shift of expression on her face. “Who’s Leofur?” He shrugged quickly. “Just someone I used to know.”

  She kept looking at him, and he kept his gaze averted. Mention of her brought a wave of fresh guilt, especially coming from Grehling, who had been friends with both of them. Leofur, with whom he had once thought he was in love. Had been in love, he admitted. It seemed impossible. He could hardly explain it, considering it in objective terms, realizing how little it had taken to change the direction of his life. Had he gone to her in the beginning, as he had promised he would, everything might have been different. But he hadn’t wanted it that way. He had wanted to be the High Druid’s Blade. He had wanted his life at Paranor more than he had wanted her, so there was no room now for regrets.

  Even so, he thought momentarily about seeing her. He could do so and be back in plenty of time to continue his journey. Just go to her house and wake her. Just tell her he still loved her and was sorry for not coming sooner. Just admit he had made a mistake.

  But had he? He wasn’t sure that starting up with her again was what he wanted. He couldn’t quite make himself believe that it was the right thing to do. If he came back into her life, it would create expectations for both of them that had to be acted on. After so much time had passed, how would that feel?

  Avelene looked away. “Just someone you used to know, huh?” she repeated.

  He slouched down in his seat, stretching his legs. “You told me back in Arishaig that you sensed the Prime Minister was afraid of something. You never said what.”

  She sighed and looked around the cramped room as if searching for the answer. “Didn’t you see it in him, too?”

  “Not as clearly as you did, I guess.”

  She smirked. “I don’t think you see much of anything as clearly as I do, Paxon.” She left this enigmatic observation hanging. “I’m guessing now, but I would say from what I know about his history as Prime Minister that he’s caught between a rock and a hard place. Remember how he was thinking of stepping down at one point? The rumor was he’d had enough. Ex-military and weapons-centric men and w
omen had come to dominate the Coalition Council, and he was no friend to any of them. So he wanted out; he wanted to quit. But then he decided not to. Maybe because he couldn’t stomach what that might mean for the Federation. Aphenglow always said he was a good man.”

  “So now he is afraid he might be at risk because of staying on as Prime Minister?” Paxon sighed. “It’s true that there is a history of termination with prejudice in that office. Maybe he feels threatened by this Usurient fellow and he brought us in to help him eliminate that threat.”

  “That would be my guess.” She shook her head. “Politics makes my head hurt. Too many mind games and too much deception and trickery.”

  “At least we don’t have that problem at Paranor,” Paxon said.

  She looked at him. “Is that what you think?”

  After that, they were silent for a long time.

  —

  Usurient made his way over the jagged terrain of the coastal cliffs, following a narrow pathway that cut through the rocks like a snake, tracking the dark shape of Mallich, who was just ahead, and the oketar, who were no longer even visible. Rain sheeted down, the storm continuing unabated. The wind was much stronger out here on the cliffs, exposed as they were to the open seas, and therefore much more dangerous. He had to keep pressing back against the cliff face or, when on higher stretches where there was no protection at all, bend low to the ground to avoid being swept off his feet. He had been relatively dry when they had set out, but by now he was soaked through.

  Usurient was thinking hard about what might happen once this matter came to a head. If they found the ruins of Arbrox inhabited tonight, he was certain Mallich would want them to go in tomorrow when the weather cleared. They would take Bael Etris and The Hammer with them, and they would attack and keep attacking until Arcannen was dead. How this might happen—and who might survive it—was open to debate. But he had already determined that his own involvement would be minimal. In spite of what he had told Mallich, he had not decided to come on this expedition so that he could make certain everything went as it should or even to have the pleasure of watching Arcannen take his last breath.