Darkstone

by D. Jordan Redhawk

  Inanna briefly glanced away. “Yes.”

  A well of crazed laughter bubbled into Naomi’s throat and she released it. Sitting back against her pillows, she stared at her mother in disbelief. “You’re saying you’re several thousand years old?”

  “Perhaps a bit older than that,” Inanna allowed with a tilt of her head. “A woman doesn’t speak of such things.”

  Incredulous, Naomi chuckled again. “You certainly don’t look a day over thirty. You must have some amazing beauty secrets.”

  A faint smile curved Inanna’s lips. “I know it’s a bit much to take in, but I am that old and older.”

  Had Naomi not spent the last year with a figment of the world’s imagination, she would have dismissed Inanna’s claim and considered calling a physician. Residing with an exiled elf who had an American western fixation overrode her immediate reaction. If elves were possible how could she negate anything Inanna had told her? She stared for several moments at the woman who’d been the only mother she’d ever known. “You’re serious.”

  Inanna dipped her head in affirmation.

  Naomi jumped up from the divan, incapable of sitting still as thoughts skipped through her brain, refusing to make any connections. She paced the living area in mental turmoil. Her adopted mother had walked this world for thousands of years—maybe hundreds of thousands—had purposely closed off access to another realm of magic and strange beings. She’d now engineered Naomi’s education to include a form of martial arts that the modern world had never experienced.

  Inanna let her work her way through the mental quagmire, remaining in place with her hands tucked in her lap.

  The room was almost fully dark when Naomi could make some sense of her thoughts and emotions. She stood in the murky room, staring at the shadowed shape of Inanna on the divan. “You said you had an exceptional student who helped trap Nathan. Is that what I am to you?”

  “Oh, no, sweetness! No.” Inanna stood and closed the distance between them. She reached out to take her daughter into an embrace, hesitating at Naomi’s slight flinch. Her hands dropped to her side. “No, you’re my child, Naomi. My daughter. You always will be. I Chose you and you Chose me. We are bound together forever.”

  Normally those words would have appeased Naomi’s anxiety but for the first time she heard the vocal stress on the word “chose.” Had her life been a lie based on a child’s desire to belong? “Who are you?”

  Inanna straightened, drawing herself up. Lamps and candles flared to life around the room, and the fireplace belched fire with a roar before the flames took on a normal semblance. The rush of light and heat startled Naomi. Without thought, she dropped into a defensive stance.

  “You know who I am, Naomi. You always have.” Inanna’s face was as serene as always though her cinnamon eyes seemed to glow with an inner light.

  Naomi realized she looked silly, preparing to attack a woman who hadn’t threatened her. She relaxed her posture, face flushed from more than the fire. Scanning the room, she took in the golden warmth of her childhood home, her eyes lighting upon the picture frame she’d given her mother for Yule last year. Two eight-pointed stars graced the corners, the same design that adorned every door of the monastery. She turned back to the woman before her. “You’re Inanna, the Sumerian goddess!”

  “I have been called that in the past.” If anything, Inanna seemed slightly sheepish at the title, eyes flashing away and back, one shoulder hitching into a nearly imperceptible shrug. “I meant that I’m your mother.”

  Her legs unable to support her, Naomi plopped onto the hard wood floor, staring up at Inanna. My mother. Inanna, Sumerian goddess of sexual love, fertility and warfare. I’m going crazy.

  Inanna crouched beside her and rested a wrist on Naomi’s forehead. “Are you all right, sweetness? Do you need anything?”

  Naomi said the first thing that popped into her mind. “Sanity?” A graceful eyebrow rose as Inanna regarded her with a cool expression of impatience that Naomi recognized from many childish capers in her past. Oddly, being graced with “The Look” did wonders at clearing her emotional quagmire. She’d lived a year with elves, magical realms and invisible friends in her day-to-day existence. Why shouldn’t her mother be a goddess? And Inanna’s countenance held the epitome of an annoyed mother. She smiled.

  Relief washed away Inanna’s irritation. She tentatively returned the smile, gently caressing Naomi’s cheek. “I knew this would be difficult for you. I’ve spent years searching for a way to reveal things to you with the least amount of distress. Are you all right?”

  Naomi exhaled, reaching up with one hand to cup Inanna’s at her cheek. “It’s a bit much to take in, but I’ll be fine.”

  Inanna stared at her a long moment before curtly nodding acceptance. She took Naomi’s hand and began to rise. “Let’s get you off the floor.”

  Standing, Naomi took a bracing breath, slowly releasing it as she strengthened her grip on Inanna’s hand. It was she who led them back to the divan. Her mind still whirled and she doubted she’d get any sleep this night, but she loved her mother and knew her mother loved her, divinity notwithstanding. She retook her seat, picking up her mug. “It helps that I met Nathan and spent so much time with him.”

  “To be honest, I’d hoped it would. I knew I’d eventually have to enlighten you regarding my nature. It seemed an excellent idea to utilize him as an introduction.” Inanna peered at her. “Are you sure you’re all right? You’re taking all this much better than I’d hoped.”

  Naomi felt a frown flicker across her brow. “I think I’m in shock right now.” She sipped at the coffee, savoring the sweet acerbity, the bite of it doing much to ground her in the moment. “Ask me again next week.”

  “I will.”

  Again silence descended between them. It wasn’t quite the same as the ones Naomi remembered from childhood. Before she’d left, she and Inanna sat for hours in meditation with each other, separate but together. Or each would be engrossed in a book or project, near enough to touch, to speak if necessary, but apart. This silence seemed like that and more. It held a concentrated significance, causing ripples of both certainty and doubt in Naomi. She considered all the questions she’d wanted answered, realizing there were now at least a thousand more. Using Nathan’s techniques, she stilled her mind, visualizing a tranquil pool of water. She waited for the first question to break the surface. “Why did you send me to Nathan?”

  Inanna sighed. “You’re my Chosen. You need to learn the skills necessary to the position.”

  That word again, now in conjunction with the art of killing. A flash of annoyance rippled across the mental pool. “What exactly does your ‘Chosen’ do?”

  “It depends on the time and circumstances of the era.” Inanna gazed at her, implacable. “Unfortunately we are approaching a time that requires strength and agility, the ability to make split-second decisions and the skills Nathan has taught you.”

  “Nathan has only taught me to kill, Mama.”

  Sorrow melted Inanna’s countenance. “I know.”

  Naomi swallowed, the colors in the room brightening as she became light-headed. Her mug shook in her hands, sloshing the liquid. “You want me to kill someone?”

  “We’re getting a little ahead of ourselves, sweetness.” Inanna moved the dessert plate to the table and scooted closer to Naomi. Her hands replaced Naomi’s cup. “Let me tell you what happened in the past and what will occur in the future.”

  Naomi nodded mutely.

  “As I said, the door to Nathan’s realm was open and the fey had full access to our world. Mankind remained mired in superstition and ignorance, kept there by Nathan’s kind.

  “I found a young man—not more than a boy, really—one eager to learn. He had a gift, an ability to use the raw magic of the other world. Had the door remained open, he would have become a great sorcerer.” Inanna frowned. “I took him in and trained him, honing his skills like one would sharpen a sword. I made him into a weapon.”
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br />   Naomi wondered if Inanna’s displeasure was because of this young man or the fact that history seemed to be repeating itself. “And he closed the door?”

  Inanna shook herself, the scowl fading somewhat but not leaving. “Eventually. There was a long and bloody war between humanity’s forces and the fey. Nathan led his people as I led ours. Countless thousands died on both sides. Slowly we gained ground, driving the fey back to their side of the barrier. At our last battle, we routed them. Nathan called a retreat, refusing to leave until the last of his people fled.

  “That’s when I sent in my weapon. He used his gift, conducted the necessary ritual that sealed the opening between our worlds, inevitably destroying the magic he’d learned to utilize in the process.”

  “Trapping Nathan here.” At Inanna’s nod, Naomi cocked her head. “What does this have to do with me?”

  Inanna nibbled her upper lip in thought. Stilling her face, she gave Naomi a direct stare. “That young man still lives.”

  Naomi blinked. “What? The one you trained thousands of years ago? Was he like you?”

  “No, he was human.” Regret transformed Inanna’s face. “A backlash occurred during the ritual, something I hadn’t expected. Perhaps it was something Nathan had used to counteract the attack, a weapon he used during his struggle. He doesn’t know any more than I do.” She shook herself, returning to her topic. “The recoil of the ritual imbued my Chosen with magic—not much, but enough. Though the breach was closed, he had a rudimentary ability that was imbedded into his very being.”

  A banished elf, a goddess for a mother…what’s one more immortal to add to the mix? Not for the first time, Naomi wondered whether she was deranged. Maybe I’m still in the hut on the saddle and I haven’t even made it to the monastery yet. If so, this year had been the most lucid dream she’d ever had, too real by far with the amount of physical training with which she’d had to contend. With effort she brought her attention back to the conversation. “So he’s out there now, able to do magic, and you want me to kill him? Why wait until now?”

  “Oh, no.” Inanna shook a finger at her. “You’ll leave him to me. He’s far too dangerous.”

  “That still doesn’t answer my question.”

  “So impatient! You’ve always been so when you’ve demanded knowledge.” Inanna smiled at Naomi’s disgruntled expression, patting her knee. “My Chosen enjoyed his abilities to his detriment. Had I known how strongly ambition held his soul, I would have Chosen another. He began to pervert the magic he held, using it to lift himself above others, becoming accustomed to treating his own people with despotism.” Disgust transformed Inanna’s beauty. “I spent many years attempting to sway him from his path, searching for an alternative. I’m not a goddess in the omniscient sense, Naomi. I have my faults as anyone does. But I am a superior being to the majority of humanity. Even I could not discover a way to remove his power from him.”

  She took in and released a deep breath. “At least his activities allowed me to persuade Nathan. My Chosen became the proof Nathan needed to comprehend how dangerous magic would be to humanity. It was this that caused Nathan to change his opinion, although reluctantly at first.”

  Naomi considered her lessons with Nathan, seeing nothing unwilling in his words or actions. Her mentor had sacrificed himself to save his people and continued to endure his loss to save the world he’d fought against as well as his own. The ever-present sympathy she held for him faded in light of her growing respect.

  “Over the millennia, my young man has learned much. He stays near the sacred pockets, the places where the membrane between worlds is weakest, but that doesn’t inhibit his use of magic anywhere in the world. For the last several thousand years he’s had one primary goal. He wants to unlock the door he sealed so long ago.”

  “Why?”

  Inanna paused, studying her. “To gain more power. His gift was stunted at the end of the ritual. Though he has might and skill of his own, he wants a return of magic to this world.”

  “But—!” Naomi straightened, releasing Inanna as she sputtered indignantly. “But didn’t he understand what it meant when he closed that door to begin with? Wasn’t he aware of the danger to our world?”

  “He was aware, sweetness. I’ve no stomach for ignorance and never have, not even then. He was fully cognizant of the threat to our way of life when I sent him to do battle and he’s conscious of what will happen should he succeed. His greed is more important than humanity.” Inanna’s mouth was pinched as she looked away, staring out the window at the reflection of their serene home. “I’m certain he considers himself dominant to the people from whence he came. Countless centuries wielding such power creates monsters of his stripe.”

  Naomi crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at nothing. “What an idiot.” She heard her mother chuckle and looked at her. “Well, he is.”

  “Indeed, sweetness.”

  Scowling, Naomi considered the man’s foolishness. He’d been Inanna’s Chosen just as she was now. Unsettled and tentative, she asked, “How many Chosen have you had?”

  Inanna’s faint smile broadened. “Only two, Naomi. He and you.”

  Naomi chastised herself for feeling delight at the information. Be honest with yourself. You have no claim and no reason to feel jealous over people who were around before you were even born! It still felt good to know that she didn’t have to compete with the memories of others in her mother’s heart. She recoiled from the pleasant emotion, feeling selfish. “Why now? Why did you wait so long to Choose another?”

  “None worthy enough presented themselves, but mostly because I was waiting for someone special. I was waiting for you.”

  The words ignited warmth in Naomi’s heart, a heat tempered by the fresh knowledge that Inanna was more than a human being. “Can you predict the future? Is that one of your abilities?”

  Inanna laughed. “No, sweetness. I had no idea from whence you would come, not until I held you in my arms and looked into your eyes. Then I knew that you were mine and I yours. Only then.”

  As much as Naomi had always enjoyed hearing such sentiments, this time she set them aside. They bolstered her self-esteem but didn’t distract her. “How close is your former Chosen to opening the breach?”

  “Close.” Concern flickered across Inanna’s face, disappearing as quickly as it had arrived. “Within a few years at the very least.”

  “Do you know what he’s planning?”

  “Not completely.” Inanna fluffed a pillow at her side, partially leaning into it as she held it close. “He hasn’t the strength to conduct a rite on his own, nor can the same ceremony be conducted in the same manner as the one in which he participated. He’s had to spend several centuries researching and designing a new ritual to attain his goals.”

  Black and white horror movies wavered through Naomi’s vision, and she frowned. “So he needs more people? Like a coven or something?”

  Inanna smiled. “Nothing quite so ominous. He needs only one other person to conduct the ceremony, someone like him, someone strong with the gift, raised near the nebulous connections to the other realm.”

  “His own Chosen.” Naomi felt her heart drop, sweat popping onto her forehead at the swooping sensation. “You want me to kill his Chosen.” Sadness claimed Inanna’s expression. It was all the confirmation Naomi needed. I am going crazy! I am! This can’t be happening! She found herself shaking her head back and forth, muttering under her breath. “I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.”

  Taking Naomi’s hand, Inanna gripped it tightly between her own. “You must. If you do not, our world will be destroyed.”

  Searching for an exit, Naomi clenched her mother’s hand. “Do you know for a fact that he has a Chosen? Do you know when or where?”

  Inanna’s intensity deflated. “No, not with any certainty.”

  There’s hope! Relief tinged Naomi’s frantic nerves. She drew in a deep breath, mechanically reaching for the meditative training both Inanna and Nathan had
taught her. Inanna was immortal just as her previous Chosen. With any luck, this scenario would play out a hundred years from now, long after Naomi was dust. Before she could ride that tenuous exuberance, she heard Inanna’s next words.

  “But the time is fortuitous, the stars and planets aligning in such a way that will facilitate a ritual. There are a few years yet, but if he plans to attempt it at all it will be soon.”

  Fervently hoping for the man’s ineptness, Naomi shivered. “And you have no idea where he is?”

  Inanna shook her head no. “We know where he’ll likely be in a few years, however. And that’s where we’ll send you.”

  AFFINITY

  “As the lights came up and I opened my eyes,

  You were gone.

  I wallowed in the Darkness,

  Bereft in your absence.”

  Joram Darkstone, Dreams & Nightmares, Invocation

  Chapter Ten

  The sounds of jazzy percussion and Mick Jagger’s screams drew Joram from slumber. She cracked open her eyes and peered at the cell phone vibrating on the nightstand mere inches from her face.

  Mick sang the opening words of “Sympathy for the Devil,” and she groaned, rolling onto her back. She covered her eyes with her forearm, letting the ringtone play as she took stock. Exhaustion told her she hadn’t had as much sleep as she needed. Vague images from the previous night ran across her eyelids—flashes of stage lights, the dancing crowd, Jubal playing his bass with laid-back cool, Rand throwing drumsticks into the audience. Joram’s mouth tasted nasty, reminding her she’d had too much to drink on top of a gig and late hours.

  The song cut off, the cell phone stilling. Her muscles relaxed, her mind entertaining the notion of a return to slumber. Her thoughts splintered, fragmented, drifting away toward the remembered euphoria of last night.

  Jazzy percussion. Mick Jagger’s screams. Vibrating cell phone. Damn it.

  The woman beside Joram shifted. “Are you going to answer that?”

  “No.” Joram’s voice cut out as she spoke, and she cleared her throat.