by L J Andrews
“She doesn’t have great power,” she whispered. “But some fireshaping rays. You mustn’t tell anyone; her life depends on it. Unbeknownst to me, this amulet and Angelet was what I was meant to steal. The moment Kawal died though, no one seemed to see the stone on his neck, but I did.”
Roark leaned back against the wall and let out a long breath. “How did you escape your guild?”
“By someone risking his life for the two of us. I don’t know what the guilds wanted with Angelet, but once I saw the Blood Knights, I realized they might have joined with…”
“You were wise to run,” Roark said. “I won’t tell a soul; you have my word. You may not fully trust it yet, but my word is all I have left. But you said, even as a Lightborn, she felt nothing with that stone, but you did?”
“Yes. What does that mean?”
Roark shook his head. “I don’t know. It truly could be one of the three amulets. I’ve only seen drawings and descriptions.”
“What if there was a fourth?”
“What do you mean?”
Isabelle shifted closer so she could whisper. Despite the brine and sweat in the ship, her hair still smelled of blossoms from Jershon orchards. “I have only recently been schooled on…Nightmakers.”
Roark cleared his throat and studied the stone as if watching it would bring answers. “All I know of such things is Mal was thought to be one and they are the opposite of Lightborn.”
“Some say Sha’run is a Nightmaker. Do you suppose there could be something made with the power of darkness?” She held up the stone cautiously.
“At this point, I am willing to believe anything is possible. If that theory is true though, Isabelle, that stone could be incredibly dangerous. Especially to Angelet.”
“The guilds wanted this as well. If they have joined with Sha’run, and he wanted this amulet, it could be possible there is a power we don’t understand.”
“True,” Roark agreed. “Keep it safe until we have an opportunity to discover the truth.”
A grin tugged at the corners of her mouth. “You wish to…help me?”
Roark raked his hand through his hair and sighed. “As much as I try to run from the Mount, like my friend the priest said, it seems to be pulling me back. I am not free on this ship, Isabelle, but I cannot deny the unquenchable need to find the Lightborn. I’m beginning to believe meeting you could be more than chance.”
“You are not free?”
Roark shook his head. “I won my opportunity to barter with another master. I chose the sea because I knew the baron made berth at the Forgotten Isles. From what I’ve studied, there could be a Mount Temple there with a long history of strong power. I planned to run once I was there; a risk because Bradach doesn’t take to abandonment well.”
“I shall help you,” she said quickly as movement came from behind the door. The ship was beginning to wake. “With your knowledge, we have a chance at discovering why the Mount is awakening the rays after all this time. We could learn why Sha’run is venturing beyond Corian. Roark, for the first time it feels like…like the powers of the Mount are trying to take back the land that was stolen from them by darkness centuries ago. What would you give to rid the Bloodlands of the evils you’ve endured, that I’ve endured?”
One of the old men shuffled from the pantry, groaning and rubbing his eyes of sleep. The man didn’t glance at Roark or Isabelle and continued through the galley toward the chamber pots.
Roark curled Isabelle’s hand around the stone. “To protect those I care about, I would do anything. If we do this, you understand it’s likely we won’t survive. The Lightborn powers are coveted, dangerous, and if Sha’run is rising over the Bloodlands, if he is a Nightmaker, who is to say what we’ll face.”
Isabelle clutched the stone to her chest. “But you feel it, don’t you?”
“Feel what?”
“The desire. It’s undeniable, isn’t it? The pull inside your heart to restore the rays to this land. It’s as if something has taken control and urges me forward, no matter the risk; no matter the cost.”
Roark rested his hand on the pommel of his blade and stared absently at the flickering lantern flame. Inside, his pulse was hot and pounding in his head. From the moment he’d fled Jershon there’d always been a force guiding his steps it seemed. Meeting Elder, sailing with Bradach, meeting Isabelle again; Furv and Agnus—the desire to free them was slowly replacing his need to spill Kawal’s blood. There were times when he could almost see the mystic rays leading him step by difficult step to a destiny, he never imagined for himself.
When iron pots clanged in the galley, Roark met her gaze. With a slow nod, Roark spoke soft and low. “Yes, I feel the pull. There is something changing in the Bloodlands, and as broken as the land may be, this place is my home. I don’t wish to see it fall into never-ending darkness.”
Isabelle stood and clasped her hand tight around his forearm. There as a tremble of warmth at her touch. An unusual sensation as if something linked their desires as one. “Then I will take the risk and trust you, Roark Varonis. As I did as a child. My trust is not easily given.”
“Nor is mine.”
She grinned. “I will help you escape the ship when the time comes, and together we will search for the Lightborn.”
“And the amulets.”
She nodded. “Perhaps you are right; even meeting you feels more than coincidence.”
“This will be dangerous.”
She chuckled. “I’m a thief of Tyv. Danger is part of my existence.”
Roark jumped when the galley erupted in frustrated shouts and bickering between the crew tasked with preparing the meals. Dipping closer to her face, Roark whispered, “Then we begin the silent battle for the Bloodlands, Isabelle.”
She smiled and her azure eyes gleamed more like jewels in the lanternlight. “Isa,” she said softly. “I promised to tell you my name if we met again, well, call me Isa.”
Epilogue
Nightmaker
Corian was the smallest empire by land boundaries, but its reach stretched like veins pumping influence into every plot of earth throughout the Bloodlands. For years Corian’s rule kept to the shadows, creating the reputation of mystery, darkness, and fear. It was time to open the gates and bring a new order to the shattered empires.
Heavy iron doors opened with a groan. The new sun after the blood moon spilled along the burgundy runner, followed by heavy boots and haggard breaths.
“My liege, they’ve returned,” Seff muttered. The man was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. For a steward, he was thin and pale, with dark circles constantly under his eyes so he kept a sickly complexion. The truth was, Seff was vicious; keeping his nose clean, while he’d orchestrated countless murders and harvestings around the Bloodlands in the name of the emperor. If anyone were responsible for the corruption in the Cyprus cliffs with trappers and slave harvests, it was Seff.
The emperor leaned on his palms on the deep windowsill, but slowly straightened. Seff lowered his dark eyes and focused on the slabs of slate that caused the floor to gleam like a black lake. Adjusting the crimson cloak around his shoulders, Sha’run stepped off his wide dais and stomped toward the men.
Blood Knights were men, but shattered rays had corrupted their souls and left the knights with a proclivity for flesh that Sha’run exploited for his purposes. The three knights all lowered to one knee as the emperor approached. Sticky, pungent blood soaked the black armor around their shoulders from attacks across the land during the last week.
“What have you brought for me?”
The center knight raised his diseased eyes. Most Blood Knights lived shorter lives. Sha’run had the touch to create more, and the Corian slave trade ensured he always had knights. The knights didn’t live long because devouring flesh and blood wasn’t a sustaining diet when so many in the Bloodlands were ill. But it was worth it when the knights detected even the faintest taste of a Lightborn. The god-blessed gave Sha’run power, and when he extinguished th
eir light, he grew stronger. If all went to plan, soon only his influence would bless the lands, and the Lightborn would be as dark as him, or become a forgotten race.
One knight shifted off his knees, so he stood at Sha’run’s eye level. The emperor wasn’t frighteningly tall and stood close to most men. Yet, with a silent look, Sha’run had caused the thickest brutes to tremble. “My lord, we succeeded in breaking Jershon and running the empire into chaos with the death of the general.”
“That is not what I asked,” Sha’run said, slowly circling his steps around the knight. He grinned when the man swallowed. “I asked what you have brought for me.”
“I’m afraid the Lightborn…escaped with the emberstone.”
Sha’run closed his crystal blue eyes. “That is disappointing news. I had such simple instructions, and this time you earned the aid of the thieves.” Sha’run clasped his hands behind his back and turned away from the knight. “So, first, my knights lost the emberstone. I forgave the folly, believing I could use it to our favor. When I found the banesman Diviner and altered his sight so he might see the dark rays, what did I say? You understand most Diviners are blind to dark rays—it was no simple feat.”
The knight refused to meet Sha’run’s gaze. “You said fate chose a different way, my lord. That the Diviner would give the stone to the general who would serve as a vessel; that he was the one who could bring enough notice so eventually she would find the stone and join with the rays.”
“What else?”
The knight shifted and the two still on the floor seemed ready to curl inside out when Sha’run turned and glared.
“My lord, you explained how the stone would reveal the girl; it would strip the protections surrounding her so the night wouldn’t be lost any longer.”
“Yes, and what did I say was the most critical piece of my careful plan?”
The knight gulped and drops of bloody sweat dripped from his high brow. “Once the Mount revealed the lost rays, both the stone and the girl were to be brought to you.”
“You understand for years I have carried out my purpose, my plans, through the imbeciles of this land. Who do you suppose allowed the general to rise to such power so the emberstone would be noticed?”
“You, my lord.”
Sha’run nodded. “Patience is key. I’ve bided my time until the Mount raised the Lightborn again. The Mount is finding its heroes and unearthing hidden Lightborn. I’ve known since infancy this time would come, and the time to act is now. How troubling to find my patience for naught because of my own incompetent servants. Do you realize her importance?”
“Let us kill her. She is a threat to our way of life,” one of the bowed knights shouted.
Sha’run turned over his shoulder slowly. The air thickened in the wide room. With a curl to his lips, the emperor stared at the knight. Seff sighed and pursed his lips as the knight gasped after a few moments. Slowly, black blood seeped from each pore of the knight’s face. He screamed. Sha’run never blinked as he held his focus. The other two knights closed their eyes as their fellow soldier writhed and scratched his own face. By the time the Blood Knight toppled with a heavy thud, his face was coated in dark blood and smelled of rot.
Sha’run blinked, and grinned at the knight standing in front. “Now, I’ll ask again. Do you understand the girl’s importance?”
“My lord, you shall rise, for there are the written words speaking of your rule—”
Sha’run wheeled on his knight; the rays that powered his very soul bleeding darkness so even the flames in lanterns dulled as he pressed his gaze close to the trembling man. “A prophecy is not set in stone,” he said through his teeth. “Despite popular belief, destiny has many paths, for there is always room left for choice. All these years, I’ve provided for the corrupt of the Bloodlands in exchange for information. Never forget, I allowed that fool of an emperor to overthrow Abram for his betrayal of me. I funded the thieves. All to find the lost rays so destiny will erase any paths that do not end with me at the head. Now, you’ve allowed my work to slip through your fingers.”
If Blood Knights had the ability to cry, Sha’run was certain the man would be sobbing by the way his voice croaked. “We will try again, my lord. We will help restore your line. I give my word.”
Sha’run chuckled and stalked the knight again. “Restore my line…”
Seff backed away as if he expected the retaliation. The other two knights flattened into a low, trembling bow when Sha’run wheeled on his knight and gripped the man around the throat. The knight gasped and gripped Sha’run’s wrists. Sha’run squeezed tighter. His strength was unnatural. Perhaps he wasn’t always the largest man, but he was certainly the strongest. Black veins spread along the knight’s face until his yellowing eyes burned a black red. Sha’run sneered as the power burned from his body into the knight.
Urging the knight’s dying face close to his own, Sha’run lowered his voice. “Restoration isn’t necessary, I have never had more power than now. I require an alliance.” The knight nodded in desperation. “Even the greatest power has weaknesses. Your failure has threatened my entire campaign. Without her and the emberstone I am vulnerable. I don’t like being vulnerable.”
“But…you…are the Nightmaker…” the knight gasped.
Sha’run’s grin faded as he closed the final bit of the knight’s airway. “Yes, I am. With one foreordained weakness.”
“Or strength, my lord,” Seff said as if the man were bored watching Sha’run slaughter another knight. “She could be your asset, depending on which ancient diviner one studies.”
“Well, I had planned to find out for myself, if I wasn’t surrounded by worthless fools. Now, the emberstone is powering a Nightmaker who has both light and dark. She is the one prophesied as the Nightmaker of Dawn. Now she is untrained and unstable. Without my influence what do you suppose the power of the dawn could have on my empire?”
“I will see to it all is found and restored. Your rule will become even greater as the other weak lands fall,” said Seff.
Sha’run scoffed as the knight’s eyes began to flutter. He squeezed his fist around the man’s neck until a sickening crack vibrated beneath his palm. Allowing the knight’s body to drop, Sha’run adjusted his cloak and glanced at Seff. “Yes, my rule will go on, for that will be the prophecy to come to pass, I shall have it no other way.”
“Such a pity she came into existence in the first place.”
Sha’run met Seff’s eye with disgust. His steward was the only one who would dare allude to the emperor’s greatest mistake. “My abilities cannot alter the past and your constant reminders grow tiresome and dangerous.”
Seff shrugged and peered out the tall window. “Even still, at times our mistakes can make us stronger.”
Sha’run straightened his broad shoulders but didn’t meet the steward’s eye. “Find them, Seff.” Pointing at the dead knight, Sha’run grinned. “Find them and rid the lands of any so-called heroes that could rise from the dust. If there are no heroes, there is no prophecy of Lightborn awakened. If you fail, I promise my friend, you shall meet a similar end. But slower, I assure you.”
Seff’s dark eyes gleamed with an inspiring sort of malice. “It will be done, my lord.”
Sha’run leaned in the windowsill again as his advisor rushed from the throne room. The single remaining knight kept his bow, his face pinned to the stones. Sha’run would leave him there for a time, maybe destroy him as he had the first two. His knights had failed to bring her to him, but soon—he felt it in his very being—the Blood Emperor would have exactly what he wanted, and the Bloodlands would belong to him as the writings of the Light King foretold.
Dear Reader,
Hiding on the ship of a sea baron with a barely-magic fireshaper, and a child who seems to think Isa is some big sister stand in, is not how Isabelle envisioned life when she ran with the guild of Tyv.
Roark and Isa continually plan their escape to find the lost amulets and Lightborn, but i
t seems the day of freedom will never come.
Until one night everything changes.
The blood emperor, Sha’run was more a myth since he hadn’t been seen in years, but when his knights and inner circle attack, Isa, Roark, and their misfit group barely escape with their lives. New questions arise. What was Sha’run after? And why does an eccentric soothsayer keep calling Isa…Nightmaker?
There are pages waiting to be turned, adventures to take, and hearts to mend in the next installment :STORMFIRE.
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