A Darkness Unleashed (Book 2) (4 page)

A
strong, supple hand shook Jaerd to consciousness. A single bright eye stared at him from the darkness.

“A scouting party closes.” Gael’s soft voice carried to Jaerd’s ear. “I cannot lead them away.”

Jaerd snapped awake, his heart pounding adrenaline directly to his brain. Dawne jerked up next to him as he slipped his sword from its sheath.

“Stay here,” he whispered to his sister.

Night still hung thick about the forest when Jaerd left their little canvas shelter, but the cloud cover had blown away to reveal a nearly full moon peeking through the wide trunks of Bloodwood trees. The shadowy forms of Boris, Joslyn, and Khalem Shadar stood ready, while the moonlight glinted off the steel tip of one of Tilli’s arrows.

Gael disappeared into the darkness of the forest. Jaerd took position on flat ground just in front of where Dawne hid. He heard her whisper a swift prayer for the protection of the Waters.

“Better to pray to steel,” he muttered, tightening his grip on Shar’leen.

Magus Britt spoke low, and Jaerd recognized the odd hum of a magically channeled whisper. “I’m going to try to blind them. Close your eyes until the flash goes off.”

Jaerd did as he was told, and in the absolute blackness, his ears reached out for the tiniest pinprick of sound. The great trees above him creaked and sighed in a slight breeze. Dawne shifted where she huddled behind him. Leather squeaked as Boris tightened his grip on his longsword.

A soft crunch floated to Jaerd’s ears, followed by a snap. He heard a hiss and a harsh whisper. The words did not entirely resolve, but they held the tone of an angry command. Then he heard a heavy sniff, followed by a terse voice.

“I smell wolf too, I think, not just horse and human. I don’t…”

Brightness echoed beyond Jaerd’s eyelids. The moment it faded, he threw them open to behold a half dozen orcs covering their faces in the dim echo of Joslyn’s flare. Before Jaerd could even lift Shar’leen above his shoulder, a snarling shape darted from the cover of a short pine. Brawny’s white teeth glistened in the half-light, as they ripped through the neck of an orc in the lead.

Jaerd followed the wolfhound, his heart lifted by the beast’s courage. The first two orcs he killed offered no resistance, blinded as they were by Joslyn’s initial burst. But once Jaerd turned from the collapsing body of the second orc, a dozen more appeared from behind a Bloodwood, unblinded by the light.

He threw himself at them, a scream of feigned courage bursting from his throat. Shar’leen flew about at his command, parrying where she needed and slicing where she could. He took a blow on the side of his arm, but the old Highspur mail he had barely removed for days held firm against the glancing strike, and he returned the attack with a vengeful shout. Shar’leen tasted orc blood once more.

A brimstone smell cut through the blood and metal in Jaerd’s nostrils. Another flare shot out from Joslyn Britt, this one more orange than argent. A small clutch of orcs burst into flame, screaming in agony. The two who could still run did so, shouts of fear in their voices. Tilli took one in the neck with an arrow, while Gael appeared in front of the other, his twin longknives ending the orc’s shouts.

The elf trotted toward Earl Boris and Magus Britt. Jaerd watched them between controlled breaths. He had grown used to the sudden quiet at the end of a fight, when the enemy could do little more than moan at his feet. He looked about with a pang of fear, making certain that was the case. Other than the involuntary twitching of orc nerves coming to grips with their new situation, nothing moved, barely even among the Highspur survivors. Save Gael.

“We must break camp and continue onward. Another patrol is not far behind. They move in great force along the edge of the Bloodwood, already on this side of the Gallond.” The elf moved one hand to adjust his patch, changing at the last moment to run it through his lengthening white crew cut. “Dozens of orcs are on the move not much more than an hour away.”

Boris sheathed his sword. “Then let’s go.”

Khalem Shadar had already begun saddling horses, and Jaerd joined him after cleaning and sheathing Shar’leen. Before long they rode out of their sheltered hollow. Brawny loped ahead with Gael and his mount.

In between the giant Bloodwoods, the party made good time. Once the great trees disappeared, normal sized pine and fir replaced them, closing in the passage. But with an elf in the lead, and less snowfall upon the ground, they still traversed the forest with great speed. By the time the sun breached the horizon, the southern spur of the Dragonscales loomed to their left, covered in even thicker stands of pine.

Day wore on and Jaerd walked next to his horse, giving the steed a rest. Dawne yawned and stumbled beside him, and he offered her his arm.

“Come on, sis, we’re almost there.”

“Where?” she sighed.

“Kirath,” Boris called, his hand extended toward the distance.

A small town with no wall but several large keeps stood on the last low peak of the mountain spur just a few leagues away.

“I hope they have baths,” Dawne whispered.

Healing Talent is a blessing above the skills of mages. To save a life is sacred. – “Healing Abscura” by Lord Doctor Balon Harish, 322 A.R.

S
hoving aside her feelings for Tallen, Maddi closed the door to the Lord Doctor’s office behind her. Even though she was quite practiced at focusing on a task at hand, a knot of thoughts still hung in the back of her mind regarding him, offering an enticing distraction.
Damn him.

Lord Doctor Tymin Marten sat behind his garish desk, suddenly over-carved and over-gilt to Maddi’s tastes. He steepled his fingers in front of his face, his mud-colored eyes boring into Maddi’s heart.

“Welcome,
Lady Doctor
,” he sneered. “I assume you have come to deliver your student reports for the semester?”

Maddi stopped the hand that reached for one of the daggers in her sleeve.
I don’t want this to turn violent – at least not yet.

“I’ve come to resign the College, both as student and teacher.” She ached to hurt the man, but thoughts of what he might do with Tanya held her hand. “I also demand that you tell me where my friends are. What have you done with Tanya and Ami?”

“Whatever are you talking about?” The doctor feigned innocence with such absurdity that Maddi almost gave in to the urge to pull her knife. “Your little urchin probably ran back to the sewer she crawled out of.”

Maddi stepped back, her heart sinking into a pit in her stomach.
What did I ever see in this man? Was he all an act?

“I am no fool, Tymin.” She edged one hand closer to the sleeve. “I know you have them. I know you’ve been planning something since Midwinter. All I want is to disappear with them, because I don’t care what you were scheming with the chancellor. I didn’t really hear anything.” She filled her voice with sadness, trying to force a tear that she almost felt. “Please, for whatever friendship we once had, just let us go in peace. I promise to do the same.”

The doctor rose from his chair, and from his sanguine expression Maddi thought he might do as she asked. Instead, Martin snapped his fingers. A bookcase moved forward and to the side, revealing a torch lit stone passage. Three men with an assortment of clubs and knives entered the room, placing themselves around Maddi.

“You bastard,” she snarled, at last pulling a knife with each hand.

Before she could move, Maddi felt Marten embrace his Talent, much as she had a hundred times before. This time it was different, though. It twisted, turning in on itself and warping in vibration. When he reached it toward her, she felt repulsed, as if it carried a black poison with it. A sucking feeling ripped at her heart as his
psahn
touched hers.

With a shout, Maddi thrust herself away from him. She embraced her own Talent, forming a shield of
psahn
as if by instinct. The doctor’s attack pushed against her, and she wanted to vomit at its touch.

“I knew you were a natural.” Marten’s voice remained calm, though it sounded distant in Maddi’s ear. “I had hoped to make you a friend, but I can see you will not have it.” He smiled a syrupy sweet grin. “The thing is, I know far much more than you can possibly imagine.”

His
psahn
slammed against hers, throwing her physically across the room. The doctor’s henchmen moved without hesitation, wrapping thick arms around her and tearing away her knives. The blow from Marten’s life force left her staggered, dazed by the sudden strange collision of their Talents. Maddi could not resist as they dragged her into the secret passage. She barely registered the doctor following close and shutting the door behind him before she blacked out.

P
ain throbbed in Maddi’s temples. A slight groan escaped her lips as she rolled onto her side. Her arm did not follow, and the clank of metal rang in her ears.
Am I chained?

Her vision opened on dimness, revealing little more than they had when closed. A small fire burned in the distance, eventually resolving itself into a torch set in a rock wall. She heard rustling sounds and smelled oil smoke. Pushing herself upward, she leaned against a stone shelf. The chain clanged again, and Maddi realized her wrist was shackled to the wall.

“There you are, my dear.” Marten’s voice, though still the same soft baritone, held a sinister edge she had never even imagined before. It sounded empty and hollow, and it echoed harshly in the dark chamber. “I was so hoping you would awaken in time for me to show you what our Talent is truly capable of. Oh, we can waste it on healing others – and at times that has rewards of its own, I’ll grant – but why not use it to better ourselves?” Her eyes had adjusted enough for her to see his pale face and the urgency that jumped around on it. “Pure self-interest is the only moral virtue one should care about, Maddi. I admired that in you when we first met. You seemed so driven to improve yourself and your lot in life.”

Marten crossed his arms, his expression shifting to a smirk. “Oh, I know about your past…about a rooftop in Dern. I have more connections and influence than you know.” He leaned forward, his hand forming a fist. “That is the real reason why I brought you up so fast here at the College. I thought you would be an asset to our cause.” Sudden fire came into his voice. “And it is a
just
cause!”

Maddi stared at him. He waited as if he expected a reply.
He’ll get none.

Marten glowered. “That night…at Midwinter,” he began, as if he had never paused. “I wanted to bring you into our plan. I did not intend to hide it from you much longer.” He leaned back again, calming his voice and posture. “King Arathan is old. His mind fades and his body is not far behind. You gave him healing. You had to have sensed it. How long do you think he has left to rule?”

Again he paused, and again Maddi gave him nothing but an icy glare.

Marten pursed his lips in frustration. “We must ensure stability for Gannon when that happens. It is the responsibility of the Lord Chancellor, the High Elder, and I – as members of the High Council.”

Maddi lifted an eyebrow. “So the fat man is in on it too, eh?”

The Lord Doctor spluttered. Maddi could see the rage bubbling under his features.
He’s barely keeping it in check.

“You must understand,” he pleaded, his hands spread. “We only seek to secure the kingdom.”

Snorting a laugh of disdain, Maddi jerked the chain clasped to her arm. “With poison? And I’m sure you’ve lined your own pocket quite well in the meantime. I heard about the money for the hospital.”

The doctor stood from his seat and stalked closer to her. “How can I expect a Free City wench to grasp the nuances of power? You were a street urchin – little better than that wastrel you keep playing mother with.” His face screwed up in anger. “Well, let’s see just how much of a mother you really are. Bring her!”

He snapped his fingers, and one of the three men Maddi had only glimpsed in the shadows left through a doorway. A moment later he returned, a kicking, snarling bundle in his arms. He tossed it on the stone floor at Marten’s feet.