Vision of Light [The Renegades 1] (6 page)

What had spurred her to take the dagger during the fight? Drawn to it lying on the ground, on instinct, Aislan had snatched it before diving into the river. Initially, the heavy dagger pulled her down the water, much deeper than she wanted to be, forcing her to fight her way back up near the surface. Eventually, it weighed nothing.

Aislan sat up and looked over the enchanted dagger. Sword sorcerers usually forged their own weapons and endowed them with their own power. Aislan touched the inscription along the hilt, matching that on its scabbard, and wondered what it said. The symbols looked familiar, but she could not read them. As she traced the patterns, the hilt warmed, and something blossomed within her. She touched the tip of the sharp blade with a tentative finger. It pushed at her skin but did not cut.

It was not wise to take the enchanted dagger with her. Its master could track her, defeating her purpose for escaping. Even knowing the high possibility of being found, Aislan could not abandon it now, no matter how foolish her sentiments. Again, she deliberately pinched the sharp tip between her fingers, but her skin remained intact. She caressed the sharp blade in awe.

Finally, Aislan got to her feet. As she pushed her wet hair from her face, her fingers encountered the marriage filigree she wore across her forehead. Without a moment of hesitation, she slid it off. Curiosity halted her before she could toss it into the water. Instead, she brought the filigree down on the sharp edge of the dagger blade, and the thin metal split in two. She ran her fingers along the edge again.

The night grew colder, and her wet clothes clung to her. Aislan looked about her and knew she had to find shelter. Picking up the two cut pieces of the filigree, she threw them as far as she could in the water. No reason to leave them on land where they could be found.

Aislan walked away from the river, thankful for the full moon lighting her way. The wind made her shiver in her wet clothes. She clung tightly to the hilt of the dagger, and the warm handle vibrated like a living thing. The warmth traveled up along her arm, spreading slowly through her body, until she no longer felt cold.

The dark forest would normally be frightening, and though unfamiliar with the area, Aislan felt no fear. Even as a little girl, she had always known how to get back home even if she strayed far and took a path she had never traveled. Aislan saw a passage slightly to her right. She followed it as if it were etched for her and the moonlight shone brighter along the path, even though nothing distinguished it from the forest all around her. As long as she stayed on the track, no wild animal would harm her. Aislan did not understand how it came to be, and she never questioned why, crediting it to a sorcery power within her that she did not know how to control.

Soon after, she sensed a presence, and Aislan stopped immediately. Her heart beat so loud, she could hear nothing beyond its drumming in her chest. She could
feel
him. She had wanted to escape. Yet, knowing the full implications of what could happen, she had taken the dagger with her.

Aislan had allowed it to lead the Dark Lord to her.

Lucien set the horses free, sending them scattering in all directions. He jumped on his steed and took off, leaving the men shouting after him in rage. They could walk for a couple of days to the nearest town. Lucien did not want to give anyone the opportunity to pursue him.

He traveled far down the river until he sensed the spot where Aislan had gotten out of the water. His heart drummed and reverberated in his ears. His relief at knowing she was alive coursed through him, and he had to pause to let the knowledge sink in. He had not expected her to swim this far down the river. Lucien gathered some of his belongings in a bag. The horse would have made the trip easier, but the animal could not get across the wide river. Strapping his weapons to his back, and then the bag, he got into the water.

As a Tracker, Lucien would have found Aislan even without the dagger. Aside from his sensitivity to scents, he had felt her inner energy and touched her blood when he healed the light scratches on her hand. He could find her now no matter where she went. Her taking his dagger made it even more effortless. Ahead of him, his weapon vibrated for its master. Aislan headed in his direction, going back up the river, which confounded him. Where could she be going?

He sensed her nearness because her presence fairly crackled the air, and he felt her abrupt change in directions, apparently knowing he was coming. Stopping, Lucien tried to get a bearing on himself. Even without her in sight, he could smell the intoxicating fragrance of her flesh. He remembered all too well the softness of her body, the satiny skin he ached to touch, to taste. He had been fascinated with the silken strands of her long hair, captivated by the stunning beauty of her face. Lucien considered the renegade sorceress, Narisse, who must be an old hag by now. Aislan looked no more than a score in years. Even if Narisse had died and possessed Aislan somehow, it mattered not a damn to him. He only cared Aislan was alive. Lucien quickened his steps.

She appeared in his view, and she glanced over her shoulder to look at him, but she continued walking. Lucien simply followed at a slow pace. She could walk as long as she wanted until she had to face him. He watched the stretch of her long legs. Her hair was partially braided, partially loose along her slender back, giving her a fetchingly disheveled appearance. The blade of his dagger flashed in her hand, glowing faintly. Even though he should be alarmed of the power in her that made it possible for his dagger to react like a living entity, at the moment, he cared nothing about any threat she presented.

Finally, she gave up and turned to face him. She held the dagger in front of her, its point directed at him, as if to engage in a physical fight against him with his own weapon. Lucien stopped and simply waited.

He did not move at first, a formidable figure that should frighten her, a duplicate of the phantom that dominated her dreams. A long time ago, she had stopped running from him as she waited for him from her tower. Now, Aislan waited for him to come to her side. Her heart danced, and every pore in her skin tingled with vibrant life in anticipation of what he would do next.

Aislan could not read his expression in the full moonlight, but she knew he wanted her from the intense way he gazed at her face. The huge bulge of the erection he sported at the riverside was again in evidence. Staring at it now, she knew what he wanted from her. Despite their inauspicious beginning, the prospect of him touching her again did not frighten her, as it should. Dangerously attractive, he held her spellbound, appealing to all her senses.

When he stopped in front of her, she tilted her head to meet his stare. The unexpected tenderness in his expression pulled at her, and she could not will herself to look away. His gaze still on her, he took the dagger from her by its blade. For one brief moment, Aislan held tightly. She could not bring herself to part from it, but then sighed and let go. The dagger would pierce chain mail, yet it would no more cut him than her. He sheathed it in the scabbard hooked to his belt.

His clothes were damp from his swim across the river to go after her, but he seemed unaffected by the chilly air. Pulling out a thick cloth from his bag, he wrapped it about her—his dry cloak. As he drew the collars together, the back of his fingers brushed along her collarbone, sending excitement down her spine from the heat of his touch. He stared at her for an indefinite moment, and then stepped back. Taking her hand, he held it lightly.

"Sit down, Aislan."

The sound of her name on his lips caressed her, spoken in the same gentle tone he had used the last time he said her name at the riverside. Though uncertain of his intent, she obeyed, her fingers tightening to hold onto him. He settled a few feet in front of her, keeping his possession of her hand a moment longer before he let go, to her disappointment. No one had held her hand before just for the sake of holding it.

Rifling through his bag again, he retrieved something wrapped in a piece of cloth and unfolded it, revealing a chunk of hard cheese. She watched his long-fingered hands as he carved a thick slice with a small eating knife. He gave her a piece, which she took gratefully and ate without hesitation. She had not gotten around to digging up a root to eat because there had not been enough time. Carving another slice, he then put the pieces on top of the cloth, along with the knife, before settling back to watch her.

Aislan looked back at him with the same curiosity. He exuded energy even as he sat still, drawing her like a magnet. The intensity about him should have made her feel on edge, but she felt safe and unthreatened. It felt natural for him to be with her. Unhooking his dagger, scabbard and all, he handed it to her.

"Keep warm. We cannot have a fire and attract attention."

Aware of his appraisal, she took the weapon and placed it on her lap. Her hand on the hilt, she felt its warmth spreading along her skin beneath her damp clothes.

"Why did you take my weapon? ‘Twould be difficult to swim with it,” he commented.

Aislan picked up the other cheese he had sliced for her but ate more slowly, her hunger assuaged. “It behaved well,” she replied, as if the dagger was sentient. He did not even look surprised. She caressed the inscription along the scabbard with reverence, feeling its warmth.

"I saw where you finally came back on land,” he noted. “You swam a very long way."

"How did you know I could swim?"

"The sorceress who abducted you is a powerful Fluid element."

"Is? She
is
still alive!” Aislan nearly jumped with her excitement. “Do you know her?"

"I know of her. I...” he paused, and then finally said, “I am tasked to find her, so I know everything I needed to know about her."

Eager in her quest for knowledge, Aislan leaned closer. “What do you mean—tasked to find her? Do you know where she might be?"

"Why?"

"I want to find her, too."

Rubbing a hand across his mouth, he studied her. He looked at her as if he wanted to devour her, a hungry, predatory gleam in his eyes, eyes no longer cold or unfathomable. Aislan licked her lips. The dagger had made her body too hot. A shameful wetness trickled between her legs. Feeling her cheeks flaming in shame, she looked down at her feet, shifting to ease her discomfort.

He seemed to be in a conversational mood, in no rush to attempt to seduce her. While she grew up, Aislan's father had kept a careful watch whenever men appeared around her. After she had married, the possessive Hayton Temple kept her under guard most of the time, fearing she would stray, an unfounded fear because Aislan was frigid, or so she had been told. She might be frigid with Hayton because he forced her, but her imagination played a different game with her fantasy lover.

Lucien continued, “Why do you wish to find Narisse? She will kill you."

Sex had never been high on her list, so Aislan could not believe she found the thought of sex more interesting than a conversation about Narisse. She had thought of Narisse almost every day since she had learned the identity of the mad witch who had tried to kill her.

She knew she sounded insane even as she answered, “I need someone who will train me, who will take me as apprentice. Who else will understand what is wrong with me?"

As suspected, he looked at her as if she had lost her mind. “You wish to apprentice under a renegade sorceress bound to be executed by the Circle if captured?"

"Why should she be considered a renegade? Is that why you look for her, so you can execute her?” Aislan could not help defending her decision. “She is no more wicked or violent than any sorcerer I had the misfortune to meet today."

His expression did not even flicker. “She practiced sorcery through human sacrifices. Mayhap she still does."

"And ‘tis forbidden—sacrificing humans?"

"Yes, ‘tis frowned upon by the Church and by the populace to sacrifice humans to further our power."

She could not determine if he was serious or sarcastic. “What about taking human lives? You had no reservation about killing."

"Only by royal decree."

"Sorcerers have all the power, and yet you forbid the killing of mortals?” She did not believe him.

"Sorcerers are mortals, too. The Circle forbids using sorcery on the general populace unless under the orders of the king. There are not as many sorcerers as you might think."

"What about the innocent people this morn, the helpless mortals you killed."

"I only killed your husband,” he said softly, watching her reaction. Looking at the dagger, Aislan wondered if he expected her to ask him why he had executed Hayton. She should have wept, but she had never behaved according to expectations. Anyhow, she no longer had a soul, or so the priests told her. The Church had damned her and declared her insane.

Instead of fearing the man who had killed her husband, Aislan's mind wandered to those many nights she had pretended he was inside her body instead of her husband's, making her more pliant so that the physical ordeal of Hayton's conjugal rights would be more bearable. She had denied her husband, and yet she had fantasized about someone who she believed did not exist. Until now.

Despite their adversarial situation, as she looked at the man facing her, Aislan knew the inevitability of what they would become if she remained in his company. She should be ashamed of herself, this sinful desire for a man who, in reality, represented the violence she abhorred in men. No matter what she should feel, if he touched her now, she would welcome him. Just the thought of him in her body made her wet and aroused. No wonder the Church thought her unredeemable. She wanted what she should not and rejected her roles as an obedient daughter and a dutiful wife.

Aislan touched the dagger. It burned hot now, and she tossed it on the ground in shock.

"I—I...” She stared at it, and then looked at Lucien. Picking up his weapon, he reattached it to his belt, his gaze still on her. She looked away, desperate to maintain some semblance of propriety. After a while, she glanced his way. Aislan gave a small start and came to attention. A faint glow outlined him, lasting merely a glance. She blinked to clear her vision, but nothing seemed amiss. What had she seen? Confused, Aislan turned away to gather her composure. The slow and steady thud of her heart rang in her ears. She had seen the same flicker of light the moment before the ambush this morning. Sensing immediate danger, she had tried to lead Hayton in the opposite direction, but the forewarning had come too close to the attack.