Edge of Darkness ~ A Darkness & Light Novel Book Three (15 page)

Bolin shook his head and pulled in a quick breath heavy with the scent of burning wood and edged with the chill of autumn. The real madness would be giving in to the malaise trying to swallow him.

He gave a last glance around the camp, surprised to find the majority of the men already rolled in their blankets, their snores punctuating the crackling of low banked fires, then went in search of his own bed.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Bolin had turned his attempts at sleep into something of a ritual. He started with several glasses of heather wine, before lying on his back, arm twisted behind his head, as he stared at the ceiling of his tent and rehashed the events of the day.

Eventually, his eyes would drift shut and his thoughts would turn to Ciara, and he'd spend a good long while berating himself for being a selfish, old fool. Emphasis on the 'old' some nights. On 'fool' the others. Selfish in either case. Although the power Ciara possessed would ensure she outlived him, and likely surpass his total years altogether, she was far younger than him. Perhaps in twenty or thirty years, the difference wouldn't seem as great as it currently did. Still, any thought of letting her go twisted his guts more cruelly than a dull knife.

That knife would invariably turn sharp then, as the thought of losing Ciara brought Nialyne's loss surging to the fore in an overwhelming flood of sorrow. That quickly turned to anger, directed mostly at the Goddess.

Somewhere along that journey, sleep would claim him, just long enough to convince him of its sincerity. Bolin would relax into its embrace and, shortly afterwards, he'd lurch out of the hell that claimed him each night, heart pounding, sweat trickling down his spine, blankets clenched tight in his fists.

Attempting to reclaim sleep again after one such dream, and unable to convince himself to remain rooted in his tent until dawn, Bolin's restlessness forced him once more to the picket line. Dain found him just as he was tightening Sandeen's girth. Or, more accurately, when the guard Dain ordered to keep an eye on Bolin, alerted the Emperor to his general's imminent departure.

"Is there a problem?" Dain asked, muffling a yawn behind his hand.

Bolin ran the stirrups down. "Not that I'm aware of."

"So where are you off to?"

"Nowhere in particular."

"Just taking a ride in the middle of the night?"

"I'll be back by dawn, if that's what's worrying you," Bolin said, and flipped the reins over Sandeen's head.

"Give me half a moment and I'll join you."

"I'd rather you didn't." Bolin led Sandeen toward the edge of the camp, the Emperor dogging his steps. "If you join me, that will mean at least five other men will also join me. That rather defeats the purpose."

"And what exactly is the purpose?" Dain asked.

"I need to clear my head." Bolin swung onto Sandeen's back. "And tell Linys to stay here. If you send him trailing after me, I'll lose him so thoroughly it will take Everyn's best tracker a day to find him again."

Dain frowned at that but stepped back, tipping his head in acquiescence. Bolin gave Sandeen his lead, allowing the horse pick a trail west through the scattered trees. He kept his awareness open as he rode. Just because there had been no word of marauder troubles since their last attack on Broadhead, in no way meant they had left the area. They could smell Imperial soldiers leagues away. It wouldn't surprise Bolin in the least to find the escort being shadowed, just out of range of their scouts.

Still, even marauders had to realize the Emperor, while a tempting target, would be impossible to take without employing a great deal of power. The kind Bolin now had at his disposal, but very few others outside the Council of Mages even came close to possessing.

The first hint of dawn lightened the sky by the time Bolin swung Sandeen toward the banks of narrow creek. He dismounted, letting the stallion drink his fill, the waking songs of birds punctuated by Sandeen's loud slurping. When the horse lifted his head, ears pricked, to gaze upstream, Bolin's hand fell to his sword.

A woman walked sedately toward him, the breeze playing with the long strands of her dark hair. For a moment Bolin thought it another game of his imagination, because he found it difficult to believe it was the Goddess, herself. The power surrounding the woman, however, far exceeded anything to be found in the empire, even that of the Imperial bloodline. Ciara's pendant warmed against his breast in response. At the same instant, the power of the Greensward hummed through him, confirming the woman's identity, if nothing else did.

Two instincts battled within Bolin at that point. One urged him to bow or throw himself at her feet, the other to draw his sword and run her through.

He did neither. He stood rooted in place, gaze narrowed in suspicion. Even when Sandeen shouldered him aside to reach his nose eagerly toward her extended hand, Bolin didn't remove his hand from his weapon.

The stallion whickered softly as the Goddess stroked his nose, and a smile lifted the corners of her mouth when she looked past the horse to Bolin stood, but it quickly faded.

"A mother hopes for a warmer greeting from her son," she said, her soft voice sounding as though the river itself had spoken.

Bolin's voice, by stark contrast, carried the coldness of stone. "The only mother I have ever known, or care to, sits now in the Halls. It's a bit late for any other to lay claim now."

She lowered her hands from Sandeen. "Nialyne was dear to me as well. In the end, she made her own choice. I had no hand in her death."

"You could have stopped it," Bolin said, with more vehemence than he intended.

"There are some things beyond even me."

"Oh? Not so omnipotent after all, then?"

"Your grief is fresh. Even still, I would not have thought to receive such hatred from you."

"Hatred?" Bolin shrugged. "I wouldn't go that far. Say rather I've finally grown tired of being used without regard. That blind subservience is no longer something I'm willing to give. To anyone."

She studied him a moment before turning toward the creek. For a long time she said nothing. When she spoke again, she kept her face to the water. "Neither of us had a choice in what we are. Do you honestly believe I would have chosen my role? Or wished yours upon any child of my womb? Necessity oft-times drives us to do things we would normally never consider." She looked over her shoulder, and the fading starlight glittered in her eyes and across her damp cheeks. A wistful note crept into her voice. "You are the last. Did you know that?"

"Is that what's prompted you to show yourself to me after all these years?" Bolin asked. "Has a sudden wave of maternal love overwhelmed you?"

She rolled her shoulders back, her chin lifting. "I fear for you."

"Ah. You've never feared for me before, then?"

"I have never been this close to losing you."

"In what way?"

"You, more so than any other, have always danced on the edge," she said. "I cannot say that you were ever wholly mine. Not as the others were. Perhaps it is arrogance on your part which leads you to take chances where others would not. To believe you can never fall from the Light. That you can triumph in the face of any adversity. I do not know, but it has put you always in the enemy's path."

"Perhaps it was trust in you that put me there," Bolin replied. "Belief that you held me in your hand, and wouldn't let me fall."

"A belief you have now abandoned?"

"A belief I now question."

She came toward him and Bolin held his ground, though it took immense effort. Even when her fingers lightly touched the side of his face, and his pulse quickened, he didn't move. She stood less than a hand's width shorter than him. The color of her eyes matched his, and she wore her dark hair pulled back into an elaborate array of braids, decorated with small jewels and shimmering stones. Her features weren't flawless, as he would have expected them to be, but bore the fine lines of age and worry, and the tired creases of heavy responsibility.

"Had I the power," she said, "I would erase every pain and care that weighs upon your soul."

Bolin fought hard to keep his voice from wavering. "If not you, then who?"

"No such power exists." Her gaze strayed from his face to the slender silver chain around his neck. "Though there are some things which can ease even the heaviest ache, if we allow." She slid a finger under the chain to draw the pendant from beneath his tunic. Her brow furrowed. "I remember the making of this talisman. Meriol asked my guidance and blessing. It has changed greatly since its creation. Had I known then what it was to become, that it should be gifted to you by such a pure, unselfish heart…"

A shiver of power coursed through Bolin from the Goddess's touch: pure, heady, and infinitely stronger than even imagination could have made it. It twined with the magic in the pendant, and slipped beyond to caress the power of the Greensward. With it came a flash of unbidden longing, as though the Goddess yearned to take the power as her own. An ache so strong it stole Bolin's breath and had him shoving her hand from him as he jerked backwards, sudden fury coursing through him.

"It would seem you share Ciara's hatred of me," she said.

"Ciara's feelings toward you are based solely on the loss of those she loved, believing them to have been callously taken from her by your hand," Bolin said. "Unlike me, she was smart enough to never allow herself to be used by you."

The Goddess's eyes flashed in anger to match his. "Do you think I do not feel anguish? That I am cold and heartless? As unfeeling as the harsh winter winds? That I would not give all I have to undo the past and see my children endure only happiness? Even I am not so great as all that. There are many powers treading beyond the veil, and more battles than those you have witnessed."

"If it is sympathy you look for, Lady," Bolin said, "you will not find it here. All of this is your making.
I
am your making. I have spent my entire life acting in your name without question. I set aside my own desires, and pushed away those I would have held close, all for the sake of duty. A duty thrust on me by a birth shrouded in legend. All to have you turn your back the one time I ask for something other than guidance. I would have given you anything in my power, anything you asked of me--" His voice broke and he looked away, his final words only a whisper, "My very soul for all of eternity, had you but spared her."

"So this is the source of your doubt?" The Goddess's brow furrowed. "Nialyne's sacrifice was a choice freely made. Should I have denied such a gift given for a just cause?"

"A just cause?" Bolin barked out a harsh laugh and laid a hand against his chest. "My life? Was that your just cause? Because your value of me is greatly exaggerated if you think me worthier than Nialyne."

"She did not agree. Nor have many others before her. Do you count them all as fools?"

Bolin bit back a sour retort that would have served only to diminish the memory of too many good men and women. He shifted to watch the growing sun paint the creek's rippling surface with streaks of gold. The Goddess stood silently beside him, though Bolin could feel her eyes on him.

"When I was a boy, I often wondered what I would say to you if we ever truly met," he said quietly, keeping his eyes on the water. "What questions I would ask. I spent many nights praying you would come, and many mornings asking Nialyne why you chose to ignore my pleas. She told me you knew I was strong enough to be without you and many others weren't. That they were the ones who truly needed you most, and I should be grateful I didn't need you as they did."

He closed his eyes, bowing his head. The cool must of autumn filled his senses, and with it an exhaustion that ran bone deep. If not for all he needed to do, if not for Ciara waiting in Nisair, Bolin would have asked the Goddess to take him and give him the rest he deserved.

"What is it I have done?" he asked instead. "How is it I've failed you so completely that you hold me in such little regard?"

"You have not failed me. Not once."

"And yet I am not deserving of your grace when I need it most?" Bolin lifted his head, eyes wide as he silently implored her to somehow undo the past. He knew it to be an unreasonable desire. When she met his gaze with only sorrowful remorse, Bolin turned away. "What is it you want of me, Lady?"

"Your love, as once I had."

"The child who loved without question no longer exists."

"And the man he became?"

Bolin faced her, arms spread to the sides. "He stands before you, done asking for your favor, and weary of living up to your expectations. So, I ask again, what is it you want?"

She looked for a moment as though undecided how to continue. Then she drew her shoulders back, clasped her hands before her, and looked every inch the regal goddess. "This world is in grave danger. Darkness has found a hold here, and grows stronger with each passing day."

"Darkness?"

"The opposite of Light." She smiled softly, but it faded as quickly as it had come. "It has always threatened our borders. For untold centuries and thousands of lives of men, Light has held it at bay. Now, however, it is loose. It will seek to take you, Bolin. Should it succeed, you will become its most powerful weapon. One there will be little hope of standing against. You must not give in to it. You will need to trust the strength of others if you are to defeat it."

A wry smile twisted Bolin's mouth. "Perhaps you should have considered that, before you accepted Nialyne's
gift
."

"You forget the gift she gave you." Reproach made her voice sharp.

"Never. It is with me every moment of every day, like a fist clenched around my heart."