The Lord of the Clans (25 page)

The Blind One and The Knight shall rip the thread. From whence it dwells, The Darkening rises forth to enshroud the Light.

Who were the Blind One and the Knight?
Famous people from the times of the Ancients?
And what kind of ever so precious thread, if cut, could birth a dark power strong enough to annihilate an entire world? Although not much made sense, she carried on studying the next passage.

The Dead Heart must be unbound for The Seventh Son of the House. By the Lady of the Faith, the Light shall be restored.

To the best of her knowledge, a dead heart stayed dead. She was a healer, she should know. Yet the scribe made it quite clear that resurrection might be an option when need arose.

Dear Gods, but she really wouldn’t like to be face to face with a dead man brought back to the lands of the living. Did he still look human or had he been turned into a monster?

The idea of ever meeting such a horrible creature raised the fine hairs on the nape of her neck. Concentrating anew on the neat scrawl covering the pages of the manuscript, she reread the last sentence.

The scribe mentioned the Lady of the Faith, but the name didn’t ring a bell. Did this woman have faith in the Creators, the Ancients, or something else altogether?

I have hidden the primeval scrolls.
They cannot be found, they cannot be destroyed.
Should the enemy read them, the Four Realms shall be doomed.

She bit her short nail. The amount of time she spent on that book wouldn’t enlighten her regarding the Darkening. This old manuscript depicted a very sombre past, probably the fall of the Ancients, but no help was to be found there.
At least, not for her.

She glanced at him again. He looked pale, withdrawn, and unmoving. Wishing she could shake him out of this unnatural slumber, she closed the book. Bad tidings from another era would have to wait.

Sleep called her. She went to check on the horses one last time before lying down next to him. His body heat warmed her as she wriggled underneath the blanket and closed her eyes.

Dark shadows surround her, dimming the light to a vague glow. As though frozen over, her body can’t respond. She struggles against the block of ice encasing her, but a wicked snickering freezes her. She isn’t alone. The Darkening hovers around her, its black shape numbing her core and icing her blood.

She cries out when it suddenly talks to her, yet no sound passes through her lips. Like mind reading, the silent voice seems to be originating from inside her. She doesn’t hear the words, she feels them.

“You have failed. Your world is
mine
now.”

The rhythmic beat of her heart slows down as terror engulfs her in its inescapable clutches. The darkness is draining the life out of her, and she can’t do anything to stop it. She’ll be dead soon. She hasn’t saved the Four Kingdoms. She hasn’t saved him.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Her own scream jerked her out of sleep.

Sweat coating her forehead, throat parched, she darted wild glances around. The fire had dwindled, yet small flames still lit the temple as she sat up with a start. She groped for her water skin, grabbed the top with shaky fingers, and raised it to her lips to swallow long mouthfuls.

The horrific visions were no dream, but she'd been allowed to watch a glimpse of the future.
A very near future.
Whether due to the workings of the Ancients or the will of the Creators, the real images were sent as a warning. The Darkening would come to pass.

Her journey wasn’t a quest, never had been.

She’d deluded herself from the very first day. Dismissing her deepest fears like she swatted small bugs, she’d made the deliberate choice to view this expedition as a wondrous adventure.
An exhilarating escapade where fear and death couldn’t really affect her.

 
She had been wrong, and there was no escaping now.

Pure magic lived inside her. A great ancient power ran in her blood and three magical objects had been entrusted to her care. In spite of everything she’d learned on the way, understanding only came now.

She sat wide awake in the abandoned Shrine of Doom, but she could still feel the freezing, black touch of the Darkening, still hear its otherworldly voice creeping into her mind.

You have failed.

Your world is mine now.

No, this had never been a quest. It was the last hope. The Four Kingdoms were doomed, and she stood as the ultimate bulwark. The fate of the realm depended on her, and the time for fear had come.

She drank half of the water skin before turning to him. The sight of his motionless body tightened her throat. Although her magic belonged to him now, in the dream she’d been the one trapped in ice.

Could she infer from the nightmare that the body swap would occur again to restore the natural order of things? Was she supposed to raise her sword and fight the Darkening as the Lord of the Clans?

In any case, he wouldn’t be far away from her because she needed him. He had become her rock and she trusted him with her life. She'd broken her pledge to Kelton for the Lord of the Clans.

His silver gaze penetrated her heart, his words touched her soul, his strong hands showed her new territories, and his long, thick cock was the very definition of absolute pleasure.

Whether he had a role or not in facing the Darkening, she needed him by her side. She breathed because he smiled at
her,
she lived because he stroked her body like a precious jewel. He didn’t have the right to make her his wife, but she didn’t care anymore.

Not as long as her heart beat for him.

The nightmare receded. With her love for him infusing every inch of her body, she listened to her world. The wind sang a soft melody while birds chanted the rise of a new dawn. She breathed in the musty odour wafting from the manuscript mixed with the fresh smell of early morning dew.

This day wouldn’t see her cowering in fear. This day would see her renewed faith in the Creators, the Ancients and life.

She slapped his cheek. He didn’t utter a sound, not even when she called his name, but his eyelids fluttered. Encouraged by the small progress, she slapped him again, a little harder. He moved his head this time, and a flash of relief flooded her as he finally opened his eyes.

“Thank the Mighty Gods. I thought you’d never wake up.”

He rubbed his lids before glancing up. He seemed to hesitate for a brief instant,
then
a slow smile curved his lip.

“You won’t get rid of me so easily.”

She didn’t see any sign of the odd trance in his gaze as he sat up. He stretched his neck while she grabbed the water skin and handed it to him. He drank long gulps as she had done moments ago.

“This water is good. Thank you, I was so thirsty.”

“Yes, I figured.”

He brushed strands of hair off his brow before getting up to test the strength in his legs and looking around.

“Where are we?”

“In the Shrine of Doom.”

“Great. All we needed was another temple. So, how did we get to this place, and have we found anything?”

“Well, you have.”

She retrieved the triangle from her pocket and held it out. When he took the black object between thumb and forefinger, pale sunrays penetrated the temple, seeming to make it shine.

“Interesting.
Let’s put it with the others.”

He grabbed the cloak he’d used all night as a pillow, unfolded it, and stashed the triangle along with the disc and the square. A sudden grin stretched her mouth as she watched him perform the mundane task.

“Anything you want to say to me?”

Whether genuinely surprised by her question, or acting as if he had no memory of falling into a trance, he arched an eyebrow.

“About what?”

“Oh, I don’t know, let me see. You might start with acknowledging I’m not hearing voices or church village bells. Then you can apologise for your insensitive behaviour when ear-shattering noises split my skull and made me faint. That would be a good beginning.”

“Sure, you wish.”

His haughty air didn’t sit well with her as a flush of irritation rose up her face, and nerves twitched in the pad of her fingers.

“I saw you covering your ears. Don’t tell me you didn’t hear the shrill, else I might start pounding your head any time now.”

She must have looked upset and frustrated with him because a playful smile broke his high and mighty expression.

“Such a touchy girl.
Of course I heard that noise. I just felt like teasing you a little. So, what’s for breakfast?”

She stomped her foot on the stone floor while he winked at her before striding outside. The Lord of the Clans didn’t apologise easily, even when he was wrong. She didn’t care though, because the simple fact of having him up and about filled her with joy and relief.

She had only blacked out a short time in the Shrine of Fate, then almost an entire afternoon in the Shrine of Destiny. This time, it had taken him half a day and a whole night to recover from the trance, and she hoped there weren’t many more magical objects or temples around.

As worse sometimes turned to worst, what would she have done if the unnatural slumber had kept him unconscious?

Unwilling to consider the possibility, she picked up the old manuscript and stored it in her saddlebags.

She might not have the right to bear the book away from the shrine, yet she doubted the Ancients would mind. Dead and buried ages ago, they had higher considerations. She was still pondering the matter when he came back with an armload of branches to feed the fire.

“It’s getting colder.”

Beyond the freshness of the air, she sensed he also hinted at the darkness. She had an impression of impending doom. Either they were nearing the frozen, black place, or the Darkening was coming toward them. Shrugging, she smoothed her hair while he made porridge.

“I’m so
famished,
I could eat a whole family of beavers.”

Only then did she recall he had skipped dinner last night while she enjoyed a decent meal. Although she didn’t feel particularly hungry this morning, she ate a few spoonsful, mostly to share the moment with him. He wolfed down the porridge like a starved woman.

“Tell me what happened, Ariana.”

“Same old story really. Back at the lagoon, you went into a trance and led us to this temple. Then I followed you down a staircase.”

Before he asked, she let her spoon sink into the bowl and pointed toward the back of the entrance room.

“If you want to take a look, you’ll see that there’s a huge, creepy library full of dusty shelves and manuscripts down there. That’s where you found the triangle in a niche in the wall.”

“I don’t remember anything.”

“Neither did
I
when it happened to me. But it took you much longer to regain
consciousness,
and you had me worried.”

“I didn’t mean to. These magic dealings are out of control.”

She nodded as he studied her with a concerned look, but his uneasiness quickly disappeared.

He emptied his bowl and began clearing up. Being the one with the biggest muscles, she loaded their saddlebags onto the horses, who welcomed her with soft neighs and nudges in the ribs.

Dark gray clouds rolled in from where the wind gusted to overshadow the sun. The quietness reigning over the glade carried a profound feeling of solitude and hollowness that seeped in her bones.

She hurried with the task. When they were ready to set off, he glanced at the sky as if trying to get his bearings.

“I know you’re the last person I should be asking this, but I’ll still give it a shot.
Where did we come from yesterday?”

Good question. The trees looked the same to her, so did the underbrush. Yet she remembered seeing first the entrance to the temple, so they must have arrived from behind her. She cocked her head with a smile.

“That way.”

“Very good.
You’re improving.”

Perhaps he was making fun of her sense of direction, but the compliment touched her anyway.

“Anything to please my lord.”

The slant of his lips brushed aside all thoughts of hollowness. He prompted his horse toward the place she’d indicated, and she went after him.

They didn’t go through the wooded area for very long. She soon saw wider gaps in the trees, heard the loud gurgles of the river, and felt proud of her ever-in-progress tracking skills.

True, the wooden bridge was nowhere in sight when they reached the bank, but she wouldn’t be deterred from such an insignificant detail. Brow furrowed, she waved her hands to signal an empty spot.

“There should be a bridge.”

“Where?”

“Right here.
Maybe it was destroyed during the night.”

“Sure.”

He uttered a deep sigh, but his eyes gleamed with fun. Veering toward the high hills, he pressed her to follow the bank while he brought up the rear. They trotted for a while before coming across a different bridge, larger, a shade darker, and with more solid planks.

Then they were back on the vast plain and galloping toward the last place in the Four Kingdoms she wanted to go to.

They rode through the day. A drizzle began to fall in the middle of the afternoon, wetting their coats and dampening her spirits, especially at the thought of spending the night under the rain.

They reached the foot of the high hills by early evening. From up close, the peaks towered over them, and she couldn’t deny the fact that she was looking at a range of mountains.
The Shrouded Mountains.

Shivering from cold despite the heavy coat she wore, blinking to disperse droplets of rain, she heaved a relieved breath as she discerned the outskirts of a town. She silently thanked the Mighty Gods for this stroke of luck when he headed straight for the settlement.

They rode into the town and passed the main gates just as night spread its obscure veil over the countryside. He halted the horses in the middle of what resembled the main street to ask directions.

The two men sitting on a bench and smoking pipes gestured toward the top of the cobbled pathway.

“You’ll find the best inn up there on the other side of the church. It goes by the name of The Roasted Boar. You can’t miss it.”

“Thank you. And what is this town called?”

“Northanger.”

Very fitting for such a dreary place.
They found the tavern at once and left the horses in the stables across the street. Her belly rumbled as the owner gave them the key to their room. Situated on the first floor, the place looked clean and would be warm as soon as flames blazed in the fireplace.