THE GUARDIANS OF LIGHT: BOOK 3
Amazon.com Amazon.ca Amazon.uk
Epic Fantasy, Novel
Gryphon’s Gate Publishing, October 2017
She’ll fight for his very soul.
Davar is the son of The Blacklord, a man of pure evil. He’s never questioned the wishes of his father, never even thought to go against the most powerful man in the world. He thought he was irredeemable… until he met Cass. There is something about the pure-hearted woman, and the way she sees the world and him, which eats away at him. He doesn’t want to change… or does he?
Cassine has lived a simple life, if a hidden one. She wishes only to help others, to cure the sick and wounded. As a healer for the armies that oppose The Blacklord, she’s had plenty of opportunity to do so. This duty has always come first in her life and she’s never had the time or desire to be with a man. But when she finds herself stranded with Davar—the enemy—she sees an opportunity to do the impossible and help him see the light within him… and to love a man who’s known only hate.
PROLOGUE
Master Elia rushed to the High Abbot’s chambers. She wasn’t pleased at having been summoned, not when she was needed out on the walls.
Outside and all around St. Antin Abbey the Blacklord’s army pressed their offensive, attacking yet again, throwing ever more of their seemingly innumerable men against the fifty-foot walls and battle-ready monks of Embreth. The monks were far better trained and for every monk that fell in battle, twenty to fifty of the enemy fell. Still, Elia feared it wouldn’t be enough. There were far more of the enemy than her monks.
Two factors helped to level the playing field. The first were the sisters of Ehlani, healers who could bring a monk back from the brink of death. The second and far more influential in this fight, were the two scions who battled to defend St. Antin.
Senia and Wyllea were a blessing. Two Guardians of Aehryn in an age when all were thought to be lost. Long ago The Greatest of the Gods, Aehryn of All Things, had given of herself, dying in order to bless certain people with powerful magic weapons. These special few and their descendants, or scions, became the Guardians of Aehryn. One scion was worth a hundred monks, if not more. The two women were both fierce warriors and an inspiration to her monks. She thanked Embreth for those scions every night. More recently, the armies of the west had also arrived to help. But since they were unable to fit within the confines of the abbey. They were camped in the mountains to the west. As of yet they had only sent out a few parties to skirmish with the enemy — as it was difficult to find any good battleground in the forested hills. These armies could be a great boon if they could somehow manage to coordinate their efforts.
Elia stopped before the High Abbot’s door and pounded on the door.
Impatient and frustrated that she’d been taken away from helping those she’d trained and raised — her monks, her people — she tried to put on a pleasant face. She could be civil, if she wanted to be. She should be fighting, but when the High Abbot called, she obeyed. Besides, the high abbot was never disturbed or distressed, always serene. So she knew her agitation would serve her little in this meeting.
A quiet attendant ushered her into the sitting room of the High Abbot’s modest suite. The room was large for private quarters, but when compared to many other rooms in the massive abbey it was still quite small. To Elia’s left stood a long table with several simple wooden chairs around it. The tabletop was set with maps and papers, the defense of St. Antin. Beyond the table was a wall with a single door, which led to the sleeping chambers of the High Abbot. On the wall to her right and continuing around to the wall behind her were floor to ceiling bookshelves, filled with the High Abbot’s private collection of tomes and scrolls. Before her was a large sitting area defined by a large, thick rug in front of the great hearth, which roared with a new fire. Four comfortable, well-cushioned high back chairs had been set out. Two of those chairs were occupied, one by the High Abbot herself, the other by High Sister Olinda, the ranking member of the Daughters of Ehlani in the Abbey. This made Master Elia even more curious.
She took a seat and glanced at the fourth chair, a further curiosity. Was someone else expected?
“High Abbot, if I may ask, are we waiting on another?” Elia asked, all formal courtesy despite the urgency within her to be back out on the walls in the fight.
The High Abbot of Embreth was a woman only slightly older than Elia herself, but of a much more pleasant look and demeanor. Where Elia knew she was short and harsh — all sharp angles and steel-gray hair with a steely attitude to match — Ullanine, the high abbot, nearly always wore a smile, which was amplified by an inner light in her sky blue eyes. She was tall and regal, and her blond hair was fading to a stark, pure, white. If Elia had cared about such things, she might have been just the tiniest bit jealous. Luckily, she didn’t care. Ullanine was wise and knowledgeable and the right choice for the High Abbot.
Ullanine’s smile broadened for just a moment. “Yes. I could say it’s a surprise and keep you in suspense, Embreth is the keepers of secrets after all, but I won’t. We await a young woman. Her name is Ragnalla of Scandia. I’m told, in their tongue, the name means ‘wise counsel.’ I’m hoping she will prove her name to be accurate tonight.”
Elia didn’t ask why three of the wisest and strongest women in their fields would need some young thing to counsel them, but she was curious. She was also curious why the scions weren’t present for this meeting. The two women, even though Wyllea was still fairly new, were the center of everything done here in the Abbey.
She stayed her questions with effort, trying to remain somewhat composed. As much as she respected Ullanine’s leadership, the woman’s perpetual calm grated on Elia, especially now. They were at war. People were dying on the walls and still Ullanine seemed unaffected, serene. Elia was a woman formed in harsh times, in a harsh place, a woman of war and action. She’d asked the High Abbot once why she was always so peaceful and soft-spoken. Ullanine’s answer had been simple: as the High Abbot, it was her job to show her faith in Embreth, to display the tranquility which comes with knowing the deeper secrets of the world, the peace of knowing all would work out, given time.
Elia wasn’t so sure she believed things would work out. So she tried to contain her aggravation and concern and relax but found it impossible. She needed to be moving, fighting, not sitting.
She glanced over at High Sister Olinda of the Sisters of Ehlani. She was younger than Elia or Ullanine, but not by much. Her hair, once soft brown waves, was now a cascade of salt and pepper framing an oval face with dark brown eyes. The woman had a sort of hawkish look with a prominent, curved nose and intense gaze. She caught Elia’s look and nodded solemnly. Elia nodded back and looked away into the fire, wondering how long they would have to wait.
It wasn’t long.
A knock on the door heralded the arrival of young Ragnalla, ushered in by an attendant who then promptly left, closing the door behind her.
When the young woman stepped tentatively into the light shed by the fire, Elia wondered even more at her presence. She was very young, perhaps fifteen, looking rather abashed and uncertain. She was a waif of a girl, too thin — as some girls of that age were — with long red-blond hair reaching to her thighs. The hair was pulled back from her face and braided in the Scandian style. Her face was plain, eyes brown, mouth small, nose straight. She wore a long simple dress that brushed the floor, hiding legs and feet. Not practical for fighting, but Elia suspected the girl did little of that.
She gave a fleeting smile and curtseyed. Once her hands had dropped from holding her skirt she reached for her long braid and began playing with it. It seemed a habitual action, unconscious, comforting.
“Thank you for coming, my dear,” Ullanine said, her voice soft and calm. “Please have a seat.” She motioned to the empty chair.
The girl sat in the chair, which seemed oversized for her. She even tucked her legs up beside her as some children did in chairs too large for them. She continued to fiddle with her braid.
Ullanine spoke, “Ragnalla has a gift. When we sought aid from the Kingdoms of the West, the Scandians were one of the first to pledge their support. When their armies marched, they brought Ragnalla with them. She does not fight, does not cook, but she has a place of honor in their ranks. She is seen as a good omen, partly because she has visions which help the army plan and prepare for the future.”
Now Elia was intrigued. The True Sight was a rare and powerful gift.
Ullanine’s gaze met Elia’s, stern and yet hopeful. It was clear the girls gift was no trifle. “When I learned of this, I went to see the girl myself. I was skeptical of her abilities. She told me our scion would be captured. I did not think this possible given Senia’s abilities and yet that came to pass. She told me we would hold within our walls at once a darkness and a great hope. I did not know what this meant, but with the arrival of Wyllea and the Blacklord’s son I can see how Wyllea could be seen as a great hope for our future and the man as a great darkness. So I came to trust her abilities.”
Ullanine reached across to grasp one of Ragnalla’s small hands. “And now she’s had another vision, but this one is different than any before. I brought her here tonight to share with you what she has seen.” She turned to the girl, “Please tell us.”
Ragnalla’s voice was soft and hard to hear when she spoke, but with each word she gained a little confidence, enough that Elia could hear her at least. Her Scandian accent was also thick, making it harder to understand her, but Elia listened keenly so as not to miss anything. “There is a dark tide which washes against a great rock. A great light shines from the rock and will overwhelm the dark tide. Yet the ocean from which the tide came is vast and deep and at its core is a pure darkness.” The girl gave an involuntary shiver before continuing. “The tide will be defeated, that is known, but after that, there are two possible futures.”
Ullanine interrupted. “And that’s why this vision is unlike any other. Usually, there’s one clear path, but here there are two, both clear, and which will come to pass is unknown.” The High Abbot’s gaze was intense as it came to Elia, then passed to Olinda. Elia could sense the gravity which hung heavy over this moment. “Go on, youngling.”
Ragnalla nodded. “The first of these futures is dark. The ocean is vast and deep and black and in time will swell to flood all the lands. There will be no second “dark tide,” just a steady rising of water which will quench all light, covering all lands.”
Well Elia certainly didn’t like the sound of that. Would their fighting be for naught? Would their scions fail under the sheer power of the Blacklord? It wasn’t something she wished to ponder.
“The other future is a path into the light. There are six bright fish.” Ragnalla grimaced. “No, that is not right. There are five bright fish and one dark fish with only speckles of light.” She stopped, shaking her head. “I am sorry, it is very hard to find the words in your language for the things I see.”
“It is well, Ragnalla, we understand,” Ullanine said, patting Ragnalla’s hand. “Take your time.”
Ragnalla nodded, taking a moment to steady herself. “There are six who must go into the heart of the ocean,” she said with confidence. “Perhaps given time I can give you more details, but I know this: one who must go is of blue-fire, one is of green winds, and one is of gold and contains all the base elements. The darker one is also of all the base elements.” She pressed her lips together in concentration for a moment, then shook her head. “That is all I have for now. These few and only these few must go to the depths of the black ocean, to the core. Some may not survive, but they are the only ones who have any chance to dispel the heart of the darkness. If they can do this, the dark ocean will recede from all lands and light shall prevail once more.” Ragnalla’s eyes gazed upon some distant sight none of the rest of them could see. Her hands had, for that brief moment, stopped playing with her braid. Then she blinked and was returned to them.
The only sound in the room was the crackle and hiss of the fire.
So there was hope. Despite the death and strife that plagued them continuously these days, perhaps there would be an end to the Blacklord within her lifetime. Elia grimaced. Did Ullanine already know such things? Was that how she managed to remain calm through it all? Yet even this sense of hope was clouded by knowing there was another equally as possible future which was far worse.
Ullanine spoke breaking the short silence. “Thank you Ragnalla, we appreciate your strength in helping us see your visions as you do. You may go now, youngling.”
Ragnalla unfolded herself from the chair and with a quick bow of her head to the three older women, scurried from the room.
Elia shook her head. “Amazing.” The single word seemed to hang in the air.
Ullanine looked into the fire, her hands folded in her lap, her gaze intense. “Truly,” the High Abbot said, taking another long moment to ponder the flames before turning back to Elia and Olinda. “Now to our task. We must ensure that this second future comes to pass.” For the first time, Elia heard an urgency in the High Abbot’s voice, a break in the ever-present serenity. If she hadn’t been looking for it she might not have noticed the way one hand in the High Abbott’s lap grasped the other intently.
“It would seem a daunting task. How are we to know who to send?” Elia asked, starting to get curious at High Sister Olinda’s silence. Unlike the other two, Elia had to move. She rose and strode toward the fire. Once there she turned to face the other two again.
Ullanine said with assurance, “I think we all know who the ‘blue-fire’ is.”
“Senia, yes. And the ‘green wind’ must be Wyllea, but who is the one of all elements. I haven’t heard of such a multi-talent in generations.” Elia shrugged.
“That is why I am here,” Olinda said finally. The High Sister was a little too still in her chair, arms folded in her lap. It was a tranquility that came from effort, keeping oneself still.
“Oh?” Elia asked, seeing a look pass between Ullanine and Olinda. They knew something she didn’t.
“One of my daughters is such a talent.”
Elia knew that to be a healer of any great effect one needed the earth talent which was connected to the body. As such, most Daughters of Ehlani were earth talents to some degree. Even minor earth talents could heal most wounds. Yet someone with all elements, able to heal body, mind, soul, and spirit would be a very rare talent indeed. Elia could understand why the High Sister might want to keep this a secret.
“Her name is Cassine,” Olinda said, voice measured. “And her eyes, in the right light might be said to shine like gold. The High Abbot believes Cassine is the third member of this party.”
“Very well then,” Elia said, “but that still leaves three members unknown, one being a ‘dark one’ whatever that means. How shall we know these people?” She began to pace, a short stretch back and forth in front of the fire, the heat from the hearth stimulating her into action.
Ullanine drew in a long breath. “I have been thinking about this. It is only a guess, though it feels right. But if Senia were going on any journey, who do you think would be next to her no matter what we said to him?”
Elia grimaced. “Ahrn.” She nodded. Ahrn was Senia’s lover and bonded mate. He was named for the Vanished God, Aehryn of All Things, who once ruled the heavens. “You’re right. Most likely he will be one of those going. He would never let Senia go alone, even if it meant his death.”
“Which it may,” Olinda said with a sigh. “You heard what the girl said, not all of them may survive.” She shook her head. “I’ve already brought that boy back from death’s door once.”
“For which he and I, and Senia are eternally grateful, High Sister,” Elia said.
“Also,” Ullanine went on, “if we follow that formula, then it would seem that Wyllea’s man might also be another of those to go.”
Elia arched a brow. “I don’t see him being much help. He’s only just starting his training. He has a long way to go before he’d be ready for such a quest.”
“Yet from what I hear, he and Wyllea would die for each other as well and are not likely to go anywhere without the other.”
Elia had to agree. “True.”
“This leaves only the dark one,” Olinda said.
“Yes, he or she is the mystery.” Ullanine’s gaze turned to the fire.
Elia had a thought. “Though if we follow the pattern, then it would be the man who loves your multi-talent,” Elia said to Olinda.
“Cassine?” Olinda seemed surprised. “She has no man in her life. She is a devoted and dedicated Daughter of Ehlani and as far as I know she’s never even known the touch of a man.”
Elia grimaced. That hope had died quickly.
“And so,” Ullanine said, “the question remains, who is this dark one?”
Elia stopped her pacing. “Who indeed?”
Chapter 1
Cassine’s hope of escape vanished. She yelled for help, but her voice was drowned out amidst the din of combat and the screams of the dying all around her. The Blacklord’s armies swelled around the keep in yet another night raid. She couldn’t be heard and she wouldn’t be seen. A magical darkness shrouded her and her captor, the Blacklord’s son, as he made his way across the bailey of St. Antin Abbey toward the outer wall.
He’d captured her only moments before as she’d tended to him in the dungeons of the Abbey. He’d snapped the chains attaching him to the wall as if they’d been strings. He still wore the magical manacles that kept him from accessing his Scion-Weapon and its magic, but he was a strong multi-talent on top of his scion abilities. No one had suspected this. Only she knew. Being a multi-talent herself, she was one of the few who could see the magic within him.
He held her close in front of him. He only needed one arm, great muscles pressing against her like a vice, wrapped around her ribcage just below her breasts. His other hand, kept close by the manacles, rested on her hip. Her feet didn’t even touch the ground. Her arms were pinned, yet she could kick and thrash her head, but this seemed to affect him little.
Her heart thundered in her chest, blood boiling with an intense desire to be free of this man. But she wasn’t scared, not yet. If she could find a way to escape while still within the confines of St. Antin she doubted he’d come back for her. She wasn’t that important a person.
Physically she wasn’t strong, but her talent with earth magic was significant and that affected the body. She stopped moving for a moment as she pumped everything she had into strengthening herself. Then she pushed away from him with all her earth-talent enhanced strength. With any normal man she would have easily pried her way out of his grip, but this was no normal man. His arm around her flexed as she tried to escape and she succeeded only in freeing one arm before he yanked her back, tight to him. His earth talent was amazing! A moment later he’d caught her free arm and was pinning it to her side once again.
“You are a feisty one aren’t you?” A deep baritone rumbled from within him.
Her stomach clenched in panic, blood pounding in her ears. She was losing time, but she had so much more at her disposal than just her earth-talent.
Unable to see through the darkness around her, Cassine sent out her life-sense. There were many others around, dashing through the bailey or lying too still as their life-essence faded. Yet she found it hard to sense those nearby as her life-sense was half-blinded by her captor’s brilliant bloom of life energy. No wonder he’d been able to overpower her earth-talent enhanced strength. He was a potent individual, powerful in many respects, physically for sure, but the pure power of spirit within him was like a beacon in the night. This shook her to her core and nearly overwhelmed her. She doubted any of her magic would affect him. He was simply far too powerful.
Her strongest talent was with water and soul magic, but there was little that could do to him, except dishearten him perhaps. She tried to push at his soul, making him doubt himself, uncertain. Yet she found his soul to be an inky, oily place which disgusted her.
He hesitated for just a moment, her effects on him clear, but his determination to escape was too strong and he was moving again a moment later.
Her thoughts danced, frantic. Her heart raced, trapped in her chest like she was trapped in this man’s arms. His pure life energy would give him away in an instant to any who were looking for it, but no one else here, even either of the scions, could see life as she could. Cassine’s life-sense was an ability of water and soul. It was enhanced by her link to fire and spirit as well as to earth and the physical body, but she doubted anyone else could see things the same way. If Senia was nearby she might become aware of this man’s spirit, which was incredibly strong, but Senia was likely out beyond the walls fighting, and it might be too late by the time she caught up with them.
Cassine’s terror bloomed into a black cloud of doubt and fear. She now felt what she’d been trying to make him feel. How could she ever hope to escape this man?
“Please,” she tried one last time. “Don’t do this. I know there’s good in you.” She had seen it. His soul might have been a twisted, dark thing, but mixed into the warped wounds was more than one strand of empathy, of kindness. They might not be large, nor many, but they were there.
“There is no good in me,” he growled, his voice a low, deep and husky.
“Perhaps you can’t see it, but I can.”
He tightened his grip on her, his free hand moving up to grasp her throat, choking her. “Speak of this again and you’ll know how evil I am.”
Despite his words, he released her neck. He could have killed her, yet he hadn’t.
He crouched and leapt. They were close to the walls. The life-essences of those in the bailey stopped abruptly. She felt the rush of warm wind on her face, tousling her long hair.
His leap took them well above the fifty-foot walls, the life essences of those on the wall sinking farther and farther below them.
She’d hoped he wouldn’t take her this far, that he’d discard her before this, but he hadn’t. She had to do something quickly or she’d be neck deep in the Blacklord’s armies. He alone was bad enough, but there were other mages serving the Blacklord as well and she’d have little hope once she was in amidst all of that magic. She trembled, yet still some core of strength within her sought for a way out, something to save her.
She couldn’t affect him, so she needed to do something else, but what?
There was one thing.
She’d only ever done it once before and that had been by accident nearly twenty years ago as a child.
Yet she knew it was possible and she remembered how it had felt, the memory ingrained into her being. It took all elements and a great deal of power. She had no idea if it would work, but it was her only hope, the only magic she could think of to free herself. Desperation pushed her. She had to try, even if she had no clue what would happen. She knew only if she stayed with this man she couldn’t imagine a worse fate.
She tried to calm herself as he began his descent, gathering her energies. First, she drew upon water, her most significant talent. She felt her own blood, the liquid life within her as well as the aura that was her soul. These were like her hands or face, so well known to her as to be taken for granted. Then she gathered her strength in earth, her second strongest talent, the ability to heal, which had gotten her into the Daughters of Ehlani. She used the knowledge of the body to strengthen her muscles and harden herself for what was to come. Next was fire and spirit, closer to soul than mind, but still not a strong element for her. She reached out with her spirit to a distant place, sensing the world around her, knowing the feel of all things, as spirit was the element that created and connected all things. Finally air, her weakest element and connected to the mind. She calmed her thoughts, ready now for the extreme effort she needed to push herself out of her own being, taking mind, body, soul and spirit with her to another place in an instant.
The only problem was, she couldn’t control where she went.
She felt the tearing of the fabric of reality as she pushed herself to some other, distant place. Her body would have been torn apart if not for the earth magic she’d pushed into it. There was disorientation and pain. It was incredibly intense, but only for an instant. There was a cry, from whom, she didn’t know, she was a being of magic at the moment and the needs and sensations of her body were distant. She floated free, detached, in all places at once and none. The sensation lasted a mere heartbeat and yet stretched for an eternity, one breath drawn out for what seemed like hours.
She landed, feeling solid earth under her feet. She’d done it. Her soul elated, celebrated. She was free!
Snapping out of the trance she’d needed to teleport herself, she came to her senses despite her entire being: body, soul, mind, and spirit, feeling drained and weak.
Instantly she realized something had gone wrong.
When she’d done this as a child, she’d been alone. This time, she hadn’t been, and somehow she’d taken her captor with her.
By all the Gods, no!
Yet even as her heart sank, his grip loosened and released. He fell to the ground behind her with a heavy thud. She wanted to run away, to cry out with joy, but with her own weakness she couldn’t do anything but collapse to her knees. She sat there for a moment, still trying desperately to get up, away from this place and that man.
There was no strength in her however. She doubled over onto her hands.
Perhaps she could crawl.
Instead, she found herself taking several long, deep breaths to keep from blacking out. It wasn’t enough. She sank to the ground as everything slowly went dark.
For a moment, her mind still functioned before unconsciousness took her. One thought circled in her mind: she lay in some unknown place with her captor still close by. The Gods must hate her.