Avalyne Series 02: The Easterling (18 page)

‘
I do care! He has been the only comfort to me during this facade of a marriage. I do not blame you of course, I was the one who decided to be a man that does not love me...no
cannot
love me.’ She bit back, hoping perhaps that he had the words to change her mind but it was the truth.  Year ago, Syanne made peace with this understanding between her and her King but knowing how it had affected Aeron, especially now, made her prod at the subject for the first time in centuries.

Halion turned away because that accusation he could not refute. Not even a little.
‘You know why.’

‘
Yes,’ she nodded, ‘I know that you loved someone else before me and I am sorry that I am not her. I married you because I wanted to leave the ruin of Sanhael and because I
did
love you. I have always loved you but I understood you were bonded before me. I had at least hoped for some semblance of affection but you seem only capable of giving that to our sons.  Aeron and Dare are the only things that have given me comfort these last few years but if they are gone too, then there is nothing else.’

‘
Syanne,’ Halion found his voice. ‘State your terms and I will gladly do whatever you wish to make you happy.’

Queensland
shook her head in sadness, ‘there are no terms you can give me that will make me happy husband. This is as much my fault as it is yours. I should not have married you because all we have done is shown our son that a lifetime of emptiness is worth the love he has for Melia. The damage is already done.’

*****

It was not difficult for Aeron to discern where Melia was going once he set out upon her trail. She was easy to locate because he knew the terrain she was crossing so intimately. He also knew which tracks were hers because the elves travelling across Halas did not leave markers of their presence. They were more than adept at moving through their realm than any other creature and Aeron was schooled in this art well. Although Melia had taken care to ensure her departure from Halion's court was as discreet as possible, not even a watch guard with her skill could remain hidden from the Prince who was determined to find her.

While her tracks were easy enough to read in the woods she
travelled, the reasons for her course was not easy to ascertain. All signs pointed to Melia returning to Tor Iolan, though Aeron for the life of him could not understand why. There was no reason for her to return to the place since it was apparent nothing remained there of her mother nor was there any clue leading to the whereabouts of this mysterious mage who was at the centre of everything. Melia was no fool. She had understood this when they were at Tor Iolan together. Why would she return there when there was clearly nothing to find?

Once again
, Aeron was greatly troubled by the possibility of a mage being involved in this foul business. Melia had revealed that in her vision, she had seen a mage at Tor Iolan in clear alliance with the Disciples. While it was possible that a mage might have cast his lot with Balfure, it made Aeron wondered why a wizard who was in service to the dark lord had not made his emergence during the Shadow of War. Why had he remained silent when his master required him most? And why was he hidden still?

His old friend
would have been able to solve this mystery swiftly but Tamsyn was travelling through Avalyne in search of acolytes and was not seen for some months now. Unfortunately, Aeron sighed as he continued his pursuit of Melia, he would have to solve this riddle himself. Without Tamsyn, it became apparent to Aeron that Melia was the key to everything, though he was uncertain how she could be used to unlock the mystery.

Aeron considered Melia’s dreams. She believed without doubt that her mother lived. What if the dreams were Ninuie’s way of communicating with her daughter, drawing her across Avalyne to the Yantra? Melia’s dreams in Tor Iolan had been violent. He remembered the blood that had exuded from her nose during the experience.
Something more than dreams had touched her mind, Perhaps Melia’s human self was only able cope with such communication through the nightmares she experienced.  Furthermore, it was only at Tor Iolan that the dreams became clear enough for her to see the Mage and the discovery the River daughters were abducted by the Disciples.

By the
Creator!

Why she was returning
Tor Iolan came so suddenly upon him that it felt like a sharp blow.

With that one discovery, the urgency in reaching that desolate place became an imperative and
Aeron drove his horse hard to reach Melia quickly. He had no idea whether or not what she was attempting to do could kill her but he had seen its effects when she dreamed and knew that there was every possibility it could if he was not there to wake her. Melia was stubborn and determined enough to try so dangerous a method to learn her mother's fate at Tor Iolan, particularly since she had no other place to turn for the information.

Aeron
cursed his foolishness as he forced his animal through the woods, trying to maintain a devastating pace he knew would not keep for too long. Melia was hours ahead of him and she was no fool. She knew how to maintain a brisk pace during travel and quite possibly, suspected that he might be in the mind to follow her. The Prince of Eden Halas wondered how a woman he loved with such untold abandon could be the cause of so much exasperation.

Not even the
even the Celestial Gods had wisdom enough to answer that question.

This thing she intended to do was pure insanity. She knew that.

And yet here she was, standing before Tor Iolan, with a descending blanket of darkness behind it, preparing to face evil the likes of which she had only ever seen when confronting Syphia in Sanhael. Alone. More than anything, Melia wished Aeron was here with her. Despite everything she feared about their relationship, Aeron's ability to give her strength when she needed it most was undeniable now that she had arrived at her destination.

When he brought her here after the spawn of the Mother Tree had
injured her, Melia was kept inside the ruined keep and thus saw little of it during her brief convalescence. When they left, it had been at dawn and sunrise had the uncanny ability to blunt the foreboding look of any place in the light. However, now that she had only the moon for company as she approached the place in near pitch black darkness, Tor Iolan felt utterly sinister. Melia shuddered as she nudged her horse ahead, imagining all the tortures that had taken place here during the Occupation.

When she finally dismounted,
Melia took no chances as she crossed the piles of stones that made up the fortress walls with her crossbow in hand. She wished she had Aeron’s dagger with her but she had left that in Eden Halas, along with the broken remains of his heart.  Still, the suggestion was a good one and even though she was not terribly good with a blade, she knew enough to defend herself with one if necessary.

The
design of Avalyne blades tended to be broad swords for their knights, far too unwieldy for women to handle with any effectiveness. However, she had seen Celene's sword and knew that the Lady of Gislaine carried a sword crafted by dwarf weapon masters that was lighter and easier to handle. She told herself that if she survive this, she would have to see about acquiring one herself.

When she was last here with Aeron,
there had been no opportunity to explore the rest of the fortress because Aeron had insisted upon her recovering from her injuries. However now that she was here alone, it did not require any earlier reconnaissance for her navigate the place. She knew where she was going and the rule of castle building always ensured that dungeons were located in the lowest part of the keep. It was no different here as she saw the stone steps that led into the ground.

As she descended into the u
nderground dungeons, Melia was suddenly overcome with a sense of mind numbing terror that did not feel natural to her at all as she felt the rough, stone walls around her. The feeling of it was so intense that she considered running away from this place and back into the comfort of Aeron’s arms. Thinking of him lessened the fear somewhat and she fixed her mind on what had passed between them during their time in Eden Halas to diffuse her fears as she continued down into the dungeons.

Above her, the moon was
waning and disappeared entirely when she entered the passage. Unable to ignore the darkness, she grasped at the walls until she found a torch perched against the rock. Removing it, she took a moment to light it and let out a sight of relief when the radiance of fire flooded the tunnel. Continuing forward once more, she returned her mind to Aeron and a fresh surge of pain ran through her that was far more effective a distraction than any other method she possessed at present.

The pain had
begun the moment she slipped out of his arms that morning and started riding towards Tor Iolan. She was unsurprised that no one made any effort to stop her departure. They too probably thought it was for the best, Melia thought. Only Syannon confessed some sadness at seeing her go when she encountered the older Prince at the stables. It was easy to see that he was so close to his brother because he confessed that he had never seen Aeron as happy as when he was in her company. However, like Halion, Syannon knew the reality of their situation and made no effort to make a case against her leaving.

Melia had hoped the yearning for
Aeron would diminish when she put some distance between them but it was still too fresh. Two days after leaving Eden Halas, the need for him was still as acute as when she left the bedchamber they shared together. Melia bore the pain stoically, reminding herself that this was the price she agreed to pay by leaving him. Over the next two days of her journey, her mind kept wandering and when it did, it almost always found its way to the Prince.

Until she left him, Melia did
not realise you could cut out a heart without needing a knife.

*****
*

Reaching the dungeon floor, not even
thoughts of Aeron could assuage the cold naked fear she felt as she found herself surrounded by the cells where so many atrocities were committed.

The
cruelty bled into the walls, stained the brick with malice and anguish. She was reminded that Balfure himself had once walked this very floor and his evil was drawn into the earth like poison into healthy skin. No amount of time would ever cleanse this place fully; despite the elves' best efforts otherwise. It would always be a scar of darkness reminding all comers what evil once preyed upon the world.

Yet as she walked ahead, it was not merely determination to learn the truth that compelled her
forward—something was calling to her, daring her to defy the riddle in the darkness. She felt invisible threads tugging at her limbs, forcing her feet forward when her courage threatened to falter. Something wanted her down here.  It took a moment for her to realise it was not a person or some beast in the dark. It was a cell and even without understanding how she knew, Melia was certain it was where Ninuie had been held prisoner.

Whatever I am to find here
, she told herself.
I must surrender to it.

Whatever the consequences, she was ready to accept it. If death was the result, Melia knew she had no regrets. She lived a life of freed
om most women would never know. Her destiny had been hers to choose and there was love too, a great love during that one night with her Prince. She only hoped that if the worst came to pass, he would understand why she had done this. Outstretching her fingers, Melia wrapped her hand around the bars of the cell and let what had to be, happen.

Its effect upon her w
as nothing like her dream and the searing pain that filled her mind upon contact forced a scream from her without Melia even realising it had left her lips. It tore through the night and if anything stirred in the wood around Tor Iolan, it certainly did not care. Melia had been right about one thing when she embarked upon this course and that was that she was alone.

Utterly and truly alone.

******

There was no weeping.
Just screaming.

Loud, anguished wails of pain and torture, tearing the night apart like the angry cry of a soul being ripped apart, a piece at a time. Its sound was like music to those who ruled the fortress of
Tor Iolan and those not shrouded in darkness but was forced to endure the scream could only shudder in fear as they heard its assault upon their ears.

T
he Disciple Kalabis watched the Mage use his magic for a purpose it was never intended to be employed. Kalabis knew that he was a very different creature to the two beings presently in the cell he was observing. Both were creations of the Celestial Gods, the serafs who were called Mages in Avalyne and the sprites or River Daughters as they were most commonly known. There were rumours that Balfure began his existence as a seraf to the dark lord Mael while the Disciplines themselves were the lesser children of Syphia.

The
Sprite was chained to the wall, far from the source of her strength. Their power was derived to the particular Celestial they served and this one was bound to Dalcine who held mastery over all the waters of Avalyne.  Once she was taken from its presence,  she was weak and susceptible to manipulation. She and her sisters were systematically hunted and enslaved before being returned here in secret. The capture of the River Daughters was a task almost as laborious as the continuing search for the Exiled King but it was what Balfure wanted.

The
Mage clearly did not have the stomach for what needed to be done which was why the Disciple was required to supervise his work constantly, to ensure the transmogrification continued despite his weakness. On this occasion, the Disciples’ presence was needed to ensure the Mage did not falter in the execution of the intricate spell that was presently making the sprites scream with such agony.

Kalabis
smiled beneath its hood in what it could almost consider pleasure at the Mage's attempt to hide his anguish. Kalabis had selected this Sprite as the first subject to endure the spell because she was the Mage's favourite. The Mage had protested bitterly but upon realizing that he never a choice in the matter, grimly obeyed without further protest.

The spell was sending waves upon waves of power through the room and even
Balfure's servant was impressed by how powerful the Mage could be when properly motivated. If the wizard wanted, it was possible for him to leave Tor Iolan and no Disciple would be able to stop him. Yet his fear of Balfure was too strong and even if the Shadow Lord was far from these walls, the potency of Balfure's power could be felt most overtly.

Even as she screamed fiercely,
the Sprite’s struggles showed signs of wanning. Her flesh was boiling under her skin. It bubbled like the dark sludge of a marsh bog and lifted muscle and sinew from her bones as the spell's purpose began to shape her body. The chains held her in place but in her current state of agony Kalabis doubted she was strong enough to stand, let alone break through them.

There was no turning back once the spell began

******

Carleon
was in open revolt.

The exiled
King was no longer hiding from them. He had come forth at last and the whole of Carleon was rallying behind the last son of House Icara.  Kalabis was immediately recalled to the Iron Citadel for orders on how to regain their power over the kingdom.   In the meantime, the work that had continued steadily for so many years was disrupted and the Mage was for the first time, left to his own devices in Tor Iolan.

T
he spell he devised to create something beautiful and should have been his crowning achievement, had now become the bane of his existence. He was trapped almost as helplessly as the unfortunate souls he corrupted to make his scheme possible. Things were moving far too swiftly for his liking and he feared that if Balfure could not regain control of Carleon, the Shadow Lord may return to Tor Iolan to retrieve his creations, to use them against the armies of the War Dragon.

It was not the
Mage's desire to create a soldier but to fashion a form of life possessing the singular beauty of the elves and the fiery passion of men. He wanted to create a new race that was capable of beauty and endurance and in his determination, never considered once how that work could be twisted into something so terrible that neither race would be able to withstand its assault. After the Disciples overseeing his work departed Tor Iolan at Balfure's call, the Mage found himself contemplating what came next.

The
Mage stood within the cell of his favourite, favourite because she had been so strong while at the same time because of all the others, she was the one who wept more bitterly at her incarceration. He knew only her name and the possibility of a husband and child because during her torture, she would utter unfamiliar names that were not of her sisters. Within the cocoon of flesh she remained encased, only a faint outline of her body could be seen through the viscous shell.

What was once
beauty personified was now a horrific parody of life.

There was only
one chance to end this before the nightmare became any worse than it already was and he took it. There was only so much time before she and the others like her emerged from the pods in which they were transforming. The Berserkers who remained here in place of the Disciples were of little threat to him. He could take his creations and disappear.

Avalyne
was on the brink of war. It was entirely possible that Balfure would be too busy defending his territory to bother with one mage and the twisted fruit of his misguided dreams. The Mage would take them far away from Tor Iolan and hide in the belly of the earth, perhaps in Gahara Plateau and be forgotten. Perhaps with enough time, he could undo what he had done to them. He could save them.

He did not know if this hope was any more misguided than the one that had led him to this place but he knew he had to try. He had to do it before they
emerged from their cocoons.

Before they woke up.

******

Scrape.

Scrape.

Scrape.

The sound filled the world almost as completely as the overwhelming darkness. The darkness was the world, its sides pressed against her, wet sliminess against her skin. She pushed against it but it would not yield. It was like being trapped in amber hardened around her. She could move inside its hollow innards but she could not escape it. Her nails scratched at the membrane but it would not tear, it simply stretched taunting her with the possibility of rupture. Fluid filled her ears, oozing into her terrified mind. She took a breath and it only followed the path into her lungs, making her cough. She opened her mouth and it flowed down her throat, blocking her scream.