Dark Fate: The Gathering (The Dark Fate Chronicles Book 1) (73 page)

Power flowed into her, filling her mind and washing away her exhaustion. Sacha came to her feet, clutching Rylan in her arms. “You will not take my child!” she roared.

The Shamonrae bent to her will. It was easy. It was natural. It was glorious. Power flowed from her in a wave, and two of the handmaidens erupted into flames. They shrieked as they collapsed, but Sacha had moved on. Hurricane flows of the power crashed into the soldiers and remaining women, throwing them like ragdolls into the walls.

The pale creature arched his brow in surprise as his minions died around him. It walked unhurriedly toward her.

Sacha screamed with rage. Torrents of blazing energy erupted in a fan around her. This
thing
would not take her child. Gathering all of her power, all of her emotion, she released her fury at the monster.

A bolt of lightning, the thickness of a winewood sapling, struck the pale man directly in the chest. The creature flew backward across the room and slammed into the stone wall with such force that cracks spread from his point of impact and loose stones fell to the floor. The creature slid from the wall to land motionless amongst the rubble.

Sacha’s vision blurred and she fell to her knees.
Not again!
This time, the thought was not for the child, but for losing the Shamonrae in fury. She writhed in the throes of the nausea and pain that wracked her, but she knew it would pass. She reached for Rylan with a trembling hand.

Rylan cried out and lay down beside her, wrapping her little arms around Sacha’s neck.

Sacha tried to speak but she could not. Every inch of her body ached and she fought to stay conscious. If they were to escape, she had to stay awake.
At least
, she thought,
I killed it
. She managed to lift her head from the stone floor enough to peer across the cavern.

It was gone.

The dread she had fought off earlier came crashing back. Her stomach rolled with nausea and she pushed Rylan aside before emptying her insides on the floor. Surely it had to be dead. Sacha scrubbed at her eyes with the back of one hand and cast about desperately for the thing’s corpse.

“Perhaps it is time I introduced myself,” the smooth voice of the pale creature echoed, directionless, from the walls of the cavern. “I am Vinnicus, your new master.”

Sacha’s insides twisted again and she would have wept at hearing the voice if not for Rylan. She had to remain strong. Rylan clutched at her and whimpered quietly. Sacha struggled to a sitting position and drew the girl to her breast while scanning the cave for the thing that had named itself Vinnicus.

A shadow beyond one of the beams of light that filtered down from the ceiling resolved itself into the tall, cloaked form. When it stepped into the light, she could see that the black robes were tattered, and the body trailed tendrils of smoke.

Sacha thrust Rylan behind her back. “I will not let you take my child.”

Vinnicus stopped just in front of Sacha. “You have no say in the matter.” His clawed hand reached down and wrapped around her throat.

His grip was cold and hard as iron. The pale fingers dug into her flesh as he lifted her until her toes just barely made contact with the floor. Rylan wailed and reached for her as she was lifted. The stare from those lifeless black eyes would stay in Sacha’s nightmares forever.

“Nothing in this world can protect your daughter from me. Least of all you.”

She attempted to shake her head, but she knew its words to be true. By all rights, he should be dead. The amount of power she had unleashed on him was more than she had ever wielded. Teacher, who was far and away her superior, still stood slack-jawed after his utter defeat at Vinnicus’s hands. Her body sagged as the last bits of strength fled her. “Forgive me, Rylan,” she sobbed. “I have failed you.”

“Not true,” Vinnicus said. He released her, and she crumpled in front of Rylan. The pale man stepped away and examined the remains of his underlings. “You have only just begun to save your daughter. Have more faith in yourself.” He knelt over one of the women Sacha had not burnt to cinders. At a touch of his long-fingered hand, the woman was revived, and she stumbled to her feet. “Your actions during the coming days will be what brings your daughter closer to salvation.” The green-clad woman turned to face Vinnicus, waiting for instruction. “Your
actions
, not you. Do as I bid and the two of you will find freedom.”

Her father’s stern face haunted Sacha’s memory as Vinnicus spoke.

Vinnicus’s handmaiden, responding to an unspoken command, turned to move in Sacha’s direction. He followed the woman closely. The whisking of her skirts and the soft clapping of her feet upon the stone could be heard as she approached. Vinnicus, however, moved like a wraith. If the cavern had been plunged into darkness, only his voice would have indicated he was here at all. “We must prepare for those who will arrive soon,” he said as his gaze took in the bodies that littered the chamber. “I am certain you would agree this is no place for a child.”

Sacha let out a soul-rending cry as Rylan was ripped away from her by the impassive hands of Vinnicus’s thrall. Sacha watched powerlessly as her crying daughter was carried away. Rylan’s pained sobs redoubled Sacha’s heartache as they echoed from the passage and grew fainter.

Vinnicus knelt before her once more. “Do not despair, child.” His strong hands slid beneath Sacha’s arms and he lifted her from the ground as he stood. “You are about to become heir to the Basinian throne.”

S
LOANE
stood on one of the summoning balconies looking to the East, toward her former home. The cascading falls in their great horseshoe reflected the deep oranges and magentas from the slowly sinking sun behind her. The heights of the great aviary provided the sanctuary she initially believed to be lost to her when she left the Acklune behind.

Sloane found it amazing, the dread with which she had approached her life here. All the nights worrying about the people, the things she was leaving behind, and most of all, the man—she shook her head. Instead of her fears, she had found paradise and a man she was happy to spend the rest of her life with. She had everything she could have asked for. Everything except her sister.

Now that the wedding day had passed, Sloane had little to occupy her time aside from planning the hunt. Alexander was increasingly absorbed in creating strategies for the defense of Waterfall Citadel and fencing with the council about the implications of the treaty with Pelos. Galen had left with Bale the day prior to take news of the successful wedding back to their father. Birds had been winging the news on the back of the wind already, of course, but Sloane’s father required the testimony of men. Galen swore to do his best to minimize or obscure the events surrounding Sacha’s abduction from their father, acknowledging Hathorn’s unreasoning pride.

Sloane snorted softly as she considered her brother’s other promise, “To find our sister on the way.” She did love Galen, but it wasn’t only his size that was larger than life. His casual idea of what was possible, or even probable, on occasion, often ignored things like proximity, possibility, or good sense. Even so, his presence had lifted her spirits and lessened the despair of Sacha’s continued absence.

She cast her gaze to the depths of the Winewood, imagining that she was actually looking directly at Galen and it was only for the intervening trees that she could not see him. Those same trees hid Sacha.

The fact that no demands for ransom had been made for Sacha’s return worried Sloane the most. It was possible, of course, that Sacha had escaped. Sloane pursed her lips as she considered her sister in that vast untamed reach, stumbling, lost and alone.

Sloane shook her head to clear it of that last image. At least now she had a lead of sorts. The chancellor’s accusations, disturbing though they were, had been the only thing to come from the wilderness. Unfortunately, If the smallest part of Kesh’s story was true, it called into question much of her judgment of people. She had thought Erik and Kinsey were kind and honorable men. If she was wrong about them, maybe she had been wrong about other things too.
Alexander
. She pushed the thought away, recognizing that only more trouble could come from that line of thinking. She had to trust someone, and her husband was perhaps the best person to begin with.

She sighed and considered the three carved horns before her. She had made the ascent to find solace in the heights, but there was greater freedom on the wings of the Rohdaekhann. A flight would help to clear her head.

Alexander had taught her several general calls the Rohdaekhann would respond to, but this afternoon she wanted one bird in particular.

“Bora” was the name she had taken to calling the powerful midsized bird she favored. The name was derived from the cold northern winds that blew through the Ice Lakes Pass, far to the Northwest. The stories of that wind and the damage it could wreak upon the unwary fit the bird and his tendency to dive from great heights. Her skin was always icy to the touch after an outing with him, no matter the warmth of the day.

Sloane placed her lips on the wind instrument and blew, tapping her fingers along the deep holes in the polished wood in a pattern that was quickly becoming natural to her. She turned from the horns and hurried below before the last notes had fully died away. If Bora was in hearing distance, he would come.

When she entered through the door in the roof, Rouke hopped to his feet. Galen and Alexander had agreed Sloane should have someone to watch over her. She had protested, of course, but the men were insistent. When Rouke volunteered to be her constant companion and shadow, doubts had sprung from her brother, but she had agreed almost gratefully. The armsman was the closest thing she had to a friend here, beyond her cousins.

Galen had protested initially, but she had prevailed, citing Rouke’s many acts of loyalty and bravery. She suspected Rouke’s offer of a flagon of ale, or four, had had almost as much influence on her brother as her commendations.

Rouke had also kept his standing, despite the fact that he was inextricably tied to the blackened reputations of the other two men who had led her escort. Rouke was another on the short list of people Sloane felt she could trust. He was steadfast in his defense of Erik and Kinsey, in spite of many rumors springing up in the city. His stance on their innocence had not dampened his interest in serving her safety, however. He seemed to take it as a given that his friends were innocent, but that Sloane also had to consider the possibility of their guilt.

Rouke and the two handlers he had been chatting with bowed low as she descended. All of them spoke in chorus: “Milady.”

“I’m going out. I need the sky to clear my mind.”

The handlers bowed again and set off at a trot. One went to the dressing cubicles where the riding leathers were hung and cared for, and the other to the loading perch where the summoned Rhodaekhann would land to be fitted for harness and gear.

Sloane continued to speak to Rouke as he looked outside, obviously judging the remaining light. “I will not be gone long,” she said, drawing his attention back from the multihued sky. “An hour at most.”

“I’m under orders not to let ya outta my sight, Milady.”

Sloane smiled at her loyal guardsman and friend. “Then you had better hurry.”

Bora swooped in and flapped his wings, stirring a forceful gust of wind through the massive room. Rouke grinned and ran for the stairs Sloane had just descended.

When Sloane made it to the changing area, the attendant already had her riding leathers set out. After her first flight with Alexander, a set had been painstakingly crafted for her. The fit she thought was form-fitting before was truly a second skin now, but she hardly gave a thought to the scandalous cupping of the leather. If this is what it looked like to be free, then this was the way she wanted to look.
Eos preserve the gentry if Marcella gets ahold of the leatherworkers that provide these suits.

The practiced hands of her attendant and her increasing comfort with the garment saw her fully ready to fly as Rouke was just descending to the floor. “You are too slow!” she yelled at him and laughed.

“Don’t ya be waitin’ on me!” Rouke yelled back with a smile.