The Darkling Child

Besides, he lived in the ruins of a village to which no one came.

Or hadn’t before now. But come they would, and very soon. He had made sure of that—all part of his plan to provide Dallen Usurient with an irresistible opportunity to bring the Red Slash back to the coast to find him. Not that he expected Usurient himself would do so. No, Usurient would take a different approach, one less obvious to those watching for it. He would send someone other than himself, reluctant to make a return trip if it wasn’t necessary, believing that hunting down and killing off Arca

And they would journey to their doom.

But that was all part of the game, and Arca

He covered the Sprint with a canvas that was the exact same mottled gray-and-brown as the rocks within which it nestled and began the walk back to the remains of the village. All about him, the damp and the gray bore down in a heavy shroud. The wind whipped about him fiercely, constantly changing direction and force, a wild thing that nothing could contain. Ahead, the crashing of waves against the rocks was a steady booming that drowned out the rest of the world’s sounds.

By now, he was thinking, Usurient would have begun the process of choosing the men he would send and providing the equipment and supplies they would need. By now an expedition would have been mounted, and if it had not already been dispatched it soon would be.

He must prepare for them. He must anticipate their arrival and their intentions in ways that would allow him to dispose of them quickly.

The seeds were planted, he assured himself. He had planted them himself. It would be interesting to discover what sort of crop they would yield.

Arca

So it was that his plans for Usurient and the Red Slash were fluid. He would arrive where he needed to be, but the journey would not go entirely according to his wishes.

He wondered suddenly how things were proceeding with the boy and Lariana. She was clever, that one. She had already won the boy’s heart; he was so in love—even if he did not realize it—that his choices hereafter would begin and end with her. She was every bit as clever and manipulative as Arca

As he closed on the ruins, he saw nothing of the happy couple. Nestled inside, he imagined, perhaps sharing secrets in ways that he had given up on long ago. Young love—such a tender, wonderful thing. Such an attractive nuisance. It stole away your reason; it ensnared your common sense in euphoric dreams. Useful here, however. In the end, it would net him what he needed to fulfill his plans for revenge against his enemies.

When he reached the sealed door and released the locks, there was still no sign of them. Down the hallway and into his quarters he proceeded, listening for the sound of their voices. When he heard them, he slowed automatically to listen. But their words were low and indistinct.

On entering his quarters, he found them sitting at the kitchen table sipping tea and smiling at each other. Good enough, he thought. “Well met, young friends,” he said cheerfully. “Reyn, are you rested and fed?”

The boy nodded, sharing a look with the girl. Oh, rested and fed, indeed, the sorcerer thought.

“Is your business concluded?” Lariana asked. “Did things go well?”

He moved over to stand next to them. “Unfortunately, not all went as well as I had expected. Word has gotten out that I am living in these ruins or somewhere close by. I had hoped that a tighter lock might be kept on loose lips, but it hasn’t worked out that way. I expect I am compromised.”

Lariana gave him a direct look. “What does that mean exactly?”

“If means that Usurient and the Red Slash will soon know—if they don’t already—where I am.”

“They will come here?” the boy demanded.

“Not right away. And not Usurient. He will send someone else.”

“He will send assassins,” Lariana said.

He was pleased at how quickly she caught on. “I imagine so. He will choose a handful of killers to hunt me down, keeping at a distance so that no blame will attach to him. If that fails, then he will come himself.”

“Maybe we should leave,” Reyn suggested. “There are other places we could hide.”

“And other places we could be found. No, Reyn. Ru

The boy exchanged a look with Lariana. “How do we do that?”

Arca

“But if we are threatened,” Lariana interrupted quickly, turning now to the boy, “we may have to defend ourselves. So there is no guarantee you won’t have to use your magic that way. Does that frighten you?”

Arca

“I will do what I have to,” the boy said at once. “But I would not like it if I had to hurt anyone.”

Lariana nodded. “I would not like that, either. But it seems we are fated to be hunted by these people.” She turned to Arca

Arca

“I know.” The boy nodded slowly. He had already begun to come around to the mind-set Arca

“Can you tell us?” Lariana asked quickly, anticipating once again what was needed.

Arca

Paxon Leah was exercising alone in the training yard, working his way through a series of complex defensive maneuvers, when Keratrix found him. He was stripped to the waist, sweating in the hot sun, enjoying the strain on his body as he whipped the Sword of Leah from left counter to right thrust, blocking and counterattacking, twisting and turning his shoulders and arms in a mock battle against an invisible enemy. Most of the moves he was employing had been taught to him by Oost Mondara over the past five years, skills he had studied, practiced, and finally mastered in his continuing efforts to make himself more deserving of his designation as the High Druid’s Blade. He was so deeply enmeshed in his efforts that it was some time before he noticed that the scribe was standing off to one side watching him.