The Darkling Child

Reyn was confused. Worked it out? Arca

“Why didn’t you stay close to me when we went out to face those men? Why did you disappear? Where were you?”

“Searching for you the entire time. Trying to reach you. I managed to get myself turned around in the mist. When the attack came, I was too late reaching you to make a difference. That was clever of you, though—using one of your images to turn those animals on Mallich. What a surprise that must have been! I always knew they’d kill him one day. Those beasts were too dangerous for the amount of trust he put in himself as their handler.”

“Hunting animals?” Reyn asked. “I’ve never seen their like.”

“Fighting animals. Killers. Used in sporting contests and on fugitive hunts. Dangerous beasts just standing still. Impossible to control if there’s blood to be had. You saw for yourself.”

“You should have warned me. You should have been there to help me. You promised.”

Arca

No, Reyn thought, it wasn’t. He’d had to save his own life and been forced to kill someone yet again. And once again, he had gone catatonic in the process. So while there was no harm done to him physically, he’d suffered more than enough emotionally. Arca

“What did you do to the man with the knife?”

“Etris? As I said, I disposed of him. How I did it doesn’t matter. Do you want something to eat? We still have a way to go.”

Reyn rubbed his face again. The sting of the blow was begi

There was a long silence. “Yes, Reyn. I had time to kill him but not save Lariana. If I had tried, we would all be in the hands of the Druids. Now do you think you can let go of your anger and stop whining about things you can’t change?”

The boy lapsed into sullen silence, hardly appeased, barely able to restrain himself even now. What held him back was what the sorcerer had said about Lariana knowing what to do if they became separated. This bothered him in a way he couldn’t explain. At the very least, it suggested she was privy to information that had been deliberately kept from him. She was the sorcerer’s assistant, but he couldn’t help wondering suddenly if she was something more. She certainly knew things he didn’t, and she had demonstrated this on more than one occasion. He just hadn’t thought much about it before now.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

“Now, there’s the question you should have asked in the begi

Reyn blinked. “Why are we going there?”

The sorcerer turned away. “To finish what we started.”

Paxon and Avelene were shepherding Lariana toward their airship—keeping her between them, still conscious of the possibility she might attempt to flee. They had left their vessel moored out in the mists some distance back from the coast and the ruins of Arbrox, giving their Troll crew responsibility for keeping watch over it while they were away. They had taken time to bring Bael Etris down off the cliff face where he was hanging from that iron rod and bury him beneath a pile of heavy rocks. But the animals that had killed his companion were roaming around somewhere, and there was nothing they could do to prevent them from returning when they got hungry enough and digging up the dead man for food.

“Where are we going?” Avelene asked the girl for the second time, her patience clearly wearing thin. “We want to help you, but we won’t if you don’t tell us what you intend. Where are you taking us? How can you know where Arca

Lariana’s young features tightened. “You don’t trust me?”

Avelene rolled her eyes. “Just tell me how you know where to find him.”

Lariana shrugged. “It’s simple enough. Arca

Paxon stared. “All of them? That’s five hundred men and women. Why would he use a force that size?”

Lariana shrugged. “To demonstrate how powerful he is? To make certain that this time Arca

Avelene nodded. “To Sterne? Where the Red Slash is based?”

“Wouldn’t you, if you were him?” Lariana looked off into the mists. Ahead, the Druid airship came into view. “He told me he could never forgive the massacre of the people at Arbrox. He was there; he saw it all happen. They killed every man, woman, and child in the village. They made no effort to take prisoners. Those were his friends. Arca

Paxon thought about it. Would Arca

“What does Reyn have to do with all this?” he asked Lariana.

“Arca

Paxon found himself thinking again of Chrysallin. His sister had experienced the same phenomenon, the magic exploding out of her unexpectedly in a moment of extreme stress and panic. Like this boy. And he wondered anew if what he had witnessed back there in the ruins when the boy seemed to lose focus entirely was a form of the catatonia that had claimed Chrys.

Yet he hesitated to make the leap. Reyn Frosch had to be an Ohmsford; no one else possessed the wishsong powers. And given there was only one Ohmsford still unaccounted for—his grandfather Railing’s twin brother—Reyn must be descended from Redden. Meaning he and Chrys shared the same bloodline, of twin brothers, but each born to a different one. Nothing about their lives was the same, yet there had to be a link somewhere that explained why the magic would affect each in the same way. Yet the secret behind that link might be found not in their lives but in the history of the magic itself.

“Why would Arca

“I think he wants his help against Usurient. I think that is what he has wanted all along. Arca