Dusk Falling (Book 1) (13 page)

Serrtin peered over at the Wulf, hoping he wouldn’t be reminiscing for much longer. They didn’t have the time and Serrtin didn’t have the patience. “What does all this have to do with us?”

“A lot, I am hoping.” The mage said. “Think of the necklace my Grandmother gave me as the city of Arion, its deluges. Think of Kcrie’s spell as the water. That would make me…”

“An idiot.” Genlo thought to himself. “What is this girl thinking?”

“The flood gates!” Agemeer exclaimed as if playing a game. “So what you are saying is you can control how much power the spell has and how much it relinquishes?”

The feeling back in his limbs, the Elfkin got to his feet. Flood gating the Binding spell? Would that work? Even if it did, having any of his powers back would do him well. He could save it up, gather the energies enough to break the spells control completely. “Pointless waste of time. How will
you
know how much energies I’ll need?” Genlo said, crossing his arms with a glare. “Not enough and you’ll die here too.”

“I will watch.”

He snorted in derision. “Fine then, girl, watch.” Orange eyes glowing under pale bangs, he adjusted the bands around his gloves.

Aya began with thoughts of Arion in her mind. Their peaceful springs, cool breezes. Her fingers traced the intricacies of the silver necklace about her neck. “Grandmother,” She prayed. “Let me be right on this.”

Lowering the barriers in her mind as much as she dared, she examined the spell her necklace encased. It literally thrummed with power, each strand overlaying the next and knit tightly together. The spell was woven into the metal to such a degree Aya doubted she could unravel it even if she tried. By studying it, she began to see the basics of it structure, the slight color variations that her minds eye could pick up.

The colors of the strands on top were the easiest to bypass- it was a simple magical structure that would make it invisible to those without schooling in magic arts and only to a mage who was
looking
would see it. There was little sense in hiding the spell further. Crossing those strands were the strands that held the spell to the necklace. A gentle pinkish color, it leapt over the ‘hiding strands’ before delving deep into the structure only to appear again. To unravel that part of the spell would mean the unraveling of more than one part at a time- a deadly experience to any who might try.

The secondary layers were more difficult to see properly. She had to concentrate to look past the hiding strands and the holding strands obliged by fading to nearly invisible but not disappearing from Sight altogether- too ingrained with the necklace as it was.

The Seal spell layers were a blinding cacophony of reds, oranges and blues that seemed to swirl and dance in an almost hypnotic way. Aya was forced to pull back. The Seal spell was unreachable, she couldn’t
See
the strands much less be able to touch them.

The secondary layers that encircled the Seal spell itself had to be it. There were many strands to behold but they did not shift and move as the ones below them did. But these ones had difficulty Naming themselves. One singled out strand would make itself Known then it would shy away, becoming a mirror to its brother strands that lay parallel its own length.

Aya regarded the odd-arrangement from every angle. She speculated then came to realize the truth of the second layer of strands. Though many in number, they were all connected. All the strands represented the control the spell had. It was not the binding spell itself but it would allow her to manipulate how much of the Seal held.

Readying herself, Aya gently ran a mental fingertip over one of the strands. The white-green coloring darkened to a mottled emerald before returning to its original shade. “Interesting reaction. It doesn’t seem volatile at all. Could it be Kcrie set the controlling layer to respond to me? She said that she couldn’t anchor it to herself so what if… Alright Aya, this is no time for such thoughts! I must gain enough control over the spell as I can and release as much as I dare.”

The Jrahda-trethen watched the girl concentrate, various emotions flickering across her face. She was a pretty little thing with soft smooth skin and large dark eyes. So different than the women he had been accustomed to being around. It was a shame he’d have to kill her. He’d
have
to. They wouldn’t let him go willingly. The fools, all of them. His eyes hardened and he turned away, deciding those thoughts would do him no good.

Just then, he felt something of his powers return. Only a little, like a whisper or a shadow, but he had felt it. Weight dissipated and the magic took its place. It was refreshing breeze, a cool drink of water. No, better.

The automatic spells he had had in place at one time reset, fueled by the magic’s return. His clothes mended where they had ripped, the worn and soiled knees of his pants became a clean solid white once more. His hair was sleek and untangled and the fatigue that had tugged at his eyes deserted its post and he felt rejuvenated.

Since he faced the opposite direction, Genlo let himself smile for the mere pleasure of it. Those powers- those magical energies- had always been with him. Since he’d been a young child, his caretakers had told him, the talent had been with him, assisting him with every step of life. Being without it, he knew, would be his inevitable death. He could not live without its pulse within him.

His senses began to return next- he’d always had the ability to see in the dark and had excellent hearing thanks to his Jrahda half- and soon Genlo was able to ‘see’ the spellwork that coursed through the formations around him. Like a hound catching a scent on the wind, he searched the area for a magus signature he recognized. All spells left traces of the caster if one knew how to look. And when he found it, it was like tasting a wine and knowing the vineyard it came from, he would know who it was behind this trap.

Releasing his senses, he savagely tracked the spell across the formations, dancing past its attempts to stop him. The spell sizzled and snapped. As if it were a living thing, witnessing pursuit, the spell turned on him but its assaults were not quick enough to injure his mind.

When he found what he was looking for he was not surprised to find not one but four signatures. As he studied them- one unknown, two unknown, three- the spell found a way past his shifting barriers to give him a glancing blow that would have sent another reeling. Genlo barely gave it a second thought, he had been trained to resist such attacks and merely reflected its attack and walled it off. The third name he didn’t recognize either. Then he came to the forth…

… he knew the fourth name. The way the magics twisted over themselves with an almost arrogantly graceful arch, the meticulous way the strands looped back on each other in an overly precautious twist… Oh yes, he knew
that
name.

With a sneer, Genlo sought to take hold of the strands, to rip them apart with his mind. He jerked out of concentration with a jolt, slightly stunned. Genlo blank, unsure what had just happened.

Moments later, the reason presented itself. The sky overhead brightened over his shoulder, forcing him to turn to see what its source was. A face appeared. Middle-aged with long brown hair, his features were hard, chiseled and held a taint of sardonic humor and arrogance. His pale eyes were like chips of ice above a slender nose and a small crooked smile.

“Aral…” Genlo growled under his breath, low enough that the others standing so close could barely hear.

The man’s smile widened, showing he heard as well. “Ah, I see you still remember my name. That is good to hear.”

“It is hard to forget.”

“You’ve been running for a long time now, boy.” The man called Aral said. “Don’t you think it’s about time to come home? You have been… sorely missed.”

The Elfkin could feel Aral’s influence sneaking up on him, like a cold mist. A small tendril, no more substantial than smoke, tested his barriers. Genlo felt the warnings but instead of bolstering his defenses, he purposely let them slip. “I bet.”

“You have been most vexatious. We have wasted much time in searching for you.” Though he spoke with a smile, his voice did not covey amusement. Under it all, the Larren man seethed with pent up anger.

The shieldings around the youth’s mind had small imperfections, fail-safes set in place by Aral himself, ones that the boy could not have ever detected on his own. Aral sent a tendril through, his expression unchanged. Genlo feigned ignorance. “And here I was figuring you would have given up by now…”

“Oh, you know I can’t do that.” Aral said with darkening eyes.

Genlo wasn’t sure what the other was looking for but was game for finding out. He let the other pick through the memories of last year with a ghost’s light touch. Genlo had to force himself to show no reaction when Aral reached particularly painful memories. The questing tendril dove deeper, intent, relying on the imperfections to give him a way out. But by then it was too late for him to pull back.

So taken was he by the search, the man had not realized how far he had let his own mind wander until Genlo snapped his own trap shut. The barrier became a snare, latching on to the tendril with bared teeth. Genlo shot his own sense back along the magical tether, the link holding firm, only now coming to grips with what had happened. When the Jrahda-trethen met the unshielded mind of his enemy, he let all his pent up anger and frustration guide him. It was no quick sterile assassins touch, it was the crazed act of a hunted man who finally had the chance to strike back at his tormentor. Those fail-safes Aral had sought to utilize had been found, had been patched so they would never be able to control him again.

The first sign that something was amiss was the falter of the man’s confident smile. The second was the loss of color to his face and the widening, glazing, of his eyes. The third was the thin rivulet of blood that ran down his from his nose, dripping over his parted lips.

“Do you fail to see the irony in all of this,
dear instructor
? Wasn’t it you who taught me the painful lesson of keeping ones mind protected at all times? How does it feel? I am no longer a puppet and you no longer have any strings to pull.”

“Im-impossible. How did you… You… cannot run… forever, lil’ demon. The others… will find you.
He
will have what is
His
.” Aral spoke haltingly. The rivulet of blood became a steady stream, the color darkening. An unpleasant burble came from his open mouth.

“And I’ll leave them all unburied. My path is my own. No one will decide my end fate- especially not,” He spat the next word out like poison. “
him
.”

Aral’s eyes rolled up as the picture faded from the sky. Around them, the trap spell began to fall apart. It broke into pieces and blew away as if on an astral wind to dissolve into nothing.

And they were freed, coming to on the open plains. Nothing but open lands around them, no tree within miles. Grass stirred at their feet, long and uncut. The air was fresh.

Genlo stood, back to the three Hunters, the GoldenSphere’s light warm on his shoulders. When he opened his orange eyes, he stared down at the waves of verdant grass and absorbed what his senses told him. They were gone- the fiends trap had been turned in upon itself and resulted in the death of one of his pursuers. As he felt the residual particles of the spell fade like a whisper on the wind, he wished he could have killed all of them. They had been controlling him by way of those faults in his mental shields and it had taken a talent other than his own to locate and fix them. Aral’s death had barely scratched the surface for the revenge needed on the cost of that.
Thoughts of their demise brought a surge of power to him, a rush that drew with it the life patterns of those who stood behind him. The strong sense of the Yarcka and the sentient Wulf, a presence that was the Asrai. The girl, he could only sense her existence. Her mind, therefore her status as a mage, was hidden behind a barrier.

The Jrahda-trethen curled and uncurled his gloved fingers, feeling the energies gather smoothly into the extremity with an ease of long years of practice.

Aya could feel the change before seeing it- in the Elfkin and the silver necklace at her throat. But before she could do naught but draw breath, the energy she felt quickening, died abruptly. It was gone and her necklace felt cold once again next to her skin.

Genlo glared down at his palm and then back over his shoulder.

Apparently the spell could tailor itself to the controller as well…

He turned to face them. The Wulf and the Yarcka were scouring the area with their eyes, pleased to be free but wary nonetheless. The girl looked neither left nor right. She regarded only him. She had been the only one to have spotted what he may or may not have been just about to do.

Chapter 10

Serrtin was in a hurry to be off. She wanted to know what was going on, questions burned inside her (who was that man foremost in her mind) but the warrior in her knew that remaining in the vicinity would only make them easier targets.

She demanded Genlo to allow her to bind his wrists. He did not consent but had little choice in the matter when the towering Yarcka snatched up his limbs and locked them with the Dwarprihn manacles. That she locked them in front of him instead of behind his back and that she did not bind his body with rope as before was the only thanks he would receive.

Serrtin then demonstrated the consequences of not heeding her kindness by snatching a sharp-cornered rock from the ground and, without so much as a glance, threw it with such force it embedded into the trunk of a tree so deep one could only cut it free to remove it. Then she informed him on no uncertain terms of where she could accurately hit a fleeing form so as to wound- painfully- but not kill.

The Hunters and their captive moved at the quickest pace they could muster. A steady jog found them two miles away. There was little cover out in the open as they headed north, moving toward the Indelsis city of Zara Krell, so they veered back toward the Azure Ribbon. As they figured, foliage grew more abundant towards the water. Agemeer scouted ahead, returning with news that he did not see or smell anything ahead. Serrtin then called a halt. There was still daylight left but she could wait no longer. “Alright you, I want answers and I want them now. I can understand other people wanting to have a go at you but this is different.”