Dusk Falling (Book 1) (54 page)

“Why would he? Speaking of this place is like throwing salt in a wound.” Aya rejoined petulantly, chin tilted away from the pressure of the knife at her bared throat.

He half turned to include the mage. “Please, you make me blush! Not all of his experiences were negative- he enjoyed much of what we had to offer, even things that would make
me
a little squeamish. You forget he is part monster- part demon- and you cannot take that out of him. If only I could show you his face while-”

‘Stop it.”

“So,” Serethar purred, thin lips turning up in a smile that reflected the deep-rooted maliciousness in his eyes. He strode closer. “I was trying to figure out what you and these others’ roles in this are. Why you would put yourself at risk. I am curious to know your reasoning.” Aya did not respond. “Hm, could it be out of some sort of misguided righteousness that causes you to champion a soul no one wanted? He is a tool here for a purpose, his life such as it is has no worth except to us. We made him. He should thank us for-”

“Thank you? Thank you for years of torture and abuse, of hate infusing every thought?”

The High Priest blank, feigning hurt. “My dear child, we would never do such things. What sort of lies has he been spewing? He was a reckless boy who needed discipline. His sacrifice will benefit the world; what other lowly bastardized monster could hope to accomplish that.”

“Don’t call him that. He is not a monster.”

Serethar put his hands behind his back, leaning forward to look her in the eye. “Then tell me what you see if you do not see a monster…” She didn’t reply and he turned away with his maddening grin. “Well, now. I propose a trade. Their safety in return for your cooperation. As simple as that.”

“How can I trust your word?” Genlo asked.

“Why would I have any reason to go against it? They are of no concern to me. Not now. They will be escorted out, that is all. You have my word, as long as they do not interfere.”

“Don’t!” cried Aya. “Don’t listen to him!”

“Be silent.” Serethar rapped his staff against her forehead, the gem’s proximity scrambling her thoughts momentarily. “The ‘choice’ is yours, Yashvre.”

Genlo met the eyes of his companions Serrtin and Avarice, the former looking as if she was barely restraining herself from acting. “Remember what I said.” Serrtin nodded solemnly. He turned to the High Priest, hating the confident smile on the man’s face. “They go free.”

“Only you can assure their safety. Now prove to me your good will.”

For several breaths, no one moved or spoke then Genlo’s shadowclaws dissipated until they were just hands. “I… accept.”

Serethar gestured and the guards released the mage. She stumbled forward. “You can’t do this. You can’t!”

“I think it’s a little late for that.” He said. “There isn’t another option right now. No other way to end this. I’m… tired.”

Aya shook her head emphatically, words failing her as her vision blurred with unshed tears. Slowly, hesitatingly he brought his hand up as if he would caress her face. “It will be alright. Maybe it’s all for the best, what’s best for you. This needs to end. Isn’t that what we planned?”

“Don’t try to tell me what’s best. I know what’s best for me. And this isn’t what I wanted to happen. I want… I want to be with you!”

But his eyes were remote, the amber-orange flat. He made to step past, coming to an abrupt halt when Aya grabbed his wrist. Her touch was like fire, burning up his arm and causing his heart to beat faster. He wished he wasn’t wearing gloves and that thought unnerved him, breathed life into him once more.

“I’ll have your word. Your word that you will come back.” Aya said softly.

“The word of a monster seems only appropriate for the Verca.”

“To Dystopia with the Verca! Just promise you will not give up. That you will come back. For me.” Hot tears ran down her cheeks.

The trethen moved, passing side by side with her. “Don’t for one moment think I wasn’t happy for everything. For… trying. For… everything.”

Standing before the High Priest, he wanted nothing more than to knock the man’s smile off his arrogant face. Serethar was about to say something when he was interrupted by an unexpected voice. “So that is it? You give up. Pathetic.”

Xiethes came forward, his center eye glaring spitefully. Serethar’s expression betrayed irritation but he was willing to indulge for a few more moments, as delighted as he was with how things were proceeding.

“Always knew you would end up back here- though I didn’t think you’d come crawling back. I wanted to see you broken but I suppose this abject humbling will have to do. You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this.”

“I would think,” Genlo said. “ever since they drug your wretched carcass before me.”

“Big words for someone whose life is suddenly forfeit.” The demonic reached out and snatched up Genlo’s left hand. With a nasty grin that smacked of elated vengeance, he separated two of Genlo’s fingers and balled the rest into his fist. Genlo didn’t understand what he was doing until the Youkai reached with his free hand, took hold of Genlo’s forefinger and yanked down. Bones and tendons snapped. The trethen bit down on his tongue to keep from crying out, refusing to give the other the satisfaction.

“When I said in exchange for your cooperation, I surely didn’t mean cooperation with the yapping mongrels that stalk these corridors.” Serethar drawled. In the time it took for Xiethes’s eyes to widen at the betrayal, Genlo knocked him off his feet and sent him sliding. The High Priest chuckled. “Enough of this. Xiethes, get out of my sight. I will deal with you later.”

The demonic rose to his feet, almost blind with rage. He would have attacked had Serethar not interfered. With an almost elegant swirl of his hand, the High Priest siphoned some of the energies from the gem atop his staff before gesturing over to the Youkai. With a sound like the crack of lightning, Xiethes was thrown bodily from the esulchar.

Serethar studied the young man before him, his clothing, his face. “I see a lot of change in you. Much, I must say, I don’t care for.” Genlo felt a light rap against his mental barriers, a retreating touch that chilled him. He hadn’t even felt the High Priest testing him, the rap had been on purpose. The Verca’s eyes frosted over as he came
to grips with the fact that he would not be able to control the avatar as he had hoped. As he had planned. Someone had perfected the Jrahda-spawn’s mental barriers, removed the holds he and his narrasu had placed. It would take months and months of work to replace them and the High Priest did not have that sort of time. He would have to go forward- Vasul would still be the more tractable.

The narrasu came to stand on the other side of the altar, the guards moved to take up positions by the three onlookers. At the alarmed look, Serethar said, “Just a precaution. They may bear witness but I can’t have them interfering.

“Now then, if you will…” He gestured to the black-draped altar. “I figured it would be more comfortable for you if you were to lie down. The altar isn’t really necessary for this but we don’t want you to try to stand up during the ceremony and end up cracking your skull.”

“How thoughtful of you.”

“Indeed. Go on.” The High Priest gestured grandly.

~ ~ ~

He was finished and he knew it. It was over. There was no place for him here, now.

The demonic sat down on his haunches in the cold dark corridor. The razors in his hair slid over his shoulders to hang down as he stared at the floor in contemplation.

He would have to consider his exit- Serethar would not forget what he said, best not be around when the High Priest came looking for him. The guardsmen wouldn’t stop him, they never did. After all, he was just a ‘yapping mongrel that stalked these corridors’. He owned nothing, it would be a simple matter to extricate himself…

However…

A feral grin spread its way over his mouth of pointed teeth. There was one last thing he needed to do before he took his final leave. Quick long-legged strides took him down corridors to a closed door. Pushing it open, the demonic found Ivariljhle sitting at her vanity brushing her long white hair as she often did. At first, she didn’t notice him standing there, as wrapped up in her thoughts as she was. When she did notice, her expression twisted in ugly disgust.

“What do you want? Is the matter finished?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then why are you in my chamber, foul demon? I should have Tarllus-”

“I am just saying goodbye Ivariljhle. Just saying…” It had taken many months to lace her room with his wires. He inlaid them in the corners, in the walls, hidden by her woven rugs. Many. More than enough. When he asked them to act upon his bidding, the thin silver wires sung with elation. “…goodbye.” Xiethes licked sprayed blood from his mouth. Now, he could leave.

~ ~ ~

Peaceful…

The colors that pass over and through me… breathtaking…

The ground is cool and I am warm. I can stay here. Forever. No worries
.

Just peace

It won’t be so bad. There’s no pain. No…nothing. I will miss… them… but they are better off without me. I bring nothing but death to those around me. Like Yukarim
.

…Aya…

I’ll miss… I’ll miss the way she would frown at me. And the way her eyes would light up when she smiled. The way she would say my name…

“Genlo…”

Yes, like that. I could just drift away. They’ll be okay. Now
.

“Genlo!”

Why do I keep hearing her? I want this peace-

The malignant purple-black magic swirled around the trethen’s prone form and the staff that the High Priest held upright in his hands. Serethar seemed caught up in a trance, his eyes were closed and he swayed slightly on his feet. From behind drawn swords, Serrtin Avarice and Aya could do nothing but watch.

An uncomfortable burning sensation drew Aya’s attention. She had forgotten that she had earlier pocketed one of the strange gems. It was reacting. “Serrtin. The power stores in that other chamber, they are Serethar’s. He is drawing on them right now.”

The Yarcka pulled her eyes from the ceremony.

“If we can destroy them, I think we would severely cut his powers. We cannot get to Genlo if we don’t take Serethar out first.”

“How?” She whispered back.

“Leave that to me.” Serrtin looked down at her friend, unsure, but Aya’s eyes gleamed with inner strength. “You will have to buy me some time.”

The warrior gave a nod. “I can do that.”

“And then what?” Avarice said. “By then, he will have all he needs.”

Aya took a deep breath, unconsciously putting a hand to her necklace. She almost gasped. “My grandmother’s necklace is still tuned to him! Maybe he can still be Sealed!”

Avarice gave a little snort. “Not unless you have a very large magical force backing you. And do not look to me for that. Were I to assist you with a Sealing, I would not be able to accomplish what I came here to do.”

The mage closed her eyes, crestfallen. Very large magical force. Could she use the magical stores herself? No, no she couldn’t. The powers contained within those swirling depths were snappish, unruly. In the time it took to control it, it would be too late. Another large magical force? Here? Then she recalled something Genlo told her about pools and streams deep within the land… “I have an idea.”

The Godling frowned up at her, one eyebrow cocked.

“You just get ready for your part in this.”

~ ~ ~

Sweat ran rivulets down Serethar’s face. Deep lines of concentration puckered his brow. His thin lips moved but no one could hear his words over the keening sound coming from the gem atop his staff. The twin in Aya’s pocket echoed the cry as she took it within her hand. She did not have much time. The Bren closed her eyes, the last thing she saw was Genlo’s prone body, quiet and silent as death.

There was a connection between the six gems, she could feel that easily. When Serethar accessed the power stores, he was not choosing between stones he was taking from all of them at once. Destroying just one would not destroy all of them in a chain reaction. She would have to take out each one individually.

The easiest would be the one in her hand. Cautiously she lowered her mental barriers. She could feel a shield around altar, one supported by the narassu, one she couldn’t hope to get by. Turning away, she sent a tendril down the corridor. The connection the gem in her hand had to the others led her to where she needed to go. She felt her strength thinning the further away from her body she traveled. In her mind’s eye, Aya could see the four gems on their pedestals in the lantern-lit room. But how to reach them?

The element of air. Wasn’t that what Genlo was telling her? The element of air was the most generous, the most willing to help. It could conduct her spell if she were to ask it. But they were underground- the air here was weak, tainted.

Frustration set in. The way was there. She knew what had to be done. What was second nature to Genlo was like looking through a glass window to her. She could see the results, even sense them, but the ‘how’ was elusive.

Suddenly the gems flared painfully bright to her eyes. It was if they were right there in the same room as she. She could reach out and touch them. Tapping each one individually with the tendril of her mind, she connected them through herself. Gathering her energies, the destructive power of the spell her brother had taught her, Aya split the spell and drove it through the tendrils. The spell exploded upwards, stronger than she could have hoped, incinerating the four gems in a burst of darkened aerus.

Snapping back into her body, the mage took the gem she still held in her pocket and held it up. With a thought, it snapped in her hand with a pop. Across the chamber, she projected the power of the ebon cutter through the tough rock, coming up under the weakening shield and bursting the last of the power stores in an array of tiny bits of dark crystal.

Serethar dropped the staff like it had bit him, a hand pressed over his heart. The loss of the gems was loss of parts of his own self, the loss of the energy reserves made his head swirl. The High Priest wasn’t too far shaken that he could not gesture wildly at the guards. “Kill them. Kill them!”