Edge of Darkness ~ A Darkness & Light Novel Book Three (18 page)

A fond smile crossed Ferris's face as he walked to where the mare stood, shaking. Lather flecked her hide and her eyes were wide. He talked softly to her as he approached, his voice a low, rhythmic murmur, gaze slanted away from her. She tossed her head, eyes showing white around the edges. Ferris stopped, still not looking directly at her. She pranced a bit before tentatively reaching out with her nose to blow softly against his outstretched hand.

"Beya has been at my side since the day she was born," he said. He stepped closer to the mare and looped an arm beneath her neck. "It would take more than a handful of nightshades to cause her to desert me. Even then, she wouldn't go far."

He continued to whisper as he caressed the mare's neck and chest. Finally Beya's ears flicked up and the tension eased from her. When she appeared relaxed, Ferris moved from one leg to the next, running his hands down each of them in turn. Satisfied at apparently finding her uninjured, he returned to her head, gathered up the reins and mounted. Kicking his foot free of the stirrup, he reached down for Ciara.

"Can she carry us both?" Ciara asked. No doubt the mare could run, but she hardly looked built to accommodate two.

"Aye. We've little choice, in any case. The nightshades won't be pleased. I don't want to know what they might bring back with them on their return."

Ciara slipped her foot into the stirrup, linked forearms with Ferris, and swung up behind him. He sat for a long moment, hands braced on his thighs, head bowed.

Ciara laid a hand on his shoulder. "Are you sure you're all right."

He puffed out a breath and nodded. Still, it took another couple breaths before Beya started walking. Still several more before Ferris picked up the reins.

"There was a backlash, of sorts," he said. "It caught me off-guard. Truth of the matter? I feel like I've been kicked in the chest by a horse. A very large, very angry horse."

"I can help with that," Ciara said.

He twisted stiffly to look back at her. "Healer?"

"Yes. You didn't know?"

"I should have. You've a bit of the Goddess's feel about you."

Ciara kept her expression carefully neutral.

"I said something wrong?"

Obviously not neutral enough. "The Goddess and I aren't on the best of terms."

"Ah." Ferris nodded. "That happens from time to time. There were a handful of years I wasn't on speaking terms with her myself. More than once, actually."

"And now?"

"An uneasy truce." He smiled past the shadow in his eyes and gave a shrug, then winced and rubbed a hand across his chest. "Unholy mothers. Ah, sorry, m'lady."

"I've heard worse," Ciara said.

She reached for her earth magic and let it flow from her, wrapping it about Ferris as she searched for the source of his pain. It amazed her how simple that had become. Her aunt would have been proud of her. Or, more likely, relieved that some of her instruction had finally taken root.

For his part, Ferris proved to be the perfect patient. He relaxed into Ciara's ministrations and opened himself to her exam without reservation. She could have taken advantage of that and found the answers to many of her questions without Ferris being any the wiser, but she knew well enough how it felt to have someone prying around your head without consent, and swore she would never do that to anyone else. At least, not for such a selfish reason as simple curiosity.

So she contented herself with healing, and nothing more, until Ferris stiffened.

"Can you manage that while riding swiftly?" he asked, glancing back past Ciara.

"Probably not without falling off," Ciara said.

"Then it will have to wait. Hold tight."

She had no more warning than that and the sudden bunching of Beya's muscles beneath them. Ciara threw her arms around Ferris's waist as the mare surged forward in a flat-out run. A screech ran across Ciara's nerves like the squeal of rusty hinges, making her teeth ache. Beya's fear bordered on panic, held in check, Ciara realized, by nothing more than the strength of the connection between her and Ferris. That alone kept the mare from pitching them both and high-tailing it after Ciara's long gone mount.

Beya made a sudden move and Ciara suddenly felt nothing but air beneath her. She braced for a hard landing but somehow Ferris caught her by the arm and swung her so she landed on her feet. The nightshades immediately swarmed her, their robes stinging her face and hands, their fingers tangling in her hair and clothes.

A growl from Andrakaos rose through her. He may have been confined to Nisair, but his power still flowed with Ciara's. She reached for it now. She had no clear idea what to do, or exactly how to do it. Instinct alone guided her.

Unmake them.
Instinct and Andrakaos.

"I don't know how."

You know all I know. We are.

A frustrated rumble echoed Andrakaos's as Ciara batted at another of the nightshades. They laughed and chattered and danced away, haranguing her, making it impossible for her to concentrate. Then, once again, a lull in a storm. Their voices grew dim, and they no longer seemed able to reach her.

"If you intend to do something, m'lady," Ferris said through clenched teeth, his voice strained, "now would be the time."

He stood a short distance off, legs braced, hands down at his sides, fingers splayed, watching the nightshades from beneath his brows. Any time one of them dipped toward Ciara, one of Ferris's fingers would twitch in response, and the nightshade would veer away as though pushed by a huge hand.

"M'lady. Now."

Ciara sucked in a breath and reached once more for her power. This time she blocked everything else from her mind, and opened herself to the currents of magic that flowed between her and Andrakaos.

Unmake them,
she thought wryly.
Nothing to it.

She watched the flitting shapes for a moment. Her arms lifted, following the motion of the erratic nightshades. In their seemingly random maneuvers, a pattern emerged. Ciara's gestures formed sigils between the nightshades, linking one to the other. As she drew them together, the nightshades stopped their hectic fluttering and Ciara forced them to be still. She twisted her wrist, making a gathering motion before her, as though bringing all the nightshades into the palm of her hand. She imagined them caught within her grasp and slowly squeezed her fingers closed.

"What is this?"

"What happens?"

"Who treats us so cruelly?"

"Release us."

"We will call her."

"Yes! Call her sisters. Call she who walks with us."

"She who calls us."

"Sister of the nightshades. Mistress of the wraiths."

"Call--"

A drawn out wail echoed across the grasslands as Ciara clenched her hand into a fist and the nightshades simply…

An errant breeze pushed across her face. The touch of phantom fingers. The vague scent of dark earth. Curiosity. Desire. Hunger. Anger.

And they were gone.

Ciara stood unmoving until Ferris's touch on her arm drew her focus back. He guided her hand down, holding it in both of his and carefully uncurling her fingers as he did so. His eyes glittered brightly in the darkness that had settled around them.

"We need to go," he said quietly.

Ciara nodded, but made no attempt to suit action to words. Her legs quavered like saplings in a strong wind. She let Ferris guide her to Beya and give her a leg up. A moment later he swung up behind her with a grunt, and reached around for the reins. Then they were pounding over the rolling countryside as though the unholies were behind them.

Ferris didn't stop Beya until the waving grass thinned and thick foliage forced the issue. The black mare stood, sides heaving and head lowered, as Ferris dismounted and then reached up to help Ciara down. Full dark settled across the countryside, making it impossible for Ciara to see much beyond the hulking shapes of trees surrounding them.

"High House isn't far," Ferris said, his voice strained. "Just over this rise and across a shallow vale. But Beya needs rest so we'll need to go on foot from here. If you're able, that is?"

"I'm more worried about you."

"I'll keep for now. Anyhow, we've no real choice. The nightshades weren't alone, and whatever companions they're keeping these days felt…" He blew out a breath. "Well, like nothing good."

"Will they leave Barrowdowns to come after us?"

"Let's hope not."

Ferris turned to run the stirrups up and loosen the saddle's girth. He whispered softly to Beya as he stroked her nose before gathering the reins. Ciara stayed close beside him because the Sciath's first steps were more than a little unsteady. Her own didn't feel all that much better, and she imagined Beya felt about the same, multiplied by two.

The night closed around them, deep and quiet. If Ciara hadn't had to concentrate on where her feet were going, she could easily have dozed off. She reached out for Andrakaos just for something to do and, though she sensed him, she got no response.

Her thoughts wandered as they walked. First to the Council and their charges against her. Then to Bolin, wishing she had been able to do more to ease his grief. Finally, they turned to Donovan.

He had used Ciara just as he used Berk, the mages, even the witch. When she took a moment to look past her own self-involvement, Ciara could admit her naiveté had made her easy prey. But Donovan had crushed that, and in so doing, had forced Ciara to face her fears. She couldn't quite yet embrace what she had become, only because she still had no clear idea what that was, but she could at least accept it.

So many people had suffered because of Donovan. People Ciara cared deeply for. She refused to allow one more person to be hurt by him.

She and Andrakaos would find Donovan. She would see him brought before the Council of Mages. Not only to answer for his crimes against the empire and clear their doubts of her, but to stop whatever game they were playing to discredit Bolin. Where Donovan had done nothing but take, Bolin had given unselfishly. He deserved far more from Ciara than she had offered, and somehow she would find a way to repay him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

From what Ciara could see on their arrival, High House was more of a three story keep than an actual house. Constructed of stone, and taller than wide, it loomed out of the darkness as they rounded a rocky outcropping. A low wall ran around it, not much taller than Ciara. Torches lit the steps leading to the door, and as Ferris and Ciara passed through the gate, two huge hounds lifted from the stoop and trotted toward them.

Ciara hesitated, but Ferris continued on, dropping a hand to the first of the grey beasts and rubbing it behind the ears without breaking stride. The second hound, its grizzled snout on level with Ciara's chest, sniffed her lightly, then fell into step beside her.

"Some watch dog you are," Ciara said softly.

"Trust me, if you passed through the gate with ill-intent, you wouldn't make it two steps," Ferris said, exhaustion weighing his voice.

The door opened then, spilling more light into the yard as a tall, thin man stepped out. He raised a lantern to get a better look at them, which, in turn, gave Ciara a better view of him. Shoulder-length grey hair framed a face as thin as the rest of him. A neatly trimmed beard and mustache encircled his mouth, and straight brows hooded his eyes. Age touched his face, but not his bearing, and though he wore a simple tunic over tight britches and knee hi boots, the way he carried himself spoke of someone accustomed to being in charge.

Ferris halted at the bottom of the steps and bowed from the shoulders. "Lord Marcien, My Lady sends her regards."

"When you see her again," the man replied, his voice a smooth baritone that would have been more natural coming from a man of more bulk, "tell her I'd prefer her company, on occasion, instead of merely her regards."

"I will." Ferris gestured Ciara forward. "In the meantime, my company and that of Lady Ciara will have to suffice."

"Yours, I'm not so sure about, but the lady's I will welcome." He stepped back and waved them in. "It's far too late to be having conversations on the front stoop. I'll send one of the boys for your bags."

"I'll see to my horse first," Ferris said. "The lady is nearly out on her feet, and would likely prefer a meal and a bed in place of conversation."

"As you say," Marcien said, waving a hand to urge Ciara on. "A hot bath as well, Lady? Or will you keep until the morning."

"I don't want to put anyone out," Ciara said, though the thought of easing into a tub of lavender scented, hot water held a great deal of appeal.

"Then a bath will keep until the morning, and your meal will be whatever you can scrounge in the kitchen."

Ferris blew out an irritated sigh. "Lady Ciara is Lord Bolin's
chieene
."

Marcien's eyebrows lifted slightly. "Ah. In that case, my apologies. A bath will keep until morning, and dinner will be whatever
I
can scrounge from the kitchen." He gave Ciara a quick, mirthless smile, and raised a brow Ferris's way. "Does that better suit your sense of propriety?"

Ferris scowled, shook his head, and muttered something in Cearnease before clucking to Beya and leading her away.

Marcien watched him go. "He must be exhausted as well. He generally exhibits a much cheerier disposition."

"It's been a long couple of days," Ciara said, not certain how much to tell the man. She couldn't quite decide what to make of him.

"Best if Ferris tells me. If Ariadne has sent you here in haste, there is cause. Ferris will know whether I am to be held in confidence or not. Meanwhile, allow me to show you to your room. I will send someone up with a tray from the kitchens, if that would suffice?"

"I'm far too tired to eat," Ciara said. "If it's all the same to you, I'd rather just go to bed."

"As you wish."

He said nothing further as he led Ciara inside and across a wide hall to a staircase tucked against the far wall. He walked straight and proud, lantern held casually, moving with the same kind of natural grace and presence Ciara seemed to notice in everyone but herself.

"I sense an abundance of questions brimming," Marcien said in that same, flat tone, not looking at Ciara. "I shall save you the effort of asking them. I am a distant cousin of a friend of Lady Ariadne's. I studied in Nisair as a young man and became close friends of the Imperial family. High House has been in my family since it was built to aid in the defense of the empire centuries past. It no longer serves in that capacity, though it still serves the empire, as it always shall. I reside here with my three sons, two servants, a nursemaid, six horses, assorted fowl, too many cats to count, a herd of sheep, and the two hounds who guard my door. My first wife perished when my eldest daughter was but six. That daughter perished a year later. My second wife gave me my boys before answering the Goddess's call and retiring to the Isle. I have no clear understanding as to why, but then the Goddess does not explain herself to me, nor would I expect her to. This is your room."

He stood to one side, pushed a door open, and passed the lantern to Ciara.

"There are likely some items of clothing in the wardrobe which will fit you, should you require them. A basin and pitcher are on the nightstand but, as this room is typically unoccupied, they are currently empty. A bell pull hangs beside the bed. Should you require something, pull it. At this time of night, you are not likely to get a response. I will see a bath made ready for you in the morning. Good evening, Lady."

He bowed and, without waiting for a response, left Ciara standing in the hallway, staring after him.

***

Ciara woke well after the rest of the household, refreshed but unaccountably anxious. When a cursory tour of High House found it empty, she ventured outside in search of Ferris. She found him in the yard behind the small stable, trimming a horse's hooves.

"We need to return to Nisair."

Ferris looked up from his work at Ciara's unheralded pronouncement. "Beg pardon?"

"I know we're supposed to stay here until Ariadne says otherwise, but I can't reach Andrakaos. I haven't gotten anything more than a vague sense of him since Barrowdowns. I know he's not happy, being confined, and I’m not sure what he'll do."

Ferris lowered the horse's hoof and straightened. "Perhaps it's just the leagues between you. We could take a ride to the northeast and see if you can reach him from there."

Ciara shook her head. "Even if I can, I don't know if I'll be able to control him from here. It's hard enough when we're together. Besides…" Ciara hesitated. Given Andrakaos's reaction to Ferris, Ciara felt fairly certain she could trust the Sciath. Even Garek, despite his own feelings toward the man, had assured her of that. Still, Ferris owed his allegiance to Ariadne, and Ariadne owed hers to the empire.

"Trying to decide if you can trust me with whatever's weighing on you?" Ferris asked.

When Ciara didn't answer he looked down at the rasp in his hands for a moment, tapping it lightly against his fingers, face scrunched in thought. He glanced up at Ciara from under his brows, as though taking her measure just as she had done to him, looked away again, then drew in a deep breath and met her gaze.

"I'm to see you kept safe," he said. "I've a bit of discretion as to what that entails. I'm not to be your nursemaid, nor would I presume to tell you what to do" --he held up a finger to prevent Ciara from saying anything -- "in so far as your choices don't endanger you."

"Or go against Ariadne's wishes?" Ciara asked.

Ferris tipped his head in a shallow nod.

"And her wishes are that I don't return to Nisair until she says I can?"

"Unless you've a very compelling reason to do otherwise."

Ciara arched a brow. "Andrakaos going berserk and levelling the city isn't compelling enough for you?"

"Perhaps, but I get the sense there's something more. Something you're reluctant to share with me." His lips twitched up at the corners. "I find it difficult to be prepared for a situation when I don't know it's coming, and if I'm not prepared, there's a greater likelihood of you being harmed. If that were to happen, I'll suffer Her Ladyship's displeasure and Lord Bolin's wrath. I've seen the bad side of His Lordship. Been on it more times than I can count. I've no desire to be back there anytime soon. So for my sake, m'lady, and your own, all I ask is for you to be honest with me about your intentions."

The horse swung its head toward them, put out by their inattentiveness, and Ciara went to let it nuzzle her outstretched palm. She slid her hand up its dark face to massage the little whorl of hair on its forehead as she considered Ferris's request.

"Do you know who Donovan is?" she asked.

Ferris's brow furrowed. "I know
of
him. I've never met the man. If you mean, do I know he's your father? Aye. Lady Ariadne told me that much, as well as why the Council seeks to hold you to blame for his actions."

"Then you know that the only way I can appease them is to find him?"

"I believe Her Ladyship is working on appeasing them in your stead."

"And not having much success, or Andrakaos wouldn't still be warded."

The Sciath's chin tipped up slightly.

"Andrakaos can find Donovan," Ciara said.

"And then?"

"Then he can be brought before the Council and answer for what he's done."

Ferris rubbed a hand along his jaw. "How is it you intend on getting Donovan to come before the mages? No disrespect, m'lady, but from what I've heard, he has quite a bit of power at his disposal. You've a fair share yourself, but I don't know that you're ready to stand against the likes of him."

"You don't think Ariadne would help? Or Thadeus?"

"I think you need to exercise patience in this regard. If we hear nothing from Lady Ariadne in two days--"

"Why not three?" Ciara asked in a flash of impotent anger. "Or maybe four? Better yet, why don't we just winter here and decide what to do come spring?"

A frown darkened Ferris's face and he glanced away, his jaw ticking. The expression reminded Ciara very much of one Bolin would have directed her way, and she braced herself for the reprimand sure to follow. It didn't come. Ferris merely turned his attention back to the horse, untying it and coiling the lead rope in his hands.

"I'll ask your indulgence for one day more, m'lady. If we hear nothing by tomorrow evening, and you've no further contact with your
gy'lafrei,
we'll decide what course would be best."

"I'm sorry, Ferris," Ciara said. "I didn't mean to snap at you. I'm just… frustrated and worried and…" She blew out a breath. "I'm probably just tired, yet. So much has happened. I really haven't had a chance to sort through everything. We can wait, if you truly think it best."

He nodded but the shadow lingered. "I do." He clucked to the horse and started toward the barn but turned back before he reached the door. "It's not my desire to be in opposition to you, and I'll aid you any way I can. But I won't easily stand by and watch you make a move that'll cause you more harm than good. Not if there's another choice. You've a spine like steel, m'lady, but keep in mind, the best-made blades need to be flexible as well."

He tipped his head in a respectful nod and disappeared into the barn. Ciara stared after him. That hadn't gone well, but at least she knew where Ferris stood. She would never be able to find her way to Nisair alone, even if she could sneak away, but that didn't mean she had to sit idly by either. The very thought set her nerves jangling, as though there was something on the wind, some threat or danger she couldn't quite pinpoint. The longer she did nothing, the greater it grew. She would try to reach Andrakaos again and, if that didn't work, she would try to locate Donovan on her own. After all, Andrakaos was fond of telling her they were one. Anything he could manage, Ciara apparently could as well.

As she crossed the yard toward High House, she caught sight of one of Marcien's hounds and whistled softly, patting her thigh to coax him over, but the hound held his ground, ears up, eyes intense. His posture added to the sliver of unease creeping across her. She tried to shrug it off, something which would have been far easier had he not shadowed her back to the manor. He took up a position on the stoop when Ciara went inside. When she peeked out a window he was lying beside his companion, but with his head up and his gaze locked on the door.