Last of the Temple Line Read online

  "How?" Nialle asked. "Did you not hear me? He bent mana. His Ki is too great for even my dark mana to overcome."

  "You will become as death and lead my army," the fallen goddess announced. She waved a hand and several shadows stepped from behind her.

  Even Nialle's jaded senses cringed from the scent of decay that emanated from them. They had been female at one time, but most of the skin had become as yellow as the pus that crusted over the sores that covered most of their exposed bodies. One female reached a hand toward her and Nialle saw with fascination that the skin of its fingers had been chewed off to expose the sharp bone. The only claws a human would ever need, she thought with wicked delight.

  "You are the Mother but you have turned from life to death?" she asked the cloaked figure.

  "I, formerly without a name, have taken the title of: Ashra-The Goddess of All. Life. Death.”

  "How do I free you from your unholy prison, My Lady?" Nialle asked.

  "Only a portion of mana large enough, pure enough, can be shaped into a body to house my essence once more."

  "I will scour the lands and retrieve all the witches for you."

  Ashra sneered. "They will not do. Their essence yet contains a taint and not nearly enough power. It would take centuries. You, Nialle," she added with a snap of her fingers, "will have your greatest desire with the barest of effort. I have waited centuries for this moment. Emersyn, the one you targeted, is the one I have been seeking. She is not one of the marked. She is the last. The only. With her death their hope is lost forever."

  The years melted away and Nialle twirled around in a dance of ecstatic glee. The female creatures joined her, bones popping while Nialle's brown eyes burned white.

  Ashra continued to feed what power she could spare into the crone's body. Nialle would become as the other women but would retain the mind needed to control their actions.

  Her lips curled into a tight smile.

  Soon, Ashra told herself as the form she wore began to deteriorate with the effort she expended on Nialle's rebirth as her general. It was just a matter of time. Just the barest of moments until the rest of the mana-rich would be brought to her fold. She had waited, biding her time until the Akkadians had weakened to a point that they would not challenge her Rising. Then a witch had fallen into her lap so conveniently!

  Soon...

  Grief

  “I am alone. I wish she would talk to me.”

  -Emersyn’s Grimoire-

  "You are sure of his words?" Alvin's voice came from her right. The words sounded fuzzy. Disconnected.

  Dalaric's deep baritone called her to come closer. To abandon the fog that she floated in. "He did not lie."

  The sound of cloth rustling was accompanied by the sharp rap of wood on stone. "Where do you go?" Emersyn heard Paelia ask.

  "Wulfram will hear of this," Alvin replied coldly. Emersyn had never heard him so angry before. "Those who foul the name of the Mother will be called before the Council and, when found guilty, they will be sentenced to death. Places like that house of pain and suffering and the dark coven will be wiped from existence."

  "You are confident your Wulfram does not already turn a blind eye to the doings in such a place?" Dalaric questioned in hard tones. "It is a human establishment and I left it to human laws to govern. Had I known such defilement could take place in the shadow of Wulfram I would have long-ago burned it to the ground."

  "You do not know what you are talking about, Akkadian," Alvin forced through gritted teeth. "Wulfram will force from the witches the names of those who attend such places. It is witch creed, not Wulfram, that is to blame!"

  "The Council has been looking for a reason to take control of witch creed and ban covens," Paelia tried to reason with the sage. "They will use this to excuse an overreach of power. For over twenty years, my sisters of the coven who live closer to the borders of the east reported that witches are fleeing the sages who had turned the people against them. That is what exactly what Wulfram desires. All because of the actions of a few, you would ban practices that have existed since the dawn of humanity?"

  "Maybe they should be banned," Alvin argued heatedly. "If it is only intention that can determine if it is good or bad, then it will be a constant attraction for evil to abuse."

  Paelia scoffed, "Easy for a sage to say. Ban witch creed and who will power the gems for the spells you need to enforce your Council's laws?"

  "You are saying that unless witches are allowed to live free of the law they will refuse to work with the Council?"

  "I am stating," Paelia explained slowly, "that witches already follow the ultimate law. The Mother is our only law. The Council does not sit above Her and never will. Those who turn from Her, be they witch or sage or something other, should be the ones punished. Not those who are innocent of wrong-doing."

  The sound of the cottage door slamming shut was the only answer to the rebuttal. The sound vibrated into the empty air. It hurt her head. Emersyn moaned.

  "Child," Paelia called.

  I do not want to wake up, Emersyn dreamily decided. There was something there in the waking world. Something terrible. Better to stay in the fog. It was safe there.

  Another voice invaded the fog. Jaela. "We will face it together, Emersyn. You are not alone, my sister. Sarah is here, too."

  "Emersyn, please," Sarah begged. "Please don't leave us to deal with this without you. We need you."

  "Emersyn," Lord Dalaric commanded, "you must wake."

  Emersyn's eyes fluttered open. She hurt. Her eyes burned.

  "Thank the Mother!" Paelia rejoiced. "She has brought you back to us, Child."

  Jaela's face swam into view while Emersyn's eyes struggled to stay open. "Here," Jaela murmured. She helped Emersyn to sit up and gave her a sip of cool water from a metal cup. "Easy," Jaela said and pulled the cup away before Emersyn could choke on the liquid.

  Emersyn had never felt so thirsty! She leaned into Jaela's strength. "Thank you."

  Sarah threw her arms around her neck and sobbed into Emersyn's hair. "I should have been watching him! I was so wrapped up in the baby and being mad at Bannon that I-" Sarah broke off into small sobs.

  Jaela dropped her forehead on the crown of Emersyn's head and added, "No, I was the foolish one who chased a construct of dark mana. Once I knew it was a decoy I returned. It was too late."

  "No," Emersyn sadly admitted, "It was neither of your faults. Will is dead because of me. I left him. If I had not run off, he would still be here."

  "Nialle had planned to use him from the beginning," Dalaric's frigid tones broke through the women's grief. "Her goal was to force you into another mana storm. He was a tool to that end. Though we know not why."

  The shame of the boy's death was not on their heads. They were Dalaric's lands. His responsibility. Filth and depravity had taken root beneath his nose. His apathy to human affairs had allowed it to spread unabated.

  Emersyn turned tired eyes on the male. When Jaela would have pulled Wraith from its sheath, she laid a hand on her sister’s hand and shook her head.

  Dalaric had held her. Despite his status and her lack of it, he had tried to comfort her. Those eyes... They swam before her mind's eye. The unholy mixture of pain and rage and guilt. The darkness nailing spikes into her heart with every breath was as familiar to him as his shadow.

  She reached for him. Shadows flickered behind his shuttered gaze before he stood and left the cottage.

  Jocale found Dalaric the next day. Dalaric sent him to the palace with a sealed message. Loren was to hold on the ceremony and await word before continuing the preparations. Jocale was to be given a room within the palace until he could return to make another arrangement.

  After the male left, Dalaric settled in as a silent witness to Emersyn's grief. She was vulnerable. Nialle would use the opportunity to sneak in and finish what she had started. Before he left for the palace, Jocale had revealed that Nialle's plan to cause Emersyn's death was due to a desire to strike at
Meghara, though the details were not fully known to the former slave.

  Despite the risk to Emersyn in the village he had once thought safe and in spite of his son's need, Dalaric would not interfere in what he knew was necessary to process such loss. He took to the roof of the cottage and monitored her mana closely in case he had to exert control over it.

  In the following days, her sisters grieved with Emersyn. He heard the wails of Bannon's wife. The curses and threats of the woman of Liindre to hunt down and kill the witch and all she loved. But more than their wails and gnashing of teeth, he heard Emersyn's words as she tried to remember every moment of the boy's life with them.

  The one he had failed. Just as he had failed Varian. Just as he had failed the boy Bannon had been.

  Will.

  He had enjoyed the licorice candies made to celebrate the harvest. He had a fascination with mana gems and would have been a fine addition to Ilfarai's numbers. The boy had survived the sickness that killed his family. His story ended with torture. Killed on the whim of an abomination of mana that had only gained enough power because he, Dalaric, had not cared enough about the short-lived humans in his lands to guard their behavior as strictly as he did Akkadian blood.

  Dalaric did not enter the cottage during their grieving time, but he never went far from Emersyn's side. His Ki blanketed the village to reinforce the barriers Paelia had placed over the course of her years as Gilvern's spiritual protector. Occasionally, a wisp of mana rose to dance against his flesh as he rested upon the wood roof and stared into the night, contemplating fate and failed promises. The warm caress confused him almost as much as it soothed him.

  And then one day Emersyn cried less and talked more. Dalaric heard the sadness in her words, but also a resolution to forgive herself for what she had not known would happen. Within the embrace of her sisters, she found comfort and a reason to hold herself together.

  The Red Sorrel

  “Three toes of an Akkadian stirred through the blood of an unborn carried about the neck will hide your presence from all who seek you.”

  -Nialle’s Grimoire-

  Hand on the pommel of his sword, Enkidu, Dalaric watched Emersyn settle herself upon a blanket. She had chosen a spot near the deepest waters. He had brought her back to the secluded glade of the Whispering Falls.

  He watched her nimble fingers tear a blade of grass into pieces only to release them to float away on the breeze. She smelled of lingering sadness, but it no longer overpowered her natural, innate scent. The well of mana within her gently lapped at his senses.

  It had been five weeks since Will's death.

  He had left his lands to Loren's capable hands and had not ventured from Gilvern once. He had called upon the only Akkadian he trusted to deal with the matter of Nialle. Aegwin was not just a talented healer. He had only accepted the green dragon as his second on the provision that Dalaric would personally train Aegwin in combat. It was not his natural calling, but Aegwin had faithfully taken to the lessons. The green dragon would deal swiftly and honorably with whatever he found at The Red Sorrel.

  A message had come to him just that morning through Jocale. Aegwin had news.

  Dalaric had ordered the other male to meet him at the falls and brought Emersyn to share the news, good or bad. The boy had not been of her blood, but he had been clan of sorts to her.

  Dalaric could not ignore his responsibilities forever. This would be the true test of her recovery. She had not cried in a handful of days. Emersyn had claimed a bundle from the cottage and came to his side when he told her to join him. Wrapped in his Ki, he had brought her back to where it all began.

  The decision to introduce Aegwin to Emersyn had been easier to make than he had assumed it would be. Sometime during his vigil over her grief, Dalaric had decided he would not allow her to be hurt again. Not only for the sake of his son, but for his own desire to see Emersyn safe.

  Dalaric no longer fought the draw he felt toward her though he had been careful to keep his intentions from her until she had healed properly from her loss. His Ki had always seen true, and his instincts were never wrong. The soft heart that loved so completely and openly was meant to be his to protect despite her humanity and his previous vows. The power that made her more worthy than the most noble blooded of Akkadian females was secondary to the woman, herself. He would find a way to claim her, even if the marking was not possible.

  A shift in the wind signaled his guest had arrived. Dalaric looked up from Emersyn's bent head when Aegwin walked into the clearing on silent feet.

  "Dalaric," Aegwin greeted with a respectful bow of his head to his Sydae-Ra. He stared with avid curiosity at the woman who kneeled at Dalaric’s feet.

  Dalaric grunted in approval. Despite Aegwin's oath, none were to speak to her until introduced by himself. "Emersyn," he spoke, "This is Aegwin. Sworn second to my blood and bonded."

  She scrambled to her feet and looked at the male curiously. He shared Dalaric's white hair, though his was kept in a long braid that hung over his shoulder to rest upon his chest. Standing next to Dalaric he was a tad shorter, but just as broad in the shoulder. He was clothed in brown leathers like the ones Bannon favored, though his pants were split at the knee and proudly displayed muscular legs and clawed feet.

  "Well met," she greeted, with a bow of her head. She stood slightly behind Dalaric's larger form.

  Aegwin frowned, disconcerted at her need to place Dalaric between them. The scent emanating from her was muted, as to be expected given her recent loss, but was still just as delicious as he had hoped. She was a tiny thing, he noted, but her slender figure was decidedly feminine. He wondered if she would allow him to dress the long curls that hung down her back into elaborate braids to match his. He had researched human females with single-minded determination after Dalaric had disclosed his desire for one. The mysterious secrets of her body, different from Akkadian females in many ways and similar in others, beckoned to both his prurient interest and intellectual curiosity.

  A cleared throat brought his eyes to meet Dalaric's amused but impatient gaze. Aegwin shrugged. Dalaric was usually more direct. The green dragon sighed and brought his attention back to his Sydae-Ra reason for summoning him. "The Red Sorrel was a foul place. The slaves we recovered were sent to Tranton to locate homes for them and to provide mana wine before removing the collars."

  Aegwin continued, "The building was razed to the ground. We found the hidden tunnels and the lair the former slave, Jocale, spoke of. The witch was not there. The scent was stale."

  "Those who operated the brothel?" Dalaric growled, knuckles white around Enkidu. "What were their excuses for such perversions?"

  Aegwin's jaw clenched. "They said they operated a legal business with all the proper licenses from Wulfram."

  Emersyn gasped. Her heart stopped. She declared, “Wulfram could not have anything to do with a brothel. It is against their laws. Especially one that would deal with slaves."

  As the ultimate human authority within the lands, the Council of Wulfram was responsible for approving all business operations. Those that operated without permission were not protected from the lawless that could pilfer or destroy such places with impunity. If it was not recognized by Wulfram, it was a place of infidels and did not matter.

  The Akkadians shared a glance. Seeing it, she felt her stomach flip. "Sweet basil," she breathed out. "They had it, didn't they? The contract of Wulfram."

  Aegwin reached into his vest and pulled out a piece of folded yellow vellum. He handed it to Dalaric. The male took it, read the contents, then handed it to Emersyn.

  Her hands shook. It was all there. The signatures. The wax seal affixed to the bottom was infused with mana to protect the document from fading until it was renewed. The Red Sorrel had been granted permission to operate so long as it gave tithe to the city in the amount of a sixth of their operating income every year.

  "Lord Dalaric, please," she begged, "Alvin, needs to be shown this. He went to them to shut it do
wn. I know they did not tell him the truth of the matter."

  "What would he, a sage, do with this information?" Dalaric challenged. "He owes his allegiance to Wulfram. He has been returned from seeking an audience with the sage elders for many days, yet he has not shared this with anyone."

  She blinked back tears but stubbornly persisted, "Maybe he doesn't know. Maybe they lied to him."

  Dalaric claimed the contract and handed it back to Aegwin. Her belief in the other human was admirable if dangerous. He would need to guard her from her naivety. "Your response to their contract?" he asked the green dragon.

  The other male smiled widely, displaying very white, very sharp canines. "They will no longer be operating any business. Contractual or otherwise."

  Dalaric's lip curled. "Good." He grew serious when he looked at the sun. Midday. "We will continue the hunt for Nialle. Gather those you can trust. Find the bitch and bring her to me. If not alive then dead. Once more, you have proven your worth, Aegwin."

  Touched, the other male crossed an arm over his chest and bowed deeply at the waist. "Only through your strength." He turned a gentle smile on Emersyn and bowed low again, his braid almost touching the ground. "You will find none more deserving of your consideration, Little One."

  Emersyn gave a small smile and returned the bow. "I know," she said softly. And she did. She had known Lord Dalaric was a leader of honor from the stories around the lands. As a male, as a person, however, he had proven himself without equal not only for his actions these past weeks but also by the clear respect this male showed for him.

  Aegwin's eyes crinkled in the corners. He took a deep breath to carry her scent back with him on the trail of the witch. What he could see and smell of her was enticing beyond what a human female should be. How intriguing and equally promising her addition to the clan could make not only of Dalaric's life but his own. He hoped she could be marked and claimed in truth to the Sydae. Any female that had so snared Dalaric was worthy of his equal regard. Aegwin decided his first order of business would be to convince her to stop hiding behind Dalaric and greet him properly.