Last of the Temple Line Read online

  Damn that fool! Dalaric fumed internally. Ki rose to his anger. The woman in his arms moaned but did not wake. He forced his essence to recede and frowned down on the woman when the tightness in her features eased. She was responsive to his Ki? Akkadians were attuned to Ki and all could understand its many nuances. Humans, however, could not feel it unless he had formed it into a weapon against them. The few sages and witches he had interacted with in the past had also lacked all but the barest of sensitivity to Ki.

  "Lord Dalaric," a woman's firm voice greeted from behind him. "Well met. Is there something I can do for you?"

  He turned and saw the old witch who had been the spiritual leader of Gilvern for many years. He had met her briefly when he had arranged for a suckling woman of the then small town to take charge of his nephew after Varian’s death. She had been young, then, having barely reached maturity herself. Witches lived much longer than other humans. Sustained by their mana, the most powerful were capable of surviving for almost a century longer than the average human’s lifespan. That did not mean they aged gracefully. Paelia had a half century more, give or take a decade, he judged, of life left to her. He noted the stark discrepancy between the fine robe the elder witch wore and the almost indecent lack of clothing on the young woman in his arms.

  "Where is the clan of this woman?" he demanded. He would deposit her into their care and discuss the particulars of his offering with her when she awoke.

  Paelia answered, "This witch has no blood kin left to her, only two women she calls sisters. She lives in my cottage."

  She closed her eyes before laying a hand on Emersyn's forehead. She stroked the skin there and frowned. "I cannot do anything for her. This has been a constant struggle since she came here. I had hoped she would be able to free herself from the barriers that block her path to the Mother, but I regretfully must concede she lacks the dedication and the discipline to be a proper witch. At least she can clean well. I suppose she will learn to make a living as a man’s wife."

  "She is not meant for your mother nor will she be claimed as a wife,” he bit out that last part. He had seen how humans treated their wives. Fat merchants horded them in opulent but loveless cages like a greedy squirrel with its winter cache and poor humans worked their women into the grave. The woman in his arms would not suffer such. “She is marked as a witch for the Rite," he stated baldly with a scowl. The pity in the old woman's face faded to shock.

  "Rite?" she repeated. Then, "Her?" She laughed dryly.

  His scowl darkened. Whatever the young woman had been to elder it was clear Paelia did not hold her in any real esteem. She clearly made use of the younger witch as a drudge while belittling her to a strange male. How human of her, he sneered but held his derision to himself. She was a witch, but Paelia was still a flawed being with an ego falsely inflated by worship to an even more perfidious goddess. He did not waste words on those who would not learn from them.

  Paelia took a deep breath, then bowed her head to the Akkadian lord with a broad smile that stretched the thin skin long gone to wrinkles. "I must give my apologies to Emersyn once she awakens for assuming her lack of ability stemmed from a lack of faith. It was clearly in Her wisdom that Emersyn need not concern herself with things not meant for her. Thank you, Lord Dalaric, for sharing this joyous news with me."

  She stood to the side and motioned with a hand to the narrow lane which led from the market to her cottage. "If you will follow me, I will show you to my home. You may gather her belongings to take with you."

  Dalaric's jaw clenched. He followed her hunched figure down the path. The old witch thought he would steal an unconscious woman away from the town without first discovering if she would be amendable to the role she had been born to?

  He reminded himself to keep his Ki contained when he coolly inquired, "Where are the women she claims as sisters?"

  Akkadians had long ago learned to form binding ties outside of clan with those not of shared blood. He knew some humans would adopt whelps on occasion but did not form other bonds outside of clan. It was foolishness. He, Dalaric, had found much use for the bonds that could secure loyalty for his clan.

  "Sarah, the wife of your nephew, who is not here is one. There was a disturbance. Your-"

  "It will not occur again," Dalaric stated coldly, cutting off the woman's explanation before it could bring his anger to the fore with the reminder. So. His nephew was married to one of the women the witch, Emersyn, the old woman had called her, considered a part of her clan. This could either help his cause or hurt it grievously.

  "The other?" he boldly inquired, magnanimously choosing to ignore the bitter scent of her anger at his abruptness when she turned around to face him in front of a cottage much larger than the others around them. It was beyond his understanding how so many witches and sages, regardless of their meager abilities with mana, were able to cultivate a bloated sense of importance in such a tiny sliver of life.

  She may be a leader for the humans, but Paelia was nothing to him. Her extended lifespan was a mere wink of an eye compared to many years he would live to see. He had fought in battles to secure the lands before her grandmother's grandmother had been born.

  "A woman of Liindre," Paelia declared with a glint in her brown eyes. She opened the large oak door to the cottage and waited for him to enter before following behind the male. The brief snick of wood betrayed its closing behind her.

  "Her blankets are over there, in her corner," she said. Paelia pointed to a small, neatly folded bundle that sat on the floor in front of the only window. Will had cleaned up after Emersyn had left the blankets strewn all around in the morning excitement.

  "The items on the bottom are hers," Paelia told him. She waved a hand to the large, carved shelf that dominated the far wall of the room before turning to the trunk that sat at the foot of the bed. She opened it and pulled a faded blue tunic and a pair of pants that had once been beige but had faded to white over time from its depths. She set them on top of the blankets.

  Smoke curled in Dalaric's stomach as his incredulous gaze took in the grandeur of a large, feather stuffed mattress set within an ornately carved wooden frame that took up one corner of the large space. The side table next to the bed held an assortment of drawers he was sure were not empty and a large bowl cut from pink quartz sat on the polished surface. A large table and chairs that matched the artistry of the bedframe took up the other corner of the room. The ample fireplace held a solid copper cauldron while the mantle was decorated with the skulls of different animals. Mortal and pestles of various sizes, crafted from expensive marbles, took up most of the table space along with various other instruments he did not recognize.

  The mixed scents of the many different herb bundles that hung from the rafters burned his nostrils and surrounded him in a noxious cloud of bitter memories. Too many years had been spent mixing concoction after concoction to no avail while his brother floundered with power he could not control. Now his son struggled while, all this time, a witch marked for the Rite had been hidden in a musty corner.

  When Paelia had opened the trunk, he had noted several reams of fabric that were of the same quality his mother would approve of. Cloaks and robes sewn with gold and silver threads hung in a position of honor on hooks tapped into the stone wall next to the bed.

  He stepped closer to take note of the meager items placed haphazardly on the indicated lower shelf. A leather-bound book, one set of clothes, thin blankets, and some tattered ribbons were the sole possessions of the woman in his arms?

  A sharp knock on the door set his jaw.

  "Welcome," Paelia called out.

  Alvin swung the door open and stepped into the room. He looked up from the large chunk of amethyst in his hand. His mouth dropped open, then closed with a snap. He looked between Paelia and the large male then took in the woman Dalaric held.

  "What happened?" he asked, concern for Emersyn overriding formality and polite greetings.

  "She is ill," Dalaric stated. His eye
s narrowed on the male, but he could not take offense at the avuncular concern plain on the man’s blunt features.

  Paelia took the cracked crystal from Alvin and asked, "Is Jaela still in Gilvern?"

  "She was feeding her devil horse when I last saw her," he answered. He shuddered at the memory. Reading about the dietary habits of Liindre mares was one thing. Seeing the blood-thirsty beast rip into live prey was not as pleasantly academic. The demented woman Emersyn called sister had watched the whole thing with a proud smile while she tossed rabbit after rabbit to the beast.

  His eyes drifted back to the pale young woman who was usually so vibrant. He manfully ignored the close inspection by the tall, powerful Akkadian that seemed to assume possession of the large space merely by his presence. "Paelia, have you inspected Emersyn? She was complaining of a headache earlier. I had assumed it to be a simple matter to cure with tea and rest."

  "What ails her will leave with a bit of time," Paelia replied. "Her mana has knotted inside her and it will eventually free itself as it always does."

  Emersyn let out a low moan. She pushed away the pounding in her head to rub her cheek against the gloriously soft fabric stretched over the hard surface beneath it. Had Paelia given her new blankets? Her eyes fluttered open. Vibrant green filled her vision.

  Sweet basil! she thought. It had not been a dream.

  ∞∞∞

  Emersyn rolled over in the blankets and coughed into her hand. She tentatively opened her eyes. The pain was gone. Jaela and Alvin looked up from their game of dice where they sat on the floor beside the fireplace which kept the cottage warm in the coldest of winters.

  "How long did I sleep?" she asked with a scratchy voice.

  "You fell asleep only yesterday. It is midmorning now. How do you feel?" Jaela asked. "The pains have never been this bad, Emersyn, perhaps it is time-"

  Emersyn sliced a hand through the air and cut her eyes to Alvin's interested gaze. Jaela narrowed her eyes but held her silence. Alvin and Paelia both thought her mana knotted inside her from improper weaving. Not that it refused her call completely except in extreme circumstances.

  The witch sat up with a groan and pushed the blankets off her legs. She pulled her hair over her shoulder and separated the sloppy mess into strands to braid.

  She noted her hands were shaking just a bit. Emersyn took a deep breath then tied off the braid with a faded blue ribbon. She watched Jaela turn back to the dice with a frown.

  "Sage, it is not possible to roll five three's four times in a row. You have used a spell to win this round," Jaela accused.

  Alvin held his hands up, fingers spread wide to display empty palms. "I have no gems in hand. Come now," he continued after snagging the pile of coins that had littered the ground between then, "do not be a poor loser."

  Brow raised, Jaela snorted. "Be glad there are other matters more important to me than proving you false, Sage."

  Before he could respond, Emersyn took a steadying breath. "So. Lord Dalaric carried me home from the Falls. And he said he has something of great importance to discuss with me," she added, throwing the fat onto the fire.

  After she had woken up in his arms, Lord Dalaric had ordered Paelia to assist her into her old tunic and leggings before Alvin spread her blankets so she could once more lay within them. Before leaving, the arrogant male had ordered Alvin to fetch Jaela and to not leave her unprotected until he returned to discuss her future.

  Still unable to function mentally and not run the risk of bringing on another round of debilitating pain, Emersyn had happily fallen back to sleep and left her confusion for another time.

  The muscles of Jaela's jaw clenched as she fought to rein in the curses she wanted to utter. She finally managed a hard, "I knew not to allow you to go alone."

  "Where is Will?" Emersyn asked to break the stiff atmosphere. He was always supposed to be with Alvin while he trained for Ilfarai. She had missed the little boy dearly the last few weeks. But she knew it was time to let him go.

  Alvin answered, "Paelia had him accompany her to the clearing where the sage grows wild."

  Emersyn nodded. "That's good. Good." The last thing she wanted was the young boy to be around until she knew what was going on. She took a deep breath and was going to speak when the door to the cottage open. Sunlight spilled in behind the large form that filled it.

  "Witch," came the deep voice she could never forget from the doorway.

  Gasping, Emersyn held a hand to her beating heart when Lord Dalaric stepped into the open space. His huge frame dominated the room. He had to duck to enter, and his head brushed the low ceiling. He silently closed the thick wooden door.

  Dalaric stalked into the room with a silken grace at odds with his size. Ignoring the frantic scrambling of the male when the sage gained his feet and the fierce scowl of the one who dared to unsheathe a befouled dagger in his presence, he chose to crouch near the wall facing his current objective.

  Irritated with the way the other attempted to step in front of the witch to block his view, his lips turned down slightly. Liindre. The older witch had mentioned it, but he had not paid as much attention to Paelia’s words in his anger.

  Liindre stole the bones of un-blooded Akkadian younglings who were lost to madness. They perverted the Ki held deep within them to form them into daggers. With them, the women become contract killers who slip into the shadows by feeding the darkened mana of their victims to the tortured Ki that yet remains in the bone weapons. Liindre live behind walls on the borders of his lands. Their existence has always been an irritant to Dalaric’s senses, but during his time as the First Son of the continent, his father had bartered for mana wine from Wulfram in exchange for the protection of Liindre from Akkadian justice.

  The witch claimed the wife of his estranged nephew and a Liindre mercenary who defied the walls and their creed as clan. Dalaric was not surprised. Nothing else in the last few centuries had been easily won. Why should this be any different?

  Dalaric wondered how long the woman had been of age. "How many years have you seen?" he bluntly inquired.

  Emersyn took a deep breath and crossed her legs beneath the blanket. She took courage from Jaela’s presence and answered, “I will be twenty soon.”

  He studied her thoughtfully, taking in her innocent eyes and rumpled tunic. She did not appear at all as he had expected based on his vague memories, pain-staking research, or his father's tales.

  Shifting beneath his scrutiny, Emersyn’s curiosity warred with fear. Finally, unable to handle the silence, Emersyn met the Akkadian's stern gaze. "What do you want?" she asked.

  Back ramrod straight as his elbows rested easily upon his knees Dalaric leveled a hard look at the young woman. "Privacy. What I have to say is not for their ears."

  Emersyn bit her lip. He had not hurt her. He had protected Gilvern and treated humans with honor, even if it were for reasons of his own and not for a love of them. "Jaela, Alvin," Emersyn asked, "could you give us a moment alone?"

  About to protest, Jaela was startled by the hand on her arm. The warrior woman wrenched her arm out of Alvin's grasp and shot the man a deadly glare.

  "Please, Jaela," Emersyn beseeched her. "For me."

  Jaela cursed darkly and stomped over to the door. She ripped it open but stopped to look over her shoulder. Gaze on the figure crouched in the corner and not on Emersyn, Jaela intoned, "I will be outside. Call to me and I will be here with Wraith."

  Giving a decisive nod, Emersyn felt conflicting emotions upon Alvin pulling the door closed when he followed Jaela outside.

  Dalaric drew her attention when he frankly began, "Akkadian younglings will never Ascend, as I did, into their power without your blessing. They will be forever un-blooded, will never learn to spread their wings or tap into their true potential."

  Emersyn’s breath whooshed out of her in a rush. She did not know how to respond to his statement but was spared by him continuing without a reply.

  "They were cursed by the one you w
orship in punishment for her almost death at Akkadian hands. None born since the fall of our Realm are beyond her reach. While in the egg their Ki is trapped by her dark mana, the only time an Akkadian is at the mercy of her weaker power."

  Emersyn gasped. "Why?"

  His features did not change, but she could sense a coldness take over his being. "Akkadians were not born of this world but had claimed it for our own. We lived separate from humans, however, and had built a Realm within the world for our own. After the last of us had been gone from humanity’s sight for many centuries, your people became a plague upon itself and the natural world. The darkness they begat had begun to creep upon the bridge between the world here and the Akkadian Realm. We returned from our Realm to destroy those who threatened our very existence and had plundered the world of all its riches to leave behind a cesspool of waste and evil."

  Emersyn paled. Her visions were not an aberration.

  "What happened then?" she asked, her voice whisper thin with horrified curiosity. What other truths would be ripped straight from her worst nightmares?

  Dalaric ruthlessly continued, "We battled against the humans and their powerful weapons. However, as we killed more and more humans, a false goddess interfered in our hunt. We do not know what she was, but she was not a goddess. Powerful but not immortal. A parasite, she could not survive without humans. She consumed their mana to survive. Ki, our essence, could not be twisted to her whims. The dark one, the one your people call the Mother, destroyed our Realm in her anger. Then her mortal shell was ripped apart in our fury. However, it did not end her life.”

  Dalaric scowled. “She became a wraith untouchable by our claws but not our Ki. She sank into the earth to hide from our vengeance and was sealed there by our true king with the last of his power. With our Realm destroyed, we were forced to reclaim the destroyed world for our own and began to rebuild our clans. It was then that her foul darkness began to seep into the eggs of our females. Many whelps were lost until we understood what was happening, but by then it was too late to find the dark one. Sealed from the light of day, she had found a way to move within the darkest of shadows and had hidden where we could not go as only a wraith could.”