Path of Darkness (Memories of Madness Book 1), page 1
Path of Darkness
Book One of the Memories of Madness
C. M. Lackner
Contents
1. Stranger
2. The Last Day
3. Springlight
4. Flight
5. Blood Wilfully Shed
6. An Offer of Passage
7. The Tower
8. Shereford
9. Lesson of Pain
10. Whispers
11. A Chance
12. Auditor
13. Connotations
14. Khol Morrun
15. Tempest
16. The Proving
17. Rising Fire
18. Savagery
19. Larren
20. They Come at Night
21. The Necromancer
22. Interlude: White Wolf
23. The Fool, the Fanatic & the Maniac
24. Across the River
25. Gambits
26. Silent Knife
27. Enfer Clau
28. Herald
29. A Second Chance
Afterword
Exclusive Content
Acknowledgments
About the Author
1
Stranger
Every initiate was warned by the Mother Superior that the hardest part of their duties would be compassion in the face of perpetual irritation. At the time, Mother Gloria had been coy about what she precisely meant, assuring them all they would understand the moment they encountered it.
For Aelith Sennara, that moment had arrived in the form of Lorenna. The old woman had visited the infirmary for almost three months straight, ostensibly with the excuse that she was plagued by various aches and pains in her body. That was not unusual, given her age and frail constitution. What was unusual was that she steadfastly refused any medicine or treatment they offered her. Most of the initiates were convinced that she made up her symptoms, and Aelith was counted amongst their ranks. It was easy to be sympathetic at first. Her husband, Garrett, had just passed away, and her sons had died in a tragic incident years ago. She was clearly lonely and in need of companionship. After the first month, however, that sympathy evaporated amongst most of the initiates.
“Oh, Sister Sennara. It’s you on duty today?” Lorenna said, entering the infirmary. The infirmary in the Haverin temple was a small one, with two cots in the corner and a table for grinding herbs.
Aelith stood up and gave her a deep bow, affording her the respect a woman her age was accorded. “Yes, Lorenna,” she said. “What ails you today?” Instead of moving to retrieve herbs to grind into medicine, Aelith took the teapot from the fireplace and poured out a cup of tea for both of them. Unlike the other initiates, she had long given up trying to persuade Lorenna to take any medicine for her symptoms, real or imagined. Many of them still tried, in hopes that Lorenna would take it and leave them alone for a few days or weeks. Instead, Aelith guessed that Lorenna still bore a gaping wound in her heart, one that no herb could heal, but perhaps time and a listening ear would help to ease.
She wished that she did not have to be one of those listening ears.
“Oh, you’re too kind, Aelith.” Lorenna took the tea and sipped it. “You know me. When you get to my age, every little thing gives you pain. A breeze, an incoming rainstorm. I can’t bend any more, you know? I dropped a fork today — my grip isn’t what it used to be — and I had to go next door to ask Ormin to help me pick it up. Oh, the shame!”
Aelith nodded and smiled, doing her best to pay attention. How many times had Lorenna told her this month alone that Ormin had to go over to help her pick things off her floor? “Your knee giving you trouble?”
“Damned thing has always given me trouble,” she said. “Injured it in my younger days and it didn’t heal quite right. I’m glad I married Garrett. Farming’s miserable work. Trading’s much better, really. Less work, better money.”
Aelith nodded in commiseration. “I know,” she said. “I don’t miss farming either.”
“You and your brother were farmers, if I recall?”
“Yes, we were. Neither of us misses those days since joining the Covenant. No one ought to be so stressed from a single week of bad weather,” Aelith replied. Not to mention the backbreaking labour that began at dawn and did not end until the evening, all for a pittance that was barely enough to feed you, she thought.
Lorenna smiled and laughed. “You never really shake the weather’s grip over your fate, even as a trader. Garrett lost some cargo to bad weather before. They were insured, of course, but the plans he bought were rubbish. A complete waste of money. He couldn’t afford the insurance on plans that covered weather loss.” She let out a longing sigh. “I miss him, you know? When he took me on his trading journeys down to Shereford — oh, those were the days. Once you’ve seen a city, no town can compare, especially not one like Haverin. He even took me all the way to Credonia once.”
“Tell me more about Shereford,” Aelith said, hoping to nudge the old woman into a moderately interesting topic.
“Where do I begin?” Lorenna asked. “The grand temple must be the size of all of Haverin. You must go and see it one day, Aelith. And the people! They’re the absolute rudest, the lot of them! Always jostling or trying to sell you something at absurd prices.”
“That’s terrible,” Aelith quipped. “Doesn’t seem that nice a place to visit.”
“Nice enough to go with a companion,” Lorenna replied. She let out a long sigh. “I miss Garrett, you know?”
Aelith squirmed in her seat. How was she supposed to comfort a woman nearly thrice her age about the loss of her husband? Gods above, what am I supposed to say? she wondered. Mother Gloria had taught them the verses to quote from the Trius to comfort the grieving, but she could only repeat those words so many times before it became trite. “He was a good man,” she said. Nothing else came to mind.
Lorenna nodded and burst into tears. Unsure of what to do, Aelith passed her a napkin and she blew into it. The gesture felt wholly inadequate.
“Is there anything I can do?”
She wailed and wrapped Aelith into a hug. Uncertain of what to do, Aelith returned it. “Oh, you’re the sweetest, Aelith. I know the rest don’t like me. You’re one of the few who bother to listen to me.”
“Nonsense. We all care for you.”
Lorenna leaned back and wiped her tears away. “No need to lie to me.” She reached out and took Aelith’s hand. “I wish I had a daughter like you. It was a tragedy, what happened to your mother.”
“Women die in childbirth all the time,” Aelith said. That was part of the reason the Covenant’s vow of celibacy never bothered her. She never wanted children, not after Ferrein’s birth had killed their mother.
“It doesn’t make it any less tragic,” Lorenna said.
“My tragedy doesn’t compare to yours.” The conversation reminded her that Lorenna had buried almost everyone she had loved, including her own children. Her earlier irritation at Lorenna shamed her.
“The others don’t like my presence here very much, do they?” Lorenna asked.
“What? No, that’s nonsense,” Aelith said. “You’re always welcome here.”
She shook her head. “Can I ask a favour of you, Aelith?”
“What’s the favour?”
“I know I’m not really welcome in the infirmary and all. Could you… come by my house? Maybe once or twice a week? It’d be nice to have someone to talk to.”
Aelith could think of a dozen reasons not to. It was an extra duty she was taking up and Mother Gloria would not allow her to use it to reduce her other duties, which meant it had to be done with little free time she was given. And as tragic a figure Lorenna was, it did not change that she was a dull conversationalist. The past few months had proved as much.
“Yes, of course I will,” Aelith said, casting aside her mind’s protests. “I’d be delighted to. But you can always come visit me during my infirmary duty. We have a monthly schedule; I’ll give that to you so you know when to come.”
Lorenna wrapped her into another hug. “Thank you Aelith, thank you.”
“It’s no trouble at all,” she lied. I’m going to regret this, aren’t I? she thought. Although it was difficult to call her promise a mistake when Lorenna released her from the hug and joy emanated from her eyes.
“Aelith!” Voices from the infirmary entrance made them both turn. It was Ferrein and Marise.
“I see your friends are here. I’ll leave you to it.” Lorenna squeezed Aelith’s hand. “Thank you,” she said softly, before turning to leave.
Marise and Ferrein stared at Lorenna’s back as she walked away. “How did you manage to get her to leave so quickly?” Marise asked in amazement.
Aelith sat down and told them what she had promised Lorenna. Both of them burst out laughing.
“Well, don’t expect any help from me,” Marise said, smirking. “You can suffer alone.”
“Nor me,” Ferrein added.
“Some friend and brother the two you of are,” Aelith grumbled, although she had expected as much. It was not their fault she could not bear to turn Lorenna away. How could she? It would have been cruel. “So, why are the two of you here?”
Marise rubbed her hands together. “Mother Gloria just talked to both of us. She said we’ll be confirmed during the Springlight Festival.”
Aelith squealed and drew them both into a hug. “That’s wonderful!”
“I think she’ll tell you after your infirmary duty,” Ferrein said, returning the embrace.
Aelith hoped so. Otherwise, she would be left behind in Haverin while Marise and Ferrein left for the cities to continue their training as a priest and priestess. Nor did she want to have the sole infamy of being the longest-serving initiate. She and Ferrein had joined the Covenant at the same time. No other initiate in the history of Haverin’s Covenant had taken as long as both of them to be confirmed. Additionally, initiates were only confirmed during the Springlight Festival. If Mother Gloria did not approve her confirmation for this Springlight, it meant another year’s wait at least. A whole year without either Ferrein or Marise? It won’t happen, she told herself.
“Have you thought about the path you’ll choose?” Marise asked Ferrein.
“I’ll be a priest of Mithrian,” he said. “And I suppose you’re still choosing Junerva?”
“Of course,” Marise said. She had long declared her intention to be a devotee of Junerva, with the final goal of becoming a Juner smith — tinkerers and inventors seeking to reclaim what they could of the Ancients. “Anyway, we should go. Father Bromhel wants to speak to us about the confirmation details.”
Aelith gave them both a tight smile. “Go on. Don’t worry about me. Hopefully, I’ll have good news to pass to you two later.”
“Tell us when Mother Gloria gives you the word,” Ferrein said, turning to leave.
“Both of you will be first to know.” However, she noted that if she was going to be confirmed, why would Father Bromhel speak to them first about the confirmation rather than waiting for all three of them?
Aelith brushed her doubts aside and wondered what path she ought to choose. Ferrein hadn’t been as certain as Marise about the path he would take, but ultimately, it had still been an easy choice for him. On the other hand, she had no idea which God she would dedicate herself to. Neither called to her, but those were the only choices there were. Perhaps she would choose Mithrian. That way she could at least stay with her brother.
Aelith sat back down in her chair and took out the book she was reading. Literacy was one benefit of joining the Covenant, one that she had never considered but now cherished. Outside of those wealthy enough to get access to education, only the initiates and priests in the Shadowlands could read, and this had opened up a wealth of knowledge for her to devour as well as an avenue of escape. Lying in the dusty basement of the temple were books on every topic one could fathom, including stories and tales she had never heard of before. It was her favourite way to pass infirmary duty.
The book she was reading was one she had stumbled upon by accident when Mother Gloria punished her by ordering her to dust all the books in the basement after she caught Aelith skimming herbs from the infirmary to sell to the apothecary for some money. Although she had managed to escape an even more severe punishment by convincing Mother Gloria that the herbs were requested by a passing trader who had conveniently departed an hour ago, the Mother Superior implemented a public checklist of the quantity of herbs left each time and how much had been given to each person visiting the infirmary. The additional work had done little to endear her to the rest of the initiates.
She still shuddered at the thought of the endless rows of shelves, the countless books and horrifying amounts of dust that gathered after years. The book had no title and ought to have been burned, but someone had inspected it before. Why else would it have been placed in the correct category? It spoke of the Shadow Empire when the Shadowlords still ruled. Mother Gloria was adamant that any books from that ‘wretched, tainted era of corruption’ should never be read. When Aelith first stumbled upon it, her instinct was to throw it into a fire. What if the book was cursed like she had been so often warned? She was going to hand it to Mother Gloria, when she tripped and fell whilst carrying the book.
It fell open and she could not avert her gaze in time. Far from being struck blind, or a demon leaping out from the pages to possess her, nothing happened. Her eyes inadvertently found their way across the open page, and it was nothing more than the journal of a soldier who had been in one of the Empire’s armies.
The journal was her secret, one that she kept from Marise and Ferrein. It had belonged to someone called Jordal, and he dutifully recorded every significant event of his life in it. In her mind, she traced his journey from the Shadowlands all the way to a failed campaign in the southern deserts of Tezin and its bitter retreat through a desert. Part of her delighted in the irony that had the Covenant not taught her Naradul to read the Trius, she never would have been able to read the journal.
The noise of someone clearing his throat drew her attention.
She sprang to shut the book and looked up to see who it was. To her surprise, it was a man she did not recognise. He was hawk-nosed with cold eyes that exuded arrogance, dressed in what she thought was a flowing black robe. When he turned and the light shone onto the robe, the colour revealed itself to be a dark blue. She was accustomed to the occasional visitor in town — usually passing traders or travellers seeking a room for the night. But none of them wore such fine clothes or carried themselves as he did.
“What ails you, sir?” she asked, jumping to her feet. This was not a man to offend.
He shook his head. “Nothing, thank you. I came here for a different reason. To see you.” He closed the door.
“Me? I don’t know you,” Aelith said, feeling uneasy. What did this man want with her?
“You don’t. But if all goes well, we’ll be getting acquainted with each other soon. Are you a priestess?”
“I will be soon. What’s your name?”
“Krusicus Craelin. What’s yours?” He gave her a smile, but it only made her uneasy, and she had to repress a shudder.
“Aelith Sennara.” She tried to recall if she had ever heard of the name Craelin, but her mind drew a blank.
“Aelith, I have a message for you, from a group of people who take an interest in persons who possess unique talents.”
She gave him a blank stare. Unique talents? She could not think of any that she had. “You flatter me,” she said, although she had not the slightest clue as to what he was talking about. “What is the message?”
“When the time comes, blood wilfully shed shall mark your safe passage.”
“What? What time is this? Blood wilfully shed? What does that mean?” she asked. It sounded ominous.
Krusicus shook his head. “I wish I could say more, but it could affect your performance in the trials ahead of you. You’ll know when the time comes. Don’t forget the message, Aelith. It will likely mean the difference between life and death for you.” Before she could ask him any more questions, Krusicus opened the door and left.
“Wait!” she called, running after him. She emerged into the corridor but did not see him. Where could he have gone? She took the path he would have to take to leave the temple, but there was no sign of him. Had he broken into a sprint the moment he left the infirmary? Impossible. She would have heard his footsteps otherwise. Wrestling with her desire to chase after him, she returned to the infirmary. Woe betide the initiate found to have left the infirmary during their allotted duty slot. The wrath of Mother Gloria was a terrible thing to behold, and she had no wish to dust any more bookshelves.
Aelith spent the rest of her shift pondering the message Krusicus had passed to her. A trial awaited her? Had Mother Gloria uncovered some wrongdoing? She was confident that she had covered her tracks and left no proof of it. The only incriminating object that could be traced back to her was Jordal’s journal, but Mother Gloria would have marched into the infirmary to haul her away herself. She would not bother sending a messenger, especially not a complete stranger. Was this a prank? That made no sense either.
