Lorelle of the Dark, page 16
“We do.” Slayter eagerly stepped forward, pulling a miniature metal house from within his robes. It was two inches square and the sloped roof opened at the top with a clever little hatch. Slayter demonstrated, clicking it open. “What I do is I set it on cleared ground. Not stone, mind you. Not grass, either, but dirt,” he said. “Open the top and it reforms the dirt into the local terrain in miniature. She becomes a tiny figure on the map and we can see where she is.”
Rauvelos did not seem impressed, though Khyven had thought the device… well… magical.
“What is its range?” Rauvelos asked.
“Ten miles.”
Rauvelos peered at the item. “That’s poor. Did you use a finger to calibrate the artifact to her presence?”
“Um,” Slayter said. “No. A scrap of her clothing.”
Rauvelos shook his head. “A finger would have been better. You could have attained a range of a hundred miles.”
“I…” Slayter glanced at Khyven.
Vohn looked stricken. “A finger? Like a chopped-off finger?”
Khyven held his hand up to Vohn. “She was already gone.”
“Ah. Well, without blood or tissue, a strand of hair would clearly be the way to go. You might have tripled your range,” Rauvelos said.
“Her hairbrush was empty,” Slayter said.
“But of course, Luminents don’t shed hair like Humans,” Rauvelos said. “Let this be a lesson for you, mage. You should cut a lock of hair from each of your companions. And your enemies, if you can. It’s very useful to have.”
That sounded ominous.
“So, can you help us?” Khyven asked. “Get there, I mean.”
Rauvelos looked down at them all, then focused on Khyven. “Can I? Of course, I can. Should I?” He shook his head. “Tovos has kept his distance from my master’s realm for centuries. And I have kept mine from him.”
“Are you sure?” Slayter said.
Khyven shot a look at the mage, but Slayter ignored him and moved closer to Rauvelos.
Rauvelos swiveled his head and gave the mage a cold look.
“I locked two Helms of Darkness in my vault,” Slayter persisted. “The one you loaned Khyven, and the other one.”
“I took them, of course,” Rauvelos said, as though daring Slayter to accuse him of stealing.
“Two Helms. The one you loaned Khyven, and the one Vamreth had.”
The raven watched him.
“Well, where did the other one come from?” Slayter asked. “I imagine one cannot simply buy a Helm of Darkness at a traveling bazaar. It has to be given by someone inordinately powerful.”
Rauvelos narrowed his eyes.
“My point is,” Slayter continued, “maybe Tovos hasn’t been respecting your boundaries as much as you think.”
Rauvelos cocked his head. “You have an interesting mind, mageling.”
Slayter gave a sweeping bow. “I am humbled you think so.”
“I will help you,” Rauvelos said abruptly.
Khyven had opened his mouth to attempt to convince Rauvelos to help in the wake of his inevitable refusal… Khyven closed his mouth and cleared his throat instead. “Thank you.”
“I never liked Tovos. Neither does my master,” Rauvelos said. “So yes, I can get you to the Great Noktum. Can I bring you back? No. The Great Noktum does not lie within my stewardship.”
“Then how do we get back?”
“Since there is a noktum cloak in play, I suggest you steal it and learn how to use it.”
“Steal it?”
“Or I suppose you could convince the Nox to give it to you.”
“Would he?”
“No.”
“What if we can’t steal it?”
“Oh, you can’t. Lord Tovos would have to be tied up in mystical chains, slathering and snapping before he’d let you take one of his cloaks. You’re going to die.”
Khyven exchanged a glance with Vohn.
“Don’t look so surprised, Khyven the Unkillable. If your goal is to live, traveling to the Great Noktum is a terrible idea,” Rauvelos said.
“Then why help us?”
Rauvelos shrugged, which was interesting to see on a giant bird. “You survived the Helm of Darkness. This is an equivalent bit of ridiculous nonsense. I’m curious to see if you survive this.”
“Thanks,” Khyven said drily.
The facile part of Rauvelos’s mouth, just behind the beak, curved upward. That was what passed for a smile on the giant bird, Khyven supposed. “You could get out on the back of a dragon, I suppose. Is that how you will manage this impossible feat, Khyven the Unkillable? There is a dragon in the Great Noktum. His name is Jai’ketakos. I don’t advise you wake him, though. He’s been trapped in his cave for more than a thousand years.”
“With a Dragon’s Chain?” Slayter interrupted, so excited he’d taken another few steps toward Rauvelos. “Is he trapped with a Dragon’s Chain?”
Rauvelos’s round, black eyes shifted, flicked a glance at the mage, then looked back at Khyven without acknowledging Slayter’s question.
“You could try to get out on foot, of course, but it’s a weeks-long journey and your amulets will give out long before you make it a day. I could do something to extend the life of those amulets, I suppose, but if a servant of Tovos finds you, he’s going to feel my touch in the spell. They’ll instantly recognize what you are and kill you. And even if a servant of Tovos doesn’t find you, the lands of the Great Noktum make my master’s realm look like a fanciful garden. I predict you will last two days.” Rauvelos cocked his head. “Do you still wish to go?”
“I have to.”
“Of course. And the mage? You will take him? He is talented, and I imagine you could use those talents.”
Khyven nodded.
“Of course. Then let us strike a bargain, Khyven the Unkillable. I will send you and your mage to the Great Noktum. You leave the Shadowborn morsel with me.”
Khyven glanced at Vohn. “You want me to leave Vohn here?”
“As payment.”
“So, you can eat him?” Khyven blurted. “No!”
“Khyven the Unkillable, you’re being unreasonable. Basic politeness indicates you offer me something in return.”
“I’m not going to let you eat Vohn!”
Rauvelos cocked his head.
Vohn’s eyes were wide, but he didn’t say anything.
“Vohn is my friend. I can’t use him as a trade for favors.”
“You most certainly can,” Rauvelos said.
“I won’t!”
“Is this how it works in Human society? You take and take favors and you give nothing in return?” Rauvelos said. “I begin to think you’re slighting me, Khyven the Unkillable.”
“I wasn’t aware I needed to bring a Human sacrifice!”
Rauvelos sighed and lifted his beak toward the domed ceiling as though reminiscing. “Human sacrifice… Those were heady days,” he said softly.
Khyven exchanged glances with Slayter and Vohn and wondered if they were in for a fight after all. While Rauvelos’s attention was on his fond memories of Human sacrifices, Khyven beckoned Slayter and Vohn to back toward the door, though he didn’t have much hope of outrunning the raven. But fighting would be worse. Rauvelos had contained Harkandos with relative ease, and the statue had nearly killed all three of them in seconds. Khyven didn’t think much of their chances in a fight.
Rauvelos finally sighed and murmured to himself, “With one foot already in the mud, one might as well go swimming.” He turned his gaze back to Khyven and seemed amused that they had backed away from him. “Very well, I will send you. If that is what you wish.”
“All of us?”
“You may keep your little Shadowvar morsel.”
“Thank you.”
Rauvelos didn’t acknowledge that. Instead, he walked across the stones toward the door, which swung open of its own accord as he neared.
“Come with me.”
Chapter Twenty-one
Lorelle
Lorelle fell back into the Nox’s embrace and the cloak engulfed them both. It felt like the first time she’d stepped into the noktum. Cold flowed around her and through her like black tentacles of darkness, and those tentacles eased the burn inside her. It felt like the hellish sun had been covered over in cool shade. She gasped with relief. She’d forgotten what it was like to exist without that torturous pain.
Immediately after, she felt a squeezing sensation, like she was being forced through a tube. She tried to draw a breath but couldn’t, and for a moment it felt like she was going to suffocate.
Then it eased, like her body was reconstructing itself in its normal proportions. The cool, covering darkness receded and she was suddenly standing on a meadow inside the noktum. She would have been blind except that her golden hair blazed in the dark, illuminating the charcoal grass with its purple outlines and the edge of a forest before them.
Her soul-burn flared back to life and she clenched her teeth to stifle a whimper. Lotura, she’d become so acclimated to the flames inside her that just a moment’s respite showed her how horrible they really were.
She pushed a hand to her chest and looked over to find the Nox standing next to her, watching her. Lorelle and Rhenn had explored the noktum extensively, had created little stone trails to guide them safely through. She cast about for a landmark that would tell her where she was.
In the limited halo of her hair’s light, she couldn’t see far enough to catch a glimpse of any of their paths or to see which direction the old nuraghi loomed.
They stood at the edge of a forest, but it looked odd. It wasn’t like the forest near Rhenn’s camp. There were no pine trees or even aspens. Thick, gnarled oaks twisted their limbs toward the sky, full of charcoal leaves bordered in vanilla white.
Even under the magical light of her hair, which revealed objects in the noktum similarly to the way sunlight would, there was little color anywhere. The leaves had their yellowish borders. Hints of purple streaked the charcoal grass and the trunks of the trees. Strange, dark blue ferns grew between the trunks. It was as though the foliage had somehow adapted to a land that never saw daylight.
The Nox watched her, and she self-consciously removed her hand from her chest.
“That is our first order of business,” he said softly. “I can only imagine the pain you must be experiencing.”
“We’re in the noktum?”
“Of course.”
“You said you were taking me to a Plunnos.”
“Which is in the noktum.”
She swallowed that piece of information. Of course. She should have expected that anywhere they would go would be inside the noktum. She should have thought of that.
“We get the Plunnos first,” she said tightly, wanting to push her hand into her chest again, but resisting.
“Lorelle,” he said softly. “You are dying. The first thing you need is to cease dying. Don’t you think?”
“You can… really fix this?” she asked.
“I haven’t lied to you.”
“Is it close to the Plunnos?”
He smiled sadly. “The Plunnos is close enough. It can wait. Now please, extinguish your hair and follow me.”
“Which part of the noktum is this?” she asked. “I don’t recognize it.”
“Lorelle, please put out your hair.”
She swallowed, and her hair only glowed brighter. “I can’t.”
He raised both eyebrows. “You can’t?”
“I’m not… calm right now. I need some time to calm down—”
He cocked his head and compassion flickered in his eyes. “I didn’t realize… My apologies.” He strode toward her and held his hands out, palms up. “May I?”
“May you what?”
“Perform the ak’tira upon you.”
“I don’t know what that is.”
“It is a technique by which I can help you extinguish your hair. We do it with our children before they learn control on their own. It will require that I touch you. May I?”
“I’m fine with my hair glowing.”
That annoyed him. “Are you fine being eaten by a naguil?”
She had never heard of naguils, but the noktum was filled with monsters. “What’s a naguil?”
He sighed. “Lorelle, I’m trying to help you—”
“You promised me a Plunnos, but here we are in a part of the noktum I do not recognize, and now you’re threatening me with the attack of a creature I’ve never heard of.”
“I would like to have this conversation,” he said. “There are questions you have and there are many answers I can give. It is why I sought you out. But in my culture, stealth is paramount. We do not announce ourselves as we stride along like Lightlanders do. If we do not keep ourselves hidden, predators take an interest. Surely you know enough about the noktum to know this.”
“I know.”
“Right now, you are a shining beacon. We are both in danger.” He held out his hands, palms up, and said, “Will you allow me to help you with your hair?”
She swallowed. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to touch you on the back of your head and…” He seemed at a loss for the word. “Calm you. That is the best I can describe it.”
He approached her and stopped so close she flinched. She didn’t let people touch her. No one except Rhenn.
When she was a child, Lorelle had loved contact of all kinds. Snuggling with her parents, sitting in Mother’s lap, holding Father’s hand on walks, hugging friends. But once the Change had come upon her, touch was the first thing to go. It too easily unlocked her emotions. She couldn’t always control how she felt about things, but by Lotura she could keep from touching people. It had helped so much in the beginning.
“Are you ready?” Zaith asked.
“Fine,” she said and her hair glowed brighter.
The Nox slid his slender fingers into her hair and cupped the back of her head. She stiffened, working against the painstaking control she’d forced upon herself years ago. But the touch was soft, gentle. Almost immediately, the burning of her soul eased like it had when they had teleported through the cloak.
It actually felt… good. Her hair glowed brighter. After she’d half-bonded with Khyven, she’d longed to wrap herself around him every time he was near. Now this touch, so unexpectedly intimate, sent a forbidden thrill through her.
His other hand slid over her belly just beneath her breastbone.
“Hey—”
A zing of lightning forked through her insides and a light crack sounded inside her head. Profound relief flooded through her like a dam had broken, letting water run throughout her insides. Her muscles suddenly relaxed. Her legs went limp, but the Nox held her upright.
Her hair’s light winked out, plunging her into absolute darkness.
Her strength returned and she jerked upright, able to stand once more on her own. For a horrible moment, she thought she’d wet herself.
“Let go of me!” she demanded, and he released her.
Hastily, she fumbled with her pouches and found the one with her Amulet of Noksonon. Heart pounding, she looped the amulet over her head and traced the edge of it with her finger. Slowly, the darkness receded and she could see again in the gray tones the amulet provided. The terrain was no longer illuminated with the buttery light, showing the little color nuances around the leaves and the grass, but she was able to see everything and much farther than before. She saw the strange forest, the dark sky, the horizon, and a giant castle looming behind everything.
A shiver went up Lorelle’s spine.
That wasn’t the castle she knew. This one was taller, sharper, like the towers and the crenellations were designed to stab the sky. The entire structure was whole and unbroken, not a ruin like the one near Rhenn’s camp.
“What are you doing?” the Nox asked. He squinted, noticing where her hand clutched the medallion. “Are you wearing a Lord’s amulet?”
“What did you do to me?” she demanded, breathing hard. She checked herself, the back of her neck, the spot high on her belly where his hands had been.
“Where did you get a Lord’s amulet?” he asked.
“What did you do to me?” she reiterated.
He raised an eyebrow.
“Answer me,” she demanded. “Or I’m leaving.”
A flicker of a smile indicated he found that amusing, but he answered her question. “I told you, it’s the ak’tira, a trick that every Nox parent learns to keep their children alive. A Nox’s hair—or a Luminent’s—won’t send the denizens of the noktum into a killing rage like natural light, but it does attract attention.”
“I mean how did you do it?” She reached up and touched her hair.
“Here, every Nox is a master of her inherent abilities, Lorelle. We do not take pride in our limitations like Luminents do.”
“There was a noise in my head. A… crack.”
“I had hoped to have this conversation within the protection of the city—”
“Answer my question!”
He frowned. “Do you even know why Luminents glow, Lorelle?” he snapped back. “Do you even know why?”
“It’s—The Luminents have always had it.” Her parents had talked little about Luminent customs, but her mother had once said that the light in her hair, the lightness of their bodies, arose from the special relationship that Luminents shared with nature. “It’s… the life force of the earth, because of the—”
“Nonsense.” He shook his head. “That is nonsense. It is the doctrine the Luminents preach, but it isn’t the truth; a lullaby sung to the ignorant. Luminents are not a spiritual strain of creatures who benefit from a harmonious connection to nature or whatever your parents told you. You, and all Luminents, are tools from a bygone age, nothing more.”
“Tools?”
“You were engineered by the Lords. You and the Shadowvar, the Brightlings, the Delvers, the Taur-Els. My people as well. We were created and imbued with magic for a purpose. Our ancestors were hammered and shaped until we became something useful to the Lords.”
