Flight Into Darkness Part 18

"G-get on board, Astasia," he managed to stammer. For he knew what it was; it was kin to the spirit that had healed him: unimaginably powerful, filled with an untamable fury. He broke into a stumbling run, intent only on drawing the creature away from his sister, heading out along the jetty.

"Why are you running from me, child of Artamon?" He could hear its voice, and it was different from the voice of the Drakhaoul that had healed him. " He could hear its voice, and it was different from the voice of the Drakhaoul that had healed him. "I am Adramelech." Soft, yet imbued with strength and understanding. " Soft, yet imbued with strength and understanding. "I am your destiny The blood of the Emperor Artamon runs in your veins. Merge with me... and I will fulfill your deepest desires."

"A-Adramelech?" Andrei stammered-and the creature enveloped him, enwrapping him in a cloud of twilit mist until he felt as if he were drowning in its empurpled depths.

Drenching rain blew in gusts across the deck of the Dame Blanche. Dame Blanche. The wind battered her sails and whipped the waves into great rolling breakers until she pitched and tossed helplessly. The wind battered her sails and whipped the waves into great rolling breakers until she pitched and tossed helplessly.

Belowdecks, Celestine struggled toward the Magus's cabin. Every lurch of the vessel flung her against the wooden walls, but she fought on until she reached the cabin door and unlocked it. The door flew open and she stumbled inside.

The Magus lay as they had left him, securely bound to the bunk. But one finger, his right index finger, was moving slowly. And though his eyes were closed, she saw a faint smile on his pallid lips by the light of the flickering lantern.

"This is your doing." Another great wave threw her against the wall of the cabin. She grabbed hold of the bunk head to steady herself. "Make it stop!"

"Release me," he murmured, his voice barely audible above the roar of the storm, "and I will do as you ask."

"But what good will it do if you sink the ship?"

"Release me... and no one will be harmed."

A sound of splitting timber came from above deck, followed by a great shout and a terrifying crash.

There was a spell she had read in her father's grimoire, a binding spell. It was very risky to use such a powerful trick of the Forbidden Arts on a Commanderie ship, but as the Dame Blanche Dame Blanche shuddered, helpless in the blast of the storm, she had little alternative but to try. shuddered, helpless in the blast of the storm, she had little alternative but to try.

She closed her eyes, concentrating with all her heart and will. Faie, help me. Faie, help me.

Suddenly her whole body was infused, drenched with the Faie's pure light.

She raised one hand, pointing at the Magus.

"In bonds invisible, I bind thee," she whispered, hearing the Faie's sweet, clear voice fused with her own. She could feel the coils of power slowly unraveling and rolling down the length of her arm into her wreathing fingertips, wrapping themselves about him. And she knew that Linnaius could feel them too. She heard him whisper "No!" even against the groaning and creaking of the timbers of the ship. she whispered, hearing the Faie's sweet, clear voice fused with her own. She could feel the coils of power slowly unraveling and rolling down the length of her arm into her wreathing fingertips, wrapping themselves about him. And she knew that Linnaius could feel them too. She heard him whisper "No!" even against the groaning and creaking of the timbers of the ship.

"Now, sleep." She dipped into the little phial of dustlike granules she had found in his laboratory, and softly blew on her fingertips, sending the dust to settle over him in a powdery cloud.

His lids began to close and his finger ceased to move as the protest died on his lips. The wind suddenly dropped and the waves stilled. The sickening pitching and rolling stopped and the ship lay becalmed.

Celestine let out a long, slow breath. She and the Faie had meshed him in a web of his own making; the sleepdust had worked on him, just as it had when he had used it on her at Swanholm. She had feared he might have made himself immune to his own devices. Just as long as no one from the Commanderie had witnessed what she had done...

It was only then that she realized the cabin door hung open and Jagu was standing in the doorway.

"How could you, Celestine?" Jagu's eyes burned dark in his pale face. He was soaked, wet locks of black hair plastered across his forehead. "You promised promised me." me."

The Faie's energy still pulsed in her veins, mingled with her own nascent powers. "There was no other way to subdue him. If I hadn't stopped him then, we could all have drowned." She felt exultant, intoxicated with the success of her actions.

"But if Maistre de Lanvaux hears what you have done-" Jagu broke off. He seemed to be searching for a reason that might sway her to his point of view. "Remember what they did to your father, Celestine."

"No one will know if you say nothing, Jagu," she said lightly. Could she still trust him? "No one knows what happened here but you."

The sun's first light pierced Ruaud's cabin early and he lay in his bunk, still half-asleep, remembering fragments of a strange dream. All that remained was the memory of a gilded glow that surrounded the ship, casting a trail of liquid gold across the dark sea...

As the flagship cut through the waves, a flash of morning light caught fire in the clear facets of the Angelstone, which he had hung above his bunk for safekeeping. Ruaud reached for the stone and gazed at it in consternation, not understanding what he saw. A flame of bright gold, pure as the sunlight, glinted within. Threads of other colors twisted and pulsed around it: violet, scarlet, blue, and malachite green.

"Maistre?" Frantic knocking jolted him completely awake. "It's the king!"

"I'll be right there." Ruaud hurried to the king's cabin in his nightshirt.

Enguerrand turned to greet him with an ecstatic smile; Fragan, his valet, hovered anxiously behind him. "There's nothing to worry about; I'm feeling well. Exceptionally well, in fact."

"I found his majesty lying unconscious on the floor of the cabin," said Fragan.

"Sire?" Ruaud said, inwardly praying that this was not a return of the red sand fever. He gazed intently at the king, trying to see if there was any outward sign of illness.

"Fragan, will you leave us?" Enguerrand's eyes seemed unusually bright but he spoke lucidly enough. The instant they were alone, he said, "I had the most wonderful dream, Ruaud. In fact, even now, I'm not certain if it was a dream. My guardian angel came to me. He said I had been chosen. Chosen to be Saint Sergius's successor."

Oskar Alvborg stared bitterly up at the portrait of his dead mother, Countess Ulla.

"Why am I left kicking my heels here, with only my father's t.i.tle and gambling debts as legacy?" His footfall echoed through the empty mansion as he limped from room to room. Ignominiously discharged from the Tielen army after a disastrous battle with the Drakhaoul of Azhkendir, he had been eking out a miserable existence on his father's estate ever since. "d.a.m.n you, Eugene. Why did you have to treat me so shabbily? Was it my fault the Drakhaoul wiped out my regiment?"

A fiery shadow flickered through his mind. He stopped, aware that something was approaching him, something that felt like the terrifying aura of the Drakhaoul... yet was strikingly different.

The room suddenly shimmered with flame. Terrified, Oskar saw scarlet eyes staring at him from the darkness.

"The blood of Artamon runs in your veins, Oskar Alvborg," whispered a dry voice. whispered a dry voice. "Let me heal your injuries. Become one with me and I will make your dreams come true." "Let me heal your injuries. Become one with me and I will make your dreams come true."

"Who are you?" Oskar demanded.

"You think yourself Gunnar Alvborg's son... but you are Prince Karl's illegitimate child, Eugene's unacknowledged brother. You have as equal a right to the throne of Tielen as Eugene."

"How can you know such a thing? Show me proof." Oskar was skeptical, although the thought of being Karl of Tielen's son inflamed his ambitions.

"Hidden behind the canvas of your mother's portrait is a letter from the prince to your mother," whispered the voice. whispered the voice. "What more proof could you want?" "What more proof could you want?" Oskar turned-and in that moment the shadow struck, enwrapping him in its fiery coils. He cried out in agony-and then, as it melted into him, he began to see clearly again. Oskar turned-and in that moment the shadow struck, enwrapping him in its fiery coils. He cried out in agony-and then, as it melted into him, he began to see clearly again.

"Who are you?" he gasped. "Are you a Drakhaoul?"

"My name is Sahariel," said the voice within him, said the voice within him, "and I have come to help you fulfill your destiny, Oskar. "and I have come to help you fulfill your destiny, Oskar."

"The old man is still asleep." Jagu said to Celestine as he emerged from Linnaius's prison cell. He lowered his voice. "You need a story to cover yourself for the Inquisitors. They'll ask. You know they'll ask."

Celestine tossed her head impatiently. Since they had arrived at the Commanderie Forteresse to deliver their prisoner, Jagu had become increasingly jittery. And in their working partnership, she had always relied on him to be the levelheaded one.

"All I did was use his own magic to subdue him. A little sleepdust; what possible harm could there be in that?"

Men's voices could be heard farther along the dark stone pa.s.sage. Jagu took hold of her arm and hurried her away in the other direction.

"Only you know what happened aboard ship. If I hadn't stopped him, we'd all have drowned."

"They won't see it that way." They stopped beneath the uncertain light of a guttering lantern. "Take off the spell you placed on him, Celestine. Before they guess who is responsible and put you on trial too."

"If your vow is so important to you, Jagu, why don't you tell them yourself?"

He gripped hold of her by both arms. "How can he be tried in the Inquisition Court if he's in a coma?"

She hesitated, her anger dissipating a little. Was the spell she had used affecting her judgment?

He relaxed his grip. "I'll invent some excuse to keep Visant's men at bay. That'll give you the time to undo what you've done."

"Guerrier de Joyeuse." Celestine showed her papers to the guard outside Linnaius's cell. "I've come to interrogate the prisoner."

He scratched his head. "Interrogate an unconscious man?"

"I have reason to believe that he's been fooling us all. Give me a quarter hour or so ..."

"Good luck to you, then, Guerrier." He unlocked the cell door.

As soon as the cell door clanged shut, Celestine went straight over to the narrow bed where the Magus lay insensible and knelt beside him.

"Sever," she whispered, holding her hands over the invisible bonds with which she had confined him. She heard him let out a faint, groaning sigh. she whispered, holding her hands over the invisible bonds with which she had confined him. She heard him let out a faint, groaning sigh.

"Where... is this?"

"You're in the Forteresse in Lutece," she said, sitting back on her heels to observe him.

"Klervie," he said in a whisper.

"Don't call me that!"

"I'm the only one alive who really knew your father. There's so much I could tell you about him."

"You'll have to do better than that, Magus." She had known he would try to win her sympathy with subtle words. And yet wasn't that the real reason she had come?

"Herve was such a promising student. From the moment he first arrived at the college, I knew he would go far." Linnaius's eyes were closed and his voice drifted toward her, as if he were talking in his sleep. "I can see him now... an eager-eyed boy with a shock of untidy hair. So absentminded. When he was intent on his studies, he would forget everything else, especially his laboratory ch.o.r.es."

His words were working their spell; she knew she should leave, yet she stayed, entranced by the portrait he was painting of her father.

"If you liked and respected my father so much, why did you steal his invention?"

"Who told you that?"

"He did! Just before they dragged him onto the pyre in the Place du Trahoir." did! Just before they dragged him onto the pyre in the Place du Trahoir."

A look of puzzlement crossed the Magus's pallid face. "But why would Herve believe such a thing?"

"Because it was true!"

"I was not in Karantec when the Inquisition came because I was far away in Khitari. When I heard what happened to the college, I knew I could never return to Francia. So I stayed in the north and sought protection from Prince Karl of Tielen."

"Why should I believe you?"

"Have you never asked yourself if anyone else was responsible? My apprentice, Rieuk Mordiern, was the one who made the Vox Aethyria work, though it pains me to admit it. And he ran away to join the secret sect of the Magi of Ondhessar: the ones who practice the Forbidden Art of soul-stealing."

"Ondhessar?" Celestine had been well schooled by Ruaud de Lanvaux in the bloodstained history of Azilis's Holy Shrine. "The soul-stealers?" All of a sudden she felt a chill drench her. "Rieuk Mordiern became a soul-stealer?"

"Rieuk was a stubborn and willful boy." Linnaius let out a faint sigh. "He was also a powerful crystal magus. He was the one who energized the aethyr crystals in the Vox and established a sympathetic resonance between them."

"Was? Is he dead?" Doubts crept into her mind; the magus who had put his mark on Jagu was a soul-stealer, as was the one who took Henri's life. "But you also know how to steal souls!" She rounded on him. "That wretched girl we found in your rooms. You used her soul, and then left her for dead."

"But that was not a true soul-stealing. She was a Spirit Singer. Didn't you see her zither?"

A Spirit Singer. His story almost sounded convincing-and yet she could not bring herself to believe it.

"I employed her to search for a soul in the Ways Beyond... and she couldn't find her way back. That was when she fell into that trancelike state-"

"I don't want to hear your excuses."

"Why don't you listen to what I'm telling you, Celestine? Rieuk may still be alive. I saw him in Enhirre a year after the fall of the college. And he was the one who released the aethyrial spirit from the crystal. The spirit that your father bound in his book. The spirit that your father bound in his book." The Faie. She could feel his eyes boring into her, two silver shafts of light.

"Rieuk Mordiern did that?" Celestine took a step back.

"That crystal was stolen from the Shrine of Azilis. I happen to know, because I stole it." Linnaius let out a little self-satisfied chuckle. "I needed it for our Vox Aethyria. We'd tried every other kind of crystal. I knew that the shrine crystal was unique; I just didn't know quite how unique..." Were these just the ramblings of a senile old man? Could she trust anything he said?

A strange radiance flickers like silver firelight burning in a tray on Papa's desk. The light sharply outlines in shadow-silhouette two men bending over the tray.

She had been just five years old. She had woken to hear a faint, desolate cry coming from her father's study, a cry that drew her from her bed to see what was the matter.

Fading in and out of clarity like a reflection in a wind-rippled lake, she glimpses a face, its features twisted into an expression of such agony that it pains her to look at it. And as she gazes, it fixes her with its anguish-riven eyes.

"Help me," gasps Rieuk Mordiern. "I can't control it..."

The soul-stealing magus with the hawk familiar had demanded that she give him back the Faie. He had called her Klervie. And he had described the Faie as an "aethyrial spirit," just as Linnaius had done. Why was Linnaius telling her that Rieuk Mordiern was the one who had set the spirit free from the crystal?

"Haven't you been pursuing the wrong man? Shouldn't you be seeking to take revenge on the man who condemned your father to the stake: Alois Visant?"

She looked at him, angry and bewildered. "You're just trying to confuse me!"

His hands parted in a gesture of denial and she noticed that they trembled, as if palsied. "What have I to gain from that? I'm your prisoner and certain to be condemned to death."

His words came like a dash of cold water, clearing her mind. "And you deserve to die for your crimes against Francia." She drew herself up, remembering that she was an agent of the Francian Commanderie. "Your alchymical weapons have killed countless Francian sailors. The storms you've created have drowned countless more-Muscobites as well as Francians."

Another little shrug. "I was merely serving my good friend and patron, Karl of Tielen. He made me a citizen of Tielen. In war, one fights to defend one's own country."

This was going nowhere. She made to leave, but one hand snaked out and gripped her by the wrist. "Be careful, Celestine." His pale eyes stared piercingly into hers. "The aethyrial spirit you are harboring is both dangerous and powerful."

She tried to pull away, but his grip was unexpectedly strong.

"How long do you think you can deceive the Inquisition?"

"What?"

"I can see the changes that she's wrought in you already. Take a good look at your eyes next time you pa.s.s a mirror."