A Sea of Broken Glass Page 11

“And you’re not worried about that?” Suspicion crept into Bran’s voice.

  Llyr’s expression was indecipherable. “It’s not something we can do anything about right now.”

  Bran blew out a breath. He didn’t want to admit it, but Llyr was right. “I’ll contact you again if we can’t locate them.”

  “Good luck,” Llyr said. “May the Light guide you.”

  “And you.” The seerstone darkened, and Bran tucked it into his shirt.

  Concern for Ris dogged his thoughts. A sharp bark brought him back to reality. Cre bounded across the meadow, tongue lolling. The massive wolf skidded to a stop in front of Bran and shook. Dirt and water flew from Cre’s fur.

  “You stink.” Bran brushed debris from his clothes.

  The air around Cre shimmered like a heat wave. The wolf stood on its hind legs, elongating until it matched Cre’s height. The fur and snout shrunk and disappeared into skin and cloth. Finally, the wolf’s golden eyes turned hazel. Light flared around the figure, making Bran’s eyes water and when his vision cleared Cre stood in the wolf’s place.

  Cre raised his arm and sniffed. “Five days with no bath and running in the wild. I smell positively delightful.”

  “Tell that to the ladies when they run screaming from your stench.” Bran offered Cre a tight smile.

  Cre barked a laugh. “The one drawback to running wild is missing out on a witty conversation with you.”

  Bran stood, picked a twig from Cre’s hair and tossed it at him. “We’ve got problems.” He repeated what Llyr told him.

  Cre rubbed a hand over his face. “Light, I need sleep. An hour or two snatched here and there just isn’t enough. Do you think Michel bonded to Ris?”

  Bran snorted. “I didn’t agree with your plan to set them up in the first place. I’m more concerned that they haven’t arrived at Hader’s Junction.”

  “Llyr’s right. If Michel thinks they’re in danger, he’ll find another route.” Cre shrugged. “Ris needs someone to fight for her, and Michel has been on his own for too long.”

  “She has me.”

  Cre slapped Bran on the shoulder. “You’re her Shield. You don’t fight for her, you protect her. There’s a difference. Even Llyr agreed with my plan, and he never agrees with anything I propose.”

  Bran grumbled something noncommittal. He didn’t believe there were differences between a Sword and Shield. He was perfectly capable of fighting for Ris. But Cre’s visions hadn’t ever led him astray. If Cre believed that Ris needed Michel’s skills to keep her safe, Bran would tolerate the man.

  Cre kicked at a half-buried rock. “What’s the plan?”

  “I’d hoped to meet up with Michel and Ris in Easton, but we’ve run into too many delays, and there’s no telling what route they’ll take to get to Hader’s Junction.”

  “We still haven’t found any signs of Ruin.” Cre picked up the rock, turning it over in his massive hands as he brushed it clean. “What are you thinking?”

  “You’re not going to like it.” Bran settled back on the stump.

  Cre’s magic tickled the air as he traced a finger over the stone. “If it’s one of your plans, probably not.”

  Bran sensed the change in the structure of the rock. Cre was building another worry stone. He wasn’t likely to agree with Bran’s plan, but it was the only one he could come up with. “I could let my curse loose. Distract the Darkness, act as a decoy. Draw attention away from Ris and Michel.”

  Cre kept his eyes on the stone. “That’s a terrible idea.”

  “I can control it.” Bran rubbed at his chest, at the spot next to his heart where the touch of Darkness was contained. “With demons lurking behind every rock, we’re at a disadvantage.”

  Bran’s magic was a study of contradictions. Shadow and Light. Touched by the Light but tainted by the Lady’s curse. The memory of how it had happened left him cold. He was the only Lord of Light to carry the touch of Darkness. A tiny pocket of shadow lived near his heart held in check by his fellow Lords of Light.

  “Your plan is reckless,” Cre said. “It puts Ris in more danger. You’re worried, and rightly so, but let’s think this through. The Darkness will take you. If not this time, then the next. Exhaustion is making you take risks you’d never consider otherwise.”

  “Is that one of your visions?” Bran asked.

  Cre shook his head. “You know it doesn’t work that way.”

  Bran closed his eyes and tipped his face toward the sun. Fatigue drummed against his bones. His plan was reckless, and if it went wrong, the Lords of Light would number two instead of three. But, what other choice did they have? The Darkness had the numbers to overwhelm any plan they devised. Ris would never be able to make it to safety if Bran didn’t draw attention away from her.

  “I can’t do this again, Cre. I can’t watch Ris fall to the Darkness like Aris did.”

  Cre’s jaw tightened, and he took a deep breath. “Neither of us is thinking clearly. I need sleep before we discuss this further.”

  Bran resisted the urge to scream. Time was running out. Fatigue made his thoughts foggy. “Fine,” he conceded, “we get a few hours of sleep. No matter when we leave, we’ll still be behind.”

  Cre shimmered and changed back into his wolf form. He curled up in the grass and closed his eyes.

  Bran returned to his raven form. At least in this shape, he would be able to take flight if anything went wrong. He settled in place and let his mind drift. He needed Cre’s support if he let the Darkness loose. His mind churned with worry, turning things over and over like the stone Cre worked. He couldn’t remember the last time he slept. Exhaustion dragged at him until it pulled him under.

  ***

  Whispers taunted Bran in his dreams. A sweet seduction that coiled around him and promised revenge and release from the weight of his duty. It stroked along his skin, a snake coiling around his heart before it sank venomous fangs into his sanity and tried to release its poison into his mind. The barrier his fellow Lords of Light had constructed rebuffed it, but he still felt it there, lurking in the shadows, waiting for its chance to strike.

  Bran knew this dance. Knew the outcome if he succumbed to the shadowy promises. If he let the Darkness claim him. He wouldn’t allow that. He couldn’t. And yet, he had considered it in the hopes of saving Ris. What had he been thinking?

  It took a great deal of effort, but Bran forced himself out of the Dark dream. The whispers subsided as he opened his eyes, but he wasn’t awake. He still walked the path of dreams.

  Bran stood on a hill overlooking a once great city. Sunlight glinted off of golden spires and white buildings. Grief dug its claws into his heart. To see this place again as it was before the curse claimed it. It was more than he could bear.

  He turned his back on the view. The last time he’d stood there, he’d been leading people to safety. The landscape changed before his eyes. Rolling green hills were replaced with a broken and rippled sea of black glass and sand. Ash blew in the wind. Bones stood out in white relief against the scorched earth, all that was left from those unlucky enough to stumble into the tainted lands long after the destruction.

  I never meant for this. The Lady’s voice was just as Bran remembered it. Soft and lilting.

  He refused to look at her. It would break his heart to see the changes. “You cursed this world. You were supposed to safeguard it.”

  You were supposed to protect me.

  Bran bowed his head. “And I failed you.”

  There is still hope.

  “What hope? You became the Darkness.” Bran glanced at her. Beautiful and ageless. Light incarnate. Just as he remembered. Where was the corruption that had turned her from the Light?

  I am caged by the Darkness, but Darkness doesn’t rule me. Not yet.

  “You want to destroy us. How many abominations will you create before you realize it isn’t the answer?”

  They are not my creations. They are his. Help m
e, please.

  Bodies filled the landscape. Piles of corpses coated in oily taint. Screams filled the air. Death and Darkness stalked the land.

  Help me restore the balance before this becomes the world’s fate.

  Bran closed his eyes. Sorrow strangled his heart and roughened his voice. “It’s not possible. You made your choice, and it led to this.”

  The Lady reached out a hand and touched his face. He wanted to pull away, but he willed himself not to move.

  Much to my unending sorrow. You must unseal Marissa’s magic and help her find the Heart.

  “Never,” Bran vowed. “I won’t let her be used as a tool by you or him.” He stared at the Lady, trying to read her intention from her impassive expression. Anger and guilt boiled under the surface of his words. “Why are you asking this of me? I won’t put Ris at risk and searching for the Heart would mean her death or worse.”

  It is the only way to repair what I have done. The Darkness will consume you if you unleash the curse in your heart.

  Her eyes widened and her face filled with pain. The air changed. A chill curled around Bran, reminding him of the serpent that lived in his chest. Shadows crawled below the Lady’s skin, and she withered before his eyes.

  I will have her. She is mine. The words were filled with venom and edged with the Darkness that had turned the Lady away from her path.

  Bran stepped back and gathered his magic. Golden flame wrapped around his hands.

  The Lady cringed, shielding herself with her arms. You cannot hurt me.

  “Then why do you fear the Light?”

  She pulled herself upright, still tall in spite of her feeble appearance. I do not fear it. Darkness lives in everything. Even you.

  Bran brushed the flames over her arm. He couldn’t kill her. Not here. Not ever. But, he could force the Darkness to submit, at least momentarily. That was the purpose of his magic. To bring Light to the Dark.

  She screamed when the flames writhed across her skin, and the shadows that hid inside her burned away until the Lady returned to her ageless appearance.

  Thank you. You must leave before he returns.

  Bran choked back tears. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. “Is there nothing we can do to free you?”

  Unseal her magic. Find the Heart.

  Bran shook his head. “This isn’t right.”

  Do not return here. The Darkness rules these paths.

  Bran returned to his sleeping body, shaken by the reminders of his past failures. Time to wake up and find Ris. Time to put an end to the Darkness that haunted him. He cawed at Cre, who raised his head and blinked.

  Bran shifted back into his human form, his body still trembling from the aftereffects of his dream.

  “What’s wrong?” Cre asked after he completed his own transition.

  Bran relayed his dream, his mind turning over the implications and possibilities. “What do you think?”

  “You’ve always been one to jump to a conclusion before you have all the facts.”

  Irritation bubbled through Bran. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You have always assumed the Lady’s curse came because she gave in to the Darkness, but some of us aren’t so sure.”

  Bran’s forehead knotted up. “You’re back to that old argument?”

  “It doesn’t matter. What matters is if you believe the Lady is telling the truth?”

  “About what? The need to find the Heart or unsealing Ris’s magic?”

  “Both. Unsealing her magic might help to keep her safe.”

  Bran stared at his hands, rubbing at a spot of dirt. Cre was right. It could would give Ris an advantage in fighting off the Darkness, but it made her vulnerable to discovery. Not that that mattered at the moment. The Darkness was already aware of Ris’s existence and was using Ruin to track her.

  He took a deep breath and blew it out. “I’ll concede that unsealing her magic is probably a good idea, given the circumstances, but locating the Heart is a suicide mission. No one who has entered the Bonelands has ever returned.”

  “We may not have a choice, but for now, I agree. Once we find Ris, we’ll unseal her magic and then figure out our next step.”

  “Then let’s get going.” Bran pulled on his magic and shifted back into a raven. The bond between him and Ris stretched south, a braid of gold and orange magic that pulsed with their heartbeats. He would follow it.

  Cre stretched and in a shimmer of light transformed back into a wolf, his golden eyes sparkling with mischief. He gave a short bark as if to say, ‘get on with it.’

  Bran flapped his wings and took flight. A moment later, Cre slipped between the trees, nose to the ground. They would get to Ris before it was too late. The thought of what would happen if he didn’t reach her lent him strength, and he flew faster than he ever had before. He wouldn’t stop until she was safe.

  11

  The Darkness stalks her as he did me. Hunts her and haunts her. I call to her on the wind. Whispered words to seek me out. To find me. To free my Heart. With my power, she will shine like the stars and together we will restore the balance and send him back to the Void.

  ~Excerpt from “The Lady and the Darkness” as translated by Sir Gwilam Cavanaugh

  Morning light filtered through the train window and warmed my face. We’d left Emmy standing on the platform, waving at us as we pulled out of Easton. Three days spent recovering was more than enough time. Any longer, and I was certain demons would be pounding on her door.

  The rolling forested lands of the Gwyaard Province changed to the scree-covered Copper Hills that separated the Bonelands from the Snow Fang Mountains. Stunted trees dotted the rocky landscape, and their barren branches shivered from the wind that blew from the ash-covered lands to the south. Even inside the train, the air held a metallic scent that coated my throat and nose.

  I’d spent the ride with my senses extended to their fullest, searching for any hint of demons. Jumping from a moving train was not an experience I cared to repeat. An occasional flicker would register, but nothing close enough to concern me overmuch. Each stop had me scanning every face. I gripped my worry stone and ran my fingers over the worn words on its surface in an attempt to keep myself calm and focused. It didn’t help.

  The train jolted as it neared the platform in Hader’s Junction, its brakes and whistle screaming as it slowed to a stop. People in work clothes lined up, waiting for passengers to exit so they could get on and in this flurry of activity, a familiar redhead caught my eye.

  “Is that Aeron?” I leaned forward, trying to get a better look.

  Michel looked in the direction I pointed. “It is. Grab your things.”

  Worry tickled the back of my neck. Aeron was supposed to meet us at the Outpost. I had the urge to hide from the glances of passersby, but Aeron’s training had me moving through the packed mass of people as if I belonged there.

  I didn’t have to wait long. The crowd parted, and there he was. The relief that crossed his face made my heart stutter. I’d never been so happy to see his messy copper curls and spring green eyes. The mischief that usually sparkled in their depths had been replaced with worry.

  Aeron dumped three travel packs at my feet and then wrapped his arms around my waist and lifted me in a twirl. Quite a feat, considering he was a half-a-head shorter than me and thin as a rail. “There you are, imp. I’ve been worried sick.”

  I pounded on his shoulder and laughed when Aeron set me down, but froze when his hair tickled my skin. Memories of my torture tried to surface. The recollected scent of dark and rotten things filled my nose as I remembered Tolbert leaning in close and touching his lips to my neck. I forced the vile sensation back while I attempted to keep my breathing even. “I’m fine.”

  Aeron’s callused fingers gently gripped my chin as he guided my face toward his. Concern and frustration hid his usual smile. “I know, but Tolbert had his hands on you. You don’t walk away from th
at without a few scars, imp.”

  I swallowed back the lump that formed in my throat. “I’m okay, fox-face. Weren’t we supposed to meet you at the Outpost?”

  “It was crawling with demons.” Aeron gave me a final look over, probably assuring himself that I was in one piece. He was almost as overprotective as Bran. “Though we’ve got problems here as well.”

  The edge in his voice told me his happy-go-lucky greeting had been a facade. He passed me one of the packs and motioned to Michel to grab another.

  “We should….” Aeron looked back and forth between Michel and me. “So Cre’s plan worked.”

  “What plan?” I asked.

  Michel pinched the bridge of his nose. “Let me guess—”

  “We’ll talk about it later.” Aeron led us along the platform, his eyes restlessly scanning as we moved forward. “We’re going to catch the cargo train to Raven’s Keep. The Bastion already has people after us.”

  “About that—” A strong wave of revulsion swept over me. The scent of decay crawled inside my nose and cold fingers of dread clamped down on my stomach.

  Demons were nearby.

  “On the right.” Aeron took my hand and pulled me away from the hungry gaze of two men. They looked ordinary in their bib overalls and work shirts, but their eyes glowed red and sent goosebumps running up and down my arms.

  “Up ahead.” Michel tipped his chin to the left. “By the food cart.”

  “Demon’s balls,” Aeron muttered. “Where’d they all come from? Let’s get to the freight yard.”

  Disharmony screamed at me, clanging against my senses, which were already extended to their limits. Jarring notes in the music of magic drew my attention to another group of travelers.

  “Three more.” My hands curled into fists. “By the ticket counter.”

  Aeron led us to the end of the passenger train, and we darted behind it, across the tracks, and into the rail yard. Michel stuck close to me, one hand on my shoulder. Boxcars stood in rows, some empty, some full of cargo. Aeron’s magic cloaked us in a staccato rhythm of snare drums that created an illusion to hide our position.