Scion’s Sacrifice (The Guardians of Light Book 3) Read online

  Scion’s Sacrifice

  The Guardians Of Light: Book 3

  R. Michael Card

  Contents

  Scion’s Sacrifice

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Epilogue

  Other Books by R. MICHAEL CARD

  About R. Michael Card

  Scion’s Sacrifice

  R. Michael Card

  She’ll fight for his very soul.

  Davar is the son of The Blacklord, a man of pure evil. He’s never questioned the wishes of his father, never even thought to go against the most powerful man in the world. He thought he was irredeemable… until he met Cass. There is something about the pure-hearted woman, and the way she sees the world and him, which eats away at him. He doesn’t want to change… or does he?

  Cassine has lived a simple life, if a hidden one. She wishes only to help others, to cure the sick and wounded. As a healer for the armies that oppose The Blacklord, she’s had plenty of opportunity to do so. This duty has always come first in her life and she’s never had the time or desire to be with a man. But when she finds herself stranded with Davar—the enemy—she sees an opportunity to do the impossible and help him see the light within him… and to love a man who’s known only hate.

  Scion’s Sacrifice

  by R. Michael Card

  Copyright © 2017 R. Michael Card

  Published by Gryphon’s Gate Publishing

  ISBN 978-1-988115-00-9

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without written consent, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are entirely the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual locals, events, or organizations is coincidental.

  Prologue

  Master Elia rushed to the High Abbot’s chambers. She wasn’t pleased at having been summoned, not when she was needed out on the walls.

  Outside and all around St. Antin Abbey the Blacklord’s army pressed their offensive, attacking yet again, throwing ever more of their seemingly innumerable men against the fifty-foot walls and battle-ready monks of Embreth. The monks were far better trained and for every monk that fell in battle, twenty to fifty of the enemy fell. Still, Elia feared it wouldn’t be enough. There were far more of the enemy than her monks.

  Two factors helped to level the playing field. The first were the sisters of Ehlani, healers who could bring a monk back from the brink of death. The second and far more influential in this fight, were the two scions who battled to defend St. Antin.

  Senia and Wyllea were a blessing. Two Guardians of Aehryn in an age when all were thought to be lost. Long ago The Greatest of the Gods, Aehryn of All Things, had given of herself, dying in order to bless certain people with powerful magic weapons. These special few and their descendants, or scions, became the Guardians of Aehryn. One scion was worth a hundred monks, if not more. The two women were both fierce warriors and an inspiration to her monks. She thanked Embreth for those scions every night. More recently, the armies of the west had also arrived to help. But since they were unable to fit within the confines of the abbey. They were camped in the mountains to the west. As of yet they had only sent out a few parties to skirmish with the enemy — as it was difficult to find any good battleground in the forested hills. These armies could be a great boon if they could somehow manage to coordinate their efforts.

  Elia stopped before the High Abbot’s door and pounded on the door.

  Impatient and frustrated that she’d been taken away from helping those she’d trained and raised — her monks, her people — she tried to put on a pleasant face. She could be civil, if she wanted to be. She should be fighting, but when the High Abbot called, she obeyed. Besides, the high abbot was never disturbed or distressed, always serene. So she knew her agitation would serve her little in this meeting.

  A quiet attendant ushered her into the sitting room of the High Abbot’s modest suite. The room was large for private quarters, but when compared to many other rooms in the massive abbey it was still quite small. To Elia’s left stood a long table with several simple wooden chairs around it. The tabletop was set with maps and papers, the defense of St. Antin. Beyond the table was a wall with a single door, which led to the sleeping chambers of the High Abbot. On the wall to her right and continuing around to the wall behind her were floor to ceiling bookshelves, filled with the High Abbot’s private collection of tomes and scrolls. Before her was a large sitting area defined by a large, thick rug in front of the great hearth, which roared with a new fire. Four comfortable, well-cushioned high back chairs had been set out. Two of those chairs were occupied, one by the High Abbot herself, the other by High Sister Olinda, the ranking member of the Daughters of Ehlani in the Abbey. This made Master Elia even more curious.

  She took a seat and glanced at the fourth chair, a further curiosity. Was someone else expected?

  “High Abbot, if I may ask, are we waiting on another?” Elia asked, all formal courtesy despite the urgency within her to be back out on the walls in the fight.

  The High Abbot of Embreth was a woman only slightly older than Elia herself, but of a much more pleasant look and demeanor. Where Elia knew she was short and harsh — all sharp angles and steel-gray hair with a steely attitude to match — Ullanine, the high abbot, nearly always wore a smile, which was amplified by an inner light in her sky blue eyes. She was tall and regal, and her blond hair was fading to a stark, pure, white. If Elia had cared about such things, she might have been just the tiniest bit jealous. Luckily, she didn’t care. Ullanine was wise and knowledgeable and the right choice for the High Abbot.

  Ullanine’s smile broadened for just a moment. “Yes. I could say it’s a surprise and keep you in suspense, Embreth is the keepers of secrets after all, but I won’t. We await a young woman. Her name is Ragnalla of Scandia. I’m told, in their tongue, the name means ‘wise counsel.’ I’m hoping she will prove her name to be accurate tonight.”

  Elia didn’t ask why three of the wisest and strongest women in their fields would need some young thing to counsel them, but she was curious. She was also curious why the scions weren’t present for this meeting. The two women, even though Wyllea was still fairly new, were the center of everything done here in the Abbey.

  She stayed her questions with effort, trying to remain somewhat composed. As much as she respected Ullanine’s leadership, the woman’s perpetual calm grated on Elia, especially now. They were at war. People were dying on the walls and still Ullanine seemed unaffected, serene. Elia was a woman formed in harsh times, in a harsh place, a woman of war and action. She’d asked the High Abbot once why she was always so peaceful and soft-spoken. Ullanine’s answer had been simple: as the High Abbot, it was her job to show her faith in Embreth, to display the tranquility which comes with knowing the deeper secrets of the world, the peace of knowin
g all would work out, given time.

  Elia wasn’t so sure she believed things would work out. So she tried to contain her aggravation and concern and relax but found it impossible. She needed to be moving, fighting, not sitting.

  She glanced over at High Sister Olinda of the Sisters of Ehlani. She was younger than Elia or Ullanine, but not by much. Her hair, once soft brown waves, was now a cascade of salt and pepper framing an oval face with dark brown eyes. The woman had a sort of hawkish look with a prominent, curved nose and intense gaze. She caught Elia’s look and nodded solemnly. Elia nodded back and looked away into the fire, wondering how long they would have to wait.

  It wasn’t long.

  A knock on the door heralded the arrival of young Ragnalla, ushered in by an attendant who then promptly left, closing the door behind her.

  When the young woman stepped tentatively into the light shed by the fire, Elia wondered even more at her presence. She was very young, perhaps fifteen, looking rather abashed and uncertain. She was a waif of a girl, too thin — as some girls of that age were — with long red-blond hair reaching to her thighs. The hair was pulled back from her face and braided in the Scandian style. Her face was plain, eyes brown, mouth small, nose straight. She wore a long simple dress that brushed the floor, hiding legs and feet. Not practical for fighting, but Elia suspected the girl did little of that.

  She gave a fleeting smile and curtseyed. Once her hands had dropped from holding her skirt she reached for her long braid and began playing with it. It seemed a habitual action, unconscious, comforting.

  “Thank you for coming, my dear,” Ullanine said, her voice soft and calm. “Please have a seat.” She motioned to the empty chair.

  The girl sat in the chair, which seemed oversized for her. She even tucked her legs up beside her as some children did in chairs too large for them. She continued to fiddle with her braid.

  Ullanine spoke, “Ragnalla has a gift. When we sought aid from the Kingdoms of the West, the Scandians were one of the first to pledge their support. When their armies marched, they brought Ragnalla with them. She does not fight, does not cook, but she has a place of honor in their ranks. She is seen as a good omen, partly because she has visions which help the army plan and prepare for the future.”

  Now Elia was intrigued. The True Sight was a rare and powerful gift.

  Ullanine’s gaze met Elia’s, stern and yet hopeful. It was clear the girls gift was no trifle. “When I learned of this, I went to see the girl myself. I was skeptical of her abilities. She told me our scion would be captured. I did not think this possible given Senia’s abilities and yet that came to pass. She told me we would hold within our walls at once a darkness and a great hope. I did not know what this meant, but with the arrival of Wyllea and the Blacklord’s son I can see how Wyllea could be seen as a great hope for our future and the man as a great darkness. So I came to trust her abilities.”

  Ullanine reached across to grasp one of Ragnalla’s small hands. “And now she’s had another vision, but this one is different than any before. I brought her here tonight to share with you what she has seen.” She turned to the girl, “Please tell us.”

  Ragnalla’s voice was soft and hard to hear when she spoke, but with each word she gained a little confidence, enough that Elia could hear her at least. Her Scandian accent was also thick, making it harder to understand her, but Elia listened keenly so as not to miss anything. “There is a dark tide which washes against a great rock. A great light shines from the rock and will overwhelm the dark tide. Yet the ocean from which the tide came is vast and deep and at its core is a pure darkness.” The girl gave an involuntary shiver before continuing. “The tide will be defeated, that is known, but after that, there are two possible futures.”

  Ullanine interrupted. “And that’s why this vision is unlike any other. Usually, there’s one clear path, but here there are two, both clear, and which will come to pass is unknown.” The High Abbot’s gaze was intense as it came to Elia, then passed to Olinda. Elia could sense the gravity which hung heavy over this moment. “Go on, youngling.”

  Ragnalla nodded. “The first of these futures is dark. The ocean is vast and deep and black and in time will swell to flood all the lands. There will be no second “dark tide,” just a steady rising of water which will quench all light, covering all lands.”

  Well Elia certainly didn’t like the sound of that. Would their fighting be for naught? Would their scions fail under the sheer power of the Blacklord? It wasn’t something she wished to ponder.

  “The other future is a path into the light. There are six bright fish.” Ragnalla grimaced. “No, that is not right. There are five bright fish and one dark fish with only speckles of light.” She stopped, shaking her head. “I am sorry, it is very hard to find the words in your language for the things I see.”

  “It is well, Ragnalla, we understand,” Ullanine said, patting Ragnalla’s hand. “Take your time.”

  Ragnalla nodded, taking a moment to steady herself. “There are six who must go into the heart of the ocean,” she said with confidence. “Perhaps given time I can give you more details, but I know this: one who must go is of blue-fire, one is of green winds, and one is of gold and contains all the base elements. The darker one is also of all the base elements.” She pressed her lips together in concentration for a moment, then shook her head. “That is all I have for now. These few and only these few must go to the depths of the black ocean, to the core. Some may not survive, but they are the only ones who have any chance to dispel the heart of the darkness. If they can do this, the dark ocean will recede from all lands and light shall prevail once more.” Ragnalla’s eyes gazed upon some distant sight none of the rest of them could see. Her hands had, for that brief moment, stopped playing with her braid. Then she blinked and was returned to them.

  The only sound in the room was the crackle and hiss of the fire.

  So there was hope. Despite the death and strife that plagued them continuously these days, perhaps there would be an end to the Blacklord within her lifetime. Elia grimaced. Did Ullanine already know such things? Was that how she managed to remain calm through it all? Yet even this sense of hope was clouded by knowing there was another equally as possible future which was far worse.

  Ullanine spoke breaking the short silence. “Thank you Ragnalla, we appreciate your strength in helping us see your visions as you do. You may go now, youngling.”

  Ragnalla unfolded herself from the chair and with a quick bow of her head to the three older women, scurried from the room.

  Elia shook her head. “Amazing.” The single word seemed to hang in the air.

  Ullanine looked into the fire, her hands folded in her lap, her gaze intense. “Truly,” the High Abbot said, taking another long moment to ponder the flames before turning back to Elia and Olinda. “Now to our task. We must ensure that this second future comes to pass.” For the first time, Elia heard an urgency in the High Abbot’s voice, a break in the ever-present serenity. If she hadn’t been looking for it she might not have noticed the way one hand in the High Abbott’s lap grasped the other intently.

  “It would seem a daunting task. How are we to know who to send?” Elia asked, starting to get curious at High Sister Olinda’s silence. Unlike the other two, Elia had to move. She rose and strode toward the fire. Once there she turned to face the other two again.

  Ullanine said with assurance, “I think we all know who the ‘blue-fire’ is.”

  “Senia, yes. And the ‘green wind’ must be Wyllea, but who is the one of all elements. I haven’t heard of such a multi-talent in generations.” Elia shrugged.

  “That is why I am here,” Olinda said finally. The High Sister was a little too still in her chair, arms folded in her lap. It was a tranquility that came from effort, keeping oneself still.

  “Oh?” Elia asked, seeing a look pass between Ullanine and Olinda. They knew something she didn’t.

  “One of my daughters is such a talent.”

 
Elia knew that to be a healer of any great effect one needed the earth talent which was connected to the body. As such, most Daughters of Ehlani were earth talents to some degree. Even minor earth talents could heal most wounds. Yet someone with all elements, able to heal body, mind, soul, and spirit would be a very rare talent indeed. Elia could understand why the High Sister might want to keep this a secret.

  “Her name is Cassine,” Olinda said, voice measured. “And her eyes, in the right light might be said to shine like gold. The High Abbot believes Cassine is the third member of this party.”

  “Very well then,” Elia said, “but that still leaves three members unknown, one being a ‘dark one’ whatever that means. How shall we know these people?” She began to pace, a short stretch back and forth in front of the fire, the heat from the hearth stimulating her into action.

  Ullanine drew in a long breath. “I have been thinking about this. It is only a guess, though it feels right. But if Senia were going on any journey, who do you think would be next to her no matter what we said to him?”

  Elia grimaced. “Ahrn.” She nodded. Ahrn was Senia’s lover and bonded mate. He was named for the Vanished God, Aehryn of All Things, who once ruled the heavens. “You’re right. Most likely he will be one of those going. He would never let Senia go alone, even if it meant his death.”