The Last Scion (The Guardians of Light Book 1) Read online

  T he howl of a wolf woke her.

  It was the deep of night, and the sound had been close. Her fire was dead and the wind still wailed amidst the hilltops. She rose quickly, gathered her things and, despite legs cramped with innumerable aches and a mind addled with grief, stumbled into the darkness.

  For two more days, she staggered through the high hills, finding little shelter, little rest, and little comfort. It didn’t rain again in the very least, but the wind remained cold and only served to seize up already sore muscles.

  Her mind, like the wind, whirled and buffeted her with thoughts cold and dark.

  She began to wonder, in the wavy state of near-delirium, if she hadn’t turned herself around somewhere in the hills, and was heading off in the wrong direction, never to find this elusive abbey, never to find anyone, any comfort, and joy every again. Yet always she remembered Ahrn’s words and kept the mountains to her right.

  Finally, as evening closed on yet another day, she crested a hill but found this time, instead of more hills, a long valley stretching before her, swathed in a deep green blanket of forest.

  That night she rested in the shelter of the trees, though she slept little. As the moon rose, she began to make her way through the forest, tripping and falling often. Her night vision, though still good, missed the occasional root. More often, it was simply her fatigue causing the missteps.

  She came to a river and refilled her water skin which she’d drained the day before. Then, heedless of the icy waters, dipped her face in to drink. She stayed by that stream, even dozed a little as day broke. With fresh cold water splashed on her face and filling her stomach, she found a spark of energy and clarity then, deciding to follow the river through the valley for the rest of the day.

  She emerged from the forest as the first stars twinkled to life in the night sky.

  According to Ahrn, she would be in Hallania now. She was close, only a little farther, up some hills he had said.

  The only hills before her were to her left, as a plain spread out before her on the right. She walked through the night, visions swimming before her eyes, Ahrn collapsing, the wizard falling before her, her family traveling long lonely roads. She imagined her parents, her true parents, long ago in some distant land fighting, dying, and in her fever of pain and sorrow, cursed them for leaving her. Cursed everyone for leaving her, alone in a world of cold and pain.

  Her legs trembled with every step, faltering more often than not. One hill she had to crawl to the top. Once there, she lay, breathing hard, her body throbbing, burning, muscles seized.

  She forced herself onward, falling down the side of the hill, rolling, landing in a heap in the next valley. She wept, soul shattered, unable to move for the pain, hunger, and despair.

  She slept there, uneasily, curled into a ball, and woke, so stiff and sore she could barely move.

  Yet she stretched muscles that protested, crying out with each movement and the shock of pain it brought. She used the pain to waken her, move her, and found some reserve of strength to climb the next hill.

  Cresting that hill, she saw a great fortress built on a high plain with walls taller than she would have thought possible. There were only two more rises between her and it.

  She wept with joy for the sight and tried to run down the next hill, but her muscles would not abide, and again she tumbled down the sides, battered and further bruised. Yet this time she wasn’t daunted. She rose despite the pain, the blood of a dozen cuts, the chill of the wind, and the ache in her soul.

  Though she could only crawl, she clawed her way to the top of the next hill, found the wide dirt road which led to the abbey, and on hands and knees, forced herself up to its massive doors.

  There she collapsed.

  She heard the loud creak of the great doors opening. The footfalls of people running out, and with only one step left in her journey, she whispered, with a voice hoarse and dry. “Emberthorn.”

  There were gasps from around her.

  She barely noticed as she slipped into the dark expanse of unconsciousness.

  CHAPTER 14

  T houghts and visions tumbled through darkness. Dreams livid and lurid danced in garish light and fire. Pain played and pressed, the wizards fire touching her, the ache of being without Emberthorn, the soul-borne burn of leaving family and loving one who remained uncertain. Yet there was also joy in her bonding with Emberthorn and the warmth of her feelings for Ahrn. All mixed and mingled in the fever and fire of her mind.

  Then a voice.

  Senia?

  Emberthorn?

  Hello, little one.

  It was dark here. For a moment she thought perhaps she had joined Emberthorn in his ‘nothing’ space. Where am I?

  St. Antin Abbey.

  The abbey? She remembered the final moments, collapsing on the road. Yes, she had made it.

  Why is it so dark?

  You’re still unconscious, you need to wake up.

  Oh. Yet for the life of her, she didn’t seem to know how.

  I know what will get you up.

  Yes?

  Ahrn.

  “Ahrn!” Light and breath flooded into her as she half rose on a soft pallet. She glanced around, gaining bearing quickly. Emberthorn was next to her on the small cot. Several candle-trees lit the room. Solid stone walls blocked in a small room, the bare bed, a small chest, a chamber pot and a single chair next to a small table crowded the space. The chair was occupied.

  “Hello, young one.” The speaker was an aging woman with steel-gray hair, a lined and weathered face, her look stern and solid. The woman was not large but exuded authority and confidence. Some distant remembrance pricked Senia’s mind.

  “I’m Master Elia.” Senia smiled recalling Ahrn’s description of the woman and thinking it adequate.

  “Ahrn will be happy you are alive. He was worried for you.”

  The woman raised a brow, a scant reaction. “Did he speak much of me?”

  “Enough.” She was unsure what to say to this woman. Senia adjusted herself, sitting cross-legged on the bed. She was wearing only a light shift, but the air in the room was warm and comfortable. She picked up Emberthorn, placing the sword on her lap, tracing the whorls and runes on the blade, comforted.

  I’d missed that. Emberthorn purred.

  Me too.

  “It took two men to carry that sword in here and you pick it up like it was nothing.” Senia looked up at the awe in the woman’s voice. “I didn’t believe, not truly, despite all evidence, not until now. A true blooded Guardian, here. It is a miracle.”

  Senia shook her head. “A miracle. I still cannot see it as such. This sword is a curse…”

  Hey

  Oh, shut up I’m just getting to the good part.

  “…As much a blessing. I can’t imagine being without it, but I honestly don’t know what I will do with it. I was a simple girl in a simple village and now…?” She let the unsaid question hang.

  “We will train you. The monks of Embreth know of all the Guardians and their Aehryn-Gifts. The Archives here are extensive and we will uncover all of your powers. We will help you become the Guardian you are meant to be.”

  But do I really want to be a Guardian?

  Of course, you do.

  Easy for you to say. You’ve always been one, I have always been a regular girl, a Guardian seems a lot to take on.

  I’ll help you.

  I know, it’s just…

  Emberthorn was silent. She thanked him for it at this moment.

  Senia smiled at Master Elia. “Ahrn believes in me, perhaps that is enough.” Her feelings all bubbled up then, affection and worry. She didn’t know what had become of Ahrn, and now, suddenly, desperately needed to know. “How is he? Did he survive? He… We… I need to know… I need…” Words failed her as twin tears streaked down her cheeks. “Please tell me you were able to heal him.”

  Master Elia began to say something, stopped, her mouth closing. Her face became grave, still, sole
mn. She set her lips to speak once more but again paused, a heavy sigh leaving her. A sudden dark dread filled Senia.

  “I’m sorry,” Master Elia said, a hint of emotion breaking the stark facade. “We… could not.”

  “No!” And all the stones of the Abbey shook with the cry. Master Elia’s stunned, surprised expression was the last Senia saw before tears filled her vision. She placed her head in her palms and wept, hot bitter rivers of sorrow. She couldn’t hold herself up. She collapsed to her side on the cot.

  As she did her world tilted also. Suddenly nothing was solid, everything shifted, slid from its moorings and plummeted into the abyss.

  “I’m sorry,” Master Elia’s voice was close, a hand touched Senia’s shoulder. “So… sorry, I… I’ll leave you now. There are men outside your door if you require anything.”

  Soft footfalls barely audible above Senia’s weeping, then the door opened and closed. Once again, with a finality Senia had never imagined, she was alone.

  Something isn’t right.

  Senia was too lost in her emotions to answer, though she’d heard the words. She knew very well that something wasn’t right, her entire life wasn’t right, not anymore.

  Senia! Listen to me!

  The shout jolted her. What? She wasn’t in a mood to talk.

  Senia, can’t you feel that?

  Feel what?

  I’m not quite sure, but… I was connected to Ahrn for so long, together in that nothingness. I… I feel like I can still sense him.

  What? Where? Senia didn’t want to believe Emberthorn. For belief was hope, and she wasn’t sure she could handle such an emotion if it weren’t true.

  I don’t know, but can’t you feel it? There is something, and… and I think it’s you that’s feeling it, not me. It’s so small, so distant, it’s hard to tell.

  I can’t… Emberthorn please, this is too much…

  I’m sorry, my dear. Allow me to help. A warm wave of soothing peace spread into Senia. She drew a long shuddering breath, and her tears stopped.

  Thank you.

  She tried to steady herself, pushing herself up to sit once again. She closed her eyes and tried to focus.

  Long deep breaths calmed her further, until finally… there was something.

  What is that?

  I don’t know. It is familiar though, isn’t it?

  Very.

  Do you think it could be…?

  I… don’t know, but I will find out.

  She rose from her bed, bare feet brushing cool stone. Emberthorn was in hand, her divining rod, trembling with the resonance of this deep, secret feeling shared between them.

  She padded to the door, opened it, and moved through.

  Two large monks stood on either side of the frame. They must have noticed the movement of the door since they turned to her. Both of them, upon seeing her, knelt with heads bowed.

  “Mistress Scion,” one said reverently. “How may we be of service?”

  Uncertain, she paused for a moment before walking out between them.

  “There is something I must do,” she said, voice low.

  “May we be of assistance?” one asked, standing.

  She waved him back. “No, stay.”

  She didn’t look, moving past, but knew they had complied, hearing the rustle of clothes as they resumed their post.

  She glided down the long stone hall to the end where a thin, tall window allowed a strip of moonlight to illuminate the corridor.

  Her senses were alive in the night. She felt the grain of the stone beneath her feet, though worn close to smooth by the passage of thousands of monks. Heard the barest creak of some monk adjusting his position in bed behind the door of the cell she passed. Inhaled the faint scent of roses, which grew stronger as she drew to the window.

  The barest of breezes swept in, tousling hair and sleeping gown. Darkness hung beyond the window, a warm night. It would seem the chill north wind had faded, and summer was in the air.

  She turned a corner, dark and abandoned. Few were up at this hour. Those who were she avoided easily as she moved along, hearing their approach down halls long before they would have noticed her. She became twin to silence and darkness. This was a quest for her alone, following a distant call only she could hear.

  She found stairs, descended, and moved along many corridors past so many identical doors. How she knew which one drew her, she was unsure, except that her heart sung at the nearness of her goal.

  There… a door. Reverently she placed her soft hand on the course wood and knew, without a doubt that what pulled her lay beyond this threshold.

  There were voices within.

  CHAPTER 15

  A hrn still marveled at his life, his health, his wholeness.

  Sitting on the edge of his cot, he ran his hands over what had been burned flesh, finding only smooth skin. His back, the side of his head, his ear, his hair, all were perfect, unharmed, whole.

  No pain.

  “High Sister Olinda does know her trade,” Master Elia said. “Though you’ll have to thank all the Gods, especially Reisha of the Fates, for the luck that brought that small group of Daughters of Ehlani within our walls not but a week before you arrived. Without them, you may have lived, but you would not be whole. Only the Daughters know the magic of stitching muscle and bone, flesh and hair, back together.”

  Ahrn looked up at the second miracle of the day.

  “And you. I had hoped you had survived the assassins, but I was never certain.”

  “It will take more than that to finish this old hag.”

  Ahrn smiled.

  He had awoken only a few hours past, finding himself whole, hearty and with a raging appetite. Monks had brought food, but he had been told to stay in his cell until the Master and the High Sister could check in on him. High Sister Olinda had come first, checking his wounds and clucking on about his swift recovery, telling him to eat well for the next few days to replenish his body. Not long after Master Elia had arrived, alive and well.

  “I’m glad you are well.” Though even as he spoke the words another thought entered his head, one that had been nagging him from the moment he woke. “Is Senia well?”

  “Senia? Is that the name of the miracle of a girl that brought you here, the Scion?”

  “Yes.” And Ahrn couldn’t help but think that ‘miracle’ was exactly the right word for her.

  Something crossed Master Elia’s face, some hidden thought. “Yes.” The word was drawn out, tentative. “We need to speak of her.”

  “She is amazing.” A memory rushed back to him. It was hazy, clouded by pain, and his want at the time to slip away to the void where pain could not touch him. He had told Senia, said the words that were in his heart. He had thought he would die and no longer needed to hide anything.

  Yet, what now?

  “I love her, Master Elia.”

  There was no answer.

  Looking back to Master Elia, she was looking at him keenly, eyes sad. She shook her head slowly. “No Ahrn, you don’t.”

  He met her gaze, intent, true. “I do, but I don’t know what to do about it.”

  “Don’t say this. You’re a hero, Ahrn. You’ve found what we had thought lost. There is perhaps hope for our fight against The Blacklord. But you know that you cannot be with her, you know our vows forbid it.” She rose, head still shaking, and came to kneel beside his bed. She took his hand in hers, rough, calloused, aged. “Forget what you have said, it is probably just her aura as a Scion. You are enchanted, a youthful infatuation, that is all, but do not say that you love her.”

  He looked away. How could he deny the truth? Could she not see that he had to be honest with himself? He knew now, having come so very close to death, that he could no longer deny his love. He wanted to be with Senia, forever, hold her, have her, be there for every moment in her life. Was that not love?

  “I cannot ignore my heart.”

  She squeezed his hand hard, and he looked back to her. Her eyes capt
ured his, searching. She stayed like that for some time, her voice was low when she spoke. “Yes, I can see that.”

  He squeezed her hand back, his sincerity firm in every word. “I was dead. As close to death as one can be and still live. I have seen the depths of my own heart. I cannot hide what I feel anymore. I may be breaking every vow to our God, but somehow, I cannot bring myself to believe that she would keep me from such a desire as this. What I feel is true and is that not what Embreth is at her core, truth? If I deny this truth, then I am no monk of hers.”

  “You will be the downfall of us all, boy.” But the tone wasn’t harsh. She shook her head. Ahrn raised a brow in question. Her response was measured, she weighed every word as a miser does gold.

  “There is a teaching of Embreth. It is something only the masters know and it is never shared with anyone who hasn’t reached that level of ability. I trust you with this Ahrn, as a dedicated student of Embreth. I hope I’m not mistaken. This teaching is simple. It states that, of everything Embreth stands for, Truth, as you say, is above all. There can be no love above our love for her and for Truth. No love… but one. No love but… True Love.”

  Ahrn’s heart flooded with relief. Perhaps all would not be lost for his love!

  “Master Elia, I…” She cut him off.

  “There is a reason we do not share this teaching Ahrn. There are many out there who wouldn’t be able to tell the wings of infatuation from the solid depths of true love. We have always been concerned that our monks would think themselves to be in a ‘true love’, when in fact they are not.”