Dark Immolation Read online

  “Thank you,” Jane whispered. “The darkness, the fear, seemed eternal. I thought that was my life; in the moment it seemed all I had ever known. The fear and the awful eternity of it all. But then, in the midst of the greatest darkness, there was a ray of light.”

  “Canta,” Elessa whispered.

  Cinzia pursed her lips. Why would Jane not get to the point, to why they had called Elessa here in the first place?

  Jane nodded. “She appeared to me, Elessa.”

  “You mean you felt Her impressions, Her presence, as I have?” Elessa asked.

  “No,” Jane said, “for me, it was more than that. I saw Canta. She appeared to me, spoke to me. She said that the Denomination had indeed strayed from the truth, that while there were good people in the Denomination who sought to do well, there were also many others who did not. Canta instructed me, and informed me that I would be Her servant, to bring about Her will on the Sfaera once again, as Her Disciples of old had done. And that’s why we called you here, Elessa. Because we have a duty for you, just as Canta has a duty for me.”

  “Me?” Elessa asked.

  “Yes,” Jane said. She had stopped shaking now, and sat tall, her back straight.

  “What could you possibly want with me?” Elessa asked.

  “Canta called Nine Disciples when She walked the Sfaera,” Jane said. “Part of Canta’s will for me is that I reestablish that order.”

  Cinzia watched Elessa’s face carefully as Jane spoke her next words.

  “You are to be one of Canta’s nine disciples,” Jane said. “You’ve been called to serve the Goddess.”

  Elessa blinked. She did not seem to have processed what Jane had said.

  “You mean… you mean I am to serve as a priestess?” Elessa asked, proving that she, indeed, did not understand. In the Denomination’s hierarchy, the office of disciple was the very lowest calling. It made sense that Elessa would be confused.

  “No,” Jane said. “Forget what you know about the disciples in the Denomination. Remember the stories of Canta’s original Nine Disciples. That is what you will be, Elessa. We are calling you to help form, found, and lead Canta’s religion on the Sfaera.”

  Elessa stared at Jane, still expressionless. “You mean… why me?”

  Jane gave a soft laugh. “I know this is confusing, and I know that you will probably not fully realize what this means at first. But Canta desires your help. You will do great things, great works on the Sfaera. You are one of Canta’s children, and you’ve a role to play, as we all do.”

  “Do you accept this position, Elessa?” Cinzia asked. She knew the woman was overwhelmed, but they needed an answer.

  The blank stare on Elessa’s face finally gave way to a broken smile. “I… yes. Yes, I do accept,” she said.

  “Wonderful!” Jane moved towards Elessa, wrapping her arms around the woman, nearly knocking her off the chair.

  Cinzia smiled, and realized she genuinely meant it. It would be good to have another voice among them. “Welcome to the fold, Elessa,” Cinzia said.

  When Jane finally released her, Elessa stood, and then it was Cinzia’s turn to nearly be knocked over by an embrace.

  “Thank you,” Elessa whispered.

  Cinzia patted the young woman’s back, unsure of how to respond. But Elessa’s gratitude felt good.

  “Well, we have much to do, don’t we?” Jane said. “I suppose we must begin at the beginning. In order to form Canta’s religion, we need Her power. And as far as I know, only one of us currently holds that.” She looked at Cinzia.

  “What are you talking about?” Cinzia asked.

  “You’re a priestess in the Cantic Denomination, sister. You hold Canta’s power within you; whether it was given to you through corrupted means matters not. You hold it, and you must now share it.”

  “You were a priestess?” Elessa asked, her eyes wide.

  “I am a priestess.” Cinzia resented the surprised way Elessa had said it. “Jane,” Cinzia said through clenched teeth, “you never told me about this.”

  “I know, and I’m sorry,” she said. “There is so much to keep track of, I… I forget things, sometimes.”

  “I can’t just ordain you both to the priesthood,” Cinzia said.

  “Why not?” Elessa asked.

  Cinzia stared at the young woman, about to give a dozen reasons why not. But, as Cinzia thought it over, the question sank in. There were reasons Cinzia should not, of course. A dozen reasons and more. But as for reasons why she could not…

  “I will think this over,” Cinzia said. “I can’t betray everything I stand for so easily.”

  “Of course, sister,” Jane said. “Take all the time you need. We have much to do, besides.”

  Cinzia’s mind wandered out as her sister began explaining exactly what they would be doing. She was far too preoccupied. No matter how hard she tried to tread the surface, she was constantly being pulled deeper and deeper into all of this. She only hoped she wouldn’t drown.

  19

  KNOT SLEPT FITFULLY. HE wished he could blame it on his injured head, but he’d had trouble sleeping ever since Izet. He opened his eyes and took a deep breath—a breath that immediately caught in his throat when he noticed the faint orange glow shimmering at the corner of his vision.

  Fire.

  Knot leapt out of bed and rushed to the window just as a panicked knock rattled his door. Outside, he saw a section of Odenite tents burning brightly against the night. It was the same area of the grounds that Cavil, Ocrestia, and the largest group of tiellans in the camp occupied. Knot cursed.

  “Knot, we need you!”

  He recognized the voice as Eward’s, and the lad burst into the room just as Knot grabbed his blackbark staff and dagger.

  “What do you know?” Knot demanded.

  “Nothing, just that some tents in the tiellan section have caught fire.”

  “Ain’t coincidence. Let’s go.” Before it’s too late.

  They ran down the stairs and out of the front doors. Wind whipped at Knot’s clothing as he rushed across the grounds toward the flames. Knot found himself wishing he hadn’t sent that damn vampire away after all. He’d have given his right hand to have Astrid by his side.

  “There,” Knot said, pointing at a group of Odenites gathered at a distance from the flames. As he drew closer, he realized they were all humans.

  “Canta’s bones,” he growled. Then he raised his voice, shouting to get the attention of the group. “Where are the tiellans?”

  Some of the humans looked at one another. Knot recognized Dannel, staring intently at the ground. Knot checked himself, taking a deep breath. Losing his temper wouldn’t help.

  Before any of the humans could answer, Knot heard a scream. He turned back to the flames, squinting, and could just make out a few forms running between the burning tents.

  Some of the tiellans were still in that inferno.

  “Goddess, why aren’t any of you helping them?” Eward was demanding as Knot ran towards the scream. The fire had engulfed roughly a dozen tents, and spread to the branches of the large ash tree around which the tiellans had camped. A tiellan woman ran right into him, almost knocking him over. Knot stumbled back, but managed to catch the woman by the arm.

  The woman cringed. “Don’t hurt me! Please!”

  Knot released her arm, not wanting to frighten her further. “Who did this?” But the woman ran off.

  Her response confirmed Knot’s fears. This was not an accident. It was an attack. Whether by other humans in the camp or Kamites from Tinska, Knot couldn’t be sure, but it had to be one of the two. Knot rushed into the haze, coughing through the smoke. Two more tiellans ran towards him, but the moment they saw him they changed course.

  Ahead of him, Knot saw someone lying in the grass. Turning the body over, he saw a tiellan man, eyes wide, face pale. Dead. Not from the flames, either—his abdomen was torn to pieces. Someone had taken an axe to him.

  Knot heard a laugh. It wa
s close, and getting closer. Following instinct, he darted between a pair of smoldering tents and swung hard with his blackbark staff at an oncoming figure.

  The laugh caught in the man’s throat, and he fell to the ground. Knot yanked him up roughly by the collar, and came face to face with the axe-wielding man with the Kamite tattoo who’d been the ringleader of Ocrestia’s abusers.

  The man’s eyes widened when he recognized Knot. “Oh shi—”

  Knot head-butted him. The man’s head snapped back, his nose exploding in a burst of blood, and he dropped his axe. Knot was about to toss the man to the ground when he noticed a group of tiellans on the other side of the tents. Seven men on horseback surrounded them, herding them together. Knot heard screams around him, saw figures rushing through the haze. Angry shouts. There was the horrifying smell of burning flesh.

  There was no doubt. Kamites from Tinska had set fire to the tiellan tents. The smell told Knot that at least a few tiellans had perished in the flames. Amidst the chaos of the smoke and flames, a battle raged within Knot. His cold, calculating self fought against an anger he had never felt before.

  Knot growled, a guttural sound beginning deep in his gut, and then threw the man he held into one of the burning tents. The man screamed as he crashed into the blaze, his cries intensifying as the flames took him.

  Knot focused on a figure running between the tents a row over. He snuck between another gap in time to grab the figure—a tiellan, he realized by the size and weight of the man—by the arm. The man shouted. It was Cavil.

  Knot raised a finger to his lips, and Cavil’s shout faded as recognition registered in his eyes, still wide with fear. Cavil was about to speak, but Knot cupped his hand over the man’s mouth. “Stay behind me,” Knot said.

  Cavil nodded.

  Knot handed Cavil his staff, drew his dagger, and stalked quickly through the smoke. Sparks from the burning tree limbs above him floated down. Knot caught another tiellan, sobbing as she ran, and directed her behind him. Cavil would have to help the woman.

  He heard a cough to his right. Knot bolted in the direction of the sound, slipping up behind a tall man carrying a club. Knot wrapped one arm around the man’s head, then drew the blade of his dagger across the man’s throat. The man wheezed and fell, bleeding into the grass.

  Knot kept moving, eyes stinging, and found another human dragging a tiellan child by the arm. Knot crept beside the man, grabbing the man’s wrist and twisting. The man let go of the boy. Knot twisted the man’s arm farther until it snapped, then slid his dagger in and out of the man’s back once, twice, three times.

  Knot looked around. No other shadows moved among the tents. He could see the group of tiellans huddled between the men on horseback clearly now. Seven men. He could handle seven men, even on horseback.

  Knot turned back to Cavil and took his staff. “Get them to safety,” he said, nodding towards the woman and boy.

  He sprinted towards the nearest rider. The man’s horse pranced away as he approached, but Knot caught up in time to swing his staff at the man’s skull, knocking him to the ground. The riderless horse galloped away, and Knot lunged at the next rider, grabbing him by the belt and heaving him to the ground with a crunch.

  The other men spurred their horses towards him. Knot threw his dagger into the nearest man’s neck. He immediately fell from his saddle.

  Between the fire and Knot’s violent outburst, the remaining horses spooked. One reared up, throwing its rider. Another horse sprinted in the opposite direction, taking its rider with it. The other two men dismounted before their horses did the same. That left three men on the ground, each advancing slowly on Knot, a pitchfork and two axes between them.

  Knot’s lungs burned from smoke and exertion, but he didn’t care. It could have been Winter these men attacked. It could have been Bahc, or Gord, or Lian, any of the people Knot had grown to love in Pranna. Men, women, children – these men did not seem to care when it came to tiellan life. He wouldn’t forgive that.

  Knot dodged an axe and swung his staff into the attacker’s shins, tripping the man up, and kicked him in the face. He parried a pitchfork thrust and struck the assailant in the face, sending him stumbling backwards. The man he’d kicked tried to stand, but Knot kicked him again, just as the third attacker rushed forward with his axe. Knot stepped neatly out of the way and gripped the man’s arm as he passed, twisted, and threw him into the ground.

  Pitchfork Man charged again, but Knot extended his staff, thrusting it into the man’s throat. He collapsed to his knees, choking, eyes rolling back into his head.

  Knot drove his heel into the face of one of the men on the ground as he stirred, and then everything was still. No attackers remained. Cavil and the other two tiellans walked quickly to the group of tiellans the men had herded together.

  In the distance, the giant ash tree groaned and creaked. Knot looked up, coughing, just in time to see one of the flaming branches collapse onto the burning tents below in a burst of sparks.

  * * *

  Hours later, dawnlight turned every cloud a shade of warm pink. Smoke mingled with fog and the mist of a new day on the estate, but no fires remained.

  While Knot had been fighting, Eward had organized the human onlookers into a bucket brigade, carrying water from the pond. Fortunately the tiellan tents and the ash tree were rather isolated, and nothing else had caught fire. But only cinders remained where the tents had once stood, and the ash tree was a black skeleton.

  Knot had jumped in to help as soon as he could, and only now found a moment to stop and take in the insanity of the previous night. Cavil walked up beside him.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  Knot did not trust himself to reply. He wished he’d gotten here earlier, wished he could’ve somehow seen this coming.

  “Your wife?” Knot grunted.

  “Safe. She was in the group you saved. We owe you twice now. Thrice, I guess, if we’re being accurate.”

  “I’m sorry for what happened,” was all Knot could think to say.

  “So am I,” Cavil said, walking away.

  Cinzia and Jane approached, still in nightdresses, faces caked in sweat and soot.

  “How many dead?” Knot asked.

  “Four died in the tents,” Jane said. “Another two were killed by the men.”

  “And what are we going to do about it?” Knot asked.

  “I don’t know,” Jane said.

  “Ain’t like you.”

  “Even if I’d foreseen it, even if I’d been prepared, I’m not sure I could have changed it. Or that I’d know what to do now.”

  “The tiellans have no homes. They’ll need shelter.”

  Jane nodded. “That, at least, has already been seen to. As many as possible will stay in the house until we can find other accommodation for them.“Now, more than ever, we need to band together. We will need the structure of Canta’s Church to face what lies ahead.”

  “Think we’ll need more than that,” Knot said quietly.

  20

  Dungeons of the imperial palace, Izet, Roden

  WINTER STARED AT THE ceiling of her cell, clutching the frost crystal. They had continued to give her the drug. Not often, but every few days, as far as Winter could tell. Unsure of whether there would be more, she had not been able to help ingesting the drug immediately the first few times it had appeared. But the last time she’d saved it, hoping that if she took it at a different time of day, the powers that blocked her would be gone.

  Her hope had been misplaced.

  Now she clutched another crystal, saving it less because she thought the same tactic would work, but because she savored holding it almost more than the idea of swallowing it. The moment she ingested it, it would be gone. But if she saved it, she at least had something to look forward to.

  Three knocks sounded at her cell door. Immediately Winter released her mind, searching for who it might be. She sensed her gaoler, stoic and simple-minded. The other presence was…
r />   A black skull, wreathed in dark flame, flashed in her mind.

  Daval.

  Winter knew him only by his absence. Once her father had shown her what he called an eclipse. The event had been horrifying. He and Winter had stood atop a hill near Pranna on a summer’s day, looking up at a rare clear blue midday sky, when something impossible happened. A massive shadow raced across the plains toward them.It was many times the size of a mountain, and swept over the land faster than anything Winter could imagine.

  Winter’s first instinct had been to run, but her father put his hand on her shoulder, gently.

  “You’re safe,” he had told her. “Wait, and watch.”

  It had taken every ounce of strength Winter had as she waited, nestled beneath her father’s arm. The shadow had approached quickly, and Winter kept looking up at the sky expecting to see a massive dragon sailing through the air. The legendary creatures from the Age of Marvels were the only things she could imagine that could cause so great a shadow.

  Then, not accompanied by a rushing sound as Winter had expected but rather by a stark, deafening silence, the darkness reached them, engulfed them.

  “Look up,” her father had whispered.

  The sun was gone. In its place was a horrible black circle surrounded by a burning ring of white flame. Winter gripped her father’s hand tightly.

  “What does it mean?” she had asked.

  “I’m not sure it means anything. Only that more time has passed.”

  Winter remembered that empty black circle, and the burning ring around it. The sun had been absent, and yet she knew it was there, it had been impossible to hide. The same was true of Daval. His mind was only blackness to her, but the workings of it were too bright to ignore. She couldn’t see his mind, but she could see the burning ring around it.

  “Bring her out to me.”

  The gaoler stepped into Winter’s cell. “Up with you,” he said, kicking at Winter’s legs.