Betrayal's Price (In Deception's Shadow Book 1) (12 page)

After only
three days, Ashayna already knew weapons practice was going to be her favorite
new lesson. Today’s practice-ring adversaries fought without armor and both
were faster for its lack. Sorntar’s swords bled liquid flame, flickering and
snapping with each strike. He circled his opponent in a tireless dance. Caltanwyn,
the youngest of Marsolwyn’s sons, matched Sorntar’s lethal dance with equal
skill.

Walking around
the practice ring’s perimeter, Ashayna studied their techniques from different
angles, trying to pinpoint strengths and weaknesses. Both had fought other
opponents and couldn’t be fresh, yet neither showed signs of tiring. In a blur
of speed, Caltanwyn raked his claws across Sorntar’s abdomen. The phoenix
danced away from the blow.

Other than a
few welts, Sorntar seemed fine. Ashayna let her eyes roam over him for signs of
injuries, just in case. Sorntar gave Caltanwyn a slight bow then leapt back
into the fray, showing he was still in good form.

Marsolwyn
joined Ashayna. “Enjoying the duel? Sorntar does have nice form, doesn’t he?”

Heat climbed
Ashayna’s face, her eyes remained locked on their fight. “Yes, what I’ve
learned watching Caltanwyn fight will help improve my fighting style. His
technique differs from Sorntar’s.” She rubbed her arms, appreciating Wardstones
for their ability to block strong magic. Outside the ring, power still pressed
against her skin—soft like fur, but without protection it had stung like a
handful of bees.

“It’s just your
body’s sensitivity to magic, one of the rarer signs a Larnkin is soon to
awaken. Stray magic flares and emotional outbursts are more common symptoms.”
Marsolwyn replied to Ashayna’s unvoiced thoughts.

She regarded
the lupwyn with a frown. “That explanation is more concerning than the
condition. And yes, I’m already familiar with the emotional outbursts.”

“Don’t let it
spoil your enjoyment of the match.”

“Too late.”

The opponents
slashed and thrust at each other with greater speed. Ashayna fisted her hands
with worry. “Are they trying to kill each other? One slip and someone’s going
to lose a limb.”

“Oh, don’t
worry about that,” Marsolwyn replied. “The weapons are warded before a practice
so they can’t actually cut—too messy to clean up. The worst Sorntar will get is
a few bruises. Besides, healers always frown when younglings get hurt in a
strutting contest.” A toothy lupwyn grin accompanied her words.

Ashayna ignored
Marsolwyn’s last comment and focused on the match. After several more rounds,
Caltanwyn knocked one of Sorntar’s swords flying. A moment later, the lupwyn
tripped up the phoenix, and Sorntar joined his sword on the ground, displacing
a small cloud of fine sand.

“I declare the
match won,” Marsolwyn stated.

A sharp pop
issued as the Wardstones released their shield. Sorntar sprang to his feet. The
two opponents bowed, and Caltanwyn gave Sorntar a few pointers. Sorntar exited
the practice ring with his wings clamped tight to his back.

“You’re getting
no pity from me,” Ashayna said. “Now you know how I felt getting whipped in a
duel in front of an entire military camp.”

Sorntar’s
expression relaxed marginally. He fanned his wings in the cool breeze. “We must
return to the palace soon and get cleaned up if we are to make it to the
council chambers a candlemark after noon.”

“Joy. I’d
almost forgotten that bit of fun.”

With luck, the
testing would be over quickly. Maybe they wouldn’t find anything else strange
about her power.

* * * *

Freshly washed,
and after a few bites of food to satisfy her hunger, Ashayna stood in front of
another pair of doors. Here, deep below, the city’s weight pressed down until she
could feel it in her bones.

The four guards—one
silver-feathered phoenix, two grey-furred lupwyns, and a sleek, tan gryphon—stood
with stony expressions. They could have been statues. None moved even enough to
ruffle fur or feathers. They stared ahead with unseeing eyes, barely breathing.
She sent Sorntar a questioning look. “So, now what?”

“I couldn’t
tell you, I’ve never been in the Council’s inner chambers.” Sorntar shrugged.

Ashayna nodded
towards the guards. “Why are they standing there like that?”

“They see with
more than their eyes. If assassins attempted to hide by any magical means,
those guards would know of it and dispatch the enemy long before they became a
threat.” He laughed at her look of disbelief. “We do have very formidable
enemies. However, you need not worry. We’ll undergo over a century of training
before we are allowed to fight anything truly dangerous, and then only beside
an elder.”

Ashayna’s teeth
snapped together. He’d alluded to their lengthened lifespan before, but it
still came as a shock. “Ah. That should be time enough.”

The doors swung
open, saving her from thinking more on Sorntar’s startling admission. The
gaping maw of darkness effectively hid the passage’s length. Sorntar arched his
wings, sucked in a deep breath, and strode into darkness. She hurried after.

The passageway
came to an end at another set of doors. Sorntar pushed these doors wide and
they emerged into a large six-sided chamber lit with mage globes. At room’s
center a table took up a full third of the floor space. This deep, there were
no windows. In their place, ten great paintings stretched from floor to
ceiling, depicting various species. Each person—or creature, for one showed
what must be a dragon of legend—was holding some weapon or obvious item of
power. Each akin to Sorntar’s flaming swords yet different. The word talisman
settled in her mind. The hair on her arms stood at attention, and the small of her
back was suddenly damp with sweat.

“Ashayna, it’s
incredible.” Sorntar’s voice came in an awed whisper. “These are portraits of
the Twelve Talismans and their Wielders—the greatest workers of magic we have
ever known, created by the gods to be their judgment and vengeance. I’ve heard
tales of them and seen faded images in old scrolls and books. Never, in all my
imaginings, did I believe such paintings existed.”

“Judging and
punishing only the wicked, I hope.”

“Oh, yes. They
are Light’s champions.” Sorntar studied each portrait, his intrigued expression
never wavering. Looking past her to a portrait behind, he narrowed his eyes in
frustration. He motioned to the panels, counting them. His frown deepened.

“Something
wrong?” Her voice echoed eerily back to her before whispering away.

“There are only
ten panels when there should be twelve. Each panel is titled. The leaders are
missing.”

Ashayna turned
in a complete circle as she studied how far apart each set of paintings was
from its neighbors.

“Sorntar, the
doors—there must be panels on their reverse sides.” As she said it, her magic
stirred and a sense of dread assaulted her. She almost spoke out, but before
she gathered together the words, Sorntar raised one hand and with a slight
gesture, both massive doors swung shut with a muffled thump.

The mage globes’
soft light revealed two panels. One was of a human woman holding a sword across
her lap. The other image, that of a male phoenix, had an ornate staff topped by
a silver falcon braced against his hip. Ashayna sucked in a breath. Her eyes
darted between one picture and the other. Sorntar could have posed for the
artist. The other, the human, bore a vague resemblance to her. Coloring was all
wrong—silver-white hair, milk pale skin, eyes the color of frost—yet there was
something familiar. Like looking at a portrait of an ancestor or a mirror into
the underworld, one which showed a ghostly image twin to the living. The chill
in her blood swelled again, climbing up her spine with icy fingers.

“It can’t be.
We can’t possibly be them.” Sorntar’s voice, low and harsh with strain, didn’t
reassure her. He motioned, giving a name to each image. “He was the Judge; she,
the Destroyer.”

“Look again,
look closer, they are not us. See, she has features more refined than mine,
with a more polished look to her skin, and her bones are less heavy set.
The….the Destroyer, she is beautiful as I never will be.” Ashayna evaded his
disbelieving gaze, willing to grasp at anything to explain away the few
unsettling similarities. “Nor is the Judge a replica of you. Your skin tone and
feathers are both darker than his. He is more heavily muscled than you, bulkier
or maybe slightly shorter. These are just paintings. They could resemble any
number of people.” She didn’t believe her own words.

He nodded once
in a quick, jerky motion. After three slow, deep breaths his coloring returned
to a healthier hue. “And we don’t bear the marks of the Twelve, may the God and
Goddess be ever merciful.” He gave Ashayna a shaky smile. “The records say the
Twelve are born with the symbol of their Order above their hearts.”

“You agree we’re
not of the Twelve. I assume that’s a good thing, but just what are these
Twelve?”

“They are the
embodiment of power, young ones.” Priestess Halnora stood behind them, resting
a hand on an ancient, rough-hewn stone table. She took her place among the
other councilors.

Ashayna looked
for a second door and spotted another set of panels ajar. That the entire
council had come in without her hearing, warned her they used subtle magic.
Queen Talnarra raised a hand, and in an elegant gesture, she motioned for them
to come forward. Mage globe light reflected off her obsidian talons when she
reached for a stone goblet.

“You have seen
the portraits; now you understand why we must test your Larnkins.” The queen
held her goblet out to Ashayna. “Once we are certain you are not one of them, your
training as a mage shall begin. And Ashayna, even if you are not chosen to
become one of us, we will not harm you.”

The last words
held no comfort. Even if they didn’t raise a hand against her, there was still
room for much suffering, if her fears about Larnkins proved true. She wanted to
rail at whatever fate had brought her here, but screaming in her head wouldn’t
do her a scrap of good; neither would resisting and having one of the guards
pour liquid down her throat. She approached the goblet tentatively and wrapped
her hands around its sturdy base.

Queen Talnarra
gestured again. “You need only drink a few swallows.”

Ashayna sniffed
the silver liquid. It had a mild, earthy scent. “Tell me how this works.”

“It’s water
taken from sacred pools deep below this chamber. The blessed water nulls the
person’s shielding magic, allowing the Larnkin a route by which it can
temporarily leave its host to form the bond. If you drink only a small amount,
it will disable your ability to shield long enough for us to read your power.”
Queen Talnarra gave Ashayna a studying look. “I know this is strange. We are
asking you to trust us when we will not yet trust you, but this is how it must
be.”

Raising the
goblet to her lips, Ashayna took three swallows then handed it to Sorntar. The
liquid, thicker and warmer than normal water, held a slight metallic tang.

Sorntar watched
her.

She arched a
brow in challenge. He drank quickly and then placed their goblet back on the
table. They waited for a handful of heartbeats. Still nothing happened. Ashayna
hesitated, perhaps the delay was normal, but what if it wasn’t?

“It will not be
long now.” Queen Talnarra’s voice was soft.

As if the queen’s
words were a trigger, the first effects of the liquid slithered through Ashayna’s
blood. A force holding the world at bay bled away. Like trying to hold water in
her hands, her power drained through her fingers, leaving a warm tingle behind.

The others in
the room felt old, powerful, their mage gifts burning along her mental
awareness, almost strong enough to feel with her physical body. Sorntar’s power
flared strongest, calling to her. The compulsion was tempting. Only sheer
stubborn will allowed her to step away.

Sorntar must
have experienced some similar consuming pull for he uttered an almost unheard
cry and stumbled back a half dozen paces.

“We shall
separate you for the testing, to give you peace from the constant demands of
your Larnkin.” The queen gestured for her son to be removed. Priestess Halnora
forced Sorntar towards another corridor. He hesitated. Two other council
members stepped forward to help the priestess.

Ashayna was led
away in another direction by Marsolwyn, followed closely by Queen Talnarra and
King Kysoran. Passing under an archway, she arrived in a new chamber similar to
the one they had just left. This one was lit by a central wood-burning fire. It
gave her some comfort the Elementals didn’t depend entirely on magic.

She took one
deep breath and prayed she would pass this test. After her small request, she
tried to keep her mind free of thoughts.

Marsolwyn
gestured for her to sit on a wide, padded bench close to the fire. “Relax,
Ashayna, it will be over soon. I know you will make a fine mage. This is just a
formality.” She shrugged. “Personally, I believe it’s something they put the
young ones through to teach them humility.”