Echoes in the Dark

There was a tinkle of chimes, and the mirror in the cavern faded—was it real or illusion? How much was truly needed for a portal between the worlds?

Marshalls’ Castle

Raine staggered away after the third sounding of the gong, her ears still ringing despite her hands over them. Faucon had kept her upright with a grip on her upper arms.

The huge wooden doors from the courtyard burst open and Alexa, the first Exotique, and Bri, the healer, shot into the room, along with their men.

Raine stared at them in surprise.

Alexa, hands on hips, with the aura of the most Powerful warrior in the country, small and silver-headed, examined the large room in one whirling turn. “Where is she? Why did you do it?”

“What are you talking about?” Raine asked.

Bri, medium-brown hair gleaming, creamy complexion pale, rubbed her hands up and down her upper arms. “I felt it, a great change in Lladrana, in Amee. I heard the gong!” She glanced at Alexa, who was nodding.

“A Summoning,” Alexa said. “Just a little while ago, and now the gong has sounded.”

“No Summoning here.” Raine and Faucon spoke together. He released his grip on her and she missed it. But Raine knew about sounding gongs, at least. “Tuning an Exotique to the world,” she said between dry lips.

“Ayes,” Alexa agreed. “But you didn’t sound the gong.”

“No.” Then in Lladranan, “Ttho.” Raine swallowed. “What’s going on?”

“I can guess,” Bastien, Alexa’s husband, said grimly, towering over his mate. “The last Exotique is for—”

“The Singer!” Alexa shouted. “And that sneaky old woman has Summoned her!” She broke from Bastien’s grasp and ran into the courtyard, yelling for her flying horse. Bastien followed.

Bri sent Raine a look and said, “Sevair and I rode the roc up from Castleton, we’ll get there quicker. Are you coming?”

Everyone had been overprotective of her, and the Marshalls’ Castle nearly a cage. Now, to leave it in the dark and fly south to the Singer’s Abbey that she’d only heard spoken of in awed tones, seemed scary. Still, Exotiques stuck together. “I’ll come,” she croaked. Blossom! she called her own winged steed mentally. Prepare for a flight to Singer’s Abbey.

Bri drilled a look at Faucon. “You?”

He shrugged. “Ayes.”

Bri nodded and ran out, hand in hand with her serious husband.

But Faucon wasn’t as casual as he seemed. Just standing near him, Raine could feel his tension. He strolled to the door, threw her a look from over his shoulder. “Come along, though I’d wager that this will be a futile quest. Despite everything, we won’t wrest the new Exotique from the Singer’s clutches.”

Raine was cold and her throat too tight to reply.

As they flew away, the Castle alarm sounded, calling warriors to battle. Raine saw Alexa and her volaran flinch, but she didn’t look back.

Knowing that Chevaliers and Marshalls were running through the Castle to their volarans, rising in a cloud to the North to fight monsters, Raine didn’t look back, either.

She’d learned that looking forward was always best. That way you sometimes saw doom coming.

Singer’s Abbey

Jikata was barely aware of what was going on around her. She thought there was a big, gorgeous Asian man looking down at her, wearing white…leather? Then he stepped out of her line of sight and she was surrounded by the people in rainbow robes. Most of them were smirking and she didn’t like it.

A couple of them had looked at her in horror and disgust, had trembled and shrunk away from her gaze, pressing themselves against the cave walls.

Cave walls?

She had an uneasy feeling that she wasn’t in Denver anymore. But she was more than confused, she’d just begun to figure out her surroundings when wave after wave of sound ran through her, electrifying her nerves. It felt as if she’d been struck by lightning. By the time it was done she could only lie quivering.

The older woman who’d said she was the Singer gestured to two women and they lifted Jikata gently, set her on her feet, steadied her as if she were a precious child learning to walk. She wasn’t sure she liked this extreme care any better than the revulsion. Looking around for the one being who was slightly familiar, she saw Chasonette on the man in white’s broad shoulder, staring at him. He was staring back at her in surprise, then he turned and met Jikata’s gaze with a dark chocolate one of his own that made her tremble in more ways than she understood.

Then the elder was in front of her, demanding attention. “This cavern and the tunnels leading to and from it are filled with the tunes of prophecy. I am the Singer and have Summoned you!” She spoke English.

Jikata saw White Leather Man’s grimace and an odd expression flicker on his face. She’d seen him come from that door to the tunnels, right? Now that she scrutinized him, he looked a little worse for wear, lines around his eyes and bracketing his mouth that she didn’t think were usually noticeable. There were also smears of grime on his forehead, his face, his white leathers and gloves.

Chasonette warbled and again words sifted through Jikata’s mind. Let Luthan escort you. Best for you both. The bird tugged a strand of the man’s hair from a tie in the back and Jikata realized it was longer than shoulder-length. A good look for him.

She took a steadying breath. “Luthan?”

The Singer frowned, the man strode forward, lifted his arm and Chasonette walked down it to his wrist. Keeping that arm raised, he bowed, brown eyes never leaving Jikata.

“Luthan Vauxveau,” he said. As he straightened he rolled a gesture from himself to her and spoke more words. Frenchlike. She knew some French from songs and thought he said something like, “I am at your service.” He held out his opposite arm in a formal offer of support and the women’s hands on her tightened. The Singer’s eyes narrowed and her lips pursed.

Jikata didn’t know what was going on, but the emotional currents around her spoke of power plays. From the sheer force of the Singer, Jikata thought she was the major player in this situation, the turf was hers, the…minions. And the Singer had such life force, such ki, that Jikata could literally feel it.

Best even things out a bit, though the man, too, was a presence to be reckoned with. Jikata had been dealing with movers and shakers in the music world the last few months and knew authority when she saw it. This Luthan Vauxveau must represent another faction. Of what or whom, she didn’t know, but it couldn’t hurt to follow Chasonette’s continued murmurings in her mind to go with Luthan. So Jikata put her hand on his arm and the cockatoo warbled approval even as a small shock went through Jikata. The hard muscles under her fingers tensed and she became all too aware of him, most particularly the melody coming from him. As if he had a personal theme in the soundtrack of her life.

Her fingers curled hard around his arm, but he didn’t falter. The women who had been steadying her let their hands fall away. Everything—everyone—around her was…giving off…sound, from a ripple of notes to Luthan’s harmonic melodies, to the Singer’s full orchestral symphony. Jikata thought the cave itself issued long, deep tones.

She did have a soundtrack in her life now, and the thought was daunting.

Luthan took a small step toward the door and Jikata followed. Her stomach clutched. She stopped and looked around, peered back where she’d seen the theater, hesitant to leave this place. A slight mist hovered in that direction, beyond which was dark, no sheen of a mirror or electric lights.

Nothing but rock walls arching to roundness above her. Excellent acoustic chamber, but…not Denver? Couldn’t be, if she listened to both her mind and her heart. Did she dare leave?

How could she stay? There was nothing here. She had to go with them to get answers.

The Singer had glided beyond them to the door, along with a woman in a royal blue robe who opened the door. Luthan hissed through his teeth and began singing. He had a strong tenor. Beautiful. Great breath control. His chant was simple and strong. The Singer had begun her Song, too. Intricate and forceful but with a delicacy, and, again, a slight quaver.

A sense of impending change flared in Jikata. Her life would never be the same again, and the moment of decision had passed by so quickly she hadn’t been aware of it. She wanted to slow events down, felt the edge of a tide of exhaustion lapping inexorably to her. Maybe she had fallen asleep on the chaise lounge in her dressing room and this was all a dream.

Chasonette fluttered from Luthan to Jikata’s shoulder, and she felt the small prick of claws. Then the bird Sang, too. So much music from everyone overwhelmed her as she tried to sort it out. The others were lining up behind her and Luthan, the Singer was no more than a small pace ahead.

The tunnel was larger than Jikata expected, with a smoother floor though the walls remained rough. When they stepped into it a mist coalesced around them, wisping into faces she knew—the major record producer, her agent, other singing stars—and with all of them came more tunes that seemed to suit their personalities. And they seemed to be leaching the heat from her.

She blinked and saw herself singing with a huge Grammy behind her. Fabulous!

When they turned a corner the mist formed into five women in front of them, Caucasian women—a small white-haired one, a redhead, a blond, two brunettes. They all scowled at her, gazes hot. The sound they made was incredible, going beyond Jikata’s hearing range in each direction. Waves of heat rippled around them, reached out to lick her with flames, and she was almost glad, she was so cold.

“We trusted you!” they snapped in chorus. “You betrayed us.”

The heat of the anger and the cold of the tunnel and the tide of exhaustion was too much. Jikata slid into blackness and blessed quiet.

Luthan swung the new Exotique up into his arms, the bird fluttered around them, making soothing sounds, a lilt of encouraging notes. The Singer took the lead.

Oddly enough, his muscles eased. The muffled quality of her Song held most of his visions at bay. But he’d seen the future again: a wondrous ship, rough seas, the looming volcano of the Dark’s Nest in the distance. The battle. Monsters against Chevaliers and Marshalls. The Exotiques and their mates Singing the Weapon Knot loose, the City Destroyer spell.

Death and destruction. Again and again. Only one thing remained the same. Calli, the Volaran Exotique, and her bondmate, Marrec, lived. For that Luthan gave thanks. If even one Exotique lived the outcome was good. Usually the Dark expired, too; when it didn’t, it was too wounded to rise for generations. Good.

He plodded after the Singer, trying to keep his mind shielded from the prophetic wraiths.

Luthan, what the hell is going on! Bri, the healer, demanded, and he sensed her within the Abbey proper, arriving by the roc sooner than the others. She and her husband, the formidable Citymaster, Sevair Masif, were spiraling down on the roc to the main courtyard. They would sense Luthan, come to him, might even sense the new Exotique.

For years Lladranans had fought invading monsters sent by a great Dark until the magical northern boundary began to fall and the Marshalls had dared to Summon the first Exotique, Alexa. She’d found the way to mend the fence posts, but had set them on a course to defeat the Dark itself.

Marian had come then, for the Circlets—the Sorcerers, Tower community—had discovered that the horrors invaded to regain some specific item. Marian agreed that the battle should be taken to the Dark. And she’d found the knot that would be their greatest weapon.

Then Calli was Summoned for Luthan’s own portion of society, the Chevaliers, and the volarans. She’d scouted the Dark’s Nest.

When a sickness sent by the Dark had swept the country, the Cities and Towns had paid the Marshalls to bring a medica from Exotique Terre. Twins had arrived, Bri and Elizabeth, and had fulfilled their tasks…and Elizabeth had returned with the Snap, when her home planet called her, opening a portal in the Dimensional Corridor, giving an Exotique the choice to stay or return.

Unknown to the rest of Lladrana, the Seamasters had tried a Summoning—Raine—and had thought they’d failed, and left. Now she was to build a great Ship to carry an invasion force to the Dark’s Nest itself and kill it.

The fractured communities of Lladrana were combining for that one purpose. To kill the Dark.

To send one swift and stealthy Ship to the Dark’s Nest, manned with the best warriors of Lladrana to fight the horrors and the Master defending it. There the Exotiques would untie the mysterious Weapon Knot Marian had found—the City Destroyer—with Song and…and leading the Song would be this last woman.

The sixth and final person to be Summoned to battle the Dark.

4

A cold wind whipped around Luthan, whistled through the tunnel, some of the Friends’ voices broke and were silent. Luthan drew on his Power to keep going, to protect the woman in his arms, as the bird shrilled a distress call.

The Singer remained untouched and serene, her pace regular, her Song soaring.

But she knew, like everyone else, that all their lives hung in the balance.

When they reached the white-and-gold anteroom, her Song faded. She turned toward Luthan with a flinty gaze. “I will not let you take this one away. She is mine to train! Her voice is not sufficient, yet, to master the spell Circlet Exotique Marian discovered to destroy the Dark. This one must develop her full range, as I have. She is the key. She will lead the others.”

The Singer gestured and a hefty man hurried from the rest of the Friends’ to stand before him, arms outstretched to take the burden of the new Exotique. Luthan held onto her.

The door to the caverns was still open, the room was small and not everyone could crowd into it. Friends in the tunnel whimpered. Then their ranks broke and a line of them hurried by the Singer and Luthan and the large Friend, through the door to the chapter house. The Singer ignored them. Luthan couldn’t, he sent what Power he could to soothe their fears. They didn’t acknowledge him.

He’d made the right decision. He would no longer represent the Singer.

“Look at her,” the Singer said, pointing at the woman in his arms. “The shadows beneath her eyes, the gray tone to her skin, she is exhausted.”

Luthan? Bri called. She, Sevair and the roc were just outside the octagonal tower door that led to the caverns. He was connected to her through his bond with his brother, who was pairbonded with Alexa. All the Exotiques except Raine were strongly linked to Lladrana men—and to each other.

“Summoning is hard on a person, she’ll recover, better she be with her own kind,” he said.

The Singer’s smile was knife-edged. “My Song has reverberated in her life. She was fated for me, will probably be my successor. That means she has prophetic Power, untapped and untrained. Can’t you sense it?”

Focusing now on the inner woman and her Power—her great Power—instead of her outer beauty, Luthan studied her. He’d never heard such a complex Song, and as the Singer had pointed out, there was a well of Power within her that appeared to be trapped behind a door just cracked open—recently. She’d seen visions in the caverns, he realized. His gut tightened.

“You can take her from me—” the Singer’s voice held a mocking note “—but her Power for prophecy has already been unlocked. Will you take the task of training her? Do you forget, then, how it was when you had your own first visions?”

He suppressed a shudder. He would never forget the visions that had come to him as he’d gone from boy to man. Terrible to experience that alone, to fear for your sanity.

Luthan, I know you’re nearby! Bri kicked the outside door.

“So, what will you do, Luthan Vauxveau?” the Singer asked.

His lips firmed as he considered. If he broke ties with the Singer now, he’d be leaving an Exotique solely in her Power, with no connection to the others from Exotique Terre.

Or he could let the Singer think he was yet her dupe, come and go freely in the Abbey. So he bowed his head. “Very well.”

“You’ll explain to the others?” She smiled again.

He wanted to refuse. “I’ll do my best.” But his loyalty had changed, from the Singer to the…Not the Marshalls, even though Exotique Alexa and his own brother Bastien led them. Not the Chevaliers, he’d outgrown them and their specific concerns.

He’d serve Lladrana itself, the planet Amee, and the Exotiques. They were the spearhead against the Dark.

He would double-check all the Singer’s statements. Reluctantly, he transferred the lovely new Exotique to the burly Friend. Chasonette settled on the man’s head and he winced.

Bri, Luthan said mentally, keeping his tone calm and un-hurried. The Singer has convinced me that the new Exotique should remain here.

But—

There are good reasons. The last Friend sidled through the chapter house door. The Singer went to her own door and flung it open for the man holding the Exotique. There was a tinier room that Luthan understood was a box that moved between floors. The Singer stepped in, watching him.

“She will be taken to a luxurious suite that has been prepared specifically for her,” the Singer said, her smile turning satisfied.

Luthan didn’t like any of her previous smiles, nor the smug one she sent him now. She lifted a hand. “You have been an excellent representative. Take care of the problem of the other Exotiques. We will talk later.”

Anger welled again. She’d held great Power—the Power of the Oracle of Lladrana—for too long. And her secrecy had helped separate the factions over the past decades.

He had much to discuss with the Exotiques and they didn’t totally trust him because he’d been the Singer’s man. He’d have to talk fast.

If he were clever and lucky enough, he could speak with them one at a time and convince them to let the new one stay with the Singer. Save himself grief. Not a good position for a man who’d once been called the most honorable in Lladrana to be in.

Luthan opened the door to Bri and Sevair. The healer’s husband had a grip around her biceps and she shifted from foot to foot. She’d cut her brown hair again and it was shorter than most men’s, some standing out in spikes at the top. In style, she was the most outrageous of all the Exotiques, but at least the purple streaks were gone. She wore a medica’s red travel tunic with a white cross.

The roc had moved to a spacious courtyard within earshot, eyes gleaming and wicked beak slightly open as if ready to pounce.

Bowing, Luthan addressed them, “Salutations.”

Bri frowned. Sevair had taken to carrying his stonemason’s hammer as a weapon in a sling on his hip. His fingers touched the handle, but he inclined his head. “Salutations, Luthan.”

Luthan raised his voice. “Lady roc, if you are hungry, the Singer’s cattle herd is to the northwest.”

Thank you, Chevalier, the roc said, projecting her thoughts into all their minds. Her tone, too, was mocking and Luthan was getting damned tired of that, but he’d brought this situation upon himself by trusting the Singer and following her orders.

Using the common link between the Exotiques and their men, Luthan spoke mind to mind. Perhaps we can adjourn to my home estate? It’s not too far from here.

Sevair frowned. Castle Vauxveau is far northwest.

Not my father’s home, but my own, Luthan said. It was the house he’d inherited from his mother’s aunt that he’d claimed as soon as he could leave his father. Not that he’d made it a home then. He’d run wild for a couple of years until he realized his younger brother was following in his footsteps.

Past mistakes, he’d made a couple of bad ones. Then he’d done fine for years, but recently…

He waved toward the entry station of the Abbey and the volaran landing field beyond. “While the roc is feeding, we can fly to my home. I’m sure the Singer won’t care if you use a couple of her volarans.” Not if it meant getting disruptive people away from her domain.

Bri’s face went stubborn. She crossed her arms under her breasts and adopted a militant stance that looked more than a little like Alexa’s. Habits were rubbing off. “I’m the Exotique Medica, I want to examine our new addition.” Bri shook her head. “Summoning is tough under any circumstances, but by the Singer—”

“The most Powerful person in Lladrana,” Luthan ended smoothly. “I saw the lady myself.”

“Female?” asked Sevair.

“Ayes, one who looks more like our people than the others.”

As expected, curiosity lit Bri’s eyes, but she stuck to the topic. “She appeared well, and tuned to Amee?”

“Ayes. The Singer Summoned her through mirror magic without my knowledge. There were the chimes, and cymbals to approximate the gong.” He raised his hand when Bri opened her mouth to speak. “When I refused to accept that the cymbals would be effective, the Singer drew the sound of the gong to us.” He shook his head. “Amazing.”

Bri huffed a breath, her stance softened. “We heard it.”

“I’m sure everyone did.”

Fingers drumming on her opposite arm, Bri searched his face. “She was well?”

“I give you my word. She appeared as if she was weary before she arrived, and the Singer immediately sent her to bed to rest. If we petition the Singer now to see her, she may deny us simply because the new Exotique is sleeping.” He paused. “She is meant for the Singer, you know.”

Bri seemed unconvinced. Luthan saw a man in the shadows. “Jongler!” he called. The man hesitated, shuffled forward. He bowed briefly, looked at Bri’s hair, glanced away. “Ayes?”

“The Singer has Friends who are medicas?” Luthan asked.

“Of course.” Jongler’s forehead lined. “She has been ill and is of a great age. We have the best medicas in the land here, two came from the Marshalls’ Castle last year.” He bowed, deeper, to Bri. “I should say the best medicas other than yourself, Exotique Medica.” A gleam came to his eyes. “If you would stay with us, I guarantee that you would be well paid.” He turned to Sevair. “And there is always work for a skilled stonemason and architect on the Abbey buildings. The Singer is delicate, and the person of the greatest importance in Lladrana. Her visions are so necessary for the future, please stay—”

But Bri was backing away, hauling Sevair, who was studying the conglomeration of buildings within the compound. “Thank you.” She glanced at Sevair, then planted her feet, raised her chin and stared at Jongler. “I insist you have a medica examine the Exotique…Singer tomorrow morning and send me a report at my tower in Castleton. You do have a crystal orb?”

Jongler was bowing again. “Of course, of course, the very best crystal, bespelled by the great Circlet Sorcerer himself, Bossgond. We also have mirrors, though none of the new, advanced ones. Yet. Still, they will do.”

“Crystal,” Bri said firmly. “You know my address?”

“The ancient Ronteran’s Tower in Castleton.” Jongler breathed the name reverently. “Ronteran was not only a Circlet Sorcerer, he was a Singer’s consort.” Jongler waved. “He designed a few of the buildings.”

“Thought I recognized his ornate style,” Sevair said. Luthan followed his gaze to a row of gargoyles.

There was a belch overhead and the scent of sweet grass—from the roc. A magical creature indeed. The great bird fluttered down. Jongler sent its bloody beak a glance of abject terror, scrambled back, still bowing to Bri. “If you ever want to change venues…” He vanished around a corner.

I flew around the compound, the roc said, eyes glittering a rainbow of dark colors. The new Singer is Powerful, healthy, resting. She is where she must be.

Bri and Sevair matched Luthan’s sigh. Magical creatures were usually cryptic.

Bri stared at Luthan. “Have you had any visions of her?”

He could feel a prophecy coalesce, didn’t want it. “No.” The vision came in a flash anyway. Despite his wishes he’d become expert in deciphering flashes of prophecy. “Only that she and I will meet you on a road, still summer.”