A Chorus of Fire by Brian D. Anderson

Author:Brian D. Anderson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates

12

WHISPERS AND DEATH

A knife in the dark. A whisper in the mist. When death is nigh, a final prayer. To send your soul to loving arms on gentle shores. Eternal paradise awaits those who welcome my kiss.

Writings of the Blade of Kylor during the reign of High Cleric Damin Mansouri

Aylana stared up at the ceiling, a satisfied smile on her lips. Though she’d hoped to be wrong, she hadn’t thought the girl could do it. It had taken her over five years to reach the point where transmutation was within her abilities, and even then, had barely been able to manifest a small pebble.

Could Felistal’s trust be well placed? Could Mariyah be strong enough to contain Belkar? If the prison was broken, defeat was inevitable. But maybe, just maybe, Mariyah could discover what had been lost to time and seal the breach.

Aylana attempted to quiet her mind, but the excitement of what had happened only a short while ago would not permit it. It had been wondrous to behold. Witnessing Mariyah unlock her potential was like seeing the first flowers of spring in bloom. It was the one thing she had been part of that did not cause her shame. How many years of misery had she endured? The joy she’d felt teaching Mariyah made it seem like a dozen lifetimes. The girl had thought she was enjoying causing her frustration and pain. But that was far from the truth. Aylana’s smile was brought by the joy of doing something that was good for the world. It was a foreign feeling, one she’d all but forgotten. If only she had been able to come home to the enclave years ago!

Felistal had not mentioned whether she would be given pupils. The other Thaumas despised her, and would likely object strongly. To blazes with them! They had not lived her life. They had not been born into a family of vipers. Felistal understood, and that was what mattered.

She recalled the day she’d left to return to Ralmarstad. He had been the only one to see her off; the only one who had forgiven her. She had offered herself to him the previous night—the only man that she could fathom allowing to touch her. She had wanted him. Not for the pleasures of the flesh, but to be as near to his heart as was possible. He’d rejected her, but not out of anger or because he did not find her desirable.

“The love you feel for me cannot be made stronger in bed,” he had told her, “as pleasing a thought as it may be. And I would not take advantage of your love through my own selfish lust.” He touched her chin gently with a curled finger. “You need not prove your feelings for me. I know your heart.”

It had made her wish that she felt the physical attraction for him she knew he felt for her. But he was a man. And nothing would change that; or change who she was.

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