Page 43 of Dark Bringer (Lord of Everfell #1)

Rage burned away the last traces of fear, burned away caution and restraint.

With a wordless cry, Cathrynne sprang to her feet.

She crossed the room in three long strides.

Berti’s eyes widened as Cathrynne slammed into her, driving them both to the floor.

She managed to land a flurry of punches before Ash and Kane came running in to drag her off.

It was the first thing you learned in cypher training. When you’re fighting for your life, attack in a blitz. Keep the blows raining down faster than your opponent can react to them.

Berti was cursing a blue streak. Blood gushed from her nose. Cathrynne managed to break loose again and get a couple more kicks in. Then someone cast a projective spell, knocking her back.

“Close the fucking door!” Kane shouted.

The four of them bolted and the heavy door slammed shut. Cathrynne stood there for a minute, breathing hard. Then she started to laugh and cry at the same time.

* * *

Again, they left her without food or water.

Well worth it , she thought, flexing her bruised knuckles.

When Markus returned, he looked unhappy. “You’re being very difficult, Cathrynne.”

He was impeccably dressed as always. A real dandy in pinstriped trousers and a red silk waistcoat.

“I know who you are,” she said. “I remember everything. You took me from my family. Humiliated my mother!”

“I was doing my job,” he replied. “Hysto shouldn’t have fucked an angel.”

“You’re a monster.”

Markus sighed. “Be reasonable. How long can you continue like this? Just give me the sweven and it will all be over. You can go home to Kirith and resume your duties without interference from the White Foxes ever again. I’ll see to it.

And you’ll be doing a service to the empire. ” He gazed at her earnestly.

Cathrynne took a step forward. Markus braced himself but held his ground.

“I’ll say this one more time,” she spat. “You’re never getting inside my mind. Never .”

“So be it,” a cold voice said.

Cathrynne turned as an older witch strode into the room. She wore weirdly heavy makeup and burn scars coursed across the left half of her body. The biggest caracal Cathrynne had ever seen prowled at her side.

“I have no patience for this,” the witch snapped.

“Who are you?” Cathrynne asked.

“Veronica Viktorovich,” she replied with disdain. “I have known your family a long time.”

“Mother—” Markus began.

She cut him off with a sharp gesture. “I’m hardly surprised Hysto sired a half-blood bastard,” Veronica said. “Nor that you are an ill-mannered, common creature.”

The caracal bared its fangs in a hiss.

“My son is gracious,” Veronica said, stroking the caracal’s head with one scarred hand. “But I am not.”

She snapped her fingers. Ash and Kane came trotting in like the obedient dogs they were. “Take her below,” Veronica ordered.

Markus gave Cathrynne a look that was half pity, half reproach. I tried my best. What happens next is your fault.

Invisible bonds pinned her arms. They dragged her through the door and down a long flight of stone stairs. The light grew dim, the air cool and smelling of earth.

At the bottom of the stairs stretched a narrow corridor with heavy wooden doors set into the walls. Ash opened one, revealing a windowless cell with a ceiling barely high enough to stand upright. Kane shoved Cathrynne inside, sending her sprawling to the dirt floor.

“No!” she cried. “Wait!”

The cell door slammed shut, plunging the cell into darkness.

* * *

Minutes stretched into hours, hours into days. The absence of light was so complete that it made no difference if her eyes were open or shut. She had never known such darkness. Even on a moonless night in Arioch, there was faint lamplight through windows or the glow of embers in a dying fire.

Now she understood that the dark could be a living thing, pressing against your skin, filling your lungs with each breath.

Her stomach ceased its growling, settling into a hollow ache. Her throat felt like she’d swallowed sand.

Cathrynne was starting to believe they meant for her to die in this hole when a scraping sound came at the bottom of the door. A slot opened and torchlight spilled through. A metal cup slid across the dirt floor before the slot slammed shut, plunging her back into darkness.

She felt her way to the offering. Lukewarm water and what felt like a chunk of hard bread. She forced herself to eat and drink slowly, though every instinct screamed to gulp it down.

“Hello?” she rasped. “Is someone there? Markus?”

No answer. Never an answer.

She explored her cell, fingers tracing every inch of the stone walls. The door was thick wood, no metal hinges. When she finished, she began again. Anything to keep the panic at bay.

This must be what life was like in the klosters, although the seers had bars to look through. Some connection to the outside world.

* * *

The slot opened. Food slid through. She ate mechanically, tasting nothing.

She prayed to Minerva for deliverance. Thought she heard a voice whisper to have courage but feared it was her imagination.

Felicity Birch used to say that where strength ends, faith begins. Cathrynne had never quite understood what that meant, but she thought she did now.

She recalled a day she’d been pulled off regular duties and given a senior class of cypher trainees in their final year whose instructor was down with the flu. She hadn’t minded teaching, but she preferred the little ones. They were nicer to substitutes.

“I’d like to start with a prayer,” she said.

It was a hot morning and the classroom’s ceiling fan was broken. The teenaged girls looked sweaty and hostile. One rolled her eyes.

“Do you have an objection?” Cathrynne asked.

They swapped glances. Then the eye-roller spoke up. She looked like she did two hundred pushups before breakfast every day. According to the seating chart, her name was Justice Holly.

“Cypher Aspen doesn’t make us say a prayer. She goes right to lessons and then combat training.”

“Huh,” Cathrynne said. “Well, this one is dedicated to Minerva. Did you know she founded our order?”

A condescending smirk. “Yeah, we know.”

“Did your teacher tell you what happened to cyphers back in the day, before they were even called cyphers?”

Justice faltered. “Before? I thought we were always shields.”

Cathrynne leaned back against the desk. “Sadly, no. When it became clear that we were the ones responsible for the Sinn, and that our monstrous offspring were eating people, the witches created a special division to find infant cyphers and kill them.”

She had the girls’ full attention now.

“Anyone care to hazard a guess as to what this special division was called?” She looked around. “No one? Well, it was the White Foxes. Some babies were smothered. Others were left out for the wolves.”

“Is that really true?” The cockiness was gone. Justice’s voice was subdued.

“Go ask Felicity Birch if you don’t believe me.”

The girls looked shaken, but they deserved the truth. And they needed to learn the most important lesson of all: Never trust anyone except another cypher.

“The practice started in Sundland, but soon it spread throughout the empire,” she continued.

“Minerva finally put a stop to it. She declared that these despised byblows of witch and angel would be raised in the chapter houses and trained to protect humans. That the genetic curse was no fault of their own and they had a right to live. If it wasn’t for her, none of us would be here.

We shouldn’t forget that. So I made up a prayer and I say it every morning. ”

Cathrynne closed her eyes. “Thank you, Minerva. You stepped in and saved us from the wolves and foxes, so I promise to carry out your will by arresting the guilty and shielding the innocent. I hope you come back someday. I hope wherever you are, you’re happy.”

When she opened her eyes, Justice and the rest were watching her.

“Would you like to say it with me?” Cathrynne asked.

The girls nodded and she went through it again, pausing so they could repeat the words. When they finished, she regarded them thoughtfully. “I was given a lesson plan, but I spilled jam on it. Honestly, it was rubbish anyway. Why don’t you just ask me questions? Anything at all.”

“Where is Minerva?” one ventured. “Like, where’d she go?”

“Wish I knew. Next?”

A skinny girl with brown hair named Remedy Alder raised her hand. “Why can’t we learn anything except projective magic?”

“The witches don’t trust us. If we knew abjuration magic—protective spells—they wouldn’t have an advantage over us. Same with illusion. Next?”

“What if we accidentally use receptive ley?”

“Well, that wouldn’t be easy since you won’t be given receptive stones.

But it’s theoretically possible, if you drew from a gem or metal in the environment around you.

Silver is receptive, for example. But that’s why you do so many repetitive exercises.

So you have complete control. Using both kinds of ley—projective and receptive—at the same time is very dangerous if you don’t know what you’re doing. ”

The girls stared blankly. Another thing their regular teacher had failed to mention.

“Okay, listen,” Cathrynne said. “You know that every gem and metal has different qualities, right? The unique structure changes the focus of the ley vibrating within it. It causes a resonance.”

This, they understood. The girls nodded.

“Since ley reacts to the mind, it's a matter of focus. Your will is the bridge to make things happen in the material world. It gives meaning and intent to the spell. But some kinds of magic break natural law, so be very careful what you draw from.”

Another hand shot up. “Are all seers crazy?”

Cathrynne hesitated. “I don’t think so. But they can’t control their gift, and it disturbs them, so they have to be locked up. For their own good.” Even as she’d said the words, she hated herself. It was a horrible thing to do to anyone, bricking them away like that.