Page 6

Sister Beatrice often warned me that she would beat me if I didn’t behave myself. Sometimes she’d grip my shaft through my trousers and squeeze it tight as she spoke in my ear…

“I’ll strip you naked for all to see—is that what you want, Alaric?” she would murmur. “Must I whip you for you to behave?”

And all the time she’d be squeezing me—giving me the Grip of Chastisement which all the sisters learned but few used. I was a young man by then but still so impressionable. And Sister Beatrice was scarcely older than me.

But the way she gripped me, with such authority…

I was taller and bigger than her but I knew better than to use my superior strength to resist her.

She was punishing me in the only way that worked and I must take her chastisement if I wished to become a knight worthy of the Celestial Fire that indwelled me…

“And so you submitted to her—to the pain and the pleasure she gave,” a voice murmurs in my ear.

I jerk, startled. For a moment I had been transported back in time—I not only remembered being flogged and gripped—I relived it!

“How…how did you do that?” I growl, looking down at the Sorceress.

She smiles up at me, her red lips parting once again to show her fangs, and taps the gem at her temple.

“I told you—the Jewel of Knowing. It’s most useful in determining someone’s motivations, dear Paladin. Or may I call you by your name— Alaric .”

“You had no right to look inside me!” I growl.

The shameful memory—one I’ve long suppressed—has made me ache with need. Gods, if only she would free me, I would find my sword and cleave her lovely head from her soft, curvy body…

“Ah, now your thoughts have turned bloodthirsty. And you accuse me and my kind of thirsting for blood,” she remarks, smiling again. “Such a beautiful man, but so conflicted…”

She reaches up and I see her lovely pale hand coming towards me, possibly to touch my cheek. My heart leaps. Now I’ll have my revenge! The moment she makes contact with me, she’ll be sorry.

The Sorceress hesitates for a moment, as though reading my triumphant thoughts…then reaches for me anyway. I feel her soft hand—the first hand that has touched me willingly in too many years to count—brush against my cheek. I wait for her reaction.

But…she doesn’t immediately jerk her hand away. She doesn’t exclaim in pain or shock. Instead, she strokes my cheek gently, her soft touch sending shivers through my entire body.

I can’t understand it…why isn’t she being burned?

As one indwelled by the Celestial Fire, I am always alight from within. The Holy Flames that course just under my skin burn anyone who touches me. It’s the same as though they laid a hand on a hot stove—they jerk away, unable to make contact for more than a second.

But Sylvanna seems to have no trouble at all.

“How…how are you able to do this?” I ask hoarsely as she continues to caress me without a single sign of distress. “Even my own Mother couldn’t touch me! She sent me to the GodKing’s Temple when I was only seven because she couldn’t handle me anymore!”

“Ah, thank you for sharing that memory with me,” she murmurs and the gem at her temple pulses once more.

Again I am thrust into a memory—into the past.

I see my mother crying as she leaves me at the gates of the Temple. I feel the length of cloth she wrapped around my hand so that she could lead me there without touching my skin and burning herself yet again as she has done over and over in the past.

“Please take care of him! I cannot anymore—I dedicate him to the service of the GodKing,” she tells the priest. Her eyes are swimming with tears as she takes me by the shoulders, being careful not to touch bare skin. “Be a good boy, Alaric. Remember always that I love you.”

I feel my own tears burning down my cheeks. The ache of loss so big it feels like it will gobble me up whole. She’s leaving—leaving me forever! I’ll never see her again! The acolytes accepted to the Temple aren’t allowed to see their loved one for years and years.

“Momma, don’t leave me!” I hear my younger self sobbing. “I’ll be good—I won’t burn you anymore! I promise I won’t!”

And yet she turns away, leaving me there, leaving me forever…

“So sad!” Sylvanna murmurs and I am in the present again.

I look down and see that she isn’t taunting me—her words are sincere. Her dark, lovely eyes still glow with the red Hell-light but they are shiny with tears.

“I feel your pain, Paladin,” she murmurs, looking up at me. “The loss of your mother when you were so young. The feeling that you didn’t belong anywhere. The shame of having burned the one you loved most—that you hurt her merely by existing…”

For a moment, I am speechless. How could she know so much about me? I know, I know—that damned Jewel of Knowing. But it’s almost as if she’s looking into the secret, darkest chamber of my heart. The one I keep hidden, even from myself.

“You…you shouldn’t do that,” I say at last, my voice coming out rough and hoarse.

I am fighting the urge to nuzzle my cheek against her hand.

Gods, no one has touched me in so long .

I forgot what it was like—the brush of skin against skin.

Even during my chastisement, the Sisters were careful not to touch my bare body with anything but the lash…

“Why shouldn’t I touch you?” she asks, still stroking my cheek. “You want to be touched. You need to be touched, my Paladin.”

“I need no one,” I say, but my voice isn’t as strong as I wish it to be.

“Everyone needs someone,” she counters. She shakes her head. “If only your people would learn to control their magic, this kind of thing wouldn’t happen. The sheer brutality of allowing a child to feel so unloved for so long…”

“We do not practice witchcraft like you NightBorn do!” I say scornfully, but I still can’t bring myself to pull away from her gentle touch.

“No, you just let the magic flow through you—all unconstrained. It’s chaos!” she exclaims.

“We don’t have magic—some of us are touched by the Gods, that’s all,” I protest.

“You haven’t been God-touched, my Paladin. You’re a vessel for the Power of Light…just as I am a vessel for the Power of Shadows,” she says. “That’s why your ‘Celestial Fire’ can’t hurt me—my Shadows cancel it out. We are two sides of the same coin.”

“We are not! We’re nothing alike!” I protest. All my life I have been taught to fear and despise her kind—how dare she say we are the same!

Sylvanna sighs and shakes her head.

“You really don’t see it, do you? Magic doesn’t discriminate—it doesn’t care what you call it. But if you’re chosen to bear it, you must do it right. You must tame it—not let it build inside you until you explode from the inside out!”

She seems to be referencing my Celestial Fire—an explosion is exactly what it is. But I still don’t believe her.

“Fine—don’t believe me,” she says, shaking her head and I know she’s reading my thoughts again.

“I suppose I should leave you to your barbaric ways. My shadows will melt in a few moments, freeing you. I suggest you make your way back to Solaris where the Sun reigns eternal, banishing all shadows. Tell your GodKing you couldn’t find The Heart of the Eclipse after all. ”

Her voice is starting to fade and she’s moving away from me. But I can’t let her go! I need to find that artifact—and I know she’s the one who has it.

“Wait!” I cry and hate the desperate note I hear in my own voice.

“Yes?” She turns back, her eyes gleaming as she looks at me.

“Please—I cannot return to the Citadel without The Heart,” I tell her.

She frowns and takes a step towards me.

“You think you can use it to destroy my people and remake all of Nocturna, but it doesn’t work that way. Indeed, the prophecy surrounding it is much more nebulous than you know.”

“I only know I must bring it to the GodKing or die trying,” I say stubbornly. “I won’t stop pursuing you until I hold it in my hand.”

Her frown deepens.

“Hmm, you’re quite determined, aren’t you?”

“I am.” I glare down at her. She is so petite, so small and curvy—who knew so much evil could indwell such a lovely little package?

“Well, first of all, you’ll have to stop thinking of me as ‘evil’ she says, tapping the gem at her temple and frowning. “If you can do that, perhaps we can make some kind of a deal.”

“A deal?” I ask, frowning. “What kind of a deal?”

“You tell me.” She steps up to me, close enough to put a hand on my chest. My whole body shivers at her touch. “What would you be willing to do in order to have a chance at The Heart of the Eclipse?”

“Anything,” I say at once. For I cannot go home without it. The GodKing has told me his holy Citadel will be barred against me if I do not bring him The Heart.

“ Anything , hmm?” Her long nails draw a pattern on my flesh and I feel my body reacting, though I don’t want it to. All my life I have heard the men around me speaking of the joys of the flesh—of the pleasure of a woman’s touch—but I have never felt it myself. Not until now.

“Would you submit to me?”

“Would I what?” My heart jumps in my chest and for some reason I am reminded of how Sister Beatrice forced me to kneel and kiss between her thighs. “Submit to you? In what way?” I finally manage to get out.

“I have need of a Blood-servant. Someone to act as a bodyguard—to serve and protect me and to help me build my power,” she tells me. “But you would have to swear an oath of loyalty and submission and promise to do as I say.”

“Would you believe me if I did?” I ask bluntly. “I am your enemy, after all.”

“I’m aware of that. But the Jewel of Knowing tells me that you have never yet broken any oath you have sworn,” she tells me. “You are honorable and loyal, despite being a barbarian. I believe I can trust you. If you take my oath, you will not break it.”

Unfortunately, she’s right. I cannot bring myself to break a promise or an oath. This would be so much easier if I could.