Sorceress of Faith. Robin D. Owens

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СКАЧАТЬ herb fragrance that had been his comfort from the moment she’d claimed him as her own.

      His father had hugged him hard, as always, and Jaquar had felt the strength of Power and body that had always meant love and safety.

      No more. Ever. All because of him.

      He had brought their evil killer to them. The odd boy they’d saved from the streets had ultimately led their deaths to them, far before their time.

      “Off.” His image faded and he was glad.

      Unhurried, he walked to the pentacle, closed the circle with a hummed note, and settled into a soft pallet in the center to begin his quest to find and destroy his parents’ slayer. He sang.

      When the Songspell ended, his astral shape slipped from his body with an easy pull and a tiny “pop.” Hovering over his physical form, he felt light and free.

      He stayed in the same physical plane and rose above his Tower, his island, to orient and anchor himself. As was customary, his was the only Circlet Tower on the island, and the island itself was small. Most circlets lived on their own island in the Brisay Sea, east of Lladrana. He’d wanted one only a few miles from Coquille-on-the-Coast where his parents lived so he would visit them often.

      On the physical plane, the sangvile had two forms: one, a black spiderweb, and the other, a manlike dark energy. Its rudimentary, nasty emotions were that of an evil predator. As strong as it was now, if spread out in spiderweb form, it would cover a house. The man form would be a giant.

      The monster had gloated over the pain and fear it caused, laughed in malicious glee at its feast of Circlets and their Power. Those tainted emotions had leaked through several planes and led Jaquar to it. He had found the horror too late to pin it down, set it ablaze and watch it die.

      Below, he saw his Tower, round and of red stone, with a flat roof and a walkway around it; Mue Island, looking like the blunted top of an archery arrow, slightly southwest of Coquille-on-the-Coast. He drifted even higher, until he could see most of Lladrana, the rocky hill where the Marshalls’ Castle sat—in the middle of Lladrana, far from the ocean, east and north of Coquille-on-the-Coast. He tugged on the cord between his astral self and his body. It held firm.

      Then he plane-walked, searching for the sangvile.

      He passed through several known planes to reach the one he wanted, tuning himself to its unique vibrations. Only on this plane could he pinpoint the hideous energy of the sangvile.

      And there was the monster that had slain his parents. And Jaquar lusted to destroy the sangvile with all the fierce desire within him. Here, the sangvile was a gliding black smudge.

      Jaquar was back on the hunt. Though this lower emotional plane was a gray nothingness, Jaquar could dimly sense the geography of the physical plane below, where the sangvile roamed. Here, the image of the sangvile was a gliding black smudge, traveling northwest from Lladrana. Jaquar followed.

      No sights; worse, no sounds. The dreary atmosphere made his emotions all the more powerful.

      The sangvile moved. Geographic familiarity, physical reference points, were gone. The sangvile was far outside the borders of Lladrana, flying north with information and energy and magic to give the Dark.

      Jaquar’s astral self followed. As a mind-shadow, Jaquar had no eyes to weep or voice to scream his grief. The emotions that gave him the strength and cunning to track the beast scoured him, made him vengeance incarnate. He would kill the servant and destroy the lord. No price was too high to pay.

      The thing hesitated in flight, then lashed out with a black-energy tentacle. Jaquar ducked, drew back. Was it aware of him? Aware of something as predatory as itself, as ruthless?

      Coalescing into a streak of dark lightning, the horror sped up. The monster was near its…nest?

      Ahead, the grayness of the ethereal plane changed. In the distance was a black point. Jaquar sensed something huge and vile and pulsing.

      2

      In front of Jaquar seethed a mound of evil so dark that it swallowed all light, all energy. The sangvile rounded itself into a ball and arced downward into a hole of red, with tentacles of gray and acid green and black. The mound radiated a loathsome, diseased feeling that seemed to coat Jaquar with slime.

      The place was inimical to all humans. And it was hungry.

      No price was too much to pay to avenge his parents.

      Jaquar flung his astral-self into it.

      And hit a magical shield. Rebounded, stunned and aching.

      He spent his rage battering the magical barrier with all his might, all of himself. He shifted to planes above and below and struck the shield time and again, then returned to the first plane.

      Jaquar Dumont. A sneering voice resounded in Jaquar’s head along with a hideous clash of notes. He stopped his fruitless assault. Hovered. Wondered whether to reply, if acknowledgment would make him vulnerable.

      The great Jaquar Dumont, bastard with tainted Exotique blood, the voice continued, and Jaquar realized it was human—and male.

      A human Sorcerer consorting with the horrors and monsters that invaded Lladrana? Had Jaquar been in his physical form he’d have been sick with revulsion. Did Jaquar know the voice? He didn’t think so. He did sense the Power of the Sorcerer. The Sorcerer was nearly a Circlet—but he wasn’t the true and ultimate evil. The man served another.

      The Sorcerer laughed at Jaquar. So, you have found us, but only on this low plane. You cannot break the Dark’s shield, nor harm this nest. No Sorcerer or Sorceress of Lladrana can.

      Come out and fight! Jaquar threw the mental call to the human.

      The Sorcerer snorted. If and when I exit our nest it will be with an army, or allies so strong that no one will be able to stop us.

      All of Lladrana will fight you! Jaquar shouted, trying to pierce the shield with Mind and Power alone. Futile.

      More sneering laughter. The Marshalls have discovered how to raise the magical barrier against us. But in two weeks they have not done much. The Marshalls are few and slow. The boundary still has many gaps.

      Wild shrieking came from the human. If he’d been sane at one time, he wasn’t now.

      Gathering himself into a spear of Power, Jaquar arrowed to the red maw-gate of the pulsing mound. And was flung away.

      The sangvile is safe from you, as are all the servants I control. You will never be able to pass the shield on any plane. No Lladranan with Power can breech this forcefield. No Lladranan can hurt this nest. The voice insinuated into Jaquar’s mind as he continued to batter at the gate. Since you loathe the sangviles so much, I will set more upon Lladrana. Soon. Aimed at Circlets.

      Despairing, Jaquar continued the assault until his energy faded and he had only enough strength to return home. He awoke hours later, body stiff, psychically blind since he’d abused his Power. With croaking voice, he dismissed the magical pentacle.

      Jaquar staggered to his desk and fell into his chair, ready to record all he knew of the sangvile, all he’d learned in his pursuit. His face was colder than the rest СКАЧАТЬ