Shawdell’s Proposal
K arigan tore off her covers and leaped to her feet and unsheathed her saber from where it hung on her headboard. Ghost Kitty launched from the bed with a yowl and darted into hiding.
Shawdell, who appeared little more than a drifting phantom, gave a breathy laugh. “You think your steel can touch me?”
She sprang forward and slashed her blade through him, but he was of no more substance than the air.
As her blade came to rest, her chamber wavered like a candle flame, and she stumbled with sudden vertigo.
Gray light filled her fireplace and spun in a dizzying vortex that formed a tunnel-like passage to a ballroom.
The discordant notes of the dark ball came to her in a faint drone as though from beneath water.
One-two-three, one-two-three
The lulling rhythm of the dance filled her like a fever. She dropped her sword and clapped her hands over her ears, but even that would not drive the music from her mind.
“As you can see,” Shawdell said in a silken whisper, “your blade did me no harm.”
She resisted the music as much as she could and glared at him. “I was not going to take your word for it.”
He floated there, regarding her from beneath his hood.
“Why are you here?” she demanded.
“I thought, perhaps, we could resume the dance.”
She dimly recalled him tormenting her, waiting for the avatar’s armor to fail completely so he could obtain power over her and her mirror eye. She glanced through the vortex tunnel in her fireplace into the ballroom, distant, and yet so close.
“I don’t think so,” she said.
“The last time we were together,” he said, “I offered you refreshment, to taste the power of the universe.”
The horror of that scene came back to her of her dead enemies feeding on the corpse of Salvistar.
Shawdell stretched his hand out, and a large, beating heart materialized and floated above it. It pulsed in her ears with the rhythm of the dance. It threatened to whirl her away into the madness of the dark ball.
No, no, no. She fought it with all she had, and when she mastered herself once more, she observed that the tunnel to the ballroom had contracted just the slightest bit.
“Won’t you try just a morsal?”
His voice pulled at her, beguiled her, suggesting great reward, should she just taste of it.
“I will not.” She wanted nothing he offered.
“Perhaps if it looked more appealing?” The heart turned into a tray of Dragon Droppings. “This is a treat you enjoy, is it not?”
Dragon Droppings were, indeed, her favorite, but they, too, pulsed. They smelled of chocolate and blood, and she nearly gagged in revulsion.
“Just one,” he cajoled. “Just one and the universe is yours.”
“Why are you so eager to give me such power?”
To her relief, the Dragon Droppings vanished and he lowered his hand to his side.
“You should know that Mornhavon plans to hunt you down. He wishes to turn you. To turn you into a dark servant, his slave. He will train you to obey his every command. He will extinguish your light, corrupt you.” Shadows closed in and her chamber shrank, suffocated her.
She gasped for a breath of air as he continued relentlessly on.
“Do you think you know pain? Torture? You haven’t even begun to understand what pain is, no matter the scars you bear.
He will leave just enough of who you are so that you are fully cognizant of the horrors he will force you to visit upon all those you love.
You will grieve for them even as you destroy them.
It will torment you as nothing has before, and bring you such pleasure that all you will want is to do it again and again. ”
Such dreadful words spoken in so lovely a voice. She wanted to crumple to the floor and weep.
“Soon,” he said with grim finality, “you will be fully his and the only ecstasy in your life will be to serve him and receive the cruelty he inflicts upon you. You will beg him for more.”
“No,” she whispered.
“You are fortunate he is distracted at the moment, for he is building his army to invade this realm. However, his spies will still seek you. Taking you and making you his servant would be, to his mind, just compensation for the betrayal of your ancestor, Hadriax el Fex. But that is not all. Holding you in thrall would give him access to your exceptional eye and your ability to cross thresholds.”
She had known Mornhavon wished to capture her; after all, the wraiths had tried to take her to Blackveil. Yet hearing the consequences of falling into his hands stated so baldly terrified her.
“In the end,” Shawdell said, “you would be one of his wraiths, a useful puppet made to serve him.”
She took a deep breath to compose herself and fought to keep the tremor out of her voice. “Your motives are no better than Mornhavon’s.”
“Ah, but in this you are wrong. Mornhavon is shortsighted, and I am not.” Here, the dread faded from his voice, and his manner of speech turned compelling, almost as lyrical as a song.
“You would not be my servant for we would work in concert as partners—equals. As for my personal motives? Perhaps the restoration of what has been broken.” He rested his hand of shattered glass upon his chest to indicate himself.
“That, however, is but a minor thing. If we worked together, we could force Mornhavon into nonexistence. The nations of the Eletians could once more grow and prosper, as would Sacoridia. Think of it! Magic would once more flow free across the lands and spawn great works of architecture, art, peaceful governance.”
His words painted visions of spiraling towers that rose into the sky amid lush forests, birds taking flight, and sunshine glinting on a broad waterfall. It reminded her of what the grandeur of Argenthyne must have been like before Mornhavon conquered it.
“Do you see?” he continued. “We can defeat Mornhavon and prevent the apocalyptic nightmare his victory would ensure. We can save all the lands and secure their future.”
Yes, she could see. So reasonable was his proposal, so irresistible was his silken tongue, and his excitement so palpable, she found herself eager to begin.
Immediately they could end the scourge of Mornhavon and bring magic into the world once more.
Why hadn’t she seen it before? Together they would be a powerful force to—
She caught herself. So lulled by his words and the magic in his voice was she, he had nearly ensnared her in his trap. Cobwebs filled her head. She rubbed her eyes as if to erase the visions he’d given her.
“It’s a pretty picture,” she said. “But that kind of power is not for me or any mortal, or any Eletian. It’s why I shattered the looking mask in the first place. It will taint anyone who tries to take it.”
He pulled back his hood. The mosaic of his face glittered in anger. “So, you would just stand there as Mornhavon’s forces rip through your lands and destroy your people? Do you not know that such power can be used for good?”
“Any power can corrupt and be corrupted,” she said, “and I hardly think your intentions are so innocent or noble. Sacoridia is stronger without what you propose. We will face whatever is to come.”
“I was wrong.” Now his voice turned scathing, the spell of beauty he’d wrought broken.
“You are no grown woman, but a foolish, foolish girl. With your decision, you put your people and yourself at risk. You’ve no idea the strength Mornhavon will draw on when he invades.
You’ve no idea the size of the army he is amassing.
I offer a gift you could use to crush him, and yet you refuse.
You would condemn your land to become no more than a charred wasteland for Blackveil’s monsters to infest.”
“No,” she said, but she felt less sure. He sowed doubt and fear in her with an image of her home far darker than that of even the future she had visited with its harsh empire.
Having the power to end Mornhavon and avert disaster was tempting.
Too tempting. But she knew instinctively that whatever Shawdell said about sharing power, of being partners, he meant to use her to bend the universe to his will, an outcome worse than anything even Mornhavon could conjure.
He could go so far as to unravel all existence.
After all, Mornhavon threatened all the lands now because it was Shawdell who had broken the D’Yer Wall.
“There will come a time, Dama Cearing Asai’riel a’ Santanara, my aunt, when you will wish you willingly accepted my offer of partnership, for it would be far preferable to the torment Mornhavon the Black will bring you and your land.”
“I am not your aunt,” she retorted in disgust. “You are a deceiver and a manipulator, and we are in no way associated except as enemies. You have received my answer, and you are nothing but a formless gray phantom who cannot do anything about it.”
“Truly? How quickly you forget.”
He drifted to her washstand, lifted the pitcher, and dropped it.
It smashed on the floor and water flowed between the cracks of the flagstone.
“You speak boldly, but naively, Karigan Galadheon, and there will come a time...” Even as he and the tunnel to the ballroom vanished, his words echoed in her mind. There will come a time.
Karigan’s legs gave out beneath her and she dropped to her knees gasping for breath. Mara, Tegan, and Daro burst into her room.
“Karigan?” Mara lit a candle with a touch. “What’s going on? We heard a crash.”
Daro knelt beside her. “Karigan, you’re shaking.”
They helped her to her bed and wrapped her in a blanket.
“What happened to the pitcher?” Tegan said, over by the washstand.
Karigan described Shawdell’s visit to the three Riders.
“The king will have to be informed,” Mara said. “But don’t worry,” she quickly added. “I’ll handle it.”
Thank goodness, Karigan thought. She didn’t think she could face him just now.
More sleepy Riders crowded into her doorway to find out what was going on. Tegan herded them back to bed while Daro cleaned up the remains of the pitcher and mopped the floor with cloths.
“Try to get some sleep,” Mara told her. “I know it won’t be easy. I’ll stay with you if you like.”
“Not necessary,” Karigan replied. “I don’t think he’ll be back. Not tonight, at any rate.”
She’d been sorely tempted to take Mara up on her offer. She tried to sleep, or at least rest, but all she could hear in her mind was Shawdell’s haunting voice: There will come a time, backed by the strains of the dark ball’s orchestra.
She only fell asleep after Ghost Kitty came out of hiding and curled up on the pillow beside her head and soothed her with his rumbling purrs.