The Conjured and the exiles

Daen had been uncharacteristically quiet ever since Darcia had disciplined her. Her face was always an open book to read and as their journey continued Lord Darcia watched as shock changed in to self loathing and now she sat in smouldering anger. He wondered just what exactly she was thinking of to go through such a spectrum of emotions. When ever he caught her eye as he rode alongside the carriage she would look pointedly away but not before flashing him a look such that had looks killed he would have been instantly smitten off his horse by a bolt of vengeful lightning. He didn’t understand the young woman, or how her moods changed as quickly and dramatically as the weather in the mountains of his home.

Echostone hall was just as Darcia remembered it. The hall was a large and rambling building. Century upon century the Thett family had added to the keep, never taking anything down, just simply building on top of or around existing rooms a bit like silt building up on a river bed. Apparently the Thett family had much the same attitude to furniture as their buildings never throwing anything out even if it was broken or old. Thus many of the rooms were filled to the rafters with strange collections of moth eaten and eclectic odds and ends. As a boy the place had both fascinated and terrified Darcia as he sought to seek out the places secret rooms, skeletons in closets, and hidden passageways only to be disappointed to find that it had none.

His witchling kept close to him as they entered the first grate hall in which the cobweb covered gargoyles and long gone Thett ancestors peered down at those who would disturb this monument to their lineage. He placed a firm hand on her lower back to guide her. She didn’t acknowledge the contact in any way but nor did she shrug it off as they waited to be shown to Lady Thett.

‘My lady it’s Lord Darcia and his companion.’

‘My Godson? Oh I suppose I had better see him. Go fetch my mask Belle…..No I don’t know where I put it last if I did……oh look it’s up there.’ Came a muffled and quarrelsome reply from inside the room.

The footman opened the door, which seemed to protest this action with a mournful creek. The room on the other side of the door was lighter than the halls, but only marginally so, as like the other rooms it was vast but a roaring fire lit the one end fighting back the shadows in one corner. Sitting close to the fire was what appeared to be a large bundle of fabric with a gold mask floating within it and a plane featureless middle aged woman dressed in stained gray taffeta standing demurely besides it. Bell had always reminded Darcia of a sheep dog relaxed but ever ready for orders, completely submissive to its mistress.

‘I can’t see a thing with this thing on!’ Came a voice in response from the many layers of fabric. ‘ Belle go and get my eye glasses.’

Darcia watched amused as the girl seemed to be somewhat surprised that there was a person within the many swathes of dark fabric. She was even more surprised when the noble woman pulled her mask off revealing her face. Lady Thett peered at the young woman through her spyglasses with beady blue eyes.

‘Darcia who is this?’

‘She is mine. Apparently she doesn’t have a name.’

‘No name, how odd.’ She motioned the young woman over with her long handled glasses waving them like a wand and then raising her lorgnettes to her eyes she looked Daen over with further scrutiny. ‘Where are you from child?’

‘Nheim.’

‘Cave dwellers.’ Lady Thett said in such a way that Daen was unsure whether it was simply a statement of knowledge, an explanation, or something disparaging. The old woman seemed thoughtful for a second, and then she drew a pouch from one of her volumous folds. With withered hands she took out a handful of the pouches contents and threw them casually on the small table besides her. She puffed out her cheeks. ‘hmmm.’ Slowly she looked up at the young woman. ‘Do you know what these are?’ She asked pointing to the wooden chips on the table in front of her with her lorgnettes.

Daen moved a little closer to look, once she had she stated blandly. ‘A witch’s tool.’

Lady Thett did not answer either way. But she continued to look at the girl and then put the little wooden counters away one by one holding them up for the girl to see first. ‘Do you know what they mean?’

‘No.’

The old lady finished putting the counters away and then she stood the little bag away back in her gown. ‘Hold out your hand.’

Daen looked towards Darcia. But he simply stood impassively watching standing half in the shadows his gaze was however intent upon her. Looking away slightly the young woman stretched out her arm. The old woman popped one of the wooden counters in to her hand. It was highly polished, and smooth, on one side there was a rune carved in to it. The little counter itched her palm, and like the buzzing of a fly in her ear there were whisperings. Startled Daen went to swat what ever it was mumbling in her ear but realised it was nothing. Daen looked down at the counter on her palm with horror and practically threw bazaar piece of wood back to the noble woman wanting nothing more to do with it.

‘Take the girl away, see that she is fed and her comforts seen to.’ The Lady Thet said with a dismissive wave of the hand. ‘I wish to speak to my godson alone.’

Thus Daen was duly dismissed, and escorted back out in to the shadowy halls. The old woman chuckled looking at her godson. ‘She is a very rare pet Darcia.’

‘It is a bit sooner than I had intended to bring her to you but perhaps as Bherith said fate has had its hand in this.’ Lord Darcia replied with a rare faint smile, as he took his pale mask off.

‘What is her name?’

‘I have no idea. She refuses to tell anyone at all.’ The dark haired man said somewhat exasperated he placed his hand gently on his sword hilt. ‘Even Bherith cannot tell me.’

The old woman pored herself out a small cup of tea, not bothering to ask Darcia if he wanted any. Darcia knew all to well to forgo any tea that Lady Umra Thett offered him. Lady Thett chuckled again. ‘I wouldn’t think he could, he is not a spirit of the wind, water or of the earth.’

‘Do you know it then?’

The woman gave a secretive smile.’ Darcia sighed Umra loved her secrets. She collected them about her like a magpie with shiny objects.

‘How?’

The woman chortled. ‘The rune's told me.’

‘Spirits?’

She nodded.

He scowled. ‘I can talk to spirits too remember.’

‘You talk but never really ever listened.’

‘Will you tell me it?’

‘Of course not. If the spirits chose to tell me then that is there business. If they wanted to tell you then they would.’

Lord Darcia’s dark brows came together in a frown. He sighed. ‘I see you still enjoy gloating over my short comings.’

‘Don’t deny an old woman her little pleasures young man.’ His godmother scolded. She tilted her head in consideration watching her old apprentice pace around the room. ‘So what do you intend to do with her?’

Darcia stood still, his gray eyes hard and demanding.’ I intend to leave her here for a little while at least. I expect you would enjoy having someone new to boss about.’

‘You cannot leave her with me. I won’t teach her.’ Umra exclaimed.

‘Why not?’

‘I’m too old to train another.’

‘The real reason.’ Darcia knew full well that the old woman was lying and what’s more she knew that he knew.

‘I’m afraid of her.’

‘Afraid? Of an untrained girl you will have to come up with a better excuse than that.’

‘I’m afraid of her potential.’ Umra paused for emphasis. ‘You know it, you can see it, but not all of it, she has not just got the potential to be a conjuror, but a Sybilla.’

‘A Sybilla?’ His brows rose faintly.

‘Don’t play innocent, you knew. If I thought you were going to dabble in such things I would…’

‘You would what? Stop me?’

Gray eyes flashed silver, like a bolt of lightning through a thunder cloud, and Umra decided to tread more carefully; best not to bate a bare. 'You of all people know what it means; you of all people know what it can do to someone. The visions… and to someone who is so naturally able to hear the spirits, she is likely to go insane eventually.’

‘I know this, so what is your point.’

‘It’s a cruel thing to do to a young girl.’

‘Perhaps.’ He shrugged. ‘But when have you cared about other people.’

‘Why do you seek this boy?’

‘For the Marchadians to survive we need a Sybilla.’

‘It’s been a long time since this part of the world has seen a seer. Are you sure that that girl is a strong enough vessel.’

Darcia smiled in the same way he had as a boy when he had mastered a particularly difficult horse or spell.’ She is strong, and stubborn.’

‘She is nothing more than a girl, a deeply wounded girl, and I’m not just talking about recent events. You cannot see but I can. She is more vulnerable than she seems, hit her in the right place and she will crack, or even shatter.’

Darcia seemed to digest this but Umra knew that he wouldn’t give up so easily, once that man had decided something arguing with him was like trying to bend steal with your bare hands. Umra turned and faced the fire. Darcia knew this to be a dismissal and left to go find his rooms. Or perhaps a bath Echostone hall had the most wonderful natural hot pool.

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‘What kind of a letter is this?’ Leoff exclaimed. Vas was practically beside himself with curiosity as Loeff read the mysterious missive from his sister in silence. Leoff in his ire decided to read the brief message out.

‘Dearest brother, I have heard that you are working in the arena to pay off my fine. You needn’t worry any more as I have been freed by Lord Darcia and until I can contrive otherwise I will be in his service. I cannot thank you enough for what you were willing to do for me, I will try to see you soon but I cannot promise anything. Your sister Dae.’

‘A noble, she hates imperial nobles!’ Leoff growled. ‘We all hate bloody Nobles!’

Vas made a placating gesture with his hands. ‘Sounds like she is still in trouble to me.’

Leoff sat back down with a weary sigh. ‘When isn’t hasn’t she been in trouble.’ The young man put face in his hands. ‘Oh Daen.’

They sat in silence for a moment. Vas decided to break the silence. ‘So now what?’

‘Pardon?’

Vas’s dark eyes were serious. ‘We should find out which noble has her now and get her back.’

‘We?’ Leoff answered somewhat incredulously.

Vas nodded. ‘We, as in you and me?’ Leoff’s face closed and Vas’s heart sank but buoyant as ever he continued. ‘Look you can’t just mope here, I mean you were willing to fight in death matches to free your sister, how bad can finding a noble be?’

Leoff grinned grimly. ‘Your right Vas your right!’

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Darcia entered Daen’s room without knocking or so much as by your leave Daen noted sourly. But as angry as she was with the noble and with herself for submitting to him for even a minuet she was somewhat relived to see him. This whole place made her feel uneasy every shadow had a whisper and objects murmured and moaned when she passed them, perhaps it was just her imagination but in any case his calmness was soothing. But more importantly she had a burning question to ask.

‘Lady Thett doesn’t ware a mask but she is a noble too.’

Lord Darcia stopped mid stride not expecting a question like that as soon as he entered the door and he was puzzled as to where this was going. ‘Lady Thett wares a mask in public like any other noble.’

‘But not in private.’

‘Not if she can help it no.’ He conceded. He had the feeling that the girl was working up to something. Her green eyes were fierce and bright, burning with curiosity. She was standing now; only wearing the inner robe of her silk gown he could see the subtle curves of her body.

‘So why do nobles ware masks?’ She asked as one eyebrow rose haughtily. Darcia thought that she looked quite delicious like that, her pride exiting him a little.

‘Tradition.’

‘Tradition?’ The young woman’s brows drew together in a faint frown.

‘Don’t look so disappointed.’ He laughed. ‘I don’t think many nobles are horrifyingly disfigured. I suppose originally it was to protect nobles from curses cast upon them.’

Daen huffed in annoyance. ‘The best way to avoid a curse is not to give reason for someone to curse you.’

Darcia reached out and curled a strand of her brown hair in his fingers. Daen wondered how he had got so close without her noticing. She decided to defend herself with a question. ‘So you don’t need to ware it?’

‘I suppose not.’ His fingers now curled themselves against her scalp not quite painfully securing a good hand full of her silken locks. His voice had dropped an octave and he whispered close to her ear. ‘But I expect that it would be cause for talk if I chose not to ware it in public. To a noble it is as bad as going out without any clothes on at all.’

Darcia was once again enthralled by the play of emotion across the young woman’s face. But so quickly it seemed she tired of the game and with a sigh looked forlornly away. ‘I just don’t understand why you ware a mask that’s all.’

Darcia let the grip on her hair go immediately she slipped away from him. Realising she wanted a serious answer he replied with appropriate gravity. ‘It sets us apart. My mask is a recognisable symbol of authority beyond just the person. Perhaps it’s because you can’t see our emotions, that way nobles appear more than they are, a flawless figure of authority.’

Daen nodded. Then moved over to a drape tugging it open in a shower of dust she looked out at the countryside for a moment before asking quietly. ‘Do you take your mask off in private then, or in front of other nobles?’

‘Yes.’ He answers as she turned to look at him. ‘And my own servants, but not at an imperil function, at least not unless were in the inner chambers.’

She was frowning faintly, thinking on what he said. Darcia came towards her but she stilled him with one searching look from her green green eyes. ‘Most people have a public mask in one form or another, mine is just more literal.’

‘But your not going to take your mask of now are you?’

‘No. Not until you have told me your name.’

‘Is that some kind of noble rule?’

‘Not it’s just a rule between you and me.’ He said in a low voice. ‘Like a game between us if you will.’

He had come close again, Daen put her fingers up to run over the lips of his mask, then caressed the rest of its surface as if she was trying to feel her way to the face beneath it. ‘You can call me Dae for now.’

‘Dae.’ Darcia sighed as she lent in closer then pressed her lips to the masks lips before whispering.

‘But I will never know your face, and you will never know my true name.’

‘So certain?’ He growled dangerously wrapping his arms suddenly about her in a steal hard embrace. Her fierce eyes remained fixed on his in an angry challenge. It was then that there was a knock on the door.

‘Lord Darcia there is an urgent message from Bala for you.’

Darcia groaned in frustration. Daen disentangled herself from his arms and with another burning glance flounced off to the other side of the room. ‘We will take this up another time Dae.’ Without looking back at her Lord Darcia left for his own chamber and the message.

After having a fairly uncomfortable supper with Lady Thett, who didn’t seem to notice her guest nor the absence of her godson and kept a steady flow of random conversation going with her self or so it seemed to Daen, Daen went in search of the bath. Belle had told her that in the west wing there was a large pool filled by a natural hot spring. Grasping a towel Daen had set out alone to find it, after taking a wrong turn somewhere however she ended up lost. But as she wondered around she could smell water and felt a strange muggy heat coming from somewhere in front of her. And so Daen pressed on to eventually come across a large archway carved like two leaping dolphins. Peering through there was a room filled with steam and stone vaulted archways.

This has to be it she thought although Daen couldn’t see much through the steam. It filled the room thick and heavy as fog. Her hair was soon damp with it. She managed to locate the pool of water in what looked like a little grotto carved out of the rock itself. The waters heat carried the steam in swirling eddies above its green surface.

Just as Daen was about to put her things down and take off her robe she heard a soft splash and the unmistakable sound of something moving through water. Startled she straightened up and peered in the direction the noise had emanated from. There was defiantly someone in the water. She opened her mouth to apologise, but before she could force the sound out words died on her lips as the steam bank parted enough to allow her to see the shadowy figure that it had been shrouding.

A naked man with his back turned from her leaning with one hand against the wall, his legs slightly splayed.

His hair was black, not just dark, but truest, truest black. Most people with dark hair have a tint of blue, or brown, even red, but his was purest noir, like the darkness that you find deep within the center of a lightless cave, or the shadows under a tree during a starless night. And Wet his hair looked like ink that fell down his back along with the rivulets of water.

His skin was not quite alabaster. And it rippled as well sculpted muscles moved beneath it. Board shoulders ran in to the arch of his back, curved like a bow, each muscle was defined. There was a slight indent just before his hips, and his rear was toned leading to long strong legs. He was if the word can ever be applied to a man, beautiful.

Daen couldn’t move, hypnotised by the rhythmic motion of the man’s back muscles. He let out a low feral moan and she trembled the sound resonating in the secret depths of her body. This sound was followed by a sharp hiss as the dark haired man’s arm worked languidly. Daen suddenly realised that the man was pleasuring himself.

Against her better judgment and as a slave to her own curiosity Daen as stealthy as a house cat slipped around the pool so that she had a better look at the man. She got as close as she dared, practically holding her breath as she watched the man’s hand skilfully pump his erect organ. The man’s curtain of dark hair still obscured his face but hid nothing of his taught stomach, or the size of the organ that protruded proudly from a nest of black curls. Nor did it hide exactly what he was doing to himself, the way his hand ran easily up and down his thick long shaft slick with water and his own juices, or the way he rubbed his two fingers in circles just under the mushroom head of his shaft every so often. When ever he did so the gorgeous creature would let out a long shuddering moan. It was a sound of desire, almost of desperation, the sound of someone giving themselves over to pleasure.

If only I could see his face, if only I was brave enough to go and join him she thought. But she stood still transfixed as the man brought himself closer and closer to completion. By now his hips were rocking as he lost himself in sensation. The taught globes of his bottom were now clenching in time with his pistoning as his actions grew more and more violent and frenzied and he lost control.

‘Oh Dae….’ He growled in his final moments, his seed exploding forth in a pounding arch.

Daen hearing her name uttered forth from her dark lord’s lips in his final throws of spent passion hardly knew what to think. And before she was discovered she left as swiftly as stealth would allow her cheeks red and heart pounding from watching her lord in his most intimate moments of privacy. she ran down the dark coridors and right in to Lady Thett.


A/n; chears to evryone who had reviwed so far. Any feed back is welcome good or bad! Hope your enjoying it!