Page 1 of Path of the Dark
Prologue
Take Me With You
The Royal City
The Kingdom of Rithmar
RYANA’S FINGERS CURLED around the small iron box.
Pitted with age and ice-cold to the touch, it was a plain-looking object. Yet, as she withdrew the box from its alcove, Ryana’s heart started to race. It might not have looked like much, but this casing contained something ancient, something powerful.
Gripping her prize, she straightened up. Her head spun, and a wave of nausea hit her then, causing her to sweat. She raised a hand, bracing herself against the rough stone wall of the Vault.
She needed to get out of here, before she collapsed.
Sliding the iron box into the collar of her robe, Ryana glanced around. She usually felt comfortable surrounded by shadows, for as an Enchanter of the Dark they were her allies, but the dark recesses of this passageway put her on edge.
Retracing her steps along the passage, she halted before a sprawled body.
Agnek.
The young enchanter lay upon his back, sightless eyes staring up at the low shadowed ceiling. Dressed in smoke-grey robes, his right hand splayed out on the floor, he wore a stunned expression. Blood leaked from his cracked skull onto the damp stone floor, glistening darkly in the light of the pitch torches hanging from the walls.
Ryana swallowed, her throat suddenly dry and tight. She glanced down, turning her right hand over so she could look at her palm. The eight-pointed star upon it still pulsed from gathering the Dark.
Murderer.
Ryana swallowed bile. She hadn’t meant to kill him, but Agnek had gotten in the way.
I need to tell the High Enchanter what I’ve done.
“Bring me the stone, Ryana.” The voice—low, male, and commanding—whispered in her ear. “You made me a promise.”
Ryana started, swiveling on her heel and expecting to find Gael standing behind her. Yet the narrow corridor, lined with crudely hewn alcoves, was empty.
Her panic receded, and the sense of purpose that had made her steal in here returned. Determination filled her, driving out the horror.
Ryana drew in a ragged breath. Her mind suddenly felt foggy, as it had for most of the past day. It was as if she’d binged on strong wine. At that moment she could think of nothing but Gael. She had to reach him.
“Take me with you.”
Ryana lay on her side upon the cold wooden floor, wrists and ankles bound.
Across the room a tall dark-haired man was packing a leather satchel. Gael glanced up, his handsome face expressionless in the burnished light of the single oil-lamp burning on the table next to him.
They were in his lodgings above the tavern where he worked as a harpist. Ryana had spent the happiest moments of her life in this sparsely furnished room—long nights in the narrow bed behind her. There, Gael had shown her a different kind of enchantment to the one she’d devoted her life to: the enchantment of the flesh, of the soul.
“I don’t think so, Ryana,” he replied, his gaze meeting hers. “You’ve served your purpose.”
Ryana frowned. Her thoughts were muddled, confused, although the warm cocoon about her was sloughing away. She shivered. It suddenly felt freezing in this room. His words didn’t make sense. What happened to the man who teased her, made her laugh?
“What do you mean?” Was that her trembling voice? Since when had she been so pathetic?
Gael smiled. Only, it wasn’t a pleasant expression but a wolfish one. “We had fun,” he said, the smile turning into a smirk. “But the time has come for us to part ways.”
He picked the small iron casing off the table beside him before placing it into the satchel.
“Why do you wantThe King Breaker?” Ryana croaked. She felt as if she was floating, cast adrift on an icy sea. Nothing made sense, yet through it all she knew she’d been betrayed. She wanted to feel angry about that, but something still muzzled her. She couldn’t reach her emotions; it was as if they lay behind a wall she was trying desperately to scale.
