Chapter 49

––––––––

Succumbing power engulfed his mind, dominating thought and action. One and the same. Compelled by force, insatiable hunger awoke, increasing to obliterate awareness, until a voice told him not too much. Receding with the thought of will behind it, Marc looked up and saw the cell door open.

Quenchless need drove him down, feral and inherent within him. In his arms, cradled on the floor, Dain lay trembling, cowering from him. Marc was drowning, out of control, and Dain weakened. The ebbing of his life increased the compulsion, instead of lessening it.

Marc tried pushing away, but returned just as quickly to bend over him, teeth that had elongated into fangs sinking into his neck. Touching him, Marc’s hand slipped effortlessly inside, brushing against a force so strong he couldn’t pull away, compelled to take it, wrest it from its owner and into himself.

His vision blurred, wrenching him into a glade by a lake, the Beren Mansion off in the distance, and when it should have been Maralt that he leaned over, as he had been shown, it was Dain instead.

Marc shuddered in abhorrent disgust that rose to obliterate who he was. He yanked his hand free before it closed. He was drawn back, returning again to Dain’s side. Again, the cell enclosed them. A near translucent form was all that was left, the well of light visible and waning. The desire to touch that essence was so strong Marc couldn’t ignore it. The thought of doing so drew him in and repulsed him at the same time. He sat somewhere in between, while two opposing forces tore at him.

As he sat, surrounded by the putrid smells of the cell, he became aware, remembering who he was. Marc Talryn, not the horrible monster Maralt strove to turn him into, and not the horrified weakling who couldn’t do anything to stop, but himself, a ship’s Captain. Ruinous desire left him.

That was replaced by instant fear as he looked down at Dain.

“No, no. You can’t die.” He looked frantically around him, searching for something, anything to make this stop, and Maralt’s words returned to him.

The thought of reciprocating, if Dain would even do it, sickened Marc anew, but he saw there wasn’t a choice. He didn’t know how else to save him.

He realized that he didn’t know how to save him this way either, trying to think through fear as Dain all but vanished beneath him. Marc willed a knife at his side, slashing it across his arm. He blanched at the sight of fluid spilling out of him, all over Dain, defining his body. His mind wanted to reject what he was doing, but instead shut it out. He begged Dain to accept him, to take what he could give him, and Marc found him looking up, horror-filled blue eyes, accusing and repulsed.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t ... Please, don’t die. I’m sorry, Dain. Please take it. I don’t want you to die. Please.”

Marc collapsed beside him, as Dain took his arm and drank, drawing back stolen sustenance. Maralt was right. Dain had done this before, craved it as much as Marc did and hated it in equal measure. Marc felt a growing, terrible rage emanating from him. Fear of what Dain would do should he gain too much of his strength back, forced Marc to pull free.

“You’re as bad as he is,” Dain whispered, rolling from him. “Worse.”

Marc sat up, a new awareness pounding through him. He recognized neither, but felt a sudden, urgent need to find Maralt, who he knew was already moving to his next target. “We’ve got to go back.”

“I’m not doing anything you want.” Dain rolled to his feet, staggering as he stood.

Marc rose with him, seeing the trap more acutely now. Dain wouldn’t come with him. Marc couldn’t leave him. He didn’t have the luxury of waiting until Dain changed his mind. It was another step taken toward domination and he knew it was what Maralt wanted. He moved to Dain.

“I don’t have time. I’m sorry.”

Marc grabbed his hand and forced him in.

The King’s office swam around him as he sat up, gasping. His fingers clutched the edge of the couch, the sensations of reality coming at him too fast. He was whole again and not being tortured. His body ached anyway, as if it had been subjected to all those torments. He really did feel like he’d fallen off a cliff.

Inside his mind, he still held Dain, who raged against yet another prison. He was trying to get out and Marc couldn’t let him. The concentration required to hold onto him sapped his strength. The thought came in, burning through his conscience, that he could always take more.

The need to get up and get moving swept over him again. Marc stood, reeling, careening off the doorframe into his own office where Allie still slept. He raced down the hall to the doors, startling those he passed, pushing through others without seeing them.

In full daylight, he burst into the Palace main hall. Two monks stood in his way, robed and hooded in white. Marc stumbled and fell, trying to escape the old and withered hand that reached for him. He crawled backward, attracting the confused stares of those around him. He pushed back to his feet and ran.

He skidded to a halt abruptly and sliding a length of paces on the slick marble, he turned to look back, understanding them, seeing them. The High Bishop walked without hurry, his passage drawing silence as people noticed him, their heads bowing in respected homage and sadness. The High Bishop, here to perform the Rites of Transition, here to take Dynan.

Marc shook his head, as knowledge remembered came in, telling him that it wasn’t so, couldn’t be. Dynan couldn’t go to the Hall again. They had been called. Eldelar Elger told them he would and now Maralt timed his attack with their arrival, hiding his actions behind what everyone believed their presence meant – Dynan was dying. Marc gasped in realization and hoped that he was right, that their presence meant just the opposite, and they were here to save Dynan, not take him. They were here to help.

The High Bishop tilted his head toward the stairs.

Marc spun around. Malicious hatred stretched toward him. Maralt was on the stair landing, pausing only briefly in his descent, his awareness locked on the High Bishop instead.

It seemed like such an intolerably long distance to make up. Maralt raced ahead of Marc, using the newel post to sling himself toward the far corner at a run. His passage scattered startled servants who saw Dain, not Maralt, attempting to bow and get out of his way at the same time. Marc pursued him, always behind, unable to catch him.

As he raced, slipping around the corner, he touched his crest pin. He wanted help. He was afraid to face Maralt alone, but the receiver didn’t work, and Marc knew that none of the companels would work for him either. Everyone who would help him was trapped in their own nightmares, within their minds where Maralt’s power was limitless, imprisoned and powerless to aid him.

He took the stairs down two and three at a time, yelling to clear them. Guards, servants, a steady stream of dungeon prisoners stood pressed back against the walls, allowing him through as they had done for Maralt. They believed that Dynan’s life must surely be in terrible danger. Marc could feel their fear rising as he rushed by them, hear their thoughts in his head. Word of the High Bishop’s approach whispered down the steep chasm, chasing him, and convincing those around him of the Prince’s imminent death.

The carpeted halls of the Royal medic rooms seemed strangely tranquil. Two guards turned to him, starting as he burst in, but allowed him entry. The waiting room stood deserted, except for two more guards. Marc entered the corridor that ended at Dynan’s room, glancing behind him when the guards followed. Two more appeared before him, their intent immediately apparent.

Again, Marc was forced into a position, with little alternative but to act, taking another irreversible step into Maralt’s plans to corrupt him. Marc concentrated, willing the four men closing on him to stop, amazed and horrified at how incredibly simple it was to enter their minds. He accepted the accompanying increase in power he drained from them, acutely aware of the High Bishop’s approach, the warning to never use this power against anyone but Maralt echoing in his mind. The guards fell to the floor. Marc wasn’t sure he hadn’t killed them.

Maralt came from Eldelar’s office and stood at the end of the hall outside Dynan’s door, watching him. “I’ll have you yet, Commander, of your own will in the end. You won’t be able to resist it by then. You won’t be able to escape those who are coming for you either. I can protect you from them, if you join me.”

Marc snarled, consumed by absolute hatred. He moved toward Maralt, gaining speed as he raced at him. He slammed into him. Maralt met the attack without flinching, his hands instantly searching for his throat. Marc was able to block him at first, but the body Maralt occupied, Dain’s body, was a lot stronger than his own, and he was overpowered by the malicious strength bearing down on him.

They crashed into walls, slinging each other back and forth, each striving for the upper hand. A door into an office stood open and Marc lost his balance when he pushed Maralt that way. With nothing to stop them, they tumbled, thudding down to the floor.

Maralt jerked himself free, recovering faster, kicking the door closed and surging up to reach the lock controls.

Marc managed to wrap his arms around his legs, dropping him back to the floor. Maralt kicked him, striking his shoulder, forcing Marc to let him go. Maralt kicked him as he rose, connecting with his side and pain erupted through a barely healed wound. Air left his lungs the next instant as another booted foot came down on him. Maralt leaned, grabbing him by the shirt. He was hauled up to meet a descending fist that exploded lights in his eyes.

“Haven’t you learned anything?”

His voice and will entered Marc’s mind, coupling physical pain with sudden mental anguish. The office blurred, but shimmered back into sharpened clarity. Dain stumbled away from him, forced back into a corner. Here was a kind of split existence that intensified pain and fear. Mental and physical agony joined to pound through him.

“I keep trying to make this easy for you, Marc, and you keep fighting when there’s no need for it. Would you deny what you are, even now?”

He turned on Dain, raising his hand while he held Marc to him, turning him so that he could watch. Marc knew what was coming, saw how easily they had stepped into this trap. Maralt had what he wanted from Dain, his body, and could now destroy him without causing himself injury.

“Run!” Marc screamed at him, fighting off a wave of blackness to grab the extended arm even as the lashing charge was released. The strength to do so in both worlds, mental and physical, was nearly too much.

Dain dove under it, throwing himself into them, sandwiching Marc between two diametrically opposed forces, and he thought this time his mind might burst. A black wall rose to suck him into oblivion. Dain took him, fighting for him, and meant to wrench him away from Maralt. Marc had only to manage the physical part and he might escape.

Pushing the darkness back for another moment, Marc knew if he collapsed now, Dain, Dynan, all of them would be taken. Fear of that existence kept him conscious and gave him strength to fight. He elbowed Maralt as hard as he could and turning, punched him in the face. For an instant, they were separated, Marc and Dain from Maralt, but that turned out worse instead of better. Marc forgot the rules of telepathic engagement where distance or distraction were necessary for survival.

Maralt recovered. Blue flames licked from his fingertips, gathered and blasted at them. The explosion drained away life-giving strength. Marc fell, dragging Dain down with him.

Maralt sent another swirling flame that engulfed them. An unseen force grabbed Dain, pulling him away. Marc clawed after him, drawn with him. Marc held on this time, knowing that this was what he should have done before. He shouldn’t have left Dain in the cell with Maralt. Guilt of those previous actions sapped what little strength he had left.

A crack of light opened behind Maralt then and a blurred form rushed to him. He gasped, snarling as he turned, his hand pressed to his neck. Loren suddenly appeared beside him and shrank away. She had a dermal injector in hand. Dain and Marc pushed and pulled each other off the floor, reaching her with their last strength, wrenching her away even as Maralt pulled her to him to take her. They fell as he vanished. Dain’s body crumpled to the floor of the ruined office.

Marc breathed again, gulping in air, only slowly becoming aware that Loren stared up at them, from Marc to the still body beside them, and lastly to Dain, who cradled her gently in his arms. He stiffened abruptly and started to push away, but she stopped him, hesitantly touching his face.

“You’re real.”

Dain nodded, lowering his eyes and Marc knew what he was thinking, saw it in a flash of sight that left him trembling. Loren shook her head, stopping Dain again. Marc eased away from her, because he felt something else stealing into him.

“You didn’t hurt me, Dain, even when Maralt tried so hard to make you.” She moved then, to take the chain of rings off of Dain’s body, and Marc had to concentrate harder to keep her with them mentally. She held the sapphire and emerald rings out. “You remember, don’t you, how hard you tried to stop him? You saved me from something far worse. You have to believe that.”

Dain finally looked at her and she stopped him from shaking his head with a gentle kiss. She smiled at him, turning to Marc to kiss him too, then looked around at the wreckage of broken furniture. “This feels very strange. It’s so real.”

“That’s because we are real, Loren. You and I, at any rate.” Marc smiled at her confusion.

“But I can touch him.”

“That’s because right now you’re both inside my mind and in this room.”

“Which he’s not supposed to do,” Dain said. “You should let her go.”

She held up a finger. “I keep saying that you’re all wrong about that, but no one is listening.”

“What are you talking about,” Marc said, wincing as he put a hand to his side. Everything hurt.

“It doesn’t surprise me that Carryn never told you. Or Dynan either. When Maralt attacked the XR-30,” she said, and looked at Dain. “I guess that’s when you found us. Dynan kept Maralt from reaching me. He went through me to stop him, just like he did with Shalis. If he hadn’t, none of us would be here right now. I know Carryn told you that it was all horribly wrong, but—”

“Loren,” Marc cut her off. “I’m not like Dynan.”

“You’re not like Maralt either,” she said. “Don’t forget that, Marc. I know you.” She looked around the room. “I want to see him again.”

Marc shook his head while she looked at the space Dain no longer occupied. “He’s still right here.” He tapped his forehead. “Safe for the moment.”

“He was going to take me with him,” she said, looking down at Dain’s body without seeing Dain. “Maralt was going to take me.”

Marc nodded, grunting as he moved. He needed a minute to think what he was going to do next, wondering if there was a way to keep Maralt on anethinol without hurting Dain’s body. He didn’t know how he was going to get the real Dain back where he belonged. He thought the odds might have just turned in their favor though. A shadow darkened the door that stood open only a crack, a flash of white robes cutting across the threshold. He thought for a second to try and talk to them. Maybe they would know what to do.

He straightened suddenly and Maralt groaned, Dain’s features shimmering. Marc grabbed the dermal injector and checked the setting. He saw that there wasn’t any anethinol left and swore under his breath as he lurched to his feet. He pulled Loren up with him.

“Go. Loren, go. Stay with Dynan. Maralt won’t touch you as long as you’re with him. Hurry.”

“Marc, the High Bishop is with him. They won’t let me in.”

“They’re gone. Stay with him.” He pushed her out into the hall, reaching for Dain, but stopped himself from taking him. Dain’s eyes flashed to his as he held out his hand. “I’m sorry I left you.”

At their feet, Maralt moved.

Dain hesitated another instant, but took his hand and they rushed to the door. The hall was empty. Marc saw the door to Dynan’s room closing. He moved down the corridor after Loren, thinking briefly to go in with her, but decided quickly against that.

He didn’t have what he needed yet, and he was afraid Maralt would kill them all if he got anywhere near Dynan. Looking back to the room, he heard Maralt stand. There wasn’t anywhere for them to go, except into Eldelar’s office. Marc remembered the cliff passage and he thought the darkness of that passage might save their lives.

Eldelar looked up from his desk when Marc barged in, startled.

“You didn’t see me here,” he said without any hesitation, reaching inside Eldelar’s mind to erase the memory. Beside him, Dain stiffened. “The Rites of Transition are complete. Go stay with Dynan and if you see Dain, see if you can get him to stay with you.”

“I’ll do that,” Eldelar said, rising to go do that.

Dain turned on him. “What? No. What are you thinking?”

“He won’t hurt him, Dain. He won’t do anything. Dynan is awake. He’s going to be all right.”

“He’s awake? Then what are we doing in here? We should go tell him what’s—”

“If we tell him anything, Maralt will kill him instantly. He’ll kill all of us. We have to get away from him. I know what I’m doing.”

“Since when?”

Marc didn’t answer, pulling Dain to the passage entrance, retrieving the code from some other memory that he couldn’t tell who owned it. He could feel Dain’s resistance growing and had to stop before urgency made him use force.

“I can’t go in there.”

“You have to. I won’t let you go. I won’t leave you. I swear it.”

“What you’re doing—”

“Is wrong and I’ll pay the price for it later. I’ve been spoken for, so if you want a turn, you’ll have to get in line. Come with me, please, or what I just did to Eldelar will be pointless.”

Dain hesitated a moment longer. “If you leave me in there, I won’t make it back out.”

“I won’t leave you.”

He glanced at Marc in fear, mingled with mistrust, but took his hand. Together they entered the cliff passage. Marc would have preferred that he come back inside him, but felt Dain’s resistance to the suggestion, so he didn’t press it. He almost lost Dain though, in the total dark that descended when the door clicked closed behind them. Dain started up immediately while Marc didn’t move without realizing it until their hands jerked apart.

Marc lunged after him, grabbed him back but Dain, existing only as an insubstantial thought, panicked. Marc silenced him in desperation, knowing that if Maralt was close enough, he’d hear them, maybe could already. He pushed Dain up the steep sloping tunnel, one hand holding onto him, one tracing the wall, moving as fast as they could manage.

Marc’s hand crossed air. A fissure opened on their right. He stopped, feeling the width of the opening, cringing slightly as he reached in and found it large enough to hold them. Dain struggled against him as he scraped against the narrow walls. Marc held on, trying to restrain him, but without complete success.

He concentrated and light opened around them. A gull screeched overhead and the gentle creak of wood rocking on calm water greeted them. The Gailorn emerged around them and Dain calmed down, sort of. He was angry and turned on Marc, but he looked up as the blue canopy above him slowly darkened. Dain stared with him, frowning in growing confusion and fear.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m not very good at this.”

“At this? Blocking? Why not? You can do all those other things without thinking.”

“I’ve never been able to do it. Look, if you’d rather be sitting back in that hole in the dark that’s fine with me. If you think you can do better, then by all means, go right ahead.”

Dain rolled his eyes at him, and a moment later the sky steadied, the details of the Gailorn grew sharp in clarity. Marc remembered the same feeling from Beren, the first time he’d ever met Dain. It felt like home and Marc breathed again.

“So tell me,” Dain said, “who’s standing in front of me in this hypothetical line of judgment?”

Marc opened his mouth in surprise, then quickly lowered his gaze. Under Dain’s scrutiny, shame of his actions steadily grew until he bent under the weight of realization. Marc sank down to the deck, covering his head, wishing he could hide. The Gailorn moved beneath him, anchored off the bow, its sails furled. His throat tightened. He couldn’t stop the memories as they beat down on him.

“Uh, hey, listen. Never mind. It’s probably better we don’t think about any of that right now. Next thing you know we’ll be right back there,” Dain said, moving to sit a little closer. He watched Marc, shaking his head. “If you were all bad, I don’t suppose you’d go through the trouble to keep me here. I don’t understand how most of the things you’re doing are even possible, especially if you can’t block, but you’re not like Maralt. Loren is right about that. Everything you’ve done was because you were forced to, usually by Maralt or really bad circumstances. He’s trying to turn you into one of him. Just don’t ever forget that.”

Marc thought he already had. He heard Carryn, telling him about a line that couldn’t be crossed. He thought it was too late to turn back.

“This your ship?” Dain asked to change the line of thinking. He stood to look around. “Cadal?”

“Yes.”

“How long did you sail her?”

“Seven years and Captain the last three.”

Dain frowned over something and turned on Marc. “You saved him.”

Marc knew that he was talking about the night on the pond and realized something else. “You were there.”

“There were these dreams.”

“And we’re not going to talk about them,” Marc said quickly, looking up at the still blue sky. “Not in here. Not when we’re in a dark hole running from a monster.”

“Right.” Dain sat down on the side rail. “They’re going to come back. Soon. You’re real. Loren is real. There are other thing—”

“Stop.”

“When the dragon is real,” Dain said, smiling as he tilted his head to one side, eyebrows raised. “The dreams will come back.”

A noise from below startled them both. Marc stood quickly, started to go back to the tunnel, but realized he risked Maralt mentally discovering them because the daylight they stood in would show starkly in the dark. He looked up at the sky and willed it black. The sun vanished behind a line of darkness that expanded to cover the entire horizon. Stars opened above them. Beside him, Dain grunted.

“That’s not too bad.”

Marc held out his hand, stepping back into himself while Dain remained on board. Far below them, farther than Marc thought they had gone, a square of brightness opened and Maralt leaned out. A beam of light streaked upward and as Marc eased back, it crossed the crevice. He breathed as he realized its strength at that distance wasn’t enough to denote the fissure’s location. They were safe, hidden within the darkness of the tunnel, as long as Maralt didn’t get any closer. Marc pulled Dain to him and felt him start to shake as he returned to insubstantial black.

Maralt looked down, shining his light onto the floor of the tunnel, looking back up without moving the light. Marc felt him searching and pushed back farther, turning from the slight glow that reached his eyes. When he looked again, the door was closed. He couldn’t see to tell if Maralt had entered the passage. He didn’t wait to find out, slipping out into the open. He switched hands with Dain with extreme care, turning immediately to his right. He started running.