Vision of Light [The Renegades 1] (17 page)

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Authors: Amanda Hilton

Tags: #Fiction, #Erotica, #Romance, #General

BOOK: Vision of Light [The Renegades 1]
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Aislan had rebelled and openly shown her revulsion towards her future husband, who was older than her own father. Hayton Temple had to beat her on their wedding night and for many weeks afterwards to force her to submit to him.

"A few months later, when I was still not receptive to him, Hayton thought he could win me over by telling me he did it all for love. He told me he saw me when I was seven years old and wanted me for his wife. Even when he thought I could be insane, it did not deter him. He told me how he provided for my family throughout the years, putting food on our table and clothes on our backs. Once I have grown old enough to wed, he deeded one of his manors to my father.” She closed her eyes, and Lucien pulled her into his embrace.

"Aislan, my poor Aislan.” He pressed his face against her hair.

"I was so furious because my father sacrificed me to a lecherous old bastard. I could not take my wretched life any longer.” She pulled away, but Lucien took her hands and kissed first one wrist, then the other where she had slashed them both open. “A maid found me almost immediately. The priests all told me I had damned my soul.” She sighed. “No Heaven for me."

Hayton never beat her or forced himself on her again. However, no matter how hard he begged for forgiveness and tried to appease her to convince her he loved her, Aislan had remained coldly resentful throughout their marriage. It took a procession of priests who damned her as they lectured her for months on end about her conjugal duties. The prospect of a more miserable afterlife waiting for her became too much to bear, so Aislan eventually gave in after a year of endless sermons. Fortunately, for the past couple of years, Hayton had traveled extensively, sometimes keeping away for a month or so. He came home only a week or two every other month. Nothing relieved her more than to see the back of him and his entourage whenever he rode off on another mission, apparently traitorous one. While gone, he kept her imprisoned in one of the towers so she could not run away. Whenever Aislan was allowed to wander around, servants followed her vigilantly. If she managed to lose them, they would form a party to find her because Hayton would kill them if he came back and found her gone.

"Meanwhile, you trained yourself how to use your sorcery.” Lucien shook his head. “You injured yourself in the process. You risked your own life. You could have damaged your mind. You could have become possessed."

If he understood her circumstances, why would he not find a way to help her? “I can be trained, can I not?” she asked hopefully.

"It takes fourteen years of training and servitude, but ‘tis a twenty-one-year commitment, Aislan. The first seven years are devoted to routine practice to establish the physical foundation and memorize the incantations. You spend another rigorous seven years connecting the movements to your mind until you can project your sorcery energy with your thoughts, as well as forging your power into your own weapons. You have to dedicate your life to those years of training to the exclusion of all else. During those fourteen years, you serve your sorcery clan in the capacity of a slave. Once your training is over, you have earned seniority. In the third seven years, you serve as a
sorsvasus
. Depending on the clan you have pledged yourself to, you could train other apprentices. Or you could represent your clan in various competitions. Or you could take on assignments that put to the test your ability to survive when pitched against other equally skillful opponents."

"Did you spend twenty-one years serving your sorcery master?"

"Yes, since I was seven.” He smiled almost bitterly.

"How fortunate your parents gave you the training you needed so you could be powerful. I did not have a mother. She died with the sixth girl."

He turned away and stared into the distance.

"Were you not happy to be given the opportunity to develop your full potential?” she asked resentfully.

"'Twas not my choice to develop my sorcery power."

She felt no sympathy. “You have what others crave, and you do not appreciate it."

"Thank you for your enlightenment. You envy something you do not understand. ‘Tis not a matter of choosing."

"Hmph! I'll take my chances."

Lucien had a chance to develop his power, to be powerful instead of helpless. He refused to train her because he belonged to the Circle, which considered it a taboo for sorcery master and apprentice to have sex. However, he had total disregard for the Church's view regarding fornication just because he did not believe in God. His picked-and-chosen method of taboos he would practice and those he refused seemed too arbitrary for Aislan.

"'Tis not as if I have no other options. If you cannot train me,” Aislan said in a cool tone, “kindly release me at a sorcery clan that will take me. I'll work my twenty-one years. If I do not like it, I could always go to a—uh—convent."

He looked at her as if she had lost her mind. “Once you pledged yourself to a sorcery clan, you do not leave at will. Abandoning your clan because you do not like training makes you a deserter, Aislan. You cannot go to another clan to train, either. No sorcery clan will take on another's apprentice or
sorsvasus
. You can have only one sorcery master in your entire life. ‘Tis a testament of your loyalty. To desert your clan or to switch loyalties makes you a rogue sorcerer. You do not want that label. Once you are considered a renegade, you are fair game for other sorcerers to chase you down and kill you with impunity."

"Very well, then I'll not desert."

"You pick a path, and you may not be able to divert from it easily."

Aislan did not subscribe to his belief, but she said nothing.

"Anyway, the Circle will not allow you to train. You acquired power through a rogue sorceress during her forbidden rituals. You will be hunted down by the Circle if they have an inkling about your power."

"Damn your Circle and your arbitrary rules,” Aislan muttered.

"They are not arbitrary.” He gave her a reproving look. “They have been established for thousands of years to keep chaos and abuse in check. Otherwise, more powerful sorcerers will kill off those weaker and cause sufferings to the populace."

"If they are so powerful, why have they not killed off the populace or control them completely?"

"There are not as many sorcerers as you believe. The king can execute rogue sorcerers. To a certain extent, the Church—a very powerful influence—also monitors us. Everybody belongs to the Church in one capacity or another. A well-trained army of mortals can overpower sorcerers. Mortals can kill off untrained sorcerers to end future generations. In addition, not all sorcerers can fight. Like most everything, we are specialized. Strict rules keep sorcerers in line and ensure survival of those who are not combative."

"And all sorcerers obey those stringent rules?"

"There are those who obeyed as taught. There are those who interpreted them as they could live with. There are those who pushed the rules too far and stepped outside the line, but that applies to all rules in life and not just sorcery."

He would not train her, and apparently, no one else would, either. She would not give up her dream of Victania.

"Mayhap I could go to the convent. God is benevolent. The Church would forgive me and allow me to repent if I dedicate myself to serve Him the rest of my life.” Aislan hoped she sounded convincing.

"You are now religious?"

"There is good in belief of a higher being. Do
you
believe in God?"

"I am bound for Hell, so it no longer matters."

"You should not talk that way. This temporary life is miserable enough. How could you bear with the prospect of a more miserable afterlife waiting for you eternally?"

"I do not find this life miserable. I care nothing for the afterlife,” he said in a too-pleasant tone and got to his feet. “We should get going."

Lucien's abrupt dismissal of the subject only showed it to be a sore point for him. It made Aislan want to push, but she knew he was stubborn on top of everything else. “Where are we going again?"

"We need to change your identity."

"Change my identity!” Aislan did not want anything to do with the king who wanted to kill her or the Sorcery Circle and the Church that rejected her. She had wronged nobody, and yet no one allowed her to live in peace. “I have no interest in your intrigue and your political games. I wish to bother no one,” she insisted, trying not to weep in the face of hopeless despair.

"The king and the
Sorsverein
do not care what you wish. You cannot hide anywhere. They take possession of your personal belongings, and from that, a Tracker sorcerer can sniff your scent even in a crowd. I cannot risk having you captured. Someone may snatch you for the reward. Even your head will suffice."

"This ... changing of my identity, how will you go about it?"

He packed up and went to the horses, but Aislan did not budge. He looked impatient.

"Is it so horrible that you cannot tell me?” She refused to accept her fate like a reared lamb. “What does it involve? What will be done to me?"

"You will be changed so you cannot be tracked. ‘Tis a temporary effect, as I understood, but even a fortnight helps if I know I could hide you without anyone finding you."

"And how will we go about this, changing my identity?"

He untethered the horses. “Let us ride."

She took a step back, knowing now it involved more than painting her face or coloring her hair. “Is it something horrible? Will my appearance change? Will my
body
change?"

"Only temporarily."

"What will I turn into? An animal?” Images of fangs and fur flashed in her mind. She remembered the wolves and saw herself changing into one. Her imagination went wild, and in pure panic, she backed away.

"Aislan, come back. I would not do anything to harm you. Should you not know that by now?"

"I know nothing about you. Why can you not let me go?"

"Have you not been listening? There is nowhere you can go."

"I can go to—to a convent,” she insisted desperately because she could think of nowhere else, and she dared not reveal Victania to him. “Surely I'll be no trouble to the king if I become a nun."

"Be damned with this nonsense. You will no more become a nun than I a priest. Come, we must go."

Aislan kept backing away. She trusted her vision, and she refused to shape-shift into a wolf. Turning, she ran, focused on getting away.

And found she had the ability to run fast. She saw the trees flashing quickly past her at the speed she experienced when Lucien ran holding onto her. Except now, she ran on her own.

It did not last long.

Her heart felt as if someone had fisted it and squeezed. Blood rushed into her head, and her brain pierced with visions of stars in various shapes and patterns. Aislan fell to the ground, her whole body feeling on fire as she pushed herself into a sitting position. When she could catch her breath again, she coughed violently, and when she lowered her hand, she saw her own blood.

Chapter 13
The Healing

Once over his shock, Lucien caught up with Aislan within moments. Skidding on his knees, he caught her before she fell again. He felt as if a knife had pierced his guts when her head rolled back. Blood trailed from her nose and mouth as she coughed up more. Her eyes flickered open, bright red with arterial blood.

"Lucien,” she said softly, calling his name for the first time, and then she passed out.

His heart constricted in pain and panic. Lucien pressed his cheek against her cold forehead for a second before he sat down cross-legged, turning her around until her back was to him. He had to risk it here in the open because she needed to be stabilized before she sustained further damage. Pushing her tunic off her shoulders, he pressed his palms against her naked back below the blades. He closed his eyes, focusing his attention into relieving the pressure in her heart.

Once she had stabilized somewhat, he spent the same amount of time regenerating. He went to the horses and removed one of the smaller bags holding provisions. Carrying Aislan, he went in search of shelter where they would be safe from interruptions.

* * * *

Aislan opened her eyes to the semi-darkness of the cave, disoriented, and with a sense of déjà vu. In the past, she had suffered for days for testing limits she knew nothing about, leaving her to be cautious about stepping beyond known boundaries. This time, it was as if she had never injured herself. Lucien had healed her again.

He sat a few feet from her, deep in regeneration, sitting still and yet vibrant, his presence reaching out to touch her. She shifted, and he opened his eyes and looked at her, but he did not move. Aislan sat up. She could not see much in the near darkness, but she felt the touch of his gaze. She wanted to reach for him to hold him, but she knew she could not touch him now. After a while, he closed his eyes and returned to his regeneration.

Aislan pulled her legs up and wrapped her cloak about herself tightly. Even though she could not see him clearly, she knew every feature of his face, etched deep into her soul. Resting her chin on her knees, she studied him while she waited. Aislan did not know how much time had passed since he had healed her. After sitting for a long time, she began to tire and lay back down. She would not leave, and not because he could track her down. It would endanger him if he interrupted his regeneration to go after her. She could not put him at risk again.

Lucien had left remnants of his power in her. He had always been in her mind, had become a part of her body, and had now intricately weaved himself into her essence. Aislan did not know what to do with her newfound knowledge of how essential Lucien had become as a part of her. Everything in her reached for him, knowing that she could not walk away from him anymore.

Aislan thought of the sorceress, Narisse, who was a part of her, too, a part she had obsessed about for most of her life. Aislan's other obsession, Victania, had been based only on a simple description from the troubadour who spoke of a sorcery clan for girls.

None of Aislan's obsessions had a basis for reality or stability, not even Lucien at the time, but who now had become the most solid aspect in her life. She found it hard to let go of her dreams, and it was difficult to come to terms with having another man taking control of her again.

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