Free The Nemisin Star by Elaina J Davidson Page A

brows. His eyes were
still black. “I could take you now.”
    “Or you could
join me.”
    “What of
revenge?”
    “It would be
the greatest of all revenges, Enchanter, to have you walk over to
my side.”
    Torrullin
laughed. “Too easy, then.” His eyes cleared to the otherworldly
silver that ever followed Destroyer. “Your turn.”
    Margus was
shaken, but he idly retrieved the green blade and dropped it as
casually.
    “It comes down
to the blue. Do you see now why I am not to touch it? The Dark is
ever-present.”
    “Indeed,”
Margus murmured. “What a waste, Enchanter.” He stared at the
offending blade. “If neither touches, it is a draw. No deal.”
    “Oh, I shall
touch it.”
    Margus sucked
at his teeth. “Fine. Allow me.” He reached out quickly, and
withdrew his hand as he was about to touch. “Wait,” he snarled. He
closed his eyes, sat in silence, and then reopened and reached out
once more. His fingers hovered above the blade with microns to
spare. The moments ticked by and his hand simply could not descend.
“A little pain, that is all,” he murmured. “A second, miniscule, a
bluff, no pain. Little pain or no pain.” He rocked back and took
his hand away, staring balefully.
    Torrullin
leaned in to stroke the sword and withdrew. Nothing happened.
Behind him Tristamil sagged in relief. Tymall was still pale. It
had been no bluff.
    “I offer you
another chance,” Torrullin said.
    Margus cursed.
“I knew it was a ruse.” He extended his right hand this time -
forsaking previous caution - and grabbed the blade.
    Yelling, he
reeled back, the force of burgeoning pain sliding him back a fair
few paces.
    Tristamil
smiled.
    Margus bounded
to his feet holding his hand, doubled over as a spasm shook
him.
    Tymall was
frozen.
    Torrullin
laughed and rose. “Get you to the dark corners, Darak Or.” He
leaned to retrieve Tristamil’s sword and held it out. Tristamil
gripped it, but his father did not release it to him. “Put your
hand over mine.”
    Tristamil’s
hand closed over his father’s on the hilt and the sword burst into
brilliant sapphire light.
    Margus
skittered to the wall and Tymall backed away.
    “Tymall.”
    “Leave me
alone!”
    “Pass your
sword, Tymall,” Torrullin murmured, his voice insidious.
Reluctantly Tymall bent to lift the blade. “Hold it by the hilt and
come closer.”
    Tymall did as
bid.
    Torrullin
grasped the sword with Tymall’s hand under his, ensuring his
fingers made contact with the relic as well. It erupted into light,
an effervescent emerald. Tymall screeched and would have released
had not his father held on.
    “Look!”
Torrullin shouted. Both young men flinched. “This is the power of
Light and Dark! Notice, be aware , of how they blend, until
you cannot distinguish where one ends and the other begins! This is
who I am! Light and Dark in one body, one spirit, one soul! You are
the two parts and I am both of you!”
    Both swallowed
and could not speak. They did not dare.
    Margus
commenced muttering in the background.
    “I cannot
function with one nature alone,” Torrullin continued more softly.
“Understand this; I am in continual symbiosis and it lives also
through you. Do you see it? Do you believe it?”
    Other than
Margus’ almost inaudible muttering, there was not a sound. If he
attempted to counter, it had no effect.
    “Answer
me!”
    “Yes, father,”
Tristamil said.
    “Yes, father,”
Tymall said, quieter.
    “Good, for now
I shall reveal what this night means.” Torrullin released his hold
on both swords simultaneously. They clattered to the floor and lay
there.
    Utter darkness
ensued.

Chapter
8
     
    During the
time of Vintari (205 th Vallorin) a
peace settlement was sought between the Valleur and the mud people
of Dinor. At first it went well, for the adversaries were weary of
the lengthy war. Fighting had become pointless and starvation a
stark reality. Two Valleur generations passed peaceably enough, and
then the 7 th Dinor ruler since