Read Online Darkness Rising (The Endless War Book 2) by D.K. Holmberg - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: D.K. Holmberg
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more than men and nation.
—Lren Atunal, Cardinal of the College of Scholars
T he sun didn’t make it very far inside the caverns, leaving the hint of shadows that played at the edge of the light. Ciara shivered when she saw them and stepped back toward the entrance. Fas noticed what she did and watched her with an amused smile, and Ciara turned away, not wanting to explain why she wanted to be away from the shadows.
“You don’t have to stop there,” her father said.
“This is fine.” She glanced around the room.
Her father had it decorated plainly. A thick leather hide stretched across the center of the room; the short fur of the dela would still be soft underfoot. Other drawn hides lay across the ground next to it, but the dela was the prize, a horned animal not found in Rens any longer, chased away from the rock at nearly the same time her people had been chased away from their great cities.
Her father met her eyes and nodded. “Tell me, daughter, how did you manage to survive on the waste?”
Ciara glanced over to Fas, wondering if her father would react in the same way Fas had. “Water flowers.”
Her father took a seat atop a ledge of rock, groaning as he lowered himself. “Water flowers. I had not known that you knew of them.”
Ciara frowned and took a hesitant step into the room. If her father was here, the room had to be safe. Her whole life, she’d found safety where her father was, so there was no point in fearing the shadows around him. The strange shadow man wouldn’t be found here anyway, would he?
“I didn’t.” She needed to explain to her father what had happened, regardless of how it made her sound. Would he chastise her, or would he accuse her of having visions? Either way, it didn’t matter. She had been returned to the village, to her people, and the lizard had helped.
“You didn’t.” He tapped at the ground with his j’na, the carvings beneath his hand long ago faded, smoothed by his massive hands over the years. The osidan tip was darker than most she’d seen, the metal catching the remaining light around the cavern and reflecting it, pushing back some of the shadows, even if not nearly enough for her. “You risked yourself trying an unknown plant in the waste?”
“I’m a senser, Father,” she said. “And I risked myself simply remaining in the waste. Why shouldn’t I have tried anything that would have given me the chance at survival?”
Her father looked past her, his heavy gaze stopping on Fas before turning back to her. “Fas tells me that you gave him most of the remaining water. That you shouldn’t have been able to survive the crossing.”
Ciara felt Fas’s hot gaze on her back and a flush worked through her. Blast him for making her feel this way, even after what happened!
She pushed the emotion back, suppressing it as well as she could. “He was sick, barely recovered from the attack.”
“I was—”
Ciara cut him off, forging ahead. “So at the time, the choice was simple. He can shape water. He is more important to the village. And we had only enough water for one to return.”
The other would have to find water in the waste. It should not have been possible, but she’d survived.
“A decision only a true nya’shin would make,” her father remarked.
“What happened to the others?” Ciara asked. She hesitated even asking, knowing that her father would ache at the loss, but she needed to know. Had they died because she had failed to find water? If that was the case, then she was less nya’shin than she believed, regardless of what her father said. If there was another reason, she wanted to know, even if there wasn’t anything she could do about it.
“You sense their absence?”
“How can I not?”
Her father leaned forward, hanging on to his j’na as he did. The osidan tip pointed forward, sending a shimmer of light toward her and pushing back the hint of the shadows at the edge of her vision. Ciara forced herself to ignore
—Lren Atunal, Cardinal of the College of Scholars
T he sun didn’t make it very far inside the caverns, leaving the hint of shadows that played at the edge of the light. Ciara shivered when she saw them and stepped back toward the entrance. Fas noticed what she did and watched her with an amused smile, and Ciara turned away, not wanting to explain why she wanted to be away from the shadows.
“You don’t have to stop there,” her father said.
“This is fine.” She glanced around the room.
Her father had it decorated plainly. A thick leather hide stretched across the center of the room; the short fur of the dela would still be soft underfoot. Other drawn hides lay across the ground next to it, but the dela was the prize, a horned animal not found in Rens any longer, chased away from the rock at nearly the same time her people had been chased away from their great cities.
Her father met her eyes and nodded. “Tell me, daughter, how did you manage to survive on the waste?”
Ciara glanced over to Fas, wondering if her father would react in the same way Fas had. “Water flowers.”
Her father took a seat atop a ledge of rock, groaning as he lowered himself. “Water flowers. I had not known that you knew of them.”
Ciara frowned and took a hesitant step into the room. If her father was here, the room had to be safe. Her whole life, she’d found safety where her father was, so there was no point in fearing the shadows around him. The strange shadow man wouldn’t be found here anyway, would he?
“I didn’t.” She needed to explain to her father what had happened, regardless of how it made her sound. Would he chastise her, or would he accuse her of having visions? Either way, it didn’t matter. She had been returned to the village, to her people, and the lizard had helped.
“You didn’t.” He tapped at the ground with his j’na, the carvings beneath his hand long ago faded, smoothed by his massive hands over the years. The osidan tip was darker than most she’d seen, the metal catching the remaining light around the cavern and reflecting it, pushing back some of the shadows, even if not nearly enough for her. “You risked yourself trying an unknown plant in the waste?”
“I’m a senser, Father,” she said. “And I risked myself simply remaining in the waste. Why shouldn’t I have tried anything that would have given me the chance at survival?”
Her father looked past her, his heavy gaze stopping on Fas before turning back to her. “Fas tells me that you gave him most of the remaining water. That you shouldn’t have been able to survive the crossing.”
Ciara felt Fas’s hot gaze on her back and a flush worked through her. Blast him for making her feel this way, even after what happened!
She pushed the emotion back, suppressing it as well as she could. “He was sick, barely recovered from the attack.”
“I was—”
Ciara cut him off, forging ahead. “So at the time, the choice was simple. He can shape water. He is more important to the village. And we had only enough water for one to return.”
The other would have to find water in the waste. It should not have been possible, but she’d survived.
“A decision only a true nya’shin would make,” her father remarked.
“What happened to the others?” Ciara asked. She hesitated even asking, knowing that her father would ache at the loss, but she needed to know. Had they died because she had failed to find water? If that was the case, then she was less nya’shin than she believed, regardless of what her father said. If there was another reason, she wanted to know, even if there wasn’t anything she could do about it.
“You sense their absence?”
“How can I not?”
Her father leaned forward, hanging on to his j’na as he did. The osidan tip pointed forward, sending a shimmer of light toward her and pushing back the hint of the shadows at the edge of her vision. Ciara forced herself to ignore
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