Read Online Lord of the Dark by Dawn Thompson - Free Book Online Page B

footpath winding through the dark, rolling meadow that led below. When she reached the little valley, she saw that the hills were carpeted with black heather. Its bloom-filled stalks had withered on the stem, much like the trees in the petrified forest. What had blighted the Dark Isle to cause such death and desolation? She shuddered to wonder. Not even the sunshine could brighten the place. It was a land of sorrows forgotten by time; nothing grew upon it, and no living creature, neither rabbit nor squirrel, scampered over the ground. Whatever had cursed the Lord of the Dark had evidently cursed the isle he lived upon as well.
    Stalks of black heather encroaching upon the little path groped the hem of her kirtle and snagged her long hair, like pinching fingers. Were they trying to capture her attention, like curious children? Or was there nothing Otherworldly about them at all?
    It was well known that the Arcan Archipelago was enchanted. Tales abounded of Simeon, Lord of the Deep, the selkie prince, who ruled and guarded the oceans, bays, and seas for the sea god, Mer. And who hadn’t heard of Marius, Prince of the Green, on his forest isle, where nymphs and fauns, centaurs and unicorns cohabited with ancient tree spirits. Then there was Vane, Lord of the Flames, on his volcanic Isle of Fire. It was said his touch would turn a girl to ashes! And of course, her enigmatic host was certainly under a spell if he was condemned to live a solitary life of unclimaxed lust in such a desolate place.
    Rhiannon wasn’t frightened. She would never admit to that. Just a bit uneasy and quite relieved to reach the ruins. At the sight of them, all other thoughts fled her mind. The remains of the keep were as black as the landscape, no more than a heap of char and slag. It had been an awesome structure, judging from the foundation, which was all that remained. It would have supported a keep at least four stories tall, with a round tower, from what she could tell. Here, there could well be pitfalls, especially in darkness, but she was certainly no ninny, and it was broad daylight.
    Hoisting her skirt high enough to climb over the rubble at the edge of the foundation, she stepped inside and began to walk the perimeter. What a magnificent place it must have been. Halfway around, something caught her eye, something round and iridescent gleaming in the sunlight wedged between what appeared to be two bricks. It was caught there in such a way that it could be turned by someone with a small enough hand to slide between the rubble.
    Rhiannon assessed her hand in comparison to the fissure. The last thing she wanted was to get it stuck between the bricks. It seemed wide enough to accommodate her fingers, and she eased them inside the crack, turned the object on edge, and slipped it through the fissure.
    Wiping it on the hem of her kirtle, she assumed it to be an amulet of some kind made of fine opalescent glass that had clouded in the fire. It was too symmetrical to be random window or tableware glass. How many centuries had it lain there at the mercy of wind and weather? She would never know. That hardly signified. It was a pretty thing, and she had liberated it. It would be her relic of the Dark Isle, and she slipped it inside the pocket attached to her kirtle without another thought.
    Continuing around the perimeter, she raised her eyes to the sky, trying to imagine the tower spearing the clouds, and froze in her tracks. Her heart leaped so violently inside, she feared it would burst from her breast. Something was flying overhead, circling at a great distance. She couldn’t quite make it out, but it was much too large for a bird, at least any bird she’d ever seen. Had Gideon returned so soon? Maybe he had searched the Dark Isle first and was just now leaving to search the other isles. Had he seen her? There was no way to tell, but that he was hovering over the keep so long did not bode well.
    There was nowhere for her to hide. The black heather