a god?
She sat up and lit the meditation candle on the small table beside the bed. She stared at the flame as it swayed gently in the growing darkness of twilight, feeling herself drift into its siren warmth. If only she could lose herself completely in that bright nowhere, disappear into it and escape the body that had been nothing but a burden to her from her earliest memory. It could be done. The archives of the Temple were filled with stories of those who had so refined themselves that they no longer had need of a body. They had become pure spirit and vanished from the world.
But she had tried the accepted methods, the meditation and the study and the seeking-within, and nothing had worked. The ache of failure expanded in her chest, choking her and forcing scalding tears from her eyes. She clenched her teeth together to fight back the sound of her shame. Undeterred, it crept past them in a low-pitched moan that went on and on. She would not cry. She must not. Tears achieved nothing, solved nothing. She was strong, and the strong did not waste time weeping.
She lifted her hand and held it toward the candle. The heat of the tiny flame seared her fingertips, but even that pain was less than the one that ate at her heart. She moved closer, felt the skin of her palm blister as she held it over the cleansing fire.
Suddenly, arms reached out of the darkness and surrounded her, drawing her against warm, hard muscle and snatching her hand away from the candle. The mingled scents of sandalwood and patchouli swept around her, soothing her, making her feel safe.
"Go ahead and cry if you want." he crooned, rocking her gently and stroking her hair. "There's no one here but you and me, and I don't give a damn."
In her mind, the eternal censor shouted that she must regain control, must not succumb to this childish need for comfort. You must tell him to go, it demanded sternly; but when she tried to do so the words wouldn't form. The concatenation of shocks had cracked the wall, and this uninvited stranger radiated more comfort and safety than any of those she had thought she could trust. She leaned against him and sobbed out her misery until her eyes ached and her throat was raw.
At last the well of grief was dry, and only then did she think of the impropriety of her position. Horror struck with the force of a fist. She fought, and he let her go without hesitation. She jumped off the bed and fled to the far wall, waiting for his inevitable pursuit.
Randrik sat on the edge of the bed watching her, one booted ankle resting on the opposite knee. His face was expressionless, and try as she would she could learn no hint of what he was thinking or feeling.
"How did you get in here?" she demanded. "What do you want?"
"I followed you because I wanted to apologize. I shouldn't have sprung it on you like that. As for how I got here, I came through the window."
"This is the fourth floor!"
"I didn't say it was easy. Doesn't matter--I enjoyed the challenge."
"You must leave at once."
"Not until we've had a talk."
"I'll call the guards."
"Will you? Go ahead."
She opened her mouth to shout for help, but the cry caught in her throat. She had Nomad blood. Who would believe that she hadn't enticed him here?
"How do I know you aren't here to finish what you've started?" she cried. "The Council must surely be paying you well."
Her voice was hoarse, rough with panic. The thought of any man touching her in such an intimate way was appalling, and that it should be done at the behest of those she had trusted was bitter. Randrik's careful consideration of her feelings, his honesty in the face of the Council's demands, was terrifying because she could not understand why he should care.
"They aren't paying me anything and, besides, you're not my type. I prefer women able to enjoy themselves. I've decided I've had enough of this little game, so I followed you and climbed through your window. Like I said, we need to talk."
"Talk about what?"
"About getting you out of here. Would you please stop cowering over there and come sit down?"
The way he said it made her feel childish and silly. After all, if he planned to attack her, he surely would have done it when she lay in his arms. Cautiously, she returned to sit arm's length from him on the bed. He smiled at her, and she smiled back a little before she realized it had happened. It faded at once when what he had just said registered in her mind.
"Getting me out of here? You mean, leave the Temple?"
The very idea horrified her. She had accepted that she would remain within these walls until she died. Where else did she have to go? She had, in fact, come to depend on the security of that belief.
"Would you rather stay here and let them replace me with some ham-handed idiot who's more interested in kissing Council ass than kissing you? Because that's your other choice."
"Why can't they just leave me alone?" she wailed, twisting the fabric of her robe in her fingers.
"Because you have something they want, and they don't care how they get it. Or what happens to you in the process."
She stopped and challenged him with her stare.
"Whereas you, who only met me yesterday, have all my best interests at heart," she sneered.
He grinned at her, and she noticed how it transformed his face into something a little less intimidating, a little younger, a little softer. It was also infectious and made her bones feel rather limp.
"I don't give a damn about your best interests, sweetheart. It just gives me a great deal of pleasure to annoy these arrogant Temple bastards who think they have the right to use people in any way and at any time it suits them. And I could use a few days out of the city."
"I have nowhere to go."
"Yes, you do. You can go back to your own people."
She felt her jaw drop, knew she was gaping like a fool, but she couldn't help herself. All her nineteen years she had battled her Forest heritage. Now, this stranger was proposing that she not only end the fight but surrender herself to the enemy.
"They are not my people," she hissed. "They are--"
"Witches? Demons? The spawn of the dark? Trust me, I've heard all the nasty names. I've also known Nomads and, aside from being a bit too clannish for my taste, they were good people. How many have you met?"
"None, but--"
He stood up, and she was forcefully reminded how big he was.
"'But' nothing, girl. You've been filled full of fairy tales and lies. Everything you think you know about the Drevnya is wrong. Unfortunately, we don't have time to argue about it. By tomorrow, old Himulcra will have decided he doesn't trust me to do the job and will go looking for someone else. I'd say we have a day, two at most, to get you away from here. But it's up to you. Go or stay, it doesn't matter to me."
Her head was spinning again, too many contradictions trying to find proper order in her brain. Her heart ached with the loneliness of once again being abandoned with nowhere to go. In the quadrangle below, the bell rang for the evening meal, and the hall outside her door hummed with the sounds of eager students bustling to the refectory.
"I have given my oath to obey the Council," she whispered. "If it is their will that--this--must be, then I can only obey."
"So, you'll make the ultimate sacrifice and give yourself, your body, to whomever they tell you to."
Unbidden and unwanted, images from the hideous day five years before tumbled into her mind. The faces, distorted with lust and anger. The hands, reaching, touching, tearing at her. She shivered and swallowed the lump that was growing in her throat, forced away the darkness that threatened to engulf her again.
"I can't," she gasped.
"Then that's that," he answered promptly. "Pack what you need for a week's journey and keep it where you can lay hands on it quickly. Do you have anything to wear besides that sack?"
She shook her head. The rags she had been wearing when she arrived at the sanctuary--good enough for a wicked girl, her mother had said--had been burned long ago. Since then she had not needed anything other than her robes.
"I'll get you something. You can ride, can't you?"
"Yes, but--"
"I'll be here tomorrow midmorning and tell you when and where to meet me."
He stood up and strode toward the window, and she trailed after, keeping her distance. He set one foot on the sill and started to climb through, then leaned back and fixed her with a dark blue glare.
"Try not to tell everything you know to Callisa, will you?"
He stepped up onto the sill of the casement and casually leaped toward the ground. Shocked, she ran to the window in time to see him twist as he plummeted and catch the edge of a wide ledge that went around the building between the second and third floors. He dangled there a moment before he pulled himself up and walked to the corner. A branch of a large iron oak extended near enough for him to reach. He jumped again, landed on the branch and teetered for balance a moment.
He turned to wave, and then dropped feet first toward the next branch, catching it and swinging down to the one below that until he was close enough to drop to the ground.
Perian leaned against the window frame and closed her eyes. What had possessed her to agree to go anywhere with this lunatic? The Council would send the Guard after them and she would be hauled back to face the consequences of breaking her oath to the Temple.
Full night cast its cloak over the grounds, and somewhere in one of the groves a darkthrush called out its plaintive wail. The lonely call pierced her heart, making her eyes burn with more tears. She wiped them away. Her secure, well-ordered life was disintegrating into chaos. She knew nothing about the Drevnya, apparently, and had no assurance she would even be welcome among them. This entire plan was mad.
Turning from the window, she went to the foot of her bed and opened the chest that contained all her meager personal belongings. At the bottom, buried under her robes and bed linens, was the canvas sack each Templar received to use when they were called to travel outside the walls. Slowly, she drew it out and began to pack.
“Dreams Of Darkness falls between the cracks telling of a fantastic journey interlacing mystery with magic. A masterful story pushing the boundaries, Burton needs not worry for she walks in the paths of true fantasy authors. Ones that are read again and again as the soul reaches for more of the [inbred] magic waiting to emerge. – Brenda Ramsbacher, Scribblers
“This is a story of romance and adventure. The sexual tensions simmer between Perian and Randrik throughout. There are so many layers to this story, it's the sort of book you get lost in and forget there is actually a real world outside of it. I enjoyed it immensely.” — Annette Gisby, author of Silent Screams
Four Stars “Burton's writing flows like poetry at points, her descriptions are vivid and sensual.” — Karen Shibuya for Inscriptions
“With Dreams of Darkness being only the end of book 1 and the beginning of the saga, this story displays the staying power of J.R.R Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings.” — Nancy B. Leake for Sime~Gen
"Elizabeth Burton has broken new ground in both romance and fantasy. An absorbing story of good versus evil, with solid writing and multi-faceted, mature characters, Dreams Of Darkness is the best fantasy I've read since Bradley's The Mists of Avalon." — Maria Osborne Perry, author of Ravished Wings
“The language in this book is beautiful, lucid and keeps the reader totally absorbed with every nuance and detail. It's a story about evil verses good, and the courage which resides in all of us.” — Bonnie Mercure, author of The Curse of the Three-Headed Circus and The Jacob Theory
“Anyone who likes fantasy adventure - this is one book you don't want to miss. Dreams of Darkness is one of the best this reviewer has ever read.” — Anne K. Edwards, Blether Book Reviews
“The world in Dreams of Darkness is rich, lots of sensuous detail, lots of fun. Odd creatures infest the woods, gargoyles and watchers, twisted monsters made from rabbits and foxes. The characters are wonderful and a joy to read about. Randrik comes off just right as a selfish young man who for once tries to do the right thing, and ends up fulfilling his destiny. Perian, the Adept “with the poker up her backside” as Randrik calls her, is a woman who needs to rediscover who she is and put from her mind the evil that her foster-parents taught her.” — Janet Miller, Science Fiction Romance
"I. . .enjoyed it immensely! I finished it in three days. I couldn't put it down. The only thing I regret is having waited so long to read it. . . The hero is absolutely irresistible, just the right mixture of benevolence and wickedness. I haven't come across this perfect blend in any book in years (maybe decades! — Mayra Calvani, author of Dark Hunger
"Elizabeth Burton does it again, creating a world so vivid you walk, or run as the case is, through the world with her. A world where, old hurts between the Drevnya, the Magi, and the Humans must be breached in order to stop the evil that is trying to escape its prison. I was entranced, clapping my hands and laughing one minute and biting my nails and holding my breath the next. I couldn’t stop reading, had to find out if it could be done. The ending will leave you breathless! Definitely a 5 Blue Ribbon book." — Rae Douglas for Romance Junkies