Love both intrigued and frightened her, to be sure, but the love of a demon was something altogether different. A forbidden thing. Unnatural. Untenable. Yet she could not deny the thought. Could not ignore the kindness, the ardor this one seemed capable of, at least toward her.
Alluen lay awake most of that night, sensing the presence almost beside her, fighting the urge to imagine what forbidden moments might await her on Lammas Night. Or what swift death, she reminded herself, not for the first time, though this night that warning seemed less palpable.
Finally she slept, but only to dream. She woke with a start, her head still filled with swirling images. The man in her dream was surely Lennet, the young sorcerer who had died in this very house, and he had come asking for her help, begging to be allowed to die, finally, truly. But he brought a second plea as well, for herself: warning her not to listen to the people of the village, to believe nothing any of them said about the Dark, about old Kimall, about what had happened to him, or she might surely share his fate.
It was not unheard of that the soul of one who died in torment should remain tied to a place, and Alluen was already convinced that this was precisely what she had encountered in her dream. She even had an idea what she might do about it. In the dream she had seen an image of Lennet's own book of magics, open to one particular group of spells. She went straight to the book and found it already opened. As she began to read, she discovered the spell before her to be one of banishment.
This was what all such souls desired, to be set free of this world, to finish dying and find eternity's peace. Whatever sort of scoundrel or fool Lennet had been, he deserved that much.
"I will help you end your torment," she said out loud, noting the structure of the spell, and one detail in particular: this spell, like many, was tied to a single date. There was but one time of the year when she could be sure the spell would work. The night of the beast. Lammas Night.
But abruptly the page turned by itself, revealing the spell that followed. This was much like the first but for one important word. She had never considered the possibility, yet there could be no mistake. Rather than setting a mage-born spirit free, this spell would let the mage-born dead take flesh, and live again!
"Not death," she said aloud, seeing it now. "You want life!"
As she read the spell's fine points she saw the same stipulations, and the same, most troubling, date. She looked up as she felt the presence in the house gather near her again, and felt an overwhelming sense of anguish and emptiness touch her spirit.
Suddenly all the many implications filled her mind, rushing in one on top of another until her head ached and her body began to shake. She slammed the book shut, and ran out of the house.
Cold rain swept through the night air, chilling Alluen's flesh, though her own thoughts lent a coldness that ran much deeper. She didn't know who or what to believe, or where to begin figuring it all out anymore. Everything made sense, yet none of it did. If the Dark creature that had followed her for days was what she suspected, and if the spirit of Lennet was truly about, then either spell might be the wish of either!
Did Lennet want her to banish the Dark, then give him life again? Or did he truly wish banishment, but not without showing Alluen a means, perhaps, to protect herself from his own unfortunate fate? It might be possible to use the life-giving spell that way....
Or had the Dark shown her the first spell, hoping she would banish Lennet, only to have the wizard's spirit turn the page to the second spell?
And was Lennet, indeed, Lennet? All creatures of Darkness were well practiced in deception. The Dark could have invented the dream, which meant that Lennet—by some grace of god—had been the one to court her these past few days. Neither presence seemed a threat to her. Neither seemed capable of evil. Yet neither could be trusted, for surely some of what she sensed was the beast of Jon's warning—if he was to be believed. And if Thella was to be believed, Lennet was not to be trusted in any case!
The questions seemed endless!
Still, she could not just do nothing. Tomorrow night would bring the Dark upon the village, and would mark the one time when either spell might work. The best thing to do was leave come first light. Go on to the next village and never look back. Alluen shook her head at this. "I will have to do the next best thing," she told herself, summoning her courage, finally settling on a plan, and a reason to believe such a fool's gambit might even work.
She considered the idea as the rain was letting up, as the sun began to rise. She was soaked, despite spending half the night under the eaves of a stable. Still, she waited out much of the day there, going over her plans, and returned to the house only as the shadows grew long again. As the day became Lammas Night.
Alluen stood in the circle she had redrawn upon the floor boards of the wizard's house, still not certain whether she was doing the right thing, or whether she had a right to do anything at all. Someone, or something, would surely die this night. She closed her eyes now and recited the spell she had chosen, changing just one more word on her own. Where the spell called for one name, she uttered two.
Instantly before her, two figures took shape, side by side, one forming into a man perhaps a head taller man Alluen, then the other, a man only slightly taller than the first. They were both young and rather pleasant to look at, both quite naked. For an instant both stared straight at her. Then they looked askance at one another, and lunged at each other. They fell struggling to the floor.
"Help me!" one of them shouted.
"Run!" the second cried.
Alluen drew her father's dagger, held it by the point, and threw. The man who had spoken first fell away from the second, clutching at the carved bone handle of the dagger, its blade buried in his side. Thick, black blood ran from the wound. Alluen waited until the body stopped moving, until she felt the Darkness leave the house, then she bent and worked the dagger free.
"Lennet," she said to the one remaining. The man beside her stood perfectly still but for a nod.
"You were both mage-born," she said, holding the knife up, practically shaking it in his face. "You by nature, and the Dark by that old fool, Kimall."