Bearers of Light, Book 1: Dark Mage

When Malin is drawn into the Spirit Walks by his magically gifted cousin the course of his life is altered forever. From that moment, he abhors and avoids magic, even his own. But in his eighteenth year, that cousin comes to live with him, a cousin haunted by a dark mage. Even worse, more magic is the only way out, and she is female.

"Malin looked over at Karis. Around him was a cloud of immense blackness. From it came a voice, speaking words in a tongue that made no sense. Yet Malin knew the words were terrible.

The voice left a weakness upon Malin, a lethargy. Its focus, however, was Karis, who lay unmoving, his eyes blank and staring. The cloud grew, becoming darker, descending upon Karis.

Malin sat up and thrust his blanket aside. He had to do something. Karis was in real trouble. But what could he do? How do you drive away magical dark clouds that want to absorb your cousin?

The cloud over Karis was now thick and black. Even Malin, on its edges, could no longer see through it. It was cold, too, almost as cold as the shades in the Spirit Walk. But it was worse, somehow. The shades were willing to share. This entity was not."

Other Books by

JOLAYNE CALL

Escape from Heath Halls

Wolf with a Name

Berangi Prisoner (coming soon)

Copyright © 2014 by Moonlight Publications, LLC

No part of this work may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher.

Published by Moonlight Publications, Salt Lake City

2nd Edition

Cover design by Novak Illustrations

Interior design by NovelNinjutsu.com

www.BearersofLight.com

www.Facebook.com/JolayneCall

Compelling characters in an enticing tale. This series is definitely not to be missed. – Melissa H

A well developed, layered plot within an intricately detailed landscape that draws you into the narrative. Strong, believable characters with complex personalities (some of the best are not even human) with differing desires and motives, who interact in very natural ways. Imagery so vivid you could easily draw a picture or a map. – Jay Don C

My sympathies were stirred by the plight of Myrrha among the Jandos and then the loss of her mother. She’s a strong character with exceptional and intriguing abilities. To make things lively, there’s a satisfying number of baddies who are fortunately kept in check by the good guys, an altogether satisfactory conclusion. Compelling story, interesting characters, some lovely lyrical language - a winner. – Gerri F

Well developed characters and places. I could almost see the places and people. – Judy S

I love the character Rilse (a wolf), the fact that Malin’s girlfriend is connected with the enemy, and that Karis has a twin. – Kieran C

I was led on high adventure along with the characters through artistically painted scenes of a well developed plot with twists and turns that left me guessing. This novel has all the necessary elements: comedy, adventure, fabulous characters, magic, good versus evil, love and triumph! You won’t be disappointed. – Celeste R

A fast-paced adventure story with well-developed characters and plot. Loved the parts played by the animal characters. A page turner! Can’t wait for the sequel. – David S

To my mother who showed me the magic

and to my father who told me I could.

Seek for light

In a dark world

Honor the light

Defend the light

Become the Light

The loud fist banging on the thick brass studded oak door would have awakened Malin, if the clumping of boots down the stone passageway of the watch tower had not already done the job. The fist banged again. The young man sprang from his bed, the white wolf beside him.

Young sor, young sor! The voice was husky, almost hoarse. It’s a message from your father, Lord Lindsey. Urgent, he says.

Malin hurriedly pulled on his pants and shirt, then opened the door. He recognized the man, thickset and dark-haired, one of his father’s retainers. Garth, what’s going on?

He’s gone, sor. Just like he vanished.

Who?

A guest, sor, a man from the north of Westra. Said he knew the king, and your cousins. The man caught a glimpse of Rilse in the background and instinctively stepped back a pace.

Malin caught Garth’s fear of the wolf. It’s just Rilse.

Just? Well then. The white wolf’s thoughts were snide and direct in Malin’s mind.

You know what I mean. Vanished you say? From where?

Garth continued, but his eyes were on Rilse in spite of himself.

Roswood, sor. Your Aunt Aila’s. They was havin’ some doin’s there, in the house and out in the gardens. When they was finished, Sir Sedron had disappeared. No one saw him leave, his carriage was still awaitin’, but he were gone, sor.

When?

About ten o’clock, sor.

Malin glanced at the clock to the left of the door, just visible in the hall’s torch light; it was now well after the midnight hour and into the morning. That long ago?

Yes, sor. Garth ducked his head. We looked and looked, but we found naught. So your father, I mean Lord Lindsey, was gettin’ more and more worrit. So he asked me to come. I came just a hustlin’ but this old watch tower is way out here. Shame the garrison couldn’t find someplace closer to watch the seas and train the young men. Anyways, they’re a wantin’ your help.

Alert the stable. I’m on my way.

Yes, sor. The man was only too happy to have an errand that took him out of Rilse’s vicinity. I will, sor. I will.

Rilse poked his head out the door and watched him go. He’s still mumbling.

Malin grinned at Rilse. Can’t be too careful these days. White wolves and all.

Wonder what he’d think of the gytrash.

Malin laughed as he pulled on his sweater and riding boots, and swept his heavy riding coat around him, for the early spring cold was still on the land. Then, his mind filled with the news, they headed out the door, Rilse before him. The thick oak door slammed shut after them, as they clattered over the stone and down the corridor in the opposite direction from Garth. A tall, agile young man, Malin’s long legs ate up distance quickly and quietly. Rilse was a white shape beside him.

It will take us at least two or three hours to get to Godsel and Sir Sedron has already been gone for at least three, maybe four. If he’s been kidnapped he’ll be long gone. Malin ruffled Rilse’s fur as they wound through the corridors toward the main door into the courtyard. It is unfortunate we’re so far away. The trail will be cold by the time we get to it, and they, whoever ‘they’ are, will have a sizeable head start.

But they’ll leave a clear trail for us.

That they will, Rilse, that they will.

They exited the barracks lining the outer wall, their roof the floor for the sentries on watch. Muffled by the moss on the cobblestone courtyard, Malin’s boots made almost no sound as they crossed to the grey tower, where they clattered up the outer stairs to the second balcony. The sea wind was brisk in their faces, the smell of sea weed and salt heavy in the air, for rough seas brought the splatter of waves to the tower’s outer walls, staining them white, especially in the winter tides.

Below them the sea dashed determinedly against the rocks lit dimly by a cold moon of early spring. The bare cliffs above had only one lightning struck tree, black against the sky. When they lifted their heads to look north, however, they could see the lights of Godsel shining faintly beyond in the distance.

The watch tower was situated on a promontory that provided an excellent view of both sea and town, as well as its companion watch point to the north. In addition, the two towers had signal connection. A perfect system for the town, Malin mused. Just not close enough for emergencies.

They entered the tower itself, crossing to a room on the second floor. Is Reben expecting us?

Yes.

Malin raised a fist to rap on the door. Reben had been his mentor out at Blakely, his grandfather’s estate which had become his at his grandfather’s death. But when war was declared in the north and the town had decided to conscript the young men for training when they reached the age of sixteen, Reben had been selected to oversee part of that training and Malin had come with him, though he was a year too young. Those trained could be called up to assist the regular guardsmen if needed to protect the southern area of Westra.

The door opened inward, right as Malin leaned forward to knock.

Here now. What’s going on? Reben shot the words out in a rush. Even though he half expected such an act, Malin was still startled enough to stumble forward. Reben’s dark, unruly hair plus his height and his stern voice gave him an air of authority. But Reben’s grin belied his rough words.

My father has sent for me.

Has he indeed.

"He has.

I know. Reben’s bluster disappeared. The guards came by. Will you be long in Godsel?

Don’t know, yet. I’ll send word.

Best stop by the kitchen. They’ll have a packet ready for you. In the meantime, we’ll try to do without you.

Malin grinned back. Yes, do try.

Reben clapped Malin on the shoulder and the young man was on his way.

The maid in the kitchen took one look at Malin and handed him a satchel of food. This was not his first errand. It was not even a first for the middle of the night. But it was the first time Malin and Rilse had been asked to help with disappearances in town. They were just too far away.

Malin had spent the last two years there in the tower, in what the townspeople had nicknamed ‘the castle’. Working with the garrison and especially Reben, Malin had become a skilled tracker in his own right. With the help of Rilse, his wolf companion, he had become very good. The skills of both plus their ability to communicate made them an unbeatable pair.

At the stables, they found Lanier, Malin’s horse, ready and waiting, held by a groom just outside the stable door. Garth was with them.

I’ll come in t’mornin’, as Lord Lindsey said.

Malin nodded in agreement. Fine, Garth. Thanks for the message. Garth’s poor horse was probably winded, and the garrison boasted few extras.

They mounted up and passed through the gates, which banged shut behind them. The moon was full, and in its light the road was easily discernible. At least we can see, Malin thought to Rilse, as they began their journey.

Some of us can see with or without moonlight, Rilse retorted, falling into a steady lope beside him, their destination Roswood, Great Aunt Aila’s estate.

Aunt Aila’s, Malin mused, where his sister Deirdre had lived since his mother’s death. The lines around Malin’s mouth tightened a little. To have a guest disappear from her premises would not please Aunt Aila. And an unhappy Aunt Aila meant trouble.

They moved swiftly, quietly through the countryside, winding their way downhill to where the town nestled around a sheltered bay. Miles and hours passed and then they were there.

The deep dark of very early morning surrounded Roswood, but there was light spilling out of open doorways and through windows whose drapes had not been drawn for the night. Several guests still milled about, mixed with servants and Lord Lindsey’s guardsmen. The usual rhythm of Roswood had obviously been disrupted. Aunt Aila was a stickler for order and routine, but things were obviously awry.

A servant stepped forward to take Malin’s horse. Lord Lindsey’s in the back garden, sir, he volunteered, still searching the grounds.

Malin nodded his thanks and, accompanied by Rilse, circled the outside of the house to the back gardens.

Avoiding Aunt Aila?

Certainly not, Rilse. Just getting right down to the task.

Indeed.

Malin ignored Rilse and headed toward the voices.

If he were kidnapped at Roswood, it would likely be in this part of the gardens. It’s the only area secluded enough for such a thing to happen, Lord Lindsey, still in evening dress, was explaining to Malin’s Uncle Seth and to Aunt Aila, who was seated on a white wrought iron bench. Malin’s sister, Deirdre, was seated beside her, patting her arm. Behind Aunt Aila, the torch fizzled and spat; it had been burning for several hours. The shadows created by the light outlined Lord Lindsey’s features, making him seem more angular than usual.

Aunt Aila’s gaze passed absently over Rilse and then returned in a hurry. She struggled to her feet. A wolf! What is a wolf doing in my gardens? Get that animal off my estate this instant! Kidnappers who make off with my guests. Savage wolves who trample my grounds and leave steaming piles for the gardeners. What’s the world coming to?

Rilse turned to face her and the situation suddenly became worse. Her eyes were caught by the white wolf that had grown to a huge black shape in the shadows, a shape with dripping fangs, with red eyes.

What is that? She tottered on her feet, swaying.

Rilse, Malin’s low warning voice was edged with laughter. Behave. And as Aunt Aila closed her eyes in horror, the black shape shrunk and lightened. By the time she opened them again, and the others had seen the wolf, he was just a white wolf once more. No one else had seen the gytrash.

She rubbed her eyes and looked again.

There, there, my dear. You’ve had a hard night. Uncle Seth patted her hand. It’s just a tame wolf, my dear, he reassured her.

Malin’s brought his white wolf, to help us track the kidnappers. Lord Lindsey spoke up, as he strode over to Malin, clapped him on the shoulder, and pulled him into the torchlight.

Malin? My brother is here? Deirdre shook back her red curls and looked around, seeing only the servant and the wolf. Where?

Here it comes, Rilse.

Aunt Aila turned her gaze from Rilse to the young man beside him. Her mouth drew into a severe line, the nostrils of her nose pinched tightly together, both eyebrows lifted almost to the hairline. That’s Malin?

Her dark brown hair was a tight knot upon her head and her brown eyes were fairly snapping above her full figure as she looked Malin up and down, from the scuffed boots and worn pants to the rough casual shirt and sweater, the unmatching open riding coat. She was horrified, but at last here was something she understood. Kidnappings and gytrashes were outside her purview. But improper dress was a known.

That scruffy lout is my nephew? I knew no good would come of his living in the country with his grandfather. I told you so. But that was nothing compared to this – living with rough, uncouth soldiers, tracking, trailing and roaming the wilderness with wolves. Her acid tone could have etched metal.

Lord Lindsey intervened. I sent for him, my dear. He didn’t have time to dress for the occasion. He’s the best tracker I have and I need him now, scruffy or otherwise.

"Well." Aunt Aila grasped the back of the bench for support while Malin stood red-faced in spite of his best efforts, grateful the torches and lamps nearby were dim. My guest is kidnapped, and my nephew is an uncouth ruffian who hangs out with a wolf. Your poor mother. Thank goodness she has passed over because if she hadn’t such events would have been the death of her. And you’re her only son. Come, Deirdre. At least you will be a young lady your mother would approve of.

The two women arose and headed toward the house. Deirdre paused a moment as they passed Malin. Good evening, brother. She lifted her chin to resemble the angle of Aunt Aila’s, and then followed behind her.

Malin sighed with relief, but his heart was sore. Was Aunt Aila right? Would his mother be ashamed of him?

Mothers always love their own.

Then, before they moved completely out of the torchlight, Aunt Aila turned back to Lord Lindsey. For his dear, dead mother’s sake, and for the sake of Godsel which he will rule one day, we must have him at Roswood. His upbringing must include manners and appropriate dress. He’s seventeen now, not just a child. He has to learn some couth before he’s any older. Time is not on his side.

Malin watched his great aunt and Deirdre until the darkness swallowed them, his heart filled with dread. Life with Aunt Aila would be no life for him.

As Malin stood brooding while his aunt and sister left the grounds of Roswood, Rilse brought him back to himself.

You could learn from her. Just bite back.

Not allowed in humans, Rilse. Malin felt dread creep over him at the thought of living with Aunt Aila.

"Malin, come take a look at this, Lord Lindsey said, his arm comfortingly around Malin’s shoulder as he drew him down the path a few paces before he stopped. We don’t know exactly where Sir Sedron was kidnapped; this area is our best guess. He handed Malin a scarf. This belonged to Sir Sedron. It was left, along with his coat, in the manor."

Rilse gave the scarf a long sniff, then he and Malin examined the area Lord Lindsey had indicated. A few minutes later, Malin and Rilse found a trampled section of lawn.

The man with the scarf was here, Rilse commented.

The tracks are all spoiled. Too many guardsmen searching the area. But it looks like four others were here with Sir Sedron initially. How long ago?

Several hours. Rilse paused and wrinkled his nose. They smell like southerners. And they have not washed recently.

Malin stood up and gazed over the grounds of Roswood toward the wilderness area leading into the southlands.

His father joined him. How do you read the tracks?

The trail begins here. Several people, Sir Sedron among them, headed south from here, through the back gardens and into the interior wilderness.

How many of them were there?

We think four men, plus Sir Sedron.

Malin, where did they come from?

The southlands, I believe.

Why would men from the southlands kidnap our citizens? We’re not at war with them; how could they benefit? Lord Lindsey whistled through his teeth. When that happened, Malin knew he was worried.

I’ll take Rilse and Lanier and we’ll go after them. Malin reached out for his horse, projecting the image of riding.

Now? In the dark?

Rilse doesn’t need light for his nose to work. And they already have a good lead on us.

Well, as soon as it gets light, I’ll send a party after you, Lord Lindsey assured him. Be careful.

A few minutes later Malin on Lanier, with Rilse in the lead, was on his way south, following the kidnappers through the woods.

The moonlight, filtered now by clouds, provided little light and Lanier had to move slowly and carefully even with Rilse in the lead, until they reached one of the main trails. Furthermore, the tracks were hours old. But Rilse’s nose was keen and they made steady progress.

The horse had long ago become accustomed to the wolf that ran by Malin’s side, a normally white wolf that now shifted to a mottled brown to blend into the surroundings.

They reached the interior system of trails, and took the one that ran parallel to the seacoast, threading through Godsel’s wilderness directly south. An hour, then two, passed.

How far away are we, Rilse?

Closer. Rilse was noncommittal.

Wonder if they stopped on the way or if they continued through the night.

If they stopped, we should find them soon.

They continued on for some time, with still no sign of those they followed.

The small forest animals are still. There’s no movement, no sound. I catch images of men in their minds, but I can’t reach the minds of the rider’s horses. They are still too far away. How close are we to the sea, Rilse?

Not far.

I feel time running out. Malin paused, thinking. Remember the small bay not too far from here? Can you find us a shortcut?

We’ll have to leave the trail, and your horse will not do well.

I know. That will slow us down initially, but we’ll gain in the long run. Take off straight through the woods, then pick up their tracks again as soon as you can, Rilse.

Stay low. There are branches.

Right. Malin lay low on Lanier’s back, avoiding the branches above them as they left the trail. Since it was early spring, the undergrowth was passable, but the trees blocked the moonlight, what little there was. In the half-light shapes seemed to shift and move and without Rilse’s nose they would have been lost.

Malin wondered who Sir Sedron was. Did he really know his cousins, King Arnon’s sons? Was he a close acquaintance of Aunt Aila’s?

They rode steadily for some time. Suddenly Malin pulled up and stopped behind the trunk of a great tree. Men are close, Rilse. The night birds and small creatures’ minds are filled with panic about men.

I smell them, the men. Rilse curled up his nose and mouth in disgust. They should wash. Some of them wait for us on the trail we left, just around the next bend. They won’t expect us from this direction.

A small party to delay us? Or is this the main party waiting for dawn?

The latter, I think. Rilse howled, and sprang off the trail.

There was a furor among the men, as they tried to reorient themselves to a shifting enemy, for Rilse was here, there, and everywhere. There were cries, a crackling of branches underfoot, then the whirring of arrows. Seconds later Rilse was howling somewhere else, followed by another volley of arrows. He was no longer a white wolf, but the huge black wolf with slavering jaws and white eyes that shifted color, a living shadow of destruction, a gytrash. There were quick cries from the men who had seen him, frantic movements, erratic arrows and even a few knives thrown in the melee that followed.

Good thing they have no guns, thought Rilse.

The southerners have not advanced quite that far as yet. Malin was off his horse, crouching beside him. Stay, he thought at Lanier. Then he sent images to the minds of all the nearby small creatures, doubling their levels of panic, of fear. The creatures, in response to Malin’s thoughts, scurried in all directions, chittering in a wave of terror, catching up the men with their movement.

In blind panic, the men in hiding loosed more arrows, then rushed from their hiding places and tore through the underbrush. They ran for their horses with the woods wild behind them and a gytrash on their heels.

We do good work. They flee from us. Or maybe these men are not so brave.

You’re pretty scary, Rilse.

They do have Sir Sedron.

Good. We may just be in time, I hope.

Then Malin stopped, his mind with Lanier. His horse was in trouble. There was a knife, and blood; Lanier was wounded. A stray knife had pierced his upper leg. Malin raced back to his horse. He touched Lanier’s mind, calming him, sensing the depth of the wound.

Rilse caught his thoughts. Can you ride him?

No. The wound’s not dangerous, but he can’t be ridden. One stray knife. The riders had delayed them, and they were already out of time. Again Malin sent calming images to Lanier, while he removed the knife. Then he took Sir Sedron’s scarf and bound it around the upper leg, staunching the flow of blood. He was sure Sir Sedron would have been happy to contribute it to the cause.

The men have all left.

Is Sir Sedron with them?

Rilse sniffed. Yes.

We’ll have to leave Lanier here. I’ll come on foot.

Rilse took off, running along the thinning trees, the last trees of the forest circling the base of the broad hill. Then he clambered up and over the scattered rocks that lined the steep way to the top. Behind him, Malin did his best to keep up, wishing he, too, had four feet instead of two.

Past the rocks, the wolf gave a last spurt of speed, cresting the hill where the trees died out and fell away. Below was a small bay stretching out to the sea. Malin grasped a large rock and pulled himself to the top. On the trail that wound around the hill they caught glimpses of the kidnapping party through the trees, for the first faint light of dawn was streaking the sky.

The bay was directly below them. If they could cut off the party on the last switchback, they had a chance. Sir Sedron had a chance.

That’s our spot there, Rilse. Directly behind that large rock. We can wait behind it and spring out in front of them. Rilse looked closely at Malin.

Did you bring the rifle?

His question caught Malin up short. He had left the rifle on Lanier. They had just received a shipment at the castle and had barely started to use them. It was really their only hope to stop the men, and he had left it behind. No.

Then they will shoot us full of arrows.

Perhaps not, if I give them enough trouble with their horses. Let’s go.

Fortune favored them and they reached the rock they were aiming for ahead of the men, though Malin felt like he had slid and rolled most of the way.

Behind it, Rilse started his wolf calls and Malin reached out for the horses’ minds, enhancing the loudness and frequency of those calls. The men had used their spurs and their reins to lash the poor beasts, and Malin was hard put to reach them at all. Confusion erupted as the men thundered up. Malin sprang onto the trail, his hand reaching for the reins of the foremost horse, Rilse snarling a few feet away.

Another howl, and the foremost two horses were rearing, those behind colliding into them. In the middle of the group was a horse with two riders. Sir Sedron, Malin thought. Instantly he mind reached for that horse, focusing all his energy to calm and direct it to him, leaving the rest to be driven away by Rilse’s growls.

So in spite of the rider’s best efforts, even in spite of the wolf howls before him, the horse came to Malin. But the rider was terrified. He shoved Sir Sedron off behind him, dropping him under Rilse’s nose, trying desperately to force his horse off the trail with the others.

I could take this man back, Malin thought, grabbing for the reins again.

Meanwhile, Sir Sedron was trying to get to his feet as well as avoid the flying hooves of the horses around him. Malin glimpsed him falling again, a hoof grazing his head, then knocked backwards by one of the horses.

No more howls, Rilse. I think that’s Sir Sedron. He’s about to be trampled.

Rilse vanished and his sounds with him. Those on horseback pushed off the trail and around them. Malin could see them racing for the boat, where sailors on board were making ready to sail.

We can’t reach them in time. They will sail without us.

Do we care?

Malin laughed. Maybe, maybe not.

In the end, in spite of all they could do, the last few men reached the ship and in minutes it was leaving the bay, with both men and horses. The first few rays of the sun lifted just over the horizon, putting a gold