"And if peace is impossible?"
"Then all may fall to fire and darkness, for Stygan always had a reason for his machinations. I fear that should we play into his hands, we will not know the reason until it is too late."
"You may know this," Serona said. "This Marcellus Admorran does not. And with him and the Reaver being one, he will never agree to terms of peace."
"That depends on what I offer. Some proposals cannot be ignored, even in the face of rage and vengeance."
Serona studied him, trying to penetrate his thoughts. Alaric smiled inwardly at the futility. He was far past such vulnerabilities, far beyond who he had once been before he picked up Mothros.
"What will your offer be?"
"The Sects."
Her eyes widened. "You would destroy them?"
"Why would I not? I will have Eymunder soon. With that and the Tome of the Theurgist, I will have the power to counter the bloodwyrms Leilavin implanted in us. We will be healed, Serona."
"We will be mortal." He could not read her reaction; her face was a frozen mask. "No better off than the humans. Is that what your plan has been all along? Is that why you have said nothing of your true intentions?"
"Long have I considered this moment, Serona. I will do more than heal us. I will repair the link that was severed. The waters of Athanasia will flow again, and we will be as we once were. We will become Aelon again."
Her expression slowly thawed into a wondering gaze. "That's not possible. Riodran said as much before he departed."
"Nothing is impossible." Alaric felt his confidence swell. He had survived Ersetla Tari; he had survived wielding Mothros. He would survive Leilavin's curse as well. "What was undone can be done again. I promise that, Serona. But for now, we have to contain this storm before it is beyond us. When we are healed, there will be no need for the Sects. Their hosts are human; they will not be able to be healed as we are. So what else can be done? They will only thwart our efforts for peace, and will forever prey upon the humans should we leave them to their own devices."
"So you will destroy them as a gift of peace." Serona's expression was reflective as she considered the notion. "I see one major flaw that can completely unravel your design."
"Marcellus Admorran."
"The Reaver, yes. Leilavin will die before she severs his binding. And with that darkness driving him, he will be bound to his quest for vengeance. He will never hear you out."
Alaric smiled. "Actually, that is where you come in."
Chapter 48: Marcellus
When she stepped from the rippling portal of darkness, the frigid air turned her breath into clouds of vapor. Yet her dress was filmy black silk, bare at one shoulder as though she stepped into a ballroom instead of the whirling Norland winter. Her other shoulder was covered by a ceremonial pauldron fashioned into a steel bouquet of thorny roses, fastened by heavy links that swung over her breasts. More ornately carved roses adorned the gauntlets on her wrists. A heavy band of steel thorns encircled one of her forearms, and a halo of gleaming thorns held back her long, violet-black hair.
It was a great risk for her to come alone. For Marcellus as well, but he did not know fear as he once had. He had been awakened in the heart of the night by a servant with a message to come outside the walls of Glacia to the grove of stonewood firs that towered within sight of the massive fortress. He came without alerting anyone, because of what he felt when he received the message. The distinct pull he sensed in the back of his mind since he last encountered Serona at the falls. It had grown much stronger, alerting him to her presence.
She wanted him to see that the cold did not touch her as it did him, smothered in heavy furs and still freezing. She wanted him to see her flawless beauty, the sinuous sway of her strides as she approached. Any man might die happy after witnessing such impossible magnificence, but Marcellus was no longer any man. Her beauty touched him as much as the blistering cold touched her.
Snow gusted between them as she looked past him to the blue-white shining walls of Glacia. Her amethyst eyes glimmered. "I'm impressed. You humans had come far since dwelling in caves. Now you are capable of constructs that rival what we used to build."
Marcellus clutched his cloak tighter, but the cold cut through the heavy fur as though it were a filmy sheet. "Surely you didn't call me here to admire the architecture. I suppose the servant who woke me was one of your Thralls?"
"Yes." She smiled. "No need to seek him out, he has already hung himself. You wonder why your precious Shama cannot detect our agents?"
Marcellus said nothing as he listened to the thunderous sound of hooves that echoed in his mind. He banished the sound. Not yet.
Serona stepped closer. "Thralls are not easy to sense. They are barely aware of their coercion. Most live their lives without ever being used, but they are there. In every kingdom, in every uncivilized waste they see, hear, and obey."
"What do you want?" Marcellus felt his fists tighten. By all rights, he should have slain her at first sight. The Night Mare flashed across his mind, flame billowing from her mouth.
The wind flung Serona's violet-tinged hair across her face. She pushed it back with a gleaming, gauntleted hand. "I come in service of my solestra, Alaric Aelfvalder, king of the Co'nane. I never thought I would see the day when I treated with those that would challenge their masters. But he believes his cause is just, and I bring you his proposal."
Marcellus folded his arms and barked a laugh. "The mighty king is afraid to come to me himself, so he sends his woman."
Serona's lavender eyes flared, and fury etched on her features when she stepped closer. "Do not think to disrespect me, human. You cannot imagine the favor Alaric has bequeathed you. I came to bring you terms, but I will leave you to your ignorance should you speak one more intemperate word."
The winds howled, flinging snow into Marcellus' face. He scrubbed his brow with a heavily gloved hand. "Forgive my insolence, but I seem to remember you seeking to seduce and destroy me the last time we met."
Her voice grew heated. "You should count it fortunate to have felt my touch. I had to know if you were truly bound to the Reaver."
"I suppose you found out. My memory is sketchy, but I seem to recall Twilight breaking your bones. How did you heal your injuries?"
Her laugh was scornful. "There is much you don't know, Reaver. You're not even aware of the full potential of your abilities."
"I didn't need such knowledge to slay akhkharu. They die swiftly by the Reaver's sword." Marcellus nearly staggered as the image of the Reaver flared in his mind, eyes smoldering with fires of hatred. He had to shake his head to clear it of the intruding vision.
Serona watched him with wary eyes, indicating that she noticed his struggle. "You will not find the Co'nane such easy prey, I assure you. Those you call akhkharu only possess a portion of our abilities. Imagine facing foes that possess them all."
"You seek to frighten me? Think again."
She advanced until she stood within arm's length. "I seek to enlighten you. You would lead many to death for the sake of your petty vengeance. Can you bear the burden of such guilt? Or is the man truly swallowed by the golem of Leilavin?"
She nodded when he shifted uncomfortably. "Yes. You are barely in control of the darkness that feeds her creature. How much longer do you think it will be until the Reaver possesses you wholly? Such is the nature of parasites."
His eyes narrowed. "Truly? You would know."
Her jaw tightened. "Your insolence is unbecoming. So I will simply tell you what Alaric wishes. He will surrender all of the Sects, aid you in their destruction. Their rebelliousness and reckless acts shame the Co'nane. Their elimination is long past due."