An Altered Fate (Echoes of Imara Book 2) Read online

  CONTENTS

  COPYRIGHT

  ECHOES OF IMARA SERIES

  TO WHATEVER END: ECHOES OF IMARA BOOK ONE

  MAP

  1. RELEASE

  2. AN UNEXPECTED OFFER

  3. HUNTED

  4. THE MAN IN THE STONE

  5. THE WORK OF HANDS

  6. CRISIS AVERTED

  7. SENSE OF THE FUTURE

  8. THE COMFORT OF FRIENDS

  9. BOILING POINT

  10. CHOICES

  11. A DRY PLACE TO SLEEP

  12. SO WE ROW

  13. THE RAESWA

  14. HALTHAS

  15. THE LYCEUM

  16. MY PRINCE

  17. LESSONS

  18. EINAR’S DWELLING

  19. SOMETHING LOST

  20. COMPOUND

  21. CLOAKS AND STAIRWAYS

  22. ROYAL BANQUET

  23. UNOFFICIAL ASSIGNMENT

  24. HARD LESSONS

  25. SIGHT

  26. HISTORY

  27: RUINS OF BAELOR

  28. LATE NIGHT VISITOR

  29. WELLS OF POWER

  30. MADRONA

  31. TORRA

  32. TO GAIN CONTROL

  33. TEMPTATION AND MANIPULATION

  34. THORNS AND SCRATCHES

  35. THE BOND OF FAMILY

  36. THE DUKE OF CAERVEN

  37. TOO FAR

  38. ASSAULTED BOND

  39. SHE’S COMING WITH ME

  40. WARMTH

  41. NOTHING AS INTENDED

  42. LARKAN

  43. NEVER TRULY OVER

  44. WATCHING

  45. LIGHTNING

  46. LET IT BE DECIDED

  47: STRONGER TOGETHER

  48. MY FATHER WAS RIGHT

  49. INTO THE MIDST

  50. PATHIUS

  51. TO FIND PEACE

  52. HOME

  EPILOGUE

  A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  COPYRIGHT

  Copyright © 2015 Claire Frank

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written consent of the copyright holder, except for brief quotations for the purpose of reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, events or incidents are products of the authors imagination and used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual people, places or events is purely coincidental or fictionalized.

  Published by Mad Wizard Press

  Map and interior art by David Frank

  Edited by Realmwalker Publishing Group

  Cover Art by Trevor Smith

  www.clairefrankbooks.com

  ECHOES OF IMARA SERIES

  To Whatever End: Echoes of Imara Book 1

  An Altered Fate: Echoes of Imara Book 2

  The Strength to Serve: Echoes of Imara Book 3

  The Heirs of Imar: Echoes of Imara Book 4 - coming fall 2016

  OTHER BOOKS BY CLAIRE FRANK

  Assassin's Charge: An Echoes of Imara Novel - coming spring 2016

  Wooden Leg: A Short Story

  Sign up to get Wooden Leg: A Short Story FREE, and be the first to hear about new releases and special deals.

  TO WHATEVER END: ECHOES OF IMARA BOOK ONE

  Daro and Cecily were content to live a peaceful life, far from the politics and intrigue of the court. But on their journey home from their annual trip to Halthas, they were viciously attacked and Daro taken captive. Cecily escaped with her life, but soon realized their attackers had left no trail. Enlisting the help of friends and former companions, she set to finding out who took her husband and why.

  Daro awoke to a world where his captors exacted complete control, manipulating and punishing him through an implant in his neck. Nihil, a would-be magister of the Lyceum, subjected him to a series of experiments, endowing him with power he could scarcely control. His mind nearly shattered under the strain and he retreated deep inside himself to protect his psyche.

  After months of searching and her own life in peril, Cecily discovered Daro’s captors. With the help of an unexpected ally in Pathius, a fellow captive held by Nihil, Cecily was able to find and rescue her husband. But the experiments had left him broken and he was not the man she remembered.

  Unwilling to lose the asset he had in Daro, Nihil launched an assault on the Lyceum. Cecily and her companions fought back, facing Wielders with astonishing power. In the midst of the battle, Daro broke free from the prison he had created in his mind and sealed Nihil’s defeat.

  The other altered Wielders went free, disappearing into the city and beyond. When the dust settled, Cecily and Daro embarked on their journey home, relieved that their ordeal was finally at an end.

  But Daro, filled with power he can’t contain and voices that whisper in his mind, is still suffering from the trauma he endured. Cecily is at a crossroads, her relationship with the Lyceum repaired, but desperate to find a way to help her husband heal.

  And Pathius is alive and free. Touched by the bond between Daro and Cecily, he is plagued by love for a woman he can’t have, and left wondering what sort of life exists for a man who was once a prince, and may now be nothing but a monster.

  MAP

  1. RELEASE

  The rock face was cool under Daro’s hands, the tiny bits of rough stone prickling his palms and fingertips. He leaned his forehead against the rock, his arms spread wide, letting the weight of it hold him steady. His limbs were jittery, his mind edgy and anxious. As the cool breeze drifted over his back, he closed his eyes. It carried the lush scent of rain and dirt, of moss and grass, of life awakening as warmth returned to the world and winter retreated back into its shadow.

  Pressing his hands against the rock, he let the stone push into his head. As his body trembled, he forced himself to stillness. The silence was threatening, allowing the chaos in his mind to run unchecked. He let the voices rise, their clamor thundering behind his ears, drowning out the bird calls and chirping insects in the forest behind him.

  With thoughts of Cecily, he lifted his head, letting it bump back onto the rock. He had yelled at her before he left. The fear in her face burned into his eyes as if he’d been staring at the sun too long. She didn’t want him to leave. She never did, but she didn’t understand. He was dangerous when he got like this. No matter what he did, the energy would build until it threatened to unmake him. He felt like a rain barrel after a storm, ready to burst its joints, water leaking from the weak points. The energy grew and if he didn’t find a way to get rid of it, he knew he would lose control.

  He had left town shortly after dawn and wandered for hours, running through the sparse forest north of East Haven, until he was sure he had covered enough ground. Somehow he always came to the same place, a cliff face that jutted up out of the thin forest, the sheer wall of rock rising high above him. Moss grew in the cracks and ledges, and provided a perch for ferns and mushrooms. Knobby trees grew at the top, their scraggly roots poking from the ground above.

  A part of him longed for the days of his captivity. He didn’t wish to return to the mindlessness that held him at the end. But during his time in Nihil’s compound, he had never been crushed under the press of energy. Whenever it grew too strong, Pathius had been there to Absorb the excess. He still felt a strange connection to his fellow prisoner, and often wished he could seek him out, if only to beg him for some reprieve from the overwhelming torrent.

  As he pressed himself against the stone and felt the energy build, he wondered, not for the first time, if the rock might just bury him this time. And if that would be bette
r for everyone.

  He let the white hot energy grow, running through his veins like liquid silver. He couldn’t Absorb the way Pathius did, leaving a trail of ice and death in his wake. He felt as if the world flowed with energy, as if all existence was awash in a massive river. If he opened himself to it, it would pulse through his body and fill him with tantalizing intensity.

  His back was tense and his limbs trembled. He was pulling in too much. It permeated him, filling every corner. His fingertips buzzed and his neck twitched. As he leaned his head back, letting power flood through him, he raised his face to the sky. The chaos in his mind coalesced into a single stream, thrumming with the beat of his heart. The power gave him focus, filling him with elation, and he let it come, no longer holding back. It filled him to bursting, burning away the voices in his mind, leaving nothing but pure strength.

  His voice ripped from his throat and he howled at the heavens, unleashing his rage. As he pressed his hands into the rock, his muscles teemed with power. Ecstasy poured through him and his eyes rolled back into his head, the surge drowning out the world. Bliss.

  The energy tore through him, erupting in a blast that shattered the rock face. Boulders and shards of stone crashed down on him as he hit the ground, burying him in a pile of rubble. The air burst from his lungs as blackness overtook him.

  ***

  Daro let his eyes flutter open. His mouth was gritty with dirt and sour with the tang of blood. Something weighed down his chest and his legs were stuck. As he kicked his feet free, he realized he was buried under a pile of stone. With the strength he had left, he pushed himself free of the jumble. His legs wobbled as he got to his feet and he leaned against a tree to keep from falling.

  Where am I?

  The question drifted away into the haze and he swung his head around to look behind him. A great gouge was torn from the cliff, the rough stone cracked and crumbling. He had the vague notion that he had caused the destruction, but he wasn’t sure how. Closing his eyes, he sucked in a deep breath. His body was calm, the voices silent.

  Walking on unsteady legs, he stumbled past pine trees and small clumps of underbrush. Although he had to pause occasionally to orient himself, his faint sense of direction took him back to East Haven. His mind was clouded but undisturbed, the chaos of energy gone. Instead of surging power, he was filled with a dull euphoria, his senses muddled and his body tranquil. Something inside him knew the feeling wouldn’t last, but he savored the release nonetheless.

  As his feet found the road into town, he kept his eyes locked on the ground. The streets had been deserted when he’d left in the early morning, but by mid-afternoon, East Haven was full of commotion. Townspeople, merchants, and traders shuffled through the streets, children darting in and out of their legs. The crowd parted before him, opening in a great wedge as people moved aside to let him pass. He didn’t want to see them watching him, so he kept his gaze firmly on the road, concentrating all his attention on walking in a straight line. It wasn’t easy.

  He wobbled as he walked out onto the pier and widened his arms for balance. He wanted nothing more than to crawl into his bed and lie there, adrift in pleasant numbness, until the energy started to build again. Rubbing his eyes, he squinted into the bright afternoon sunlight and turned toward the door of the Float. He was almost there.

  Words drifted toward him, a voice cutting through the haze.

  “Daro.”

  It sounded as though his ears were plugged, the noise barely permeating his consciousness.

  “Daro.”

  More urgency this time, the familiar voice penetrated the numbness in his mind.

  Cecily.

  He closed his eyes and stopped walking, swaying on his feet as if he stood on the deck of a boat.

  He felt her hand on his arm, heard her soft words, but they didn’t register. He tried to block her out, to nod and mumble an answer to her question so she would let him go. She lifted her hand and he took a step forward, hoping she was finished with him.

  “Daro, please,” she said. He kept walking.

  He pushed open the door of the Float and stumbled into the common room. He knew Cecily followed, but he didn’t stop. Staggering up the stairs, he held onto the railing to keep from falling. Something inside told him he should wait, he should turn and face his wife, but he couldn’t make himself listen. He didn’t want to listen. He knew what she was going to say and he didn’t want to hear it. Not now.

  She followed him into their room and shut the door behind her with a soft click. Daro flopped back onto the bed and closed his eyes, letting the nothingness of release wash over him.

  “Daro, what happened? Where have you been all day?” Her voice settled over him like a cold mist, prickling at his skin.

  “Nothing,” he said. His tongue felt thick and his voice sounded foreign to his own ears.

  “You can’t keep doing this. You leave and I don’t know when you’ll return. I don’t know if you’ll return. I’m afraid one day you’re going to wander away and you won’t come back.”

  “I came back,” he said.

  “This time.”

  He opened his eyes, blinking to focus. Cecily sat on the edge of the bed next to him, her eyes tight, her lips drawn down. He lifted his head and picked himself up to sitting, leaning back on his arms, and tried to make his voice as clear as possible. “I just need some rest. I’m okay.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  He closed his eyes and dropped back onto the bed. It was hard to think. “What do you want me to say?”

  “I want you to tell me what is happening to you, so I can help.”

  Guilt cut through the haze. He was hurting her. It seemed to be the only thing he was capable of anymore.

  He pulled in a deep breath. “I don’t need help. I just need time.”

  “I’m trying to give you what you need, but I don’t know if time will be enough.” She whispered something else, but he couldn’t make it out.

  The numbness saturated everything. He couldn’t make himself care. His mind drifted in emptiness, and in the silence, he forgot she was there.

  Cecily’s voice jolted him back to consciousness. “Why are we here?”

  He let his eyes flutter open. Her shoulders drooped, and her dark hair spilled down over her shoulders, nearly obscuring her face. Why had he come back? Maybe he should have stayed away. Maybe next time he would. “We live here.”

  Her face snapped to his. “We don’t live here, Daro. This isn’t home. Do you remember where we are? We never went home.”

  Home.

  He thought of their cabin, the firelight flickering in the stone fireplace, the bits of dried flowers and herbs hanging from the ceiling. Cecily’s paints. The wood stove in the kitchen and the cast iron pots and pans hanging from their hooks on the wall. He could almost smell the wood dust in his workshop.

  “No, we didn’t,” he said. He looked at his hands, opening and closing them. They felt odd, like they belonged to someone else. He couldn’t control these hands. He feared what they were capable of. No, home was not an option. He couldn’t go back there. Not yet. “We will go home soon. I keep telling you, I just need more time.” He closed his eyes again and let the numbness flood through him. It felt too good to ignore.

  The bed linens swished as Cecily stood. Her footsteps clicked around the room, and the wardrobe door banged shut. Something clattering to the floor made his neck stiffen. Even through the haze, he could feel her anger. He forced his eyes open, blinking hard. She stood with her back to him, her hands pulling through her hair. She twisted it and pinned it back, tucking a shorter piece behind her ear. Her gaze swung to him and he wilted under the force of her eyes.

  “Cecily, I’m sorry,” he said, forcing the words through his listless lips.

  She held his gaze for a long moment. The muscles around her eyes tightened and her mouth was a thin line. “So am I.” She turned and walked out, slamming the door behind her.

  Somewhere deep insid
e, he knew he would feel bad about this later. He let the guilt drift away, his consciousness floating in an intoxicating sea of numbness.

  2. AN UNEXPECTED OFFER

  Cecily walked down the stairs, her stomach tied in a knot. She already regretted slamming the door. Daro probably thought she was angry with him. Frustration boiled inside and she felt bad for taking it out on him. She didn’t feel angry. She felt helpless.

  They had spent the last few months in East Haven, shored up in the Floating Abode, an inn set out on a pier over the wide Bresne River. When they had first arrived, she’d been relieved to find the warm welcome of a familiar place. The memories here were pleasant, and she had felt a refreshing respite from the horrors of their ordeal. She had assumed they would stay a few weeks and then finish their journey, making their way north to their home. As Daro kept telling her, he needed time.

  Weeks had stretched into months, with no sign that Daro was getting better. The stone implant was gone from his neck, leaving nothing but a ragged scar, but whatever Nihil had done to him remained.

  She paused at the bottom of the stairs to fasten the clasp of her cloak. The smell of warm bread and cinnamon drifted in from the kitchen but her appetite was gone. She looked up with a start, gasping as she saw Fielding, the innkeeper, standing in front of her.

  “I’m terribly sorry,” he said. His usually clean apron was spotted with puffs of flour and streaks of grease. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “No need to apologize,” Cecily said. “I just didn’t see you.” Seeing the innkeeper reminded her of something she’d been meaning to deal with. It pained her to have to bring it up, but hiding from the truth wouldn’t help. “I realize Daro and I owe you for our room. Things haven’t exactly gone as planned since we arrived, but I assure you, we will make good on what we owe.”

  “Ah, no, there’s no need for concern about that. You don’t owe anything.”

  “We won’t take advantage of your generosity,” she said. “We fully intend to pay every coin. If you need it now, I can make a trip to our home.” As she said the words, she desperately hoped he wouldn’t ask that of her. For reasons she could not quite articulate, she feared going home again, especially alone.