Forge of Darkness (The Kharkanas Trilogy 1)

Malice felt her eyes bulging, her face growing impossibly hot. Blackness closed in around her, swallowing everything.

Envy heard something break in Malice’s neck and tore Spite’s hands away. Their little sister’s head lolled back, as if to show them the deep imprint on her throat — the ribbons made by the fingers, the white knobs made by knuckles and the crescent cuts from nails digging in.

Neither said a word as they stared down at Malice.

Then Spite grunted. ‘It didn’t work,’ she said. ‘Not like with Arathan. It didn’t work at all, Envy.’

‘I’m not blind,’ Envy snapped. ‘You must have done it wrong.’

‘I did what you told me to!’

‘No — the choking was your idea, Spite! From your dream!’

‘Now,’ whispered Spite, ‘now I’ve done it twice. I’ve killed twice, both times the same way. I choked them to death.’

‘That’s what you get for going too far in your dreams,’ Envy said. ‘I told you to stay closer to home. You look through too many eyes.’

‘I didn’t just look,’ Spite said. ‘I made him like it.’

‘That’s your power then. Father said we had powers. He said we had aspects, that’s what he said.’

‘I know what he said. I was there.’

‘You make them like it. I make them want it.’ Envy looked down at Malice’s body. ‘I wonder what her aspect was.’

‘We’ll never know,’ said Spite. ‘And neither will she.’

‘You killed her, Spite.’

‘It was an accident. An experiment. It’s Father’s fault, for what he said.’

‘You killed Malice.’

‘An accident.’

‘Spite?’

‘What?’

‘What did it feel like?’

There was a niche under the foundations of the oven, where someone had pulled away a number of stones at the base as if to hide something, but nothing was there. It was just about big enough to fit Malice’s body, and once they pushed, sitting down and using their feet, and once a bone or two had snapped, they managed to get all of her inside. The stones that had been pulled away were the ones they always used to sit on. Now Spite and Envy pushed them back to at least block the niche.

br />

Malice felt her eyes bulging, her face growing impossibly hot. Blackness closed in around her, swallowing everything.

Envy heard something break in Malice’s neck and tore Spite’s hands away. Their little sister’s head lolled back, as if to show them the deep imprint on her throat — the ribbons made by the fingers, the white knobs made by knuckles and the crescent cuts from nails digging in.

Neither said a word as they stared down at Malice.

Then Spite grunted. ‘It didn’t work,’ she said. ‘Not like with Arathan. It didn’t work at all, Envy.’

‘I’m not blind,’ Envy snapped. ‘You must have done it wrong.’

‘I did what you told me to!’

‘No — the choking was your idea, Spite! From your dream!’

‘Now,’ whispered Spite, ‘now I’ve done it twice. I’ve killed twice, both times the same way. I choked them to death.’

‘That’s what you get for going too far in your dreams,’ Envy said. ‘I told you to stay closer to home. You look through too many eyes.’

‘I didn’t just look,’ Spite said. ‘I made him like it.’

‘That’s your power then. Father said we had powers. He said we had aspects, that’s what he said.’

‘I know what he said. I was there.’

‘You make them like it. I make them want it.’ Envy looked down at Malice’s body. ‘I wonder what her aspect was.’

‘We’ll never know,’ said Spite. ‘And neither will she.’

‘You killed her, Spite.’

‘It was an accident. An experiment. It’s Father’s fault, for what he said.’

‘You killed Malice.’

‘An accident.’

‘Spite?’

‘What?’

‘What did it feel like?’

There was a niche under the foundations of the oven, where someone had pulled away a number of stones at the base as if to hide something, but nothing was there. It was just about big enough to fit Malice’s body, and once they pushed, sitting down and using their feet, and once a bone or two had snapped, they managed to get all of her inside. The stones that had been pulled away were the ones they always used to sit on. Now Spite and Envy pushed them back to at least block the niche.

‘Hilith is going to be a problem,’ Spite said. ‘She’ll want to know where Malice has gone.’

‘We’ll have to do what we said we’d do, then.’

‘Now?’

‘We don’t have any choice. It’s not just Hilith, is it? It’s Atran and Hidast and Ivis.’

Spite gasped. ‘What about the hostage?’

‘I don’t know. That’s a problem. We can’t stay here, anyway. Not for too long. Besides, look what Father’s done with Arathan. He took him away. For all we know, he’s killed him, cut open his throat and drunk all his blood. He’ll come back for us and do the same. Especially now.’

‘We should go to the temple, Envy. We should talk to him.’

‘No. He could reach through — you know he can!’

‘That’s not him,’ Spite said. ‘That’s only what he’s left behind. It wears his armour. It paces back and forth — we heard it!’

‘You can’t talk with that thing.’

‘How do you know? We’ve never tried.’

Envy’s eyes were wide. ‘Spite, if we let that thing out, we might never get it back inside. Let me think. Wait. Can you give it dreams?’

‘What?’

‘If I make it want something, can you make it like it?’

Spite hugged herself, as if suddenly chilled despite the oven’s dry heat. ‘Envy. This is Father’s power we’re talking about. Father’s.’

‘But he’s not here.’

‘He’ll know anyway.’

‘So what? You said we’re going to have to run no matter what.’

Spite sat back. She shot her sister a glare. ‘You said it would work, Envy. If she got close enough to death, the power would reach inside her and wake everything up.’

‘It’s awake in me.’

‘Me too. So, you had it the wrong way around.’

‘Maybe. You don’t look any more grown up.’

Spite shrugged. ‘I don’t need to. Maybe when I do, I’ll grow. Everything feels in reach. Do you know, I could take down all of Kurald Galain, if I wanted to.’

‘We might have to,’ said Envy, ‘to cover our trail.’