Jikata didn’t know what was going on, but the emotional currents around her spoke of power plays. From the sheer force of the Singer, Jikata thought she was the major player in this situation, the turf was hers, the…minions. And the Singer had such life force, such ki, that Jikata could literally feel it.
Best even things out a bit, though the man, too, was a presence to be reckoned with. Jikata had been dealing with movers and shakers in the music world the last few months and knew authority when she saw it. This Luthan Vauxveau must represent another faction. Of what or whom, she didn’t know, but it couldn’t hurt to follow Chasonette’s continued murmurings in her mind to go with Luthan. So Jikata put her hand on his arm and the cockatoo warbled approval even as a small shock went through Jikata. The hard muscles under her fingers tensed and she became all too aware of him, most particularly the melody coming from him. As if he had a personal theme in the soundtrack of her life.
Her fingers curled hard around his arm, but he didn’t falter. The women who had been steadying her let their hands fall away. Everything—everyone—around her was…giving off…sound, from a ripple of notes to Luthan’s harmonic melodies, to the Singer’s full orchestral symphony. Jikata thought the cave itself issued long, deep tones.
She did have a soundtrack in her life now, and the thought was daunting.
Luthan took a small step toward the door and Jikata followed. Her stomach clutched. She stopped and looked around, peered back where she’d seen the theater, hesitant to leave this place. A slight mist hovered in that direction, beyond which was dark, no sheen of a mirror or electric lights.
Nothing but rock walls arching to roundness above her. Excellent acoustic chamber, but…not Denver? Couldn’t be, if she listened to both her mind and her heart. Did she dare leave?
How could she stay? There was nothing here. She had to go with them to get answers.
The Singer had glided beyond them to the door, along with a woman in a royal blue robe who opened the door. Luthan hissed through his teeth and began singing. He had a strong tenor. Beautiful. Great breath control. His chant was simple and strong. The Singer had begun her Song, too. Intricate and forceful but with a delicacy, and, again, a slight quaver.
A sense of impending change flared in Jikata. Her life would never be the same again, and the moment of decision had passed by so quickly she hadn’t been aware of it. She wanted to slow events down, felt the edge of a tide of exhaustion lapping inexorably to her. Maybe she had fallen asleep on the chaise lounge in her dressing room and this was all a dream.
Chasonette fluttered from Luthan to Jikata’s shoulder, and she felt the small prick of claws. Then the bird Sang, too. So much music from everyone overwhelmed her as she tried to sort it out. The others were lining up behind her and Luthan, the Singer was no more than a small pace ahead.
The tunnel was larger than Jikata expected, with a smoother floor though the walls remained rough. When they stepped into it a mist coalesced around them, wisping into faces she knew—the major record producer, her agent, other singing stars—and with all of them came more tunes that seemed to suit their personalities. And they seemed to be leaching the heat from her.
She blinked and saw herself singing with a huge Grammy behind her. Fabulous!
When they turned a corner the mist formed into five women in front of them, Caucasian women—a small white-haired one, a redhead, a blond, two brunettes. They all scowled at her, gazes hot. The sound they made was incredible, going beyond Jikata’s hearing range in each direction. Waves of heat rippled around them, reached out to lick her with flames, and she was almost glad, she was so cold.
“We trusted you!” they snapped in chorus. “You betrayed us.”
The heat of the anger and the cold of the tunnel and the tide of exhaustion was too much. Jikata slid into blackness and blessed quiet.
Luthan swung the new Exotique up into his arms, the bird fluttered around them, making soothing sounds, a lilt of encouraging notes. The Singer took the lead.
Oddly enough, his muscles eased. The muffled quality of her Song held most of his visions at bay. But he’d seen the future again: a wondrous ship, rough seas, the looming volcano of the Dark’s Nest in the distance. The battle. Monsters against Chevaliers and Marshalls. The Exotiques and their mates Singing the Weapon Knot loose, the City Destroyer spell.
Death and destruction. Again and again. Only one thing remained the same. Calli, the Volaran Exotique, and her bondmate, Marrec, lived. For that Luthan gave thanks. If even one Exotique lived the outcome was good. Usually the Dark expired, too; when it didn’t, it was too wounded to rise for generations. Good.
He plodded after the Singer, trying to keep his mind shielded from the prophetic wraiths.
Luthan, what the hell is going on! Bri, the healer, demanded, and he sensed her within the Abbey proper, arriving by the roc sooner than the others. She and her husband, the formidable Citymaster, Sevair Masif, were spiraling down on the roc to the main courtyard. They would sense Luthan, come to him, might even sense the new Exotique.
For years Lladranans had fought invading monsters sent by a great Dark until the magical northern boundary began to fall and the Marshalls had dared to Summon the first Exotique, Alexa. She’d found the way to mend the fence posts, but had set them on a course to defeat the Dark itself.
Marian had come then, for the Circlets—the Sorcerers, Tower community—had discovered that the horrors invaded to regain some specific item. Marian agreed that the battle should be taken to the Dark. And she’d found the knot that would be their greatest weapon.
Then Calli was Summoned for Luthan’s own portion of society, the Chevaliers, and the volarans. She’d scouted the Dark’s Nest.
When a sickness sent by the Dark had swept the country, the Cities and Towns had paid the Marshalls to bring a medica from Exotique Terre. Twins had arrived, Bri and Elizabeth, and had fulfilled their tasks…and Elizabeth had returned with the Snap, when her home planet called her, opening a portal in the Dimensional Corridor, giving an Exotique the choice to stay or return.
Unknown to the rest of Lladrana, the Seamasters had tried a Summoning—Raine—and had thought they’d failed, and left. Now she was to build a great Ship to carry an invasion force to the Dark’s Nest itself and kill it.
The fractured communities of Lladrana were combining for that one purpose. To kill the Dark.
To send one swift and stealthy Ship to the Dark’s Nest, manned with the best warriors of Lladrana to fight the horrors and the Master defending it. There the Exotiques would untie the mysterious Weapon Knot Marian had found—the City Destroyer—with Song and…and leading the Song would be this last woman.
The sixth and final person to be Summoned to battle the Dark.
4
A cold wind whipped around Luthan, whistled through the tunnel, some of the Friends’ voices broke and were silent. Luthan drew on his Power to keep going, to protect the woman in his arms, as the bird shrilled a distress call.
The Singer remained untouched and serene, her pace regular, her Song soaring.
But she knew, like everyone else, that all their lives hung in the balance.
When they reached the white-and-gold anteroom, her Song faded. She turned toward Luthan with a flinty gaze. “I will not let you take this one away. She is mine to train! Her voice is not sufficient, yet, to master the spell Circlet Exotique Marian discovered to destroy the Dark. This one must develop her full range, as I have. She is the key. She will lead the others.”
The Singer gestured and a hefty man hurried from the rest of the Friends’ to stand before him, arms outstretched to take the burden of the new Exotique. Luthan held onto her.
The door to the caverns was still open,