Emergence (Book 2) (25 page)

"Thing?" Bolin looked over at Garek's lieutenant.

Sully's brow furrowed. "It was hard to make out. Seemed to shift its form from man to beast." He shrugged. "Bit of both, maybe? Nothing natural, that's for sure."

"And where is it now."

Sully made a face. "I lost it."

"Unnatural for sure," Garek said. "Sul doesn't lose anything he's tracking."

"I've got patrols on all the streets," Captain Rothel said, snapping off a quick salute as he joined them. There were bags under his eyes, and despite the chill in the air, sweat beaded his forehead.

"And the river gate?" Bolin asked.

"Doubled the guard. If anything comes that way they'll sound the alarm."

Bolin looked out toward the road, then down both lengths of the wall. "Douse the torches and pull your archers, they won't hit anything in this wind. Get more men to the river gate."

A commotion broke out near the north tower before Rothel could act on the order. A startled scream split the night, and a body tumbled down into the courtyard followed by the sound of weapons being drawn and men running. Bolin swept Nialyne out of the way, putting her behind them.

The men who had started forward now backed away from a figure wearing a tattered and bloodied
Imperial tabard. The stench of rot and decay caused more than one of them to turn away, gagging as it passed them by. Moving from one pool of torchlight to the next, it changed from man to beast. Clawed hands ripped the throat out of the nearest soldier, another went in with sword drawn and got backhanded into the parapet with enough force to break bones.

Stepping over the gasping guar
d into the next pool of light the creature halted, looking toward Garek's group. The form shimmered, and gasps went up from them as it became familiar.

"By the unholies," Garek muttered, and the tip of his sword dropped. "What sort of black art
's trick is this?"

"It's Kort," one of them said, and started forward.

"No." That from Sully, cold and hard as he yanked the man back. "Kort's dead."

"It's trickery
, lads, stand fast." Garek slid a look Bolin's way. "Will a bolt through the heart do it?"

Berk paled.

"Only one way to find out," Bolin said.

Garek turned to Berk and laid a hand on his arm. "It's not him, lad. You know that."

Berk's eyes remained on the specter. It took a step closer to them, face hidden in shadow, and raised a hand as though in greeting. Its mouth moved, trying to form words that wouldn't come through the shreds of a mangled throat.

"Send him to his rest, Berk. He deserves to be in the Halls, not kept here as some witch's puppet."

"Aye, Commander."

Berk took a deep breath and brought his crossbow up. The specter raised both its hands, palms out, as though imploring him not to shoot. Bolin reached for the crossbow when
Berk hesitated, but he jerked it to the side.

"I'll do it." He brought the bow back around and sighted, his face grim. His finger caressed the trigger. A snarl disfigured the haggard face of the dead man, and he lurched toward them, changing back into the beast. Berk cursed as Duff darted suddenly in front of him.

"Berk, you can't."

"Stand aside, Duff," Garek ordered.

But Duff shook his head and ran for the figure, evading Garek and reaching for the decaying hand stretched toward him. His body stiffened, and arched backwards. A scream bubbled from him as the hand turned claw and drove deep into his guts, lifting him from his feet and tossing him aside. Duff fell to the ground, blood pooling around him.

"Now," Bolin snapped

Berk squeezed the trigger, immediately lowering the bow and pulling back the lever to cock it. The creature stumbled. Berk swiveled the bow up, dropping another bolt into the track. It joined the first, buried to the fletching in rotting flesh, not passing through as it should have at such close range. The form in front of them shifted and Kort stood there again, mouth gaping, hands reaching for the bloodless wound in his chest. The body took another halting step and then collapsed. Berk made a noise in his throat and sprinted toward Duff.

"Bolin."

He turned to Nialyne, standing further down the wall, arms loose at her sides, and fingers spread. She looked out toward the road, a faint glimmer of green light surrounding her.

Garek groaned. "Not this again."

Bolin peered into the inky darkness seeing nothing, but he could feel them. He snatched one of the torches and hurled it as far toward the road as he could. It flipped end over end, tracing an arc through the air and bouncing erratically as it landed. Its light glinted off sharp fangs and glittering eyes before it guttered out in the grass.

"What are they?" Rothel's voice sounded tight.

"Can they climb?" Garek asked.

"They can do whatever they are told to do," Nialyne said. She glanced at Bolin, her eyes flicking briefly to where his fingers absently massaged his left arm. "I don't think she's strong enough to control all of them and fend us off."

"All of them?" Rothel's voice broke. "Are they like that?" He pointed toward the corpse.

"No," Bolin said. "They're worse."

A horn blast split the night. Rothel's expression turned even grimmer. "The river gate."

"Go," Bolin said to Garek. "There's not much you can do here."

"What if it's those things?"

"It's not," Nialyne said.

Garek didn't question how she could be certain. He grinned. "Flesh and steel, then. Right. Sully, let's go. Rothel, bring your men." He paused where Berk and Sal knelt beside Duff's still form, and grabbed hold of Berk's tabard, pulling him to his feet. "Come on, lads. There's work needs doing. Sergeant Evan's on his way. There's naught you can do here."

Bolin looked back toward the road, into the darkness that now seemed alive with movement. The air stirred around them
, and the men still on the wall shifted uncomfortably. Nialyne's eyes were closed, her breathing deep and calm. The power of the Greensward seemed not to have diminished much at all even this far from home. Bolin drew in a deep breath and let it course through him. The fear of the soldiers, sharp and acrid, began to fade, replaced by a sense of peace and strength.

A ripple of something else moved through the sensation like a dangerous undercurrent, building as it surged toward release. The darkness ignited. A sheet of green flame burst from the ground between the wall and the road. Screams of pain and howls of rage resonated through the night.

"Goddess love us," someone murmured.

Behind that shield of flame moved a horde of shadowy, wolf-like creatures. Eyes glittered hungrily. Fangs showed long and sharp. They paced restlessly behind the barrier. Every now and again one would test it, and the screech of its demise would slice the night like a knife across skin.

"I won't be able to hold this for long," Nialyne said, eyes still closed, a look of serenity belying the effort the working took. "Can you find the priestess?"

A tepid caress whispered across the back of Bolin's neck.

"I don't think that will be a problem."

CHAPTER TWENTY

"I'm sorry, mistress." The guard stood as stiff and unyielding as an oak. "The Lord General's orders were quite specific."

"I won't be kept a prisoner here," Ciara said.

"No
. But I can't allow you to leave either."

Ciara opened her mouth, then snapped it shut. She glared at the soldier. "You realize that makes no sense?"

He sighed. "I have my orders. Now please, go back in your room."

"And if I don't?"

His jaw worked. "I will use whatever force necessary."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Yes, I would."

Ciara bit her bottom lip and contemplated the wisdom of testing his resolution.
One thing she'd learned about Imperial soldiers, they all seemed very polite, but every one of them had an unfaltering sense of duty, and a steel-like resolve when it came to following orders. She growled, whirled, and slammed the door with as much force as she could manage.

She is here,
Andrakaos said.

Ciara stopped pacing. "Who?"

The Dark One.

"The priestess?"

Yes. She wants him.

Ciara didn't need to ask to know he referred to Bolin. Andrakaos rarely used names, but always gave a sense of who he meant. A brief image or feeling associated with the person. "Is he in danger?"

Always. It surrounds him. Like death and darkness.

Ciara's chest rose and fell in a deep breath, her eyes half-closed as Andrakaos's emotions rippled through her. Her nostrils flared as though savoring the scent of something mouthwatering.

He dances on the edge. Life and death, light and dark, one hand in each but neither has claimed him yet. She will try.

"I won't let her."

The Lady protects him for now, but she is far from home. She will not always be able to do so.
Andrakaos's shape filled the small, sparse room. He lowered his head and fixed Ciara with one, dark eye.
But I can.

Desire flared through her. But not desire of the flesh. Andrakaos would gladly give himself to Bolin. Completely.

He is worthy of me.

Her own anger flared. "And I'm not?"

He blinked. A lazy meeting and parting of lids.
Perhaps. In time.

"I won't let him take you."

The corner of Andrakaos's mouth rose in mockery of a smile, revealing the gleam of sharp teeth.
And if I choose to give myself to him as you would choose to give your body to him? What will you do then?

Ciara clenched her jaw. "I won't allow it. You're mine."

His head came up.
Do you claim me?

"Yes."

As soon as Ciara heard the word fall from her lips she froze. Her pulse pounded in her ears, and she feared to finish the last breath she had taken because she dared not move. Andrakaos narrowed his eyes and studied her for a very long time. Ciara hadn't consciously called her earth magic but it flowed around her like glowing strands of spider silk. She lifted her hand, forced her fingers open and reached through it. Andrakaos drew back, the light of the earth magic flashing in his eyes. Ciara laid her palm against his muzzle, and he flinched as the silken threads wrapped about him. A quiver vibrated through them both.

"On my terms," Ciara said.

Andrakaos puffed out a soft breath of air.
For now.

***

The witch sauntered barefoot down the wall, her multi-colored skirts swishing around her ankles, her hips swaying. The men gaped at her as she passed, but made no attempt to stop her. She trailed a hand out to stroke one of them across the chest, and he leaned close to her. She slid her eyes from Bolin, and whispered something to the soldier before grabbing his face with one hand and kissing him. When she released him he looked at Bolin, then back to her. She smiled.

The man jerked forward, walking as though his legs were made of wood. He drew his sword as he approached.

"Put your weapon down, soldier," Bolin said.

The man blinked. He glanced over his shoulder, and the priestess blew him a kiss across her palm. He turned back to Bolin, his face twisted. "I...can't do that, sir."

"I don't want to kill you."

The soldier responded by throwing himself at Bolin, his sword raised for an overhead strike. Bolin sidestepped. He pulled his blade free of its scabbard and pivoted to catch the man across the back with the flat. The soldier stumbled forward, catching himself on the edge of the parapet. The squelch of a boot landing in the blood that had pooled around Duff warned Bolin of
someone moving up behind him.

"Restrain him," he said to the soldiers who stood beyond Nialyne, gesturing to the first man. "But don't hurt him."

He moved just in time to deflect the low slice of an axe, sparks flying as blade slammed blade. Bolin swung a fist, landing a punch square to the soldier's nose. Bone crunched, blood spurted, and the man rocked backwards with nothing more than a grunt. Torchlight caught the edge of the axe as it flashed toward Bolin's head. He ducked, grabbed his sword by the blade, and jammed the pommel into the man's guts, following it with a knee to the face as the soldier doubled over. This time the man dropped and stayed still. Bolin got a quick glimpse of Sergeant Evan taking up a defensive position over Duff's body.

"I like the way you fight," the priestess said. "You move like a dancer. So sure of yourself."

She flicked her hand, and Bolin dove against the parapet. The stream of dark magic raced past him, barely missing Nialyne. Someone down the wall screamed. Before Bolin could respond Ciara's pendant flared against his skin. A shape moved behind the witch, coalescing out of the flickering torchlight as a figure.

Damn the unholies.

The witch followed his gaze over her shoulder. "Ah, the prize herself. How fortuitous."

The wind pulled at Ciara's loose hair, whipping it around her head in a frenzied swirl. She brushed the strands from her eyes, and Bolin felt the tremor of power that
accompanied the simple gesture.

"You have one chance to leave," Ciara said, and that same power reverberated in her voice.

"Do you threaten me?"

"Don't let her," Nialyne said from behind Bolin, her voice strained.

"Don't let her what?" he asked.

The witch backed against the battlement, her head swiveling as she tried to keep both Ciara and Bolin in her sight.
The glow of Nialyne's working flickered, and several beasts managed to breach the flames. They broke out in howls of glee as they rushed forward. In an instant they swarmed over the wall. Ciara turned as one launched toward her. Bolin grabbed at the magic in the pendant, and sent a blast hurtling into the creature, disintegrating it before it even had a chance to scream. The distraction gave the witch the opening she needed. She gestured, and a ball of tar-like sludge caught Bolin full in the chest, lifting him off his feet and launching him through the air. He slammed onto his back, sliding along the stone until his flailing hands caught hold of some poor soldier's leg, almost pulling him down as well. Hands reached to help him to his feet in time to see Ciara square off to the Dominion witch.

Nialyne yelled something at Ciara in ancient Galysian, and Bolin felt Andrakaos's growl rise through his own chest as if he'd made the sound himself.

More beasts surged over the parapet. Ciara pointed and three fell before they cleared the crenel; another joined them, a screaming guard's arm in its teeth. A roar of challenge erupted out of the darkness, and the rest of them halted as Andrakaos took form out of shadows, an immense, smoky figure draped around Ciara like a billowing cape. The witch's eyes widened as his attention landed on her.

This one defies me. I will kill her.

"No." Bolin barked the word out with an effort. Goddess's light, Ciara needed no more blood on her hands. Not even from one as deserving as the witch.

Do you defy me as well?

Bolin shook his head. He clutched at the wall to keep himself upright. The witch's magic burrowed beneath his skin, squeezing his chest like a vice. He bowed his head, eyes shut as he tried to work past it. He looked up when Andrakaos rumbled. The witch had moved. Too late Bolin felt her come up behind him. She slid an arm around his waist.

"Another time," she whispered, her breath warm against his ear. "When you aren't surrounded by your pets."

I am going to kill you, Dark One.

"Not today, spawn of the blackness."

Yes, today.

Bolin felt her stiffen. She released him, her magic sliding from him as she backed away, keeping him between her and Ciara. Bolin sucked in a breath and whirled, already shaping the pendant's magic, strengthened by a bit of Galysian magic, into a killing blow. The witch raised a hand, but Andrakaos snarled
, the ripple of his anger coursing around Bolin like molten steel. The witch leapt for the parapet, let out a screech, and disappeared into the darkness.

A rush of wind signaled Andrakaos's pursuit.

"No."

He stopped, poised on the edge of the battlement, and cocked his head at Bolin.

"No," Bolin repeated.

She is not dead.

"There will be another day."

Why do you stop me?

Bolin could see Ciara through the smoke-like manifestation of her power. She glared at him, her hands on her hips. "What are you doing? Why don't you ever let me help you?"

"Now is not the time."

"It's all right. Really. We have--" She glanced aside at something. "We have an agreement."

Bolin followed her gaze and noticed a slender chain of silver that extended from Ciara's hand to wrap lightly around Andrakaos:
her earth magic, tethering them together.

"Call him back."

No.

A mix of anger and longing accompanied the single word. Andrakaos wanted his freedom. His desire for it pulsed through Bolin with his heartbeat. He could taste it, like fine wine on his tongue. The longer Andrakaos remained in this realm, the stronger he would become. The tether would not hold him then. Earth magic had never been meant for that purpose.

"There will come a day," Bolin said.

Andrakaos turned his full attention on Bolin.
Shall I show you what we could be together?

"That will
nev--"

Bolin
sucked in a startled breath at the sudden infusion of power. Aches and pains left him, discarded like an old cloak. Strength as he had never known rippled through every muscle of his body. No fear. No worries. A single thought would eliminate his enemies. None would dare stand against him. All that he wanted would be his.

Bolin wet his lips. The ancient power danced around him, tantalizing, alluring. The spicy scent of it made his head swim. Through the haze that clouded his vision he saw Ciara, standing immobile. The wind played with her loose hair. Her eyes were large, her lips parted, the slender curves of her body outlined against the torchlight.

Yes, she will be yours as well. You know her heart, as I know yours.

Bolin swallowed. It would be so simple to give in. What harm would there be in it? And what better way to protect Ciara? Without her power the Emperor would no longer consider her a threat, and she would be nothing to Donovan. She would be free to live how she chose. She would be safe.

Together we can defeat him.

His hand lifted of its own accord.

"Bolin!"

Nialyne stepped into his line of vision, her face hard.

The Lady does not understand. She would protect you. But you need no one's protection. Not from me.

"Stop it," Ciara said. She clenched her fingers around the silver chain and tugged.

Andrakaos purred against Bolin's cheek like a giant cat.
You know the words. Who here could stop you? Who besides you has the right? All your life has been spent in the service of others. Do you not wish to serve yourself? Do you not wish your own freedom? Remember that I can give you these things.