In the midst of the battle, Ulric created a small, moving area of chaos as serrated swords and machetes passed through his body, leaving him unharmed – and slicing through any unlucky opponent behind him.
Morgan and Liath watched together for a moment, until the High Lord gave her a quick kiss, a mental brush of love and luck, then whirled his sword and stepped onto the battlefield. Liath smiled, and tried to move, but found herself held close, an arm around her waist.
‘You’re not gonna walk across all that to get to him,’ a voice said in her thoughts. ‘Hang on and I’ll put you just to the side of the rift, but be ready to act; he’ll sense you as soon as I let you go. He’s got something planned for Raj, I don’t know what, but I’ll hang around. Ready?’
Or not, Liath found herself moving through the night in the singular way Nightlords had, but much smoother than when Rajan had taken her night-walking. This was very enjoyable. Her feet touched solid ground, and she prepared herself as Rowan had advised.
Even so, Azqueh smiled to himself and took a long stride across the boundary between the two realities the instant he sensed Rowan release her.
“We meet again, my girl,” he purred as another stride brought him closer. Very little distance separated them now, as much as had when he’d spoken to her in the library in Morgan’s hall, although there was no crevasse between them now. Noise from the fight – shouts, cries, clash of steel, metals, death screams – all faded as the seer and the Voltus faced each other.
“This will be the last time, Azqueh. You know you can’t stay here. We’re too strong for you, the...”
“The shards, of which there are so many, allow me to stay,” he cut in, smiling at the brief look of puzzlement flashing across her face.
“They are all under our command...” Liath stopped and winced at the laugh the Voltus loosed.
“Girl, you have no idea, no comprehension of what has happened and what will! Call yourself a seer? I do not think so.”
“Well, why don’t you tell me, then!” she snapped, allowing her anger to rise, and bring the forces at her control with it.
Azqueh viewed her with interest; such a shame she could never be swayed. Unlike Relleshom, this one was so strong in her convictions it would be a waste of breath broaching the subject. He did have other plans for her though. All they required was her presence. His hand reached out for her, and she slammed the force of a small mountain down on his back, crashing him into the ground, sinking him inches into Anraun’s soil. Grass roots reached for him, looping over dark limbs, meshing into clothes and hair, embracing him tightly. Liath, smiling, leaned forward, and cried out in surprise when Rowan yanked her back. And Azqueh erupted out of the ground, soil and bits of roots cascading off him. Snarling, he flexed long fingers, but his eyes locked on Rowan’s, every bit of emotion wiped from his face, except admiration.
‘You...you have power. Come with me – join with me – teach me!’
‘Crap! I gotta go, girl. When I let go, kill the fucker! Now!’
Liath felt Rowan leave, launched an attack that surprised her with its hate and power, saw the Voltus forced to his knees – mouth drawn bow-like with pain, forehead creased in agony as she battered him with raw force. But she ignored his hand creeping to the contraption fixed to his chest, so intent was she on the sheer pleasure and rightness of destroying her enemy, her tormenter, this vile creature who wanted to rape and mutilate her.
Brilliant light burst out of the thing on his chest as Azqueh finally managed to release the catch, and the sun-bright shard momentarily blinded her. A vice-like grip around her neck brought an immediate defense reaction, until the talons pierced her skin and paralysis flooded her limbs. Legs gave way beneath her, arms dangled uselessly at her sides, as she was held erect by the hand of the Voltus around her neck. Slowly, Azqueh squeezed, smiling slightly to himself, eyes locked on hers, his poisoned talons embedded in her neck. Her vision swam, red tinged in the night; nothing worked, her body didn’t move, her mind didn’t obey her, her lungs would burst, blood vessels pop. She felt herself tilt, fall – but not land.
Nicolas crashed into the tall, black-robed thing holding the young woman the High Lord loved, so fast and with such an impact, he winded himself and ploughed great grooves into the ground trying to stop. Sweeping the lady into his aching arms, he lurched off to find the healer, limping and much slower than before. His metabolism was racing, yet there was hardly anything left for it to use, especially since he’d thrown up.
Behind him, unseen, Azqueh groaned in pain, fumbled for the shard, and almost screamed as it seared into his skin. Teeth clenched, biting into his lip, he managed to replace the shard in its casket, then rested, panting, on his knees until the pain faded a little. What had crashed into him? Where was that cursed girl? His copper pupilled eyes found something almost as useful. Two things, in fact; part Akashii, part of the sorceress. And holding one, preventing him from joining his twin, was the night-seer… but not for long. Looking back into the rift, he beckoned. A single shadowy form responded. Flickering in and out of reality, it moved across the torn ground, smoking footprints left in its wake. When it reached the girl, a portion of it simply broke away and enveloped her, muffling her cries and covering her from head to foot. Then it returned to the rift, floating inside.
Resh’s struggles doubled in intensity, and Rajan, bored of this, frustrated at having been forced to this inglorious position by Rowan, turned his attention to Azqueh; he found himself very surprised that the Voltus was still alive, but not that surprised when he searched for, and found, Varen was no more. And the shard was unguarded! Stepping into night, he appeared in the shallow notch where the part-bred Nightlord met his end. Snapping the catch shut on the ebony box, he dropped it back inside the dull metal one, and took it and himself off Anraun.
Attention divided between the black thing drifting rapidly towards him and the part of it that had taken his sister, Resh made no attempt to fight it, but dodged and sped past, jinked around Azqueh and dived into the rift after Omell. Azqueh, standing on the boundary, burst into laughter, and strode after them.
The Raylor had been completely destroyed, his warrior-priests decimated and the sorceress either dead or seriously injured. But not without cost to Anraun. There were warriors from that side dead and injured, too – as for that meddling seer, she would not be fighting again, soon. And there was still the Stealer to take into account – why had he not been here?
Just before the rift wavered and began to close again, the black shadowed creature slipped inside, an odd glow about its middle, which faded as Morgan’s land power was utilized. Slowly encouraging the rest of the Starstone segments to cut off their power to the barrier and let it move away. Through the dimensions it slid back – or sideways… but not far. It was still...tethered by the remaining shards, and by the only other one not yet brought into play on Anraun.
***
Even before she opened her eyes, Liath felt different. There was something changed...missing. Tentatively, she opened her thoughts to the futures. There was nothing. All around her was the sound of people – some near, some far, busy with the preparations of a battle: shouts, calls, orders, movement, horses, wheels, weapons. Closer, inside the immediate area, she could hear few people; the soft hiss of fabric, low voices, sheets of paper being turned. Life went on.
So why couldn’t she feel its future?
Why couldn’t she see tomorrow – tonight...an hour from now – a minute?
All sounds around her stopped. Nothing, no-one moved. Liath didn’t even take a breath. A hand rested lightly on hers. Not Morgan or Druin – a slightly smaller hand. A thought lightly touched her own. The hand tensed. Conversation at the speed of thought confirmed it. Liath opened her eyes. Nicolas was beside the narrow camp-bed. Druin at the other, Morgan stood at the foot. She didn’t look any further.
“I can’t see the futures,” she said calmly, yet huskily, throat painful, both to speech and to touch. She remembered
a vice...a fearsome grasp, long talons. Her neck, being crushed. Spikes in her mind, tearing great gouges, ripping lumps. Then being whisked away so fast it had almost been like flying.
“Are you sure?” Druin broke the silence blanketing the room – the tent. The walls were canvass, moving in the breeze, she could smell the material, heard the air brush against it. She was in the corner on the narrow cot behind the screen again. Liath tried again to see. It wasn’t just...nothing...as though she couldn’t see past a block. But rather she wasn’t able to foresee at all.
***
Walking across the battlefield, Rowan marveled that there was absolutely no sign of the bloody fight that had happened here last night. “You know, you could always get a job as a gardener if you ever get bored of the High Lord gig; you could play boulle on this grass!”
“Thanks, I appreciate that. So does my land and the Lady Delga,” Morgan replied in a light-hearted manner, but there was no smile on his face as he worried about Liath. Was this what she had meant about Liath not coming through unscathed, but it freeing the way for something else? The only other thing Lee wanted was to be a healer. If she really couldn’t foresee, he supposed she could concentrate on that now. But it might just be a temporary thing, even though Liath seemed certain it was permanent. Druin hadn’t voiced an opinion either way, but ordered his daughter rest and sleep. Which, surprisingly, she had.
“So what happens now, Morgan? He will be back, you know,” Rowan offered, ever ready with an opinion.
“Yeah, I guessed that. But the next time, we’ll be a little more ready for him. Ready and waiting... Rowan?”
The Nightlord had stopped walking, face paling under its tan, his blood like ice-water in his veins as he picked up on a singular and very disturbing presence.
What the fuck was Lucienne doing here?
More sensations told another story.
Oh no, not Tarik. Not again!
And... who...? Aleah Kamutec? Then that must be her brother, twin, Astalin! No. This was not happening!
“Rowan...?” Morgan warily questioned, finally detecting the same things with a cold, sinking feeling. “Tell me that is not your uncle.”
Running concurrently with Starstone is the next book in the series:–
Morne – Second in the Structure Chronicles
Meanwhile, on the world of Iantii trouble is brewing that will make Anraun look like a holiday centre. A sinister stranger invades the mind of young Aleah Kamutec. Her twin is kidnapped. Tarik al Fidhala, Nightlord envoy, finds out what really happened to his mentor, Lucienne, Stealer of souls. And Jarlan Kamutec, in charge while his Prime Lord father is off–world, finds that their Starstone shard is missing.
About the Author
I was born in Yorkshire, England, in a town where Emily Bronte was a governess for a while, not at the same time I lived there, though, I hasten to add. I did, however, find the love of my life there – a Scottish writer working in advertising. We set up house together, got married and had two boys. A little later, we moved over the Pennines to Cheshire, and settled accompanied by a wide assortment of animals. With my family, I have the type of memories where the sun always shines.
I help my youngest son with his small business of sculpting, casting and painting all types of collectables. I love drawing, writing, daydreaming, caffeine, chocolate, cakes, comic books, horror and fantasy…any book regardless of genre, as long as it’s well written.
Talent is talent…so I don’t care whether the author is male or female. However, I do think the ladies have the upper hand with the fantasy-romance-horror-raunchy mix. Keep it up, girls!
If I take something apart and put it back together will it still work – or will it have lost the spark, the magic that made it work in the first place…
https://www.facebook.com/denise.main1
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