Bannor stared at Sarai. Kill? Did the Queen mean that literally? He didn’t remember any bonding. Well, Sarai had made a special to-do the night of their first cycle of seasons together. He didn’t feel any different then—at least no different from any other night they … or had he? It seemed decades ago.
Kalindinai took a breath. “Ryelle’s One was an elf. His magical ability was negligible. Bannor’s human, he doesn’t just have magic—he is magic.”
His mate’s brow furrowed. “No, Mother, it can’t be. It’s been over a summer since we joined.”
Wren came forward. “Listen, she’s right, Bannor’s Nola only recently matured. He didn’t need the Garmtur then like now.”
Sarai shook her head.
He didn’t understand. Why was Sarai denying it? Was this bond what had been making the Garmtur so uncontrollable? Is that how Sarai had tapped into his power?
“I can’t waste any more time,” the Queen said. She put the rod back in her sash. “Hold still,” she told him. Kalindinai closed her eyes, her shoulders slumped, and her whole body seemed to shrink. She opened her eyes a moment later. They glowed a brilliant red. Bannor felt the hair on his body stiffen. His heart sped. He wanted to flinch away but knew better. He was far too weak to ward her off.
Mouthing words he couldn’t hear, Kalindinai put her palm against his chest. Gold sparks danced around her arm. She shoved hard against Bannor, pinning him to the wall. The pressure hurt. Soon everything hurt. It felt as if he’d caught on fire. He shuddered and grabbed her arm. “What are you doing!”
Sarai let out a yell, her eyes rolled up into her head. Her knees buckled and Wren and Janai caught her arms.
Kalindinai gritted her teeth. “Endure it. Hold on.”
His vision went black. His other senses went wild, seeming to cross with one another, taste with hearing, sound with touch. His twisted perceptions fluctuated, growing unbearably strong then faint.
Inside himself, it felt as if a wall of bricks collapsed. A flood of new strength surged into him. At the same time, he felt the long dormant Garmtur slam hard against its restraints in his mind. Something gave and heat surged through him like an explosion. Sarai screamed. Everything went white.
***
His back hurt. His mouth tasted like dry leather. He smelled weapon oil and woman’s perfume. Tallow crackled. Something wet pressed against his face and was draped over his eyes.
What had happened to the Garmtur? The last thing he’d felt was his control slipping. The barriers he erected around the Garmtur seemed intact. In fact, his whole mind seemed somehow clearer. He shuddered. The thought of losing control as he’d done in the clearing after defeating Nystruul terrified him.
He tried to say a word, but all that came out was, “Uh.”
A hand pressed against his cheek. “Relax, Bannor, let Mother’s healing magic work its course.” He recognized the lower-pitched voice as Janai’s.
He cleared his throat. After three tries he managed a recognizable word. “Sarai?”
“She’s okay. Mother wasn’t gentle in rebonding you, so Sarai yelled a little.”
He pushed the cloth away. The older princess knelt beside him, her face looked red and puffy and her dark hair hung in disarray. Apparently, something upsetting happened while he’d been unconscious.
His first instinct was to ask about it, but he decided to wait. No doubt, he’d find out eventually. No one but Janai was visible and he heard no other movement. Lanterns fueled by tallow crackled and sputtered, providing a dim light in the hemispherical chamber. From the look of the rock, they were higher in the mountain. Several sets of freshly oiled weapons and armor had been arrayed against one wall.
“Where are the others?” he asked.
Janai sighed. She gathered the cloth off the floor and put it in a basin. She carried the bowl across the room to the equipment. As he watched her search through the gear, it struck him as odd that the Queen left Janai to watch him. Sarai must have growled about that. She wouldn’t have left Janai with him without being ordered. Perhaps that accounted for Janai’s upset. Hard to guess. Janai pulled a leather water-tote from the collection and returned with it.
“Drink,” she said.
He pushed himself up on one elbow. She helped him to sit up. He took the cold, damp hide-bag, uncorked the wooden muzzle, and took a drink of the contents. It tasted like deep-water with something sweet mixed in. It soothed the rawness in his throat.
The princess knelt by him in silence.
After couple more sips, he pressed again. “Where did they go?”
She frowned. “Laramis.”
He continued to down water. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he’d been. “Are you angry with me?”
Her jaw worked. “At you, no, this situation, yes. I don’t know what’s possessed Mother! This whole idea is ludicrous!”
Bannor laughed. It felt good. It seemed like centuries since he last laughed at something.
Janai’s face turned stormy. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing.” He shook his head. “I thought the same thing, right before your Mother tried to put her fist through my chest.”
The princess relaxed and smiled a little. She held out a hand for the tote-bag. He passed it, and she took a swig. After a little more, she gave the bag back.
“You feeling better?” she asked.
He nodded and hefted the bag. “Enough to get by.”
She smiled. “Long as I don’t have to carry you.”
He took a long pull of the cool liquid, feeling it trickle down into his insides. “So, what’s your mother’s plan?”
Janai stared at him for a moment. “After they release Laramis, they’ll secure horses, take them up to the east entrance and we’ll slip out after nightfall.”
He looked around. “Which is how long from now?”
“Three bells I’d guess.”
He corked the bag and put it aside. He had to know if the Queen’s ‘rebonding’ affected the Garmtur. “Best get to work then.”
“To work?” Janai looked perplexed. “What work? You heal. I watch. That’s our work.”
“I don’t agree.” He struggled to his knees.
“What are you doing? Mother said say still.”
“You don’t have to do everything Mother says.”
“Maybe you don’t.”
On his knees, he looked up at Janai standing over him, hands on hips, a frown on her comely face. He found the view spectacular. Janai had a marvelous landscape, deep valleys, high peaks and rolling hills. He reminded himself that Sarai was every bit as beautiful—simply not in the same ways. He bit his lip. Dangerous—dangerous thoughts, especially when his mate got so violently jealous.
He tried to push himself to his feet and failed. Much of his strength had returned, but not all. His body ached, but not seriously. The dizziness and disorientation no longer plagued him either. What had that bond been doing to him?
She folded her arms. “Mother explicitly ordered you to rest.”
Bannor struggled again to rise, getting half way up before thumping back to the cold stone with a grunt. Janai didn’t try to stop him, but simply loomed over him with a disapproving expression.
He gazed up at her. “Aren’t you going to help?”
She frowned at him with narrowed, amber eyes.
After pushing himself back onto his knees, he fixed Janai with a straight gaze. “Let me put it to you another way.”
Janai raised an eyebrow.
“Ever fought an army of demons, Janai? Granted, it’s exciting; dangerous too. We’ll assume you can protect yourself. The question is, who’ll watch your back, Princess? Sarai? Your dear Mother? Wren?” He saw her shudder and continued. “I’ve fought all my life and barely survived out there. I lived because someone watched my back. The moment I didn’t, look what happened.” He held up his hand with yellow tinged fingernails. “The gray death. You’re too pretty to get slashed up. Let’s cooperate. You help me. I help you.�
��
The dark-haired princess stared at him for a long moment. She cocked her head and bit her lip as if not knowing what to make of him. She sighed, bent and took his arm with both hands. “I’d best not regret this.”
With her assistance, he clambered to his feet and stood swaying like a giant red-bark in a stiff breeze. The room wavered in his vision, but his legs held.
“Where are my axes?” he asked.
“One thing at a time, Bannor,” she cautioned.
“Janai,” he said in a firm tone. “Get my axes—please.”
The princess rolled her eyes and walked over to the piled armor and equipment. While she rummaged through the stack, he took a few experimental steps.
He staggered a bit, but managed to keep his balance. He took some deep breaths and held his hands out in front of him and flexed his fingers. He had to know. He relaxed and cautiously touched his Nola. When the feeling came, he didn’t fight it. The Garmtur pushed into his awareness. Colored threads danced and spun around everything in view. Unlike the time with Nystruul, he didn’t feel caught up in a chaotic web of forces. The Garmtur wasn’t trying to drown him. He could move—he could breathe!
Turning, he focused on Janai, seeing the myriad lines of force flooding through her form. Pulsing indigo blues, vibrant reds and shimmering golds enfolded her body like a long gossamer cloak flicking in a breeze.
“Beautiful,” he murmured.
His tone echoed the awe he was experiencing. He couldn’t have been more sincere.
The way he said it apparently took her by surprise. Brighter colors flooded through her aura. “Thank you,” she responded. She smiled and all the colors pulsated. “What’s made you happy so suddenly?”
How to express it? For the first time, he was seeing the world the way he’d been meant to, without fear of losing control. How did one describe beauty to a person who had never seen?
“Come closer,” he said.
He saw a spark of unease ripple through her aura. Threads of black and brown appeared around tensing muscles and the deep ruby pulsation of her heart. He could read her body; see the interplay of energies that made her a part of reality. Magnificent.
She stepped close. The shimmering flux of her essence intertwined with his. “What?” she asked.
Bannor smiled at her. He brushed his hand through her aura, letting his power touch the threads of reality connected to her.
Janai gasped. Rainbows flashed and danced around her. The two axes she’d been carrying clanged on the floor. Her breathing quickened. Her knees wobbled, and she knelt to keep from falling. Her eyes rolled up in her head, and she hugged herself.
Body shuddering, she took deep breaths. After a few moments, the princess spoke. “Wh-what was that!?”
“The Garmtur. Felt good didn’t it?”
Janai swallowed. Her eyes fluttered. “Should have warned me! That—” She stopped and her cheeks reddened. “Carellion.”
“Sorry.” Actually, he was only half sorry. To see her taken by surprise was satisfying. She’d taken great pleasure in teasing him and irritating Sarai.
Eyes closed, he let the good sensations wash through him. For the first time in over a week, he felt truly alive. When he had first used the Garmtur, it hadn’t been like this. He’d been so out of control, the experience had been frightening. Wren had warned him constantly about the hazards of experimenting. Now, the danger would be ten times as great. There was a lure, a pull to feel this rush of power.
A tinkling, like that of tiny bells interrupted his reverie. He opened his eyes and turned toward the entrance. The passage was dark and sound carried a long way. Janai rose, dashed across the room and grabbed up a sword and shield. Despite the elf’s soft appearance, she wielded the weapons with the competence of a veteran warrior.
Bannor grabbed up his axes as the sound grew more distinct. He’d heard that noise before, but couldn’t place it. Janai pushed him to one wall and took a position between him and the entrance.
He braced against the stone, watching Janai’s reactions as she stared into the dark passage. With her night vision she would know the nature of the intruder long before he even saw movement. Already, his axes were beginning to feel heavy in his hands. He needed his strength back—now.
As the jingling grew closer, Janai tensed. Instants passed then he could make out a pair of emerald colored glows in the darkness: elven eyes. The princess didn’t move. She simply held her ground.
Whoever it this happened to be, they weren’t trying to sneak up on them, not with bells on. Who had he met that wore bells?
Finally, a figure resolved out of the darkness, a chunky russet-blonde woman with dark skin and pointed ears. She wore a shiny blue gown with tiny brass spheres sewn all over it. It was Meliandri, the elf lady who’d cared for him when he first arrived in the caves.
“Stop,” Janai warned. “Dama Meliandri, why are you here?”
The elf bowed. She glanced to him with narrowed eyes. She focused back on Janai. “Arminwen. I bring news. News of betrayal.”
* * *
The wise mage does not rely entirely on her magic.
The boon granted by Alpha and Gaea is fickle, and many are the forces that may render incantations ineffective. For those occasions, it’s prudent to master dissuasive tactics that ensure your opponents do not get any inappropriate thoughts in their heads.
I have yet to see an occasion when a knee to the crouch failed to get their attention and render the proper attitude adjustment…
—From the Dedriad, ‘musings of an immortal’
Chapter Fifty-Two
« ^ »
His weakened legs still wobbly, Bannor leaned against the cool cavern wall and studied the dark-skinned elf, Meliandri. He shifted his grip on his axes. Janai, sword readied, took a step back to stand next to him. She, too, stared at the newcomer. Tall and broad, with russet hair and green eyes, the healer resembled no other elf in the caverns. Why couldn’t this have waited? He’d only now experienced encouraging success tapping into the Garmtur. He needed time to evaluate whether his Nola might be safely used to fight the avatars. Now, Meliandri showed up talking of betrayal. How did she know they were here? He found her timing suspicious.
Janai’s brow furrowed. She probably thought the same things. Janai hadn’t told him her orders, but he assumed keeping their whereabouts secret would be a part of them. Would they need to take Meliandri prisoner?
“Is either of you going to speak?” Meliandri asked. “This is important.”
“What’s important, is how you knew we were here,” he said.
She frowned. “That’s trivial. There’s a spy in the mountain.”
“Spy?” Janai scowled. “What does it have to do with us?”
“Yes,” he said. “Why tell us? Spy for whom?”
“For the avatars. Whom else would we be worried about?”
Bannor felt his neck hairs prickle. Janai didn’t look convinced; neither was he. What game could Meliandri be trying to play?
Neither Janai nor he said anything; they only kept a wary gaze on the elf lady. Meliandri’s green eyes flashed. She shook her hair away from her face and glared at them. “What’s wrong with you? This is a royal security matter!” She took a step forward.
Bannor backed up and raised his axes. Janai snapped her sword toward the red-haired elf’s throat. Her voice sounded as cold and vicious as Sarai’s ever had. “Any closer, dama, and you’ll force me to spill blood on your nice robe.”
Something didn’t feel right. What did she really want? To get close to one of them? He relaxed and let his Nola flood into his awareness again. Janai’s bright aura shimmered into view. By comparison, Meliandri’s threads looked dim, as though obscured by a haze of smoke. The outline of darkness resembled huge folded wings. A single thick silver strand appeared to extend up through the cavern roof.
The silver line made a cold prickling shoot through him. He’d seen a similar energy line before—emanating from—Nyst
ruul. The magic tying the avatar to his god Hecate.
His heart started pounding. He dropped one of his axes. “Janai, back away—now. A sword won’t stop her.”
“What?”
“Do it!” When the princess hesitated, he gathered all her threads together with one sweep of his arm and jerked her to him. Janai gasped, flew backward, and thudded into his chest.
At the same instant, the glow of Meliandri’s eyes flared. A sizzling sound echoed through the cavern as her hand clawed through the spot where the princess once stood. Her fingers left five ragged glowing rips in the air where she’d struck. Pulsing red energy wept from area as if the attack had made scratches in reality.
Bannor blinked, the brightness of the light left trails and after-images in his vision. He staggered backward flailing to keep himself and Janai from falling. He hadn’t meant to pull Janai so hard. His Garmtur might be under better control, but it remained unpredictable.
The dark shroud surrounding Meliandri’s aura unfurled, revealing a twisting nimbus of fiery reds and yellows. Her green eyes turned the color of obsidian, and then the elf’s whole body shimmered like a pond reflection disturbed by ripples. When the wavering stopped, a pale woman stood before them. Rays emanated from her milky skin, bathing the cave in what appeared to be moonlight.
“Hecate,” he growled.
The princess’ eyes widened, and the color left her face. The sword in her hand began shudder.
“You disappoint me, Garmtur,” Hecate’s avatar said in an echoing voice. “I thought we had a deal.”
Bannor’s stomach knotted, but he kept his tone level. “I don’t deal with murderers.”
The goddess smiled with perfect white teeth. A blast of cold damp air hummed through the room making spirals of dust. Bannor’s skin prickled as what felt like clammy tendrils brushed against his skin.
Hecate shook her finger at him. “Such harsh words, Garmtur. You wound me.” She turned her head to look at him askance. “I see you resolved your little marital dispute.”
He shuddered, and his heart skipped a beat. “You knew. You told me the poison was killing me!”
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