Initially, that bothered Bolin, because letting go felt too much like a betrayal of Nialyne's memory. He wrestled with that for a bit, before he could convince his thoughts to wander elsewhere.
The shock of the Goddess's visit, combined with the depths of his anger at her, had blinded Bolin to the enormity of the incident. He'd been so deeply mired in his own misery, he couldn't see beyond it. That little sliver of the witch's magic the Goddess, Thadeus, and Dain saw as a problem, Bolin saw as a tool. Or, more accurately, as a weapon. Granted, using it tended to bring mixed results. No doubt it aided him in locating the witch, but it had also come very close to killing him. No, worse. It came very close to shredding him, and remaking him into something completely different.
Over the course of his years, Bolin had found himself tempted by power, wavering on the edge of grasping it. He couldn't deny that. Never did that temptation originate from within, however. Then again, he rarely held power for any length of time and, when he did, he always had control of it. The witch's power defied his efforts to find it, and seemed to delight in rising up without warning. When Bolin thought about that last fact, something very close to panic threatened to overwhelm him.
If the Goddess was right, Bolin saw only one course of action. He needed to find a way to control the witch's magic, and use it to put an end to her once and for all. He risked losing himself, but the alternative meant putting everyone he cared for, everyone he swore his life to protect, in danger.
Their arrival at the Eastern Road pulled Bolin out of his thoughts. He held Sandeen back to fall in alongside Dain.
"We'll need to talk when we make camp," Dain said.
Bolin nodded. "Aye. And, as we're on our way back, perhaps you'll share with me what Ari's message contained? Or had you hoped I'd forgotten?"
"As a matter of fact, I'd forgotten. It's a small issue, in the face of all else."
"But you're concerned I won't agree with that assessment?"
Dain glanced his way. "I'm quite certain you won't. Don't give me that look. It's well in hand at the moment, and we're a long way from Nisair. There's little you could do save brood, and you do enough of that during the normal course of the day."
"If something's happened to Ciara, I've a right to know."
"What makes you think it has anything to do with Ciara?"
When Bolin merely tipped his head and gave Dain a pointed glare, the Emperor blew out an exasperated sigh.
"As far as I know, Ciara is fine," he said. "The Council, on the other hand, is having difficulty dealing with recent events, and Ari has her hands full dealing with them. She is, however, more than capable of doing so. In any case, given the leagues between us and Nisair, we'll have to trust to her tact and diplomacy to keep order until our return. A more pressing concern, is getting you back so Thadeus can find a way to rid you of that stray magic."
Bolin scratched his jaw. "As you said, we need to talk."
A rain-scented breeze swept in from the east as dusk set in. Sandeen pranced restlessly, ears flicking, and Bolin reached out to stroke the stallion's neck. He tossed his head, sidling sideways. It brought a frown from Dain as he edged his own horse out of the way. Bolin swiveled in the saddle to look down the line of men riding two abreast behind them. He caught Captain Everyn's eye and tipped his head to signal him forward.
"How many scouts are out?" Bolin asked.
"Two to the fore and flank. One to the rear." Everyn quirked a brow. "You want me to send a few more?"
"No." Bolin scanned the sky and a chill raced up his spine.
Everyn followed his gaze. "Something on the wind, General?"
Time to play.
Dain called Bolin's name sharply, a warning in the tone of it. Bolin turned, following the Emperor's upward gesture toward what looked like a dark cloud scuttling beneath the others. Somewhere down the line, a horse whickered.
"Have the men form up," Bolin said to Everyn, not taking his eyes from the dark shape. "They won't be able to do much besides stand firm and keep their horses from panicking. It looks like we've more than one wraith to deal with this time."
"Aye." The captain spun his mount and cantered back down the line, shouting orders as he went.
The singular shape streaked suddenly downward, fragmenting into first two, then six, then a dozen or more wraiths that streamed toward the column of riders, a high-pitched wail preceding them. Horses screamed in panic, and Bolin prayed the men would hold as Dain's power snapped around them, an opalescent shimmer no wraith could penetrate. As long as the men stayed within its confines they'd be safe. Wraiths relied on chaos as much as fear, and one tended to breed the other.
The first one to hit the Emperor's wards shrieked in pain and fury, veering off before rejoining the others. Sandeen reared as one darted Bolin's way, and the Emperor cursed when his horse lurched forward. Ciara's pendant blazed against Bolin's breast as he pulled magic from it to send hurtling toward the wraith. The specter twisted in mid-air, fluttering like a wounded bird as it crashed to the ground.
"Hold!" Everyn called out, managing to roll command, concern, and warning into the one word. "Stay in ranks."
"To the rear!" Someone yelled, and Bolin spun Sandeen in time to see several soldiers forced beyond the reach of Dain's wards, fighting to bring their terror-stricken horses under control.
They were swarmed as soon as they broke clear of the ward, their horrified screams adding to the confusion. Bolin galloped toward them at the same time as Everyn, but he was better prepared than the captain. He caught a bit of Dain's power, twisted it to suit his purpose, and caught the wraiths unaware. They disintegrated, and a horse that had been enfolded in one of their grasps dropped to the ground with a sickening thud. Sandeen's hooves threw up clods of turf as he sank back on his haunches at Bolin's command.
"Get them back inside the wards," he yelled to Everyn.
Another group of wraiths dove in from the opposite side, streaking low between the trees, twisting and screeching. They seemed far too insubstantial a being to wreak such havoc, but the fear they sowed in the horses traveled through the men like fire through kindling.
Dain's ward flared outward, eliminating another handful, but for each one that fell, it seemed two more appeared to take its place, until the sky became thick with them. More soldiers were forced down the road, herded away from the main force. The men had the good sense to dismount and fall into formation, but their unified front stood little chance of holding against the swift terror haranguing them.
Bolin gave pursuit. The touch of the wraiths' innate magic chilled him to the bone, but he pulled it in regardless, wrapped a bit of the darker power of the pendant around it, and sent it tearing into the group.
He never saw it hit. The moment Bolin released the bolt, Sandeen screamed, his muscles bunched, and he wheeled to strike out in a move that would have unseated a lesser rider. Bolin twisted, trying desperately to keep the wraiths in sight. Motion to his left caught his eye, but before he could face it, a wraith caught him hard across the chest and ripped him from Sandeen's back. The breath exploded from his lungs, the creature making it impossible to reclaim any of it by sprawling across him. Sandeen's deadly hooves slammed into the ground a scant finger's width from Bolin's head, peppering him with dirt as the horse whirled and danced in a blend of fury and fear.
Bolin bucked upwards, trying to dislodge the wraith before the stallion inadvertently pummeled them into the earth. Needle-like fingernails tore at him, drove through leather and mail, and sent the cold of death seeping through him. With it came every fear, every nightmare, a bombardment of suppressed horror choking him with its potency.
Bolin reached for the power of the Greensward and forced a sizeable jolt of it up into the wraith straddling him. The creature vanished in a flash of brilliance a moment before the side of Bolin's skull erupted in pain and everything went momentarily black.
Instinct sent him rolling until he couldn't any more. He shoved to his elbows, ears ringing, bl
inking in an attempt to clear his vision. He managed to get to his hands and knees, fighting back a wave of nausea and dizziness. The world around him had gone suddenly quiet. He would have thought it was only the buzzing in his head overriding all other sound, until he heard voices. Or, in actuality, one voice. One voice uttering words of power that slid across his flesh, chilling him worse than any wraith. They slithered beneath his skin to wrap him in a slick embrace and the witch's magic answered like a hound to its master's call.
He gasped, reaching out, frantically seeking any power nearby and finding none. A cold dread filled him. Then the pendant flared once at his breast, as though in defiance, before it, too, became swallowed in waves of black.
"No."
The word fell like a plea from Bolin's lips. Every bit of power, down to the tiniest speck of magic that used to color his world, disappeared from his sight. Though his eyes cleared, showing him the chaos still surging around him, and Sandeen standing quivering, reins tangled in a low shrub, the radiance of Bolin's world had vanished. Horror constricted his throat and stole the moisture from his mouth as his breath shook from his body in stuttering, ragged gulps.
"Goddess above," he whispered. "Not this. Anything but this."
Someone grabbed him by the arm, yanked him to his feet, and shoved him forward until another body stopped his momentum. Sounds erupted once more: men, horses, Everyn shouting orders. Dain's power coursed around him and Bolin sucked it in like a thirsting man gulping water. He shook his head to clear it and the ground tipped perilously beneath him.
"Bolin?"
He blinked the sky into focus. A moment of disorientation knotted his stomach when he realized he was once more on his back, yet could find no memory of getting there. Then Dain wavered into view, Captain Everyn behind him, looking every bit as concerned as the Emperor, his attention split between the sky above and Bolin, lying on the ground.
"Help me up," Bolin said, his voice rough.
Dain put a hand on his shoulder to keep him prone. "Give it a moment. Last time we had you on your feet, you didn't stay that way very long."
"I think they're gone," Everyn said, and turned his head to spit. He looked down at Bolin. "You still in one piece, General?"
"Aye." Though, from the throbbing in his skull, and the fact his voice sounded like gravel under a wagon wheel, Bolin didn't know if he believed that any more than the two men giving him skeptical looks. "Either help me up, or get out of my way."
Everyn gave a tight grin. "He's fine." He helped Dain pull Bolin upright. "I'll get some order restored and send Sully over. You might need stitches."
He strode off, head in constant motion as he scanned the sky. Bolin put a hand up, gingerly feeling the sticky lump on the side of his skull as he took stock of the scene. Even though at least two horses were dead, and several men were seated on the ground being tended, a sense of order prevailed.
Bolin hesitantly allowed his focus to slip inward, fear at what he would find, or, perhaps, hot find, making it more difficult than it had ever been. He reached for Ciara's pendant first, and it warmed against his breast. Taking courage from that, he dove deeper, toward the place where the power of the Greensward nestled.
An audible gust of relief escaped him and he sagged back. Dain caught him once again and, this time, Bolin allowed the Emperor to guide him to a nearby rock and lower him to sit. Bolin cradled his head in his hands, the tremor in his arms working through his entire body. Dain walked away, a murmur of voices followed, then Everyn's voice cut through the rest, calling for Sully.
For any of Sciathian blood, the presence of magic in the world was a constant. Bolin needed it as thoroughly and desperately as he needed air, and thought about it as frequently as he did breathing, which was never, until he couldn't any longer. To have it removed from him completely, even for the space of a few heartbeats, had been the most horrific thing he'd ever experienced. It eclipsed even the memories of Nialyne dying in his arms.
"Something more than wraiths and a blow to the head has a grip on you," Dain said softly. He lowered himself to squat in front of Bolin and passed him a water skin.
Bolin drank deeply, even more so when he discovered Dain had brought him spiced wine and not water. The tremors stopped, but he felt as though he'd been beaten and dragged behind a horse for leagues on end. He stared into the distance, his eyes settling on the unmoving body of a horse.
Dain laid a hand on his arm to draw his look. His eyes widened, shading to deep blue. "Goddess's blood, Bolin. I don't know what's worse. Feeling the terror radiating from you, or seeing it swirling in your eyes."
"You should be on this side of it," Bolin said, his voice steadier than he would have thought it could be.
"I'd rather not. What is it?"
Bolin looked past Dain to where the men had regrouped. Things could have gone much worse. Everyn glanced his way, and Bolin gave a short nod.
"Not here," he said to Dain, taking another long pull from the skin before standing. "We need--"
Something buzzed past his head. A soldier gave a startled cry as a black feathered arrow hit him high in the shoulder, but didn't penetrate his mail. Bolin shoved Dain toward the men. As more arrows followed, he drew his sword to face the new threat. Captain Everyn's voice rose up once again, Sully's joining it as the lieutenant called orders to a handful of men, pulling them in to surround the Emperor.
A barrage of war cries heralded the band of marauders as they rushed onto the road in a disorganized rabble. They had little hope of success against the training and discipline of the Imperial Guard, provided they could shake off the panic instilled by the wraiths.
As Bolin headed toward the fray, a drawn out screech cut through the air, drawing his gaze skyward to the fluttering shapes of more wraiths.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
"Watch the flank!"
Berk whirled at Captain Everyn's warning. He glanced back toward the Emperor, saw him well protected, and sprinted off to help bolster the flagging line. A group of marauders managed to separate a handful of the Guard, who were now being harangued by wraiths as well. One of the soldiers tripped over a fallen horse and went down. He rolled enough to avoid the first downward chop of an axe from a pursuing marauder, but that put him up against the front quarter of the horse with no place to go.
Berk lowered his shoulder and charged. He caught the marauder in the back and sent him crashing headlong into one of his companions. The man righted himself and whipped around, a snarl disfiguring his face. Berk raised his sword, wide and off-point, allowing the marauder to slap it out of the way. The man blundered forward, grinning in a wide display of jagged teeth. Berk shifted his weight back and to the left, then slid forward, his dagger flashing up. His arm jarred as the blade hit boiled leather, punched through the first layer, then caught on something harder beneath. The move put Berk inside the circle of the man's arms and before he could take advantage of that, Berk reversed his grip on his sword and slammed the pommel up under the marauder's jaw. Bone cracked, and the marauder's head snapped back taking the rest of his body with it. Berk brought his sword around, centered over the man's chest, and threw his weight behind the downward stab. This time the blade penetrated. The man's eyes bulged as he blew out a surprised grunt through his shattered jaw. Berk yanked the weapon pulled free as another marauder started toward him. The man fell to another soldier's blow before he could bring his axe around.
A shadow flickered at the edge of Berk's vision and he threw himself to the side under the fluttering of a wraith. It screeched as it dropped into the melee. Berk thrust into it, and his sword passed through like water. An icy chill ran back up the blade, all the way to Berk's shoulder. With it came overwhelming terror. A thousand fears crowded Berk's mind in the space of a single breath, and he staggered back, heart slamming in his chest, muscles suddenly weak and trembling.
The wraith crouched, a plaintive, enticing whine rising from it as it shuffled toward Berk. It crept over the marauder on the grou
nd, then looked down with a hiss when the man whimpered. The wraith mantled over him like some malformed hunting bird, and the man's whimper became a nerve-rending scream. A nearby soldier skittered away from the scene, and the wraith's head swung to follow his retreat. The Guardsman raised a hand in front of his face as though to ward the creature off, scuttled after him.
The horror drained from Berk as soon as the wraith's attention turned elsewhere. He darted forward, unsure what he intended. His sword had already proven ineffectual against the thing, so he threw himself bodily at it, hoping to distract it from its new quarry. Hitting a solid shape beneath the flapping rags caught Berk by surprise, but as he drove it to the ground, the chill crept through him again and, with it, the fear.
"Not again." Berk growled the words between clenched teeth, and thrust himself off the wraith as he forced the dread down.
The images the creature showed him were nothing new. Berk had been living with one version or another of them for weeks, until the Emperor had removed whatever spell the woman's touch had put on him. They had haunted his sleep, and pestered his waking mind, giving him plenty of practice at ignoring them or, at least, not letting them rule him. He pushed them aside and clambered to his feet, swinging his sword at the creature. He knew he couldn't kill it, but hoped to be enough of a pest that it would opt to leave.
It hissed, then grabbed for the retreating soldier. The man's feet tangled and he fell. Berk leapt in front of the wraith, continuing to swing his sword in whistling arcs. The wraith reared back, keening, then twisted, gave one final grating cry at Berk, twirled in the air, and pounced once again on the fallen marauder. The man's screams were cut short as the wraith lifted him skyward.
Berk rubbed a shaking hand across his jaw and darted a look around before reaching down to link arms with the soldier and help him to his feet.
Edge of Darkness ~ A Darkness & Light Novel Book Three Page 25