"We've no idea what we're walking into," he said.
Ciara pushed his arm aside and dropped to the ground. "Andrakaos would have warned us if something was wrong."
"His idea of wrong differs greatly from mine."
Ciara ignored him. She darted through the rubble without waiting for Ferris to follow, her thoughts for Bolin alone, even if it meant facing an entire host of marauders. No marauders awaited Ciara when she rounded a pile of rubble and burst into a makeshift camp. One figure lay wrapped in a cloak near the fire, a second rose hastily at her sudden arrival, and backed to the wall, hand upraised to ward her off.
"Don't."
"M'lady, wait." Ferris caught Ciara by the arm and stepped in front of her.
She twisted in his grip, trying in vain to sidestep him. "Let go of me."
"Listen to him, Ciara," Bolin said, his voice raw. "You can't be here. Tell me you're nothing more than imagination."
"We can undo this." Ciara leaned around Ferris, her stomach in knots. "Thadeus told Andrakaos what we need to do. He's gone to find the Emperor and bring him here. We'll set things right."
"How is it you're even here?" Bolin asked. Then his chin lifted, and Ciara didn't need to look behind her to know Donovan had made his presence known. "Of course. I should have known your hand was in this."
"Not in the manner you would suspect," Donovan said.
"No?" Bolin curled a lip. "This is your doing. You unleashed that witch."
"Hardly," Donovan said. "I am a victim here, as much as any."
Bolin barked out a harsh laugh. "A victim? You found her and tried to make use of her, brought her to Nisair. If not for you--" He broke off and jerked his attention toward Ferris. "He's not to be trusted. You realize that?"
"I would never believe otherwise."
"And you?" Bolin looked Ciara's way. "Has he managed to convince you he's deserving of your loyalty? That blood ties are stronger than oaths given?"
"He brought us to you," Ciara said, thought she hated sounding as though she was defending Donovan. "He told us what the priestess is planning. If he hadn't found me at High House we never would have known you were in danger."
"High House?" Bolin looked between Ciara and Ferris. "Why were you at High House?"
Ciara faltered. "That doesn't matter right now."
But Bolin took a step toward her. "I beg to differ."
"M'lord." Ferris stood between the two and put up a hand to keep Bolin in place. "We've other matters momentarily more pressing. Marauders, for example?"
"Mostly dead."
"Mostly?"
Bolin gave an irritated shrug as though the topic shouldn't have been of any concern. "One or two got away."
Ferris gestured toward the unmoving figure beside the fire. "Who's this, then?"
Bolin looked that way. His brow furrowed. "Berk. He could use a healer."
"Berk?" Ciara rushed past Ferris and dropped to her knees beside the still form. She laid a hand across his forehead and a sigh of relief escaped her when she felt no fever.
Berk stirred at her touch, blinking sleepily. "I must be dreaming," he said, his voice soft, the hint of a weary smile playing at the corners of his mouth. It faded as quickly as it came and he jerked upright, letting out a pained gasp. "General Bolin--"
Ciara tried to push him back. "He's fine. Lie down and let me--"
"No. I'm all right. Really."
Ciara lifted a brow. "Oh?"
"I'm just…" He rubbed a hand across his eyes. "I'm just exhausted."
"And injured."
She flicked the cloak back before he could stop her. A blood-soaked cloth bound his mid-section, another wrapped his upper arm. Ciara forced him to lay back and set to examining both wounds. Bolin had tended them as best he could, managing to, at least, stop the bleeding. The wound across Berk's arm proved to be little more than a deep scratch. His side, however, bore a wide puncture wound. Thankfully, not very deep, or Ciara would have been looking at a corpse.
"When did this happen?" she asked.
"Tonight. I think. Unless I slept through the day." His gaze shifted past her, then back, and he caught her by the wrist to try and push her away. "The general saw to it."
"It needs more than he could do. Stop being so stubborn."
"I'm not. I just… I don't think it's a good idea."
"You're not making sense." She felt his forehead a second time. "No, no fever. Did you hit your head as well?"
"I called his intentions regarding you into question," Bolin said from across the camp. He'd moved farther away from the fire and Ciara. "He's likely a bit leery of having you close by."
Ciara glanced back at him, aghast at the absurdity of it. "You did what?"
"I gave him my apologies."
"It's all right," Berk said, but he averted his gaze when Ciara turned her attention back to him, opting to look at some distant spot rather than her, and he tensed every time she touched him. "He's not… not in a good way right now. The general. He's not thinking clear. Don't hold anything against him."
"How long has he been like this?"
"I'm not sure. Everything's getting to be a bit of a blur. Three days at least. Maybe more."
Ciara's stomach knotted. She tried to concentrate on her healing, setting a spell to ease Berk's pain and mend flesh, all the while wishing she could do the same for Bolin. Some undercurrent in his voice frightened her. Or, more precisely, the lack of it did. He sounded… hollow. The rich, vibrant quality always present beneath his words was no longer there.
Berk rolled his head just enough to watch her from the corner of his eye. "Lenai's dead," he said softly. "The marauder chieftain. That's who attacked us. I'm not sorry I killed her."
Ciara's brow furrowed. "Why would you be?"
"You didn't want me to kill her when we were in their camp."
"That was different."
He glanced away again and when he spoke Ciara had to lower her head to hear. "He just wants you to be safe, you know? We all do. I should've kept my distance, but you're so different from anyone else I know. I care for you. He knows that. But I didn't mean to make him think you would ever--I know how it stands. I'm not that big a fool."
"Berk." Ciara laid a hand on his shoulder. "You're babbling. Go to sleep."
She wound her earth magic around the words and Berk's eyes finally drifted shut, his breathing became slow and deep, and a moment later a soft snore escaped him. Ciara pulled the cloak up to his shoulders and wiped a tangle of hair from his face. She couldn't deny she cared for Berk. He had never been anything other than kind, and proved his bravery on more than one occasion. Bolin, though, he made her heart sing, despite his best attempts to make her feel otherwise. Ciara knew life with him would always be a challenge, but she couldn't bear to think of how empty it would be without him.
She wiped her hands on her legs and stood. As she turned toward the fire, she found Bolin's gaze locked on her, his light eyes burning bright.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Ciara's presence picked at what remained of Bolin's reason. He'd convinced himself Andrakaos's arrival was just another symptom of his decaying sanity. Even if it hadn't been, Ciara should never have been so close by. For her to be there, in the company of Ferris, made no sense.
Donovan, however, Bolin had expected.
He turned his attention to the other man, standing off to the side, watching his every move. Waiting for… what? Waiting for Bolin to crumble further than he already had? Or waiting for the witch to arrive? This was his doing. All of it.
A sudden need to strangle the man surged through Bolin and he started forward, only to have someone block his path. His focus snapped to the figure in front of him.
Ferris watched him guardedly, hands raised. "Bide a moment."
Bolin blinked, and a sneer wrinkled his nose. "Serving as Donovan's guard, then?"
"I won't give that the answer it deserves." Ferris tipped his head and surveyed Bolin closer. "No offense, but you l
ook like yesterday's meal gone bad."
Bolin rubbed a hand along his jaw, the fight ebbing from him. "It's been a rough go."
He looked Ciara's way. A breeze brushed past them and tangled in her hair, tugging a loose strand across her face, and Bolin's heart jumped. Goddess's blood, it took everything he had not to go to her, to ease the worry in her eyes, to feel the caress of her power. The agony of it sent him stumbling back to seek the solidity of the wall. He flinched violently when Ferris laid a hand on his arm, waiting for the touch to finish ripping him apart. Begging for it do so.
"She can't be here." Bolin forced the words past the constriction of his throat. The denial had become his mantra, repeated over and over in an attempt to force it into reality. He squeezed his eyes shut, and clenched his teeth to keep them from chattering. "There's nothing you can do here. It's too late."
"You're still breathing, which tells me it's not."
"I call your oath," Bolin whispered.
Ferris shook his head. "It doesn't work that way."
"Would you rather I force your hand, then? Will that make it easier for you?"
"Nothing will make it easier for me, regardless of what you may think," Ferris said. "Did you not hear Lady Ciara? We can undo this. The gy'lafrei talked to Lord Thadeus. With the Emperor's help--"
Sweat spread across Bolin's brow and ran down the back of his neck. If he could have melted into the stone biting into his back and become one with the wall, he would have done so. So much power, and he could see none of it. Couldn't touch it, no matter how he tried. When he made the attempt--lightning lanced through his skull and Bolin's knees buckled. He clutched at the wall, as much to keep himself upright, as to give himself the strength not to succumb to the burning desire to run. A spike of adrenalin pushed his blood through his veins in a pounding, frantic surge. Bolin was a drowning man trapped beneath the ice, able to see the sun and sky, knowing the air he needed to fill his lungs existed only a finger's breadth from him, yet unable to reach it. He couldn't shatter the ice, no matter how hard he tried, and each attempted breath only filled his lungs with more frigid water.
Sharp pain pulled Bolin's eyes down. Ferris's fingernails bit into the flesh of his wrist, his hand close to the knife at the Sciath's hip. Bolin hadn't even been aware he'd reached for it.
"You need to fight this," Ferris said, his voice low and demanding.
"What do you think I've been doing?" Bolin's words were close to a hiss. His muscles tightened as he pushed against the Sciath's hold on him. His fingertips brushed the weapon's grip. If only he could close them around it.
"It's not going to happen that way." Ferris shoved Bolin's hand back, and braced a palm against his shoulder to keep him pinned to the wall. "Not like that."
Bolin tipped his head back. "I can't do this any longer."
"It'll be over soon. We'll undo the blinding. I swear to you."
Goddess's blood, not soon enough. Not nearly. Bolin gulped after a breath. Warmth eased through him from Ferris's touch, as soothing as a soft balm. His mind slowed, found and gathered the threads of rational thought that had escaped him with startling speed, began to reform them into coherent thought.
He inhaled again, and concentrated on merely filling his lungs as he tried to still the remaining flutters of dread vying for supremacy. Ferris became his rock. The calm certainty flowing from him pushed the clouds from Bolin's mind and brought him, for the moment, a sense of clarity he hadn't experienced in days.
"Coming back then, are you?" Ferris asked.
Bolin peered at him through his lashes. "How are you managing that?"
He gave a loose shrug. "Not consciously doing a thing."
Bolin took another breath and straightened off the wall. If he put himself outside the fortress he'd constructed around the chaos in his head, and kept very still, he could almost believe the nightmare had ended. "There are marauders about. At least two. Possibly more."
"I'm aware. They don't concern me."
"I'm in no condition to fight, and Berk's wounded."
Ferris grinned. "I'd still say the odds are in our favor."
A bit of the fortress crumbled, and Ferris's fingers tightened on Bolin's shoulder as though he sensed the sudden shift, his eyes intense in the early morning light.
"Ciara can't be here," Bolin said, sudden desperation leaching into his voice. "She'll kill her. She's told me as much."
"She?"
"His witch." He spat the words with a jerk of his head in Donovan's direction.
"Is that how she lured you from the Emperor's side, then?" Ferris asked. "Threats against those you love?"
"You doubt her sincerity or her reach? Or perhaps it's only me you doubt?"
"I don't know her. I know you. If you've acted because of her words, there's likely truth behind them."
"Likely? How generous of you."
Ferris blew out an exasperated sigh and Bolin dropped his gaze. An empty moment stretched between them as Bolin fought to maintain control of his once again rambling thoughts. There were very few left alive who could understand what he faced. One of them stood before him, prompting Bolin to reveal the terror assaulting him, even though he dreaded giving voice to it.
"It's gone," he said in a trembling whisper. "I don't know how she managed it, but there's nothing. Not even the faintest glimmer. I hold her power. I hold Nialyne's. And yet…" He held out a hand, palm up, empty and shaking.
Ferris covered it with his own. "You will get it back. I swear it." But his voice shook nearly as badly as Bolin's, and Bolin could see his own horror reflected deep in the Sciath's eyes, though he tried to conceal it.
"So what now?" Bolin asked.
"We wait."
"Wait?" He shoved forward, a sudden burst of rage driving him toward Donovan, but Ferris once more placed a hand against his chest to keep him in place. "She's on her way, isn't she? You've sent for her."
"I have as little desire for her to appear as you do," Donovan said. "Doubt my motives as you will, General, but do not believe I wish her success in any manner."
Bolin pressed his fingers against his temples. The pounding in his skull threatened to burst it wide open, and sent black specks scattering across his vision. Ferris's grip tightened.
"Whatever you're not doing," Bolin said in little more than a pained rasp, "it seems to help."
"Must be my natural charm. I'm finding it comes in handy every now and again."
Bolin snorted. He managed a calming breath, then another. He needed something else to focus on. Some other distraction for his mind. Then Ciara stepped up beside Ferris and Bolin instinctively reached out to touch her power. Agony knifed through him, and he bit his lip to keep from screaming. Ferris said something, but his words were lost in the roar of Bolin's pulse slamming in his ears.
"We will reverse this," Ferris said, urgency and desperation in his words.
"That's never been done," Bolin said between harsh gasps. He blinked furiously, trying to clear his vision. Ciara had moved off again and he tried to ignore the hurt in her expression because it made the unbearable even worse. He clutched at Ferris. "You can't stand against her if she comes before Dain arrives. Don't let Ciara try either. She'll kill you both. Let her take me."
Ferris's lips parted to give voice to the objection building behind his eyes.
Bolin didn't give him the chance. "Listen to me. She'll need to undo this. When she does, I'll have a split moment to act. I can use the power I hold--"
"You can't. Not like this."
"I can. You know that. We've no other choice. You honestly think he hasn't already summoned her? What do you intend to do if she comes for me before Dain gets here? Donovan won't stand with you, regardless of what he claims."
"If she shows herself before the Emperor arrives we'll deal with her. Until then, we wait." Ferris pried Bolin's fingers from him, though he didn't release his hands. "We will not lose you to this. I swear to you. Trust me."
Bolin gave a frustrated
growl and tried to shove Ferris away. "Go lick his boots, then. See what a faithful master he actually is."
Ferris would die if he faced the witch. Ciara would. Dain. Bolin would lose them all just as she had predicted. What did it matter if she won? They would be better served by a quick death than what awaited them at the hands of Darkness. Bolin couldn't allow that. While he drew breath, he wouldn't allow it.
He looked past Ferris, searching out Donovan once again. How he must be gloating. He'd always wanted to see Bolin crushed and now, here he stood, unable to keep his thoughts coherent, vacillating between confusion and moments of startling clarity, all of it intertwined with desperation born of weakness. He abhorred that more than anything.
"Goddess's blood, don't let me near a blade," he whispered.
"I've no such intention," Ferris said.
Bolin shifted his gaze back to the Sciath and a faint smile touched the corners of his mouth. "Not the best of circumstances to see one another again."
"Seems to be our way," Ferris said. "P'raps we should try changing that when this is over."
"You always were a bit of an optimist." Bolin relaxed out of Ferris's hold, forcing himself not to look toward Ciara again. He could do nothing to change the fact she was there, any more than he could stop the events looming ahead.
"She'll get through it as well."
Bolin cocked his head. "How is it you do that?"
Ferris shrugged. "'Tis a gift. Now, I've things to see to, but I'm going to find it hard if I'm standing guard over you the whole while. Not that I won't be in any case, but do me a favor, at least pretend to rest. It'll help the others do the same."
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Ciara followed Ferris to the creek to water the horses. Bolin's reaction to her presence frightened her, but not nearly as much as the depth of the fear emanating from Ferris. The Sciath's hands shook as he loosened Beya's bridle and let the bit drop from her mouth. He startled when Ciara laid a gentle hand on his arm.
"Ferris, what's wrong?"
He cleared his throat and rubbed the bottom of his jaw as he tipped his head back toward the fire. "How's the Guardsman?"
Edge of Darkness ~ A Darkness & Light Novel Book Three Page 33