Dust of Dreams: Guardians of Light, Book 4

by Renee Wildes

  “Nay!” A savage blast of rage from the sorcerer. Rage more at himself losing control, his minions slipping their leashes, than at Pryseis’ interference. A blast of blue black power exploded from the staff, through their minds, shards of darkness shattering Pryseis’ web. Benilo heard her scream, heard the goblins scream and drop afore searing agony overwhelmed him and everything went black.

  He awoke to a world of raw pain. He started to look around him, but only his one good eye opened—the other was swollen shut. He tasted blood. Just a torn lip, jaw swollen but undamaged. He probed with his tongue; teeth intact. He focused on a wall of blankets. Some sort of tent? He bent his legs, and the rattle of chain made him look down. An ankle cuff similar to Pryseis’.

  Pryseis? Where was she? He flipped over, holding his breath at the sharp pain in his side. There she lay, unconscious. Too still. His heart froze, until he saw the shallow rise and fall of her chest. Her soft, pink-tipped breasts quivered with the movement. Still breathing. Still alive. A quick scan revealed no new physical harm to her, although her head would be pounding at least as hard as his when she woke. Someone had tried to treat a tear in her delicate, iridescent wing, but that was not a mortal injury.

  Now Benilo risked a self-scan. Everything was battered and bruised. The worst injuries were the rib-punctured lung and the blow to his lower back. Slowly, carefully, sifting “self” from pain, he began trance-healing. “Banisha verilli far. Gloria verilli far…” Drawing on the surrounding earth, he decreased his breathing and pulse. Blood flow slowed…slowed… Seeping wounds clotted together. He stopped after healing the internal damage, shaking with weakness from the effort. He dared not risk the additional strain of healing the external. He looked injured, without lasting damage. He needed food and rest. The former would not be forthcoming. Dare he risk the latter?

  He dragged himself over to Pryseis, brushed the glistening hair back from her face. Long shimmering strands, like iridescent silk, caressed his hand. Her skin was so soft. No bruising marred the pearly glow. He ran a hand down the curves of her body, checking for internal injuries. She seemed fine—except for being unconscious. Blurring vision warned him to conserve his strength. Dracken rue, he had once been able to do so much more than this! He reached out to the earth, to the water in the hot spring, to the deep fire making the water hot, to the air around him. Each in turn, drawing a bit of strength from each until his vision cleared and he stopped shaking. His headache dropped to tolerable.

  Deciding it worth the risk, he drew Pryseis into his arms and held her close, reaching out with his own mind to brush hers. “Pryseis?” He waited a moment. “Can you hear me?”

  Pryseis stirred. “It worked. You’re still alive.” She opened her eyes, and gasped. “You look terrible!” she whispered, reaching out her hand to trace his lips.

  He fought the temptation to drown in her misty amethyst gaze, and reached out with his mind to touch the pain she bore—part overreaching with her own gift and part the sorcerer’s attack. He pulled it from her, much as he had the nightmares of the women and girls in Shamar. Then it had poisoned him. One more now would not make much difference.

  But it would help Pryseis.

  “What did you do?” she mind-sent. “Cease. Heal yourself first.”

  “I did.” He pulled some more power from the elements until the double-headache receded. “I imagine I look worse than I feel.”

  She snorted. “Somehow I doubt it.”

  “Food would help.” Benilo spoke this aloud.

  Pryseis grimaced. “Brace yourself. They have a meat-based diet—roasted bats and even the porridge has grubs or maggots in it. I wouldn’t recommend it.”

  “You have eaten naught?”

  “I’m not that hungry.”

  Benilo considered their options. He could sustain himself for weeks if needs be on elemental power, but her situation was much more precarious. If she didn’t return to the sun and the pool… “I met Dax.”

  Pryseis jerked at that statement. Tears welled. “He’s alive?”

  Benilo nodded. “I found him in the cave and healed him. He made it to my people with the amulet.”

  She started to shake, and Benilo found himself holding her closer. Part of him marveled at how right she felt in his arms, the ease with which they were able to speak mind-to-mind. How they had connected, how he had been able to find her through fathoms of the unkenned, almost as if they were…she was… He rejected the idea. She was not his life mate. Surely the Lady would not be so cruel?

  But even as the possibility registered, his body stirred. The words of the vow crept into his mind. He swept them aside. What had he done to merit such an extraordinary person? He was the last thing Pryseis needed.

  “Thank you,” she whispered in his ear.

  He frowned. He did not want her gratitude. “Shh, now. Easy. You must rest.”

  She shuddered. “Sleep brings me closer to his nightmares. He’s here. He’s right outside. I can sense him. But sleep brings me closer to everyone’s nightmares. They’re worse here. There’s something about this place. The sorcerer. Even—” She stopped, her cheeks flaming.

  “What?” he asked.

  “’Tis naught.” Pryseis refused to meet his gaze, but his mind caught an image of the two of them entwined afore she could censor the thought.

  Ah—so it had been both of them there in the dream-mist. Even now he felt the silken slide of her skin against him, the soft curtain of her hair wrapped around them. Her legs wrapped around him.

  “Cease!” she hissed. “’Twas just a dream.”

  “Was it? We both had the same dream?” He raised a brow, daring her to negate the fact.

  An adorable blush spread all the way down to her toes. Her skin heated against his.

  “Now is not the time to bring that up.”

  She was right. Benilo removed himself from temptation and sat up. “What goes on here? What do they want with you?”

  Pryseis ran a hand through her hair. It shimmered in the dim light. “The sorcerer wants something from me, but I don’t ken what. Communication is a serious problem. I can’t ken them when I’m awake. When I’m asleep, he keeps asking if I feel it too, if I sense it too.”

  “Sense what?”

  A shadow crossed her face. “Just wait. ’Tis a darkness creeping in. Fear. Doubt. There’s something here that magnifies every bit of negativity. Fear to terror. Anger to violence.” She hesitated. “Desire to lust.”

  “And the lad?”

  “’Tis all but crippling him. He looks like he hasn’t eaten for days. I made them feed him my portion.” She grimaced. “Apparently, they like grubs. Either that or he was too hungry to care.” Pryseis held out her hands, studying them with a frown.

  Benilo tensed. “What is it?”

  “They’re fading. ’Tis not noticeable yet.”

  He recalled Dax’s warning. “Elixir.”

  “He told you?” She bit her lip. “How long’s it been? ’Tis impossible to keep track of time down here.”

  “I’m not sure.” Benilo shook his head. “Pryseis, what happens after seven days?”

  “Remember what happened to Shallan when she tried to travel to Poshnari-Unai with that elven mage, Anika?” Hallar had said. “Shallan scoffed at the pool legend, and when Anika brought her back, she was barely alive. You can’t leave, Pryseis. It’ll kill you.”

  Pryseis gasped and shuddered, running her hands over her arms to stave off the chill in her heart. “I’ll fade and weaken. They taunted me, said Dax was coming along to carry my body home when I fell.”

  Anger flashed in his blue eyes. “Who said that?”

  “The faerie council, in an attempt to change my mind.” She offered a wan smile. “I should have listened to them.” The chain attached to her ankle scraped with her every movement.

  Benilo staggered a bit as he stood, pulling her up with him. “We are not dead yet. You cannot lose hope.”

  He looked terrible, probably felt ten tim
es worse. Every bruise shone dark against his fair skin. Shame flushed her cheeks. That he encouraged her! Pryseis paced to the doorway and peered out. The lad stared up at her from where he sat weaving. She saw dark clouds obscuring the full moon, shadows stretching from giant boulders across the barren ground. Cheery piece. One shadow in particular caught her attention. It almost looked like the monster in her vision—that same spiky profile. It loomed over a prone shadow that resembled the body of the goblin slain earlier.

  He returned to his work.

  Pryseis ducked back into the tent. Benilo peered out a crack in the cloth on the opposite end. “What are they doing?” she asked.

  “Half of them are passed out, snoring,” he reported.

  She shivered. “I should join them.”

  He crossed the floor to pull her into his arms. His mind brushed hers. “It is not safe.”

  “But ’tis the only way to ken what’s going on, if things are getting worse.” Pryseis didn’t look forward to it, but what choice was there?

  “Well, you shall not go alone.” Benilo clenched his jaw, looking rather fierce for a healer. “Where you go, I go. You could use the support.”

  She searched his face. “You don’t want to do that.”

  “What? Leave you to face them alone? I think not.”

  Her heart tripped at his words. Of their own volition, her fingers brushed his lips. Swollen, not yet healed from the beating. His eyes darkened at her touch, and he curled a hand behind her neck to draw her closer. Pryseis barely had time to gasp afore he swallowed it in a light, tender kiss. The wet velvet of his tongue brushed over her lower lip, and she heard a moan. His or hers? She stiffened and tried to pull back, but he was having none of that. His other arm slid around her waist, and he deepened the kiss as if he felt no pain at all.

  Desire, yearning, rose hot and swift. She trembled, remembering the taste of him, the feel of him under her hands. But this was no dream. He was real. Hot skin over hard muscle, solid warmth. Strong hands with calloused fingers glided across her skin. She raised her arms, slid her hands up over his shoulders to anchor in his hair. Long, silken soft where everything else was so hard, it spilled across his shoulders, across her own like a cloud of winter sunlight. Almost binding them together.

  “You are not alone, Pryseis. You do not face the dark alone.”

  His fingers brushed her injured wing, and she felt a warm glow as the torn edges drew together. There was a painful tingle as they merged, seamless and whole. It itched in the aftermath of the unexpected healing. Benilo swayed against her, and Pryseis broke off the kiss to catch him as his knees buckled.

  “Why did you do that?” she scolded in a harsh whisper. He risked strength he could ill afford. “I could have borne it.”

  “Well, I could not.” He took a deep breath. Pryseis felt a slight pulling, and he steadied on his feet.

  “Lie down afore you fall down.” She followed him down onto the rough blankets. Benilo drew her into his arms. His heart beat under her ear, a comforting affirmation of life. She snuggled closer to his warmth, grateful to not be alone. “I’m sorry you got caught in this mess.”

  His strong, lean-muscled arms tightened around her. “I have no regrets. Better to try than do naught.”

  He mirrored her sentiments. Her body exhausted, her mind drifted off in shallow slumber. She skirted the edges of her web. It felt so fragile against the searing darkness. Tattered and torn, yet still it stood, pulling what it could from the horrors swirling about it. Fear. Anger. Sorrow.

  Red eyes blazed at her from the inky blackness, a blast of icy wind as the lad’s monster hissed and bared bloody fangs at her. She spun an extra strand of Light around the frayed edge of the net. “Leave him alone,” she ordered. “Leave these people in peace. You aren’t welcome here.” Black laughter rolled over her, as if it kenned she was no match for it. But she stood her ground. If she failed, there was no one else.

  A hand rested against the small of her back. A trickle of energy flowed into her. The solidity of earth. The heat of fire. The refreshing cleansing of water. The swirling energy of air. Benilo stood behind her, lending her what strength he could whilst she shored her crumbling defenses. Strength that cost him dearly, yet he gave without hesitation, without flinching.

  “Mother of All, aid me now.” Pryseis reached through the earth for the wind and the rain, for the sun, pulling and spinning with her whole heart, until her entire web flashed and sparkled with Light. It shook off the damage, once again standing whole against the darkness, pulling the threads from the sleepers around it.

  It was enough.

  She shivered, raising icy hands to her cheeks. She stared in dismay at her fingers. It was gone. Her radiance was gone, transferred to the glowing threads of her dream-catcher. Horror washed over her, snapped her out of her dream-state into the awake. She sat bolt upright, stared at her arms, her legs. The glowing radiance was gone. Even her hair looked dull and flat. Her heart thundered in her ears, in her throat.

  “What’s wrong?” Benilo was blurry through the stinging rush of hot tears. He reached for her. “What happened? What did you do?”

  She couldn’t speak for the lump in her throat. The thought of what happened after chilled her. She had naught left to give. At least the strength of the net held the weakness at bay. “The web. As long as it stands, so do I.”

  “And if it fails?” His face was white, even in the green glow.

  Pryseis shuddered.

  Chapter Seven

  Dax paused yet again to let the young elven healer catch up. Brannan, for all his good intentions and enthusiasm, had spent too much time at his studies and not enough time doing physical activities. If he hadn’t needed Brannan, Dax would have been tempted to leave him gasping for breath atop the second hill. But there was something so earnest about the young healer, so noble in his conviction that helping his mentor was the right thing to do, that Dax had to respect it. Admire it. Even whilst grinding his teeth at the delays.

  It wasn’t like anyone else had been moved to help.

  New Moon flew above them, leading them back to the cave where she’d found him. Dax looked back at Brannan, who’d almost caught up. “You all right?”

  The healer nodded. At least the lad had the sense to save his breath. “How far?”

  “Night and a bit.” Dax looked up at the sun. “Should make time whilst we’ve light. How long does that spell last?”

  Brannan’s lips thinned. “They already look. They have not located me yet.”

  When they did, it wouldn’t be pretty.

  Dax handed him a travel strip, but Brannan shook his head. “Spirit healers are forbidden meat. It is a balance requirement—no blood on our hands or the elements become skewed.” He pulled out a trail cake, looked at it without enthusiasm and took a bite, chewing with an air of resignation. “Lord Elio—” He swallowed, “—thinks they are dead. He would not say it, but that is what they think. But Benilo is not. I would ken.”

  So much for him saving his breath.

  Dax nodded. “Aunt Pryseis was taken alive when I fell. If they wanted her dead, she would be already. I have to keep thinking they want her alive for a reason, and as long as they live, rescue is possible. We either bring them back alive, or we see for ourselves that they’re dead.” Rage flared, and he curled his fingers into fists. “Mother help the little kherpaks if she’s dead.”

  Something in his face made Brannan swallow hard and back up a step.

  “I’m not going to kill you, elf.” Dax growled and stomped after New Moon.

  “Aunt Pryseis.” Brannan hustled to keep up. “So, your mother was troll and your father was faerie?”

  Dax shot him a look that warned people to cease discussion of the current topic.

  Brannan the Oblivious plunged on. “I did not think that possible.”

  “Your king married a human-dragon.” Dax curled his lip. “’Tis possible.”

  “I did not mean that,” Brannan huffed, ro
lling his green eyes. “I thought trolls and faeries were enemies.”

  Dax stopped walking and spun on his heel. “Why? Because elves and faeries are friends and elves and trolls are enemies? You just assume trolls and faeries also must be enemies?” He glowered. “You ken naught of it.”

  Brannan refused to cower, even when Dax loomed at his most threatening over him. Dax had to give him credit for that. Part brash courage, part blind ignorance.

  “You are correct in that. We kenned naught of it.” Brannan the Earnest raised his chin. “It is wrong to make assumptions based on ignorance. So enlighten me. How did the trolls come to side with the faeries? What broke the troll-goblin alliance?”

  “When did the dwarves and elves become allies?” Dax challenged. He would not discuss Enoka Pass with an elf.

  New Moon screeched at them to keep moving. Both men resumed their purposeful striding through the woods. Brannan stretched out the momentary silence by finishing his trail cake. “Queen Dara had an illness our mages could not treat.”

  “Iron poisoning?” Only thing Dax could remember about dragon weakness. Everyone kenned elven magic was a four-point compass. Metal mages were nonexistent—that had been one of the dwarven advantages in the conflicts.

  Brannan nodded. “Ambassador Pahn is an adept-class metal mage and answered the call for aid. She healed the queen and helped banish a demon from the mortal realm. Afterward, the decision was reached to try and put aside differences.”

  Huh. “The faeries have always been neutral in the conflicts, helping all indirectly whilst helping none directly,” Dax tried to explain.

  “That is as clear as mud,” Brannan complained. “I gave you a straight answer.”

  “Faeries have special powers to influence character and destinies, by spinning spirit webs or nets that are infused with certain emotions, positive energy.” Dax glared at Brannan’s look of disgust. “This is not so easy to explain as you hoped. The nets affect hopes, wishes, dreams. Filtering out negativity, strengthening those specific aspects of the Light. They’re what have kept the wars to mere skirmishes, battles, not interracial war on a grander scale.”