He held the glob to eye level. Watching the priestess, he squeezed his fingers together. The bit of Dominion magic exploded like a ripe berry. Teeva gasped. The sound died on her lips as Donovan closed his hand around her throat, and slammed her back against the bookshelf. She clawed at his fingers, her eyes bulging.
"You will not approach him again," he said, his jaw tight, face close to hers. "You will not send the shades to find him unless I order you to do so. Then, and only then, will you be allowed contact with him. Do you understand me? He is far more dangerous than you can ever guess."
She nodded against his grip. As soon as he released her, she dropped into a crouch, balanced lightly on the balls of her feet and the knuckles of her left hand. Her right hand reached back as though for a weapon.
Donovan sneered and walked away. "Your only opportunity to move against me passed you by as I lay helpless in your hovel." He settled into a chair in front of the fire, purposefully putting his back to her. "You chose not to kill me because you saw in me something you are lacking. You desire your birthright: your power and the freedom to use it. I will give you both. Within limits. You will accept that, or you will become of little use to me."
She moved behind him. Donovan could feel her hatred as she lingered, indecision freezing her actions.
"You will not leave the fortress without my approval. Be assured, if you attempt it, even in the ethereal, I will know of it. There is nothing you do or think within these walls that I am not aware of."
He held his hand out to the side, beckoning her. She came slowly, and when she was near enough he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her to her knees.
"Tell me exactly what happened in that fetid stink hole," he said. "And spare no detail."
***
Bolin stood in the center of the room, feet apart, hands clasped loosely behind his back, watching Nialyne pace back and forth in front of the fireplace. The last time he'd had to endure what amounted to a dressing down would have been, coincidentally enough, the last time he and the Emperor had been face to face. Or toe to toe, in that particular instance. It hadn't been any more pleasant than this one. In that case, however, tempers had flared, and the men would have come to blows if not for the intervention of the Emperor's sister. Ariadne had proven herself quite adept at mediating between them. Goddess knew they gave her enough practice.
Nialyne, on the other hand, seldom exercised her right to lecture Bolin. On the rare occasions she did, he took it with far more grace than he showed the Emperor. This time, it centered on the crystal that still sat in the center of the table, untouched. The dark magic in its center had not ceased roiling about. Bolin gave it a wide berth. Although, between the crystal and the irate Galysian elder, Bolin couldn't be sure he wouldn't choose the magic.
"Never would I have thought you could do something so utterly careless. You, of all people. You have dealt with more magic than anyone can name, and yet you took that--" she paused long enough to throw a gesture at the crystal "--into yourself? Brought it into the Greensward? Did you even consider the consequences?"
"As a matter of fact, no."
Nialyne glared at him. "What possessed you?"
"I did what needed doing at the time. As always."
"And explain to me why you felt it needed doing?"
Bolin drew in a long, calming breath, and forced himself to remember that, not only did Nialyne hold the title of elder of the Greensward, she had raised him as her own son. That gave her certain liberties he would never accept from others. "I prefer to know everything I can about my enemies."
"The elders are not pleased. Danya Maurar is beside himself."
"Danya Maurar is a narrow minded fool."
Nialyne's eyes hardened. The look demanded Bolin either correct himself, or apologize. Neither of which he felt inclined to do.
"He is of the opinion Galys Auld exists outside the empire," Bolin said. "His lack of concern for situations beyond these borders is intolerable."
Nialyne sighed, and appeared to concede him that point. "Even still, he deserves your respect."
"His position deserves my respect. As a man he's yet to earn it."
He rocked back as Nialyne came to stand directly in front of him. He met her gaze, nearly on level with his own, unflinching.
"You forget yourself, Danya Sciath," she said, in the quiet way that would have put Bolin's hand on his sword had it been anyone else. "Because of your position within the empire, and by nature of what you are, you are awarded certain courtesies within the Greensward not normally afforded those not born here. Disrespect is not one of them."
She turned her back on him and went to the table, and Bolin let out the breath he had been holding. Nialyne circled the table but didn't touch the crystal. When she turned her attention back to Bolin most of the hardness had gone.
"We have not seen this type of magic for a very long time," she said. "I wasn't sure it still existed in the world."
Bolin moved to stand across from her, his fingers resting on the table's edge, well away from the crystal. Even encased in its prison, the black magic made him twitch. He rubbed his arm where it had seared his skin. The burn had faded to nearly nothing as soon as he no longer held the magic, but it still ached, and the closer he got to the crystal the worse it became.
"I don't think I've ever come across anything like it before," he said. "It burned when I held it. Tried to claw its way out. I think, had I tried to keep it much longer, it may have killed me."
"I'm not surprised you don't recognize it. It is Dominion magic." Nialyne looked as though she had a mouthful of something bad and no place to spit. "Priests of the Dominion were long feared in the time before the empire. They were all but destroyed in the Empirical Wars. Those who survived were driven into the high mountains where it was thought they had perished."
"It's a violent, malevolent thing. I get the sense it has always been such."
"So it has. No one is sure of its origins. It is the only magic I'm aware of that cannot be turned to any purpose other than evil, and it's not entirely natural." Nialyne studied him across the table. "I'm not sure even you could alter it. Which now leaves us with a bit of a problem. It cannot remain here. The wards haven't stopped complaining since you arrived. Even encased in the crystal it reeks of evil. Yet, we can't release it into the world, and I know of no way to destroy it."
"I'll have to try."
"No," she snapped. "I won't allow it."
"You just said yourself it can't remain here."
"And it nearly killed you once."
"I hadn't made to channel it," Bolin pointed out.
"Weren't you listening? I'm not sure you could alter its form even if you tried. Dominion priests are born with the predilection for evil. They pass through many rituals to somehow manipulate the magic they are born with, to add to it by unnatural means. And before you ask, no, I don't know what means. We never studied their ways."
Bolin cocked his head. "That was a mistake."
"We had no need. We managed to defeat them--"
"Obviously not."
Nialyne bristled, and Bolin held up a hand to stop her reprimand.
"My guess is this witch is now in league with either Donovan, or the crone," he said. "That makes them even more dangerous than they were. Especially Donovan. Do you honestly think he won't try to get Ciara again?"
Nialyne came around the table and laid her hand on his arm, and just as quickly jerked it away. Her wince of pain mirrored Bolin's. Her brow furrowed, and she reached out a second time to gingerly pull back his torn sleeve, exposing the angry welt across his bicep.
"What is that from?"
"The witch."
"She would be a priestess," she corrected absently. "Has Konly tended this?"
Bolin shook his head. "I saw no need. As soon as I released her magic into the crystal it began to heal on its own." Something about the way Nialyne studied the wound sent his nerves jumping. "Nialyne?"
She raised her
eyes to his. "And you feel fine?"
"Well enough."
"I wonder..."
She laid her hand across the injury, and they hissed in unison. Bolin pulled back violently, but Nialyne tightened her grip, and though her face pinched in pain she held on. The wound burned like wild fire that spread quickly up his arm, Nialyne's magic chasing after it in a cool wave. She paled and Bolin tried to pry her fingers from around his arm, but before he could the burning subsided and Nialyne let out a sigh. Bolin caught her before she hit the ground and carried her to the settee, settling her gently on the cushions. He laid his fingers against her throat, breathing a sigh of relief when he felt her pulse beating there, slow and steady.
"Alyne." He used her pet name, calling her softly, his hand across her brow. Her eyes were closed, her face pale as the summer clouds. "Goddess's blood. Alyne."
The door opened behind him but Bolin didn't turn. He now had the dubious honor of setting the wards off two times in the space of one day. At the moment it didn't concern him as much as Nialyne's condition. A hand on his shoulder drew him away from the settee, and Danya Blyth took his place next to Nialyne. Another much less welcome elder inserted himself in front of Bolin.
"Now what have you done?"
Bolin swiveled his focus from the settee to Maurar's face, far too close to his own. The elder blanched at the look Bolin gave him and wisely backed off two paces.
"Danya Blyth," Bolin said, without taking his eyes off Maurar, "is Danya Nialyne all right?"
"Yes," Nialyne answered for herself, her voice shaky.
She sat up with Blyth's help, and Bolin hunkered down in front of her, taking her hands in his, tentatively in the event the previous reaction repeated itself. "Are you sure?"
She nodded.
"What happened?"
"I'm not certain," she replied. "If I had to guess, I'd say some of the Dominion magic remained inside the wound like a poison. That magic isn't safe for you, Bolin. Promise me you will stay far from it."
Bolin shook his head. "You know I can't do that."
"Then what do we do with the crystal?" asked Maurar.
Nialyne's grip on his hands tightened when Bolin would have stood. "Do. Not."
Bolin bowed his head, closed his eyes, and prayed to the Goddess to give him the strength to not throttle Maurar where he stood. He looked up at Nialyne from under his brows. "If you are well, I will take my leave."
She caressed the side of his face and smiled. "Go."
Bolin stood and turned slowly, careful to avoid looking at Maurar. He stopped at the table's edge and glanced sidelong at the crystal. "I will take the crystal when I leave Galys Auld." And the tone he used allowed no argument.
Not even from Nialyne.
CHAPTER FIVE
Andrakaos watched Ciara approach his chamber within the ethereal realm, his head resting on massive forelimbs, eyes half-lidded. He had become more tangible since the battle with the old woman. He no longer appeared as a vague, smoky, serpent-like entity but rather something of form and substance, though most of him still remained shrouded in darkness. Even the shimmering green blanket of the Greensward's magic that kept him subdued couldn't penetrate the shadows around him.
Ciara wet her lips. He terrified her even more than he had before.
A wave of hot air hit her as he snorted. Why?
She swallowed against the dryness in her mouth. "You're evil."
I am what you make of me.
"You made me a murderer."
I saved our life.
"I won't kill again."
He blinked in lazy appraisal. We will do what we must.
He slanted his head to survey the shimmer around him. The light of it flickered in the depths of his obsidian eyes, and he half closed them again. Ciara's breath caught; her pulse quickened as his emotion washed over her. A sound like a cat's purr rose in his throat.
Ancient magic. Older than me. Strong. He exhaled. Worthy of us, but dangerous.
"What do you mean, dangerous?"
If we stay, it will seek to control us. I would be tempted to give myself to her, but she does not desire us.
"She?"
The huge head swiveled back toward her. An image of Nialyne flashed through Ciara's mind, followed by one of Bolin.
This one desires us.
A sudden flush warmed Ciara's body, as though she had just come from the cold into the sun. It faded just as quickly. "He desires you, perhaps. Not me."
No? Does he not sing to you? Even now I hear him. Andrakaos dropped his head back to his forearm so that his eyes were on level with Ciara.
"Yes," Ciara said, unable to keep the bitterness from her voice. "I hear him. Always."
Claim him.
Ciara frowned. "What do you mean?"
If you claim him, he will be ours if he chooses or no. He cannot resist us.
"I would never force someone to love me. Not even if I could."
Andrakaos closed his eyes, nestling down under the blanket of Nialyne's wards. Then he will take me from you one day, and I will not stop him.
***
Ciara startled at the light touch on her arm and lurched from the bed. She had stretched out on top of the blankets for a quick nap but must have fallen sound asleep. She hadn't been aware of Nialyne coming into her room.
"Are you all right, child?" Nialyne's face clouded with concern.
Ciara drew in a shaky breath. "Fine. I was just resting."
The elder's brow rose. "Ah. In that case, I think you will find it best when you are tired not to deal with magic of any sort."
Ciara felt the color rise in her cheeks. She plopped back down onto the edge of the bed and avoided making eye contact with Nialyne. "I'm sorry, Danya."
"There is no need to apologize, child." Nialyne took a seat beside her. "I hear you are to stay with us for a time. I'm glad. I have spoken to the rest of the elders and they are all in accordance."
"Even Danya Maurar?"
"Yes."
"That's a surprise."
"Danyala," Nialyne scolded.
"I'm sorry," Ciara said. "I just get the feeling he doesn't care for me very much."
"You mustn't be put off by Danya Maurar. He's a bit set in his ways, and fiercely protective of the Greensward."
Ciara made a face. "Does he know Donovan is looking for me?"
"That one cannot cross our borders."
"Bolin said he'll try. He would kill you to get to me."
Nialyne didn't appear at all rattled by the prospect. "He would need a substantial amount of power at his disposal in order to breach our borders."
"He'll find it. Somewhere," Ciara insisted. "You don't know him."
"As a matter of fact," Nialyne said, "I do. Does that surprise you?"
"Yes."
"I am also fiercely protective of the Greensward. I make it a point to know what lies beyond our borders and what may, or may not, prove to be a threat. In any event, you're to put it from your mind and not let it worry you." Nialyne put her hand over Ciara's, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze. "We cannot choose our parents. Fate does that for us. But we can choose our destiny. If you should decide to make Galys Auld your home, we will teach you to use your power for purposes other than those your sire would. And I'm sure Konly would welcome another skilled healer."
Ciara blinked. "Make Galys Auld my home? You mean live here? Forever?"
"It is not such a bad place to be."
Nialyne's smile froze. Her eyes lost focus, and she canted her head as though she heard a sound she needed to decipher. Her grip on Ciara's hand tightened. A moment later, Ciara felt it; the tingling across her skin that meant the wards around Galys Auld had been triggered. Her heart lurched in sudden panic. Nialyne pulled her to her feet and headed toward the door.
"Come, child, we are needed."
***
Ciara came up short just outside the healer's hut, her earth magic flaring unexpectedly. A shadowy specter filled the opening of the wide, do
uble doorway. An arm swathed in darkness lifted as Ciara drew near, and a skeletal finger jutted in her direction. Words issued from beneath the shroud of a hood, and though Ciara couldn't make sense of them she felt Andrakaos stir. She braced for his burst of anger but instead felt only curiosity.
"Ciara, what's wrong?" Nialyne said from beside her.
Ciara kept her eyes on the figure. "Can't you see it?"
"No. But I sense something."
"It's a figure wrapped in a cloak. It's saying something but--Konly! No!"
Ciara lurched forward, pushing the master healer aside as the woman came through the doorway. The specter laughed and darted over their heads, vanishing in the sunlight as though it had never existed.
"What's in your head, girl?" Konly said with a scowl, adjusting her smock.
"It was right there," Ciara said. "Didn't you see it?"
"Huh." Konly cast a look around. "Well, if it was, it's not now. There's nothing here but us, and we're needed inside."
The master healer turned and led the way into the large room that served as the surgery. A man lay on one of the wooden tables, naked from the waist up. Except for the fact his chest rose and fell in irregular bursts, Ciara would have thought he had already passed to the Goddess. His skin, pale as winter snow, glistened with sweat, and his light hair lay plastered to his head. Ciara wrinkled her nose at the putrid smell seeping from the ragged wound just below his ribs, then gave up and covered her nose with her hand.
"What happened to him?"
"I don't know," Konly said. "He came across the northern border. An Imperial messenger. His name is Canil, but all he's done beyond telling us that is ask for General Bolin."
"There is dark magic here," Nialyne said.
"Whatever made this wound has not only poisoned him but grows within." Konly waved Ciara around the side of the table. "Time to put your healer training to use, my girl."
"Just tell me what you need me to do."
Konly handed her a cloth. "You can start by calling his fever from him."
Ciara nodded. Even a novice healer could call a fever. She took the cloth from Konly, soaked it in the basin of herbal water, and pressed it to the man's forehead. The instant she touched him, the man's eyes blinked open, wide and filled with terror. His mouth worked to form words. Failing, his lips curled into a snarl and something other than terror flared in his eyes: a look of rage.
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