"Rocs," Berk said, scanning the sky as he reloaded his bow. "They never travel alone."
"Then best get that beast moving, Berk. You don't draw enough pay in three cycles to keep my tankard full."
Bolin lingered on the ridge, watching the sky as the men headed for the Greensward. When they were less than a handful of horse-lengths from safety three more of the huge birds appeared above them. They screamed as they shortened their wings and plummeted downward. Bolin cued Sandeen. The stallion ran flat out, easily gaining ground on the other horses. A rush of air pushed over them, and Bolin flattened against Sandeen's neck as they darted under cover of the trees.
He reined in beside Berk, Sandeen's hooves plowing furrows in the ground as the stallion skidded to a halt. Bolin turned to watch the rocs circle the ridge, riding the air currents on their enormous wings. One of them veered off and dropped down beside its fallen comrade. It crooned softly, nudging the lifeless form with a wickedly hooked beak, easily as large as a supply cart. It craned its neck around, golden eyes narrowing as it swept the shadows for its prey. When it spied them it leveled its head, partly extended its wings and charged. Sandeen threw his weight back and struck out with his front hooves, but Bolin held him steady. The wards around the Greensward flared upwards, a hazy wall of faint green the creature couldn't cross. It screamed in fury, the clack of its beak sounding like a huge tree snapping in half.
"Unholy mothers." Garek eased his mount up beside Bolin. "You're familiar with these things, Berk?"
"Yes, sir. Hunted them in the Reaches with my father. They had a taste for Lord Verrun's cattle."
"Well, we're a long way from the Reaches, and I don't see any cattle."
The bird made another bounce forward. One of the other horses whinnied in panic and its rider cursed. The roc paced the edge of the tree line, feathers puffed, beak half open.
"Are they known to hunt men?" Garek asked.
"Only when their aeries are threatened."
Sandeen pranced beneath Bolin, muscles quivering, turning to keep the huge bird in his sight. Bolin stroked his neck to calm him. "What about being this far south?"
Berk shrugged, the crossbow still rested in his lap, loaded and cocked. "They prefer mountains. There was an aerie once in the highlands, I think, but it was destroyed. I've never heard of any outside of the Reaches since then."
With a final hissing clack of its beak, the roc turned away. It took several lumbering strides, spread its wings and launched skyward, buffeting them with a whirlwind of twigs and leaves. Bolin watched as it rejoined the other two. They circled the ridge once, their screams echoing from on high before they headed north. He kept his eyes on them until they were no more than specs.
"Can they be tamed?" he asked.
Garek snorted but Berk shook his head. "I wouldn't dismiss it so quickly, Commander. My father often spoke of an old man who claimed rocs were once ridden through the air just as we ride horses on the ground."
"And the reason they no longer are," Garek said, "is because their riders kept falling off."
Someone chuckled at that and the tension surrounding the group eased. Bolin turned Sandeen toward Galys Auld. He stopped alongside the rider supporting the wounded man. "Can he go on without a break?"
The rider bobbed his head. "He's out cold. I think he needs a healer more than a rest right now."
"Let's move out, then. We've got a bit of ground to cover yet."
***
Bolin kept up a steady pace despite the exhaustion creeping through his bones. The natural power of the Greensward served to refresh both man and beast, but he and Sandeen had been on the go for a night and a day with little rest. With the wards once more announcing his arrival, there would be little chance of him finding his bed as soon as they returned.
The moon, late in rising, had just cleared the horizon when they rode into the torch-lit yard of Galys Auld. Bolin pointedly ignored the group of Galysian elders waiting in the square with Maurar at their front. Instead he signaled for the soldier carrying the wounded man to follow, and turned Sandeen toward the healer's hut.
A stable boy rushed over to take their horses but Bolin waved him off. "Fetch Mistress Konly."
"Already here." The master healer held up a lantern as she rounded the corner and peered at the wounded man. Her face puckered, and she glared at Bolin. "Is this one like the messenger?"
"Possibly, though I hope not."
She swiveled to the stable boy. "Fetch Danyala Ciara."
"No," Bolin snapped. Goddess's blood, they didn't need her losing control of her power a second time.
The boy froze, staring wide-eyed at him. Konly scowled and waved a hand in the air. "As you will. This lad has no time for me to waste arguing with you. Get him inside."
Bolin helped carry him into the hut and laid him on the table. He would have lingered, but the healer shooed him out and closed the door behind her. Nialyne met him on the porch.
"Are his wounds the same as the messenger?" she asked.
"That seems to be the question of the night." Bolin looked past her and blew out a sigh. "Can we not put off the obligatory censure until the morning?"
Nialyne glanced back at the other elders who were, for the most part, directing the stable boys and seeing to the escort. All except Danya Maurar, who stood with his arms folded, hands tucked in his sleeves, and a dark scowl directed at Bolin.
"I'll not deal with him tonight," Bolin said, his temper coloring his tone. "Warn him off me, or by the Goddess--"
Nialyne laid a hand on his arm. "I will see to Danya Maurar, but there will be much to discuss come morning."
"Undoubtedly."
Nialyne rubbed his arm as though he were a child in need of comforting. It would have rankled him coming from anyone else. "You need sleep. We'll see to getting the escort settled."
"Thank you."
He kissed Nialyne on the forehead and took his leave, skirting the far side of the yard. In the tail of his eye he saw Maurar turn his way, but Nialyne called the elder to her. Bolin allowed himself a grin at the tone in her voice, one even Maurar wouldn't argue with.
The moonlight flickered through the leaves, the only thing lighting his way as he crossed through the gardens to his rooms in the back wing of the manor house. His skin warmed beneath Ciara's pendant as he passed her door, and Bolin hesitated. The surge of power when she'd summoned Andrakaos to save the messenger had sent his heart racing, and he'd damn near called it to himself before he came to his senses. Never had any power enticed him the way Ciara's did. Even now he could feel the pulse of it from beneath Nialyne's wards. The thought of it in the hands of the Imperial Mages left a sour taste in his mouth.
Bolin made a noise in his throat, and kept walking. He'd only need worry about the Imperial Mages if they actually made it to Nisair, and that prospect seemed to be growing more unlikely by the day.
He heard the door latch click a moment before Ciara called his name. He sucked in a deep breath as he turned. Ciara stood in the doorway of her room, a robe over her light shift, a lantern's glow silhouetting her figure.
"Is everything all right?" she asked. "I thought I felt the wards again."
Of course. "Seems they've an issue with me of late."
"Danya Maurar won't be pleased."
"He rarely is."
Shadows hid her face but her eyes were bright with reflected moonlight. "Where did you go? I thought maybe you left without saying goodbye."
"Can we discuss it tomorrow?"
Ciara stepped out into the gardens but thankfully not toward him. "You're avoiding my question."
Bolin rubbed his neck. "With reason."
"I don't want to be kept in the dark," she said, a certainty to her voice. None of the anger or irritation he expected. "I shouldn't be. It's my life. Not yours. Not Donovan's. Though both of you think you should be able to control it. I've had a lot of time to think, even though I really didn't want to. Not at first anyhow."
Her eyes close
d and her shoulders rose and fell in a deep breath. She turned towards him. "You told me I need to learn to deal with what I am. You're right. That doesn't mean I'm not terrified, because I am. I know I can't run away from it, so I won't try again, I promise. But then you need to make me a promise as well."
"And that would be?"
"Stop keeping things from me."
"Ciara--"
"No." She crossed the space between them, stopping an arm's length away. The breeze played with the strands of her hair, hanging loose down her back. Orange light filtering from her room accented half her face, the cool light of the moon, the other half. "I'm not a child. Even if you like to think I am. I won't just blindly do as you say because you think it's best for me."
"And what of the Emperor?" Bolin regretted the question as soon as he asked it. He'd intended to save this discussion for the morning, with Nialyne present.
He could feel Ciara's stillness. "The Emperor?"
He shook his head. "I'm exhausted, Ciara. This conversation is best left for a time when I'm less so."
"Or never at all?"
Bolin clenched his jaw. It would have been wiser to walk away. Ciara would have seethed over it and gone to bed. Come the morning, Nialyne could have explained things in a more delicate fashion. But Ciara's prodding struck a nerve. She wanted answers? Then by the Goddess, he would give them to her.
"You want nothing kept from you?" he said. "So be it. We no longer have the luxury of keeping you safely tucked away until Donovan can be dealt with. That messenger lying in the healer's hut came from the Emperor. He has demanded I bring you to Nisair. The guard sent to escort us was attacked twice on the road. Once by neerwolves. Once by rocs. Neither of which, I am certain, acted of their own accord. One Imperial soldier lies in the grieving house, and another may not live to see the dawn. And let's not forget that Donovan may have a new ally. One which scares Nialyne, the very fact of which should serve to terrify the rest of us. And you--"
He stopped himself with effort, and scrubbed a hand across his face. Ciara hadn't moved. Bolin couldn't be sure if she waited for him to finish, or stood rooted in fear or anger. The gentle songs of night insects and the swish of leaves on the trees surrounding them were all that broke the silence for a very long time.
"I should see if Konly needs help," Ciara finally said, her voice calm and level. She turned back to her room, pausing in the doorway to look at him over her shoulder. "Thank you."
Bolin blinked at the closed door. Ciara had taken that better than he would have guessed. Better, by far, than he had handled it. That worried him. She had changed since the encounter with the crone. For better or worse, Bolin couldn't yet be sure.
Goddess's blood. He spun on his heel and finished the walk to his quarters. There would be much to accomplish over the next several days. Ciara's quiet acceptance worked under his skin and along his nerves like the first whispers of a storm on a sunny day. That storm would either dissipate, or break with all the fury of the hells unleashed.
***
Ciara rested her back against the door until her legs stopped shaking. She'd resolved not to allow her emotions to rule her head or her mouth, especially around Bolin. That hadn't been easy. Harder still when he'd told her his news. Her first reaction had been panic. Lucky for her Bolin hadn't been able to see her expression, or he likely would have tied her to a chair for fear she would run. The thought had occurred to her. Why on the Goddess's green earth would the Emperor want her to come to Nisair? How did he even know of her? She pressed a hand to her stomach to ease the knot growing there. She had no clue how long it would take to journey to Nisair, but Bolin's doubt that they'd make it had rippled through his words whether he intended it to or not.
Ciara squeezed her eyes shut, and forced herself to be calm. If the injured guard Bolin had brought back proved to be anything like the messenger, Konly would definitely need her help, but Ciara needed a level head for that. Another lungful of air and she shoved away from the door. Being busy would keep her thoughts from dwelling on anything else. She changed out of her shift and robe, slipping on a tunic and light breeches and quickly twining her hair into some semblance of a braid. She hesitated at the door, hoping Bolin had gone to his room and hadn't lingered. Nothing moved in the gardens save the gentle night breezes, and Ciara crossed the courtyard to the healer's hut without notice.
Konly looked up from her patient when Ciara entered the surgery, and her scowl faded instantly. "So he changed his mind? Good. I can use another set of hands."
"Who changed his mind?" Ciara asked, following the master healer's gesture to the opposite side of the table.
"Bolin. I was going to send one of the boys for you soon as this one came in, and he out and out said no. Like to take my head off the way he snapped out the order."
Ciara could imagine. "He's quite good at that."
"Not a skill really appreciated 'round here. Leastwise, not by me." Konly passed her a basin and cloth. "Finish cleaning the wound, if you would. I've a poultice to make."
"Is this like the messenger's wound?"
"Well, like as in a slash of claws across the ribcage. But there's none of the dark magic about this one."
Ciara breathed a sigh of relief. She didn't want to go through that again any time soon.
"Are you all right, girl?" Konly returned with the poultice, wiping her hands on her apron. "You're white as frost."
"I'm fine."
"Tired?" Konly gave her a stern look. "With all you've been through, and then that bit with the messenger, I'll wager you haven't gotten near enough rest."
"I've gotten some."
"I'll put you back in one of my beds if I need to. How's the shoulder?"
"Good." Ciara flexed it for her. The last of her physical injuries from the battle to fully heal. "It only aches a little bit."
Konly nodded. "You're a tough one."
"How's the messenger?" Ciara asked, hoping to get the healer's focus off her.
"On the mend, thank the Goddess and you. I don't know what that was you did, but it saved his life, you know? That's a very handy gift you have."
Ciara made a face. "You're the only one who's ever called it that."
"Oh?" She arched a grey brow. "I guess it just depends which side you're looking at it from. For my sake, there's always room for another healer. I'm not getting any younger. You'd be welcome here if you choose to stay. I'm sure none of the elders would argue."
Ciara snorted. "Oh, I'd wager there's at least one who would."
The master healer chuckled. "Danya Maurar?" A light twinkled in her eyes, and her mouth pulled into a knowing smile. "He's always been a bit stern."
"He and Bolin certainly don't see eye to eye."
Konly's mirth dissipated. "That one hardly sees eye to eye with anyone. Too full of himself, if you ask me. Everything out of his mouth sounds like an order. Can't say a please or a thank you if it means his life."
"It sounds like you know him well."
"Well enough. Thread that for me, lass." Konly handed Ciara a needle and length of horsehair. "Danya Nialyne raised him as her own, you know. I didn't know him then. By the time I came to Galys Auld, he'd already gone to serve the Emperor, but he came back often enough to visit. He was always polite and mannerly, I suppose. Goddess knows he's plenty easy to look at. A lot of women tried to catch his eye, but none could. They're likely all jealous of you now."
"Me?" Ciara missed the needle's eye and tried again, her hand shaking. "Why would they be jealous of me?"
"Come now, girl, you're not that blind are you?" Konly looked genuinely shocked. "The man dotes on you. Well, as much as he's capable of doting on anyone, I s'pose. Don't you know, when you were first brought here, even though he was near dead himself, he refused to leave your side? Wouldn't take rest or food or tending. He took drink though." She gave Ciara a sly wink. "We slipped a tincture into some wine. He was so exhausted it dropped him on the spot. You've not seen angry until you've seen that one
wake up from something like that." Konly shook with mirth at the memory, and dabbed at the corners of her eyes with her apron. "I probably shouldn't take such delight in it, but it served him right."
"I'm sure it wasn't anything more than normal concern on his part. He promised my aunt he'd see me safe."
Konly gave Ciara a long, hard look. "You fancy him, don't you?"
Ciara averted her eyes, and felt her cheeks warm.
"Does he know?"
"He should." She sighed helplessly. "He's hard to get through to, and even harder to read. He probably thinks of me as nothing more than a silly girl."
"I doubt that. I've seen the way he watches you." Konly took the threaded needle and started to expertly sew the guard's wound shut. "Trust me, he sees you as the woman you are. Besides, love doesn't know age. My husband was an old man when we married. In a lot of ways, Danya Bolin reminds me of him: hard, stern, not a lick of softness to him so far as anyone knew. But alone, when we shared our time and our nights, there couldn't have been a gentler, more open man on all the Goddess's green earth."
"But how did you ever get him to--" Ciara faltered. She dabbed absently at the wound as Konly worked, keeping it clean so the master healer could see her work.
"Just wore him down, I guess. We loved each other. I knew it well before he'd ever admit it. But eventually he gave in. Men are hard creatures. Why do you think most healers are women? It's because men won't feel. Not that they can't, mind you, and some are better at it than others, but they think it makes them weak." She shrugged, and tied off the last stitch. "Maybe it does, I'm not a man so I can't say for sure. And soldiers are the worst of the lot. They have to be hard because they see too much. I've tended on the battlefield." Her expression clouded. "If you don't put a wall about yourself, you'll never survive it."
Ciara took the needle from Konly and passed her a length of bandaging. "I think Bolin's wall is pretty impassable."
"Well then, he's a fool." Konly's ministrations done, she flicked a blanket over the soldier, and tucked it around his shoulders. "This lad needs his rest now, and so do you. Mix yourself some tea so you get some sleep or I'll wander by and drug you myself. Come the morrow, if you find yourself with nothing on your hands save brooding, bring yourself back. I've got plenty to keep you busy."
Emergence (Book 2) Page 7