"So, I am to be discarded like fodder?"
"Even fodder has its uses." Donovan swung into the saddle. "I thought you would enjoy a bit of freedom. A chance to unleash your beloved beasts?"
"With the likes of them?" She tossed her head backwards to indicate the marauders.
"You have an inflated view of your station, Priestess. You are as far above them as a snail is a slug. Secure the girl. Bring her to me before I reach Nisair, and you will find I look upon you with much more affection than I currently do."
His horse leapt forward with a touch. He put at least two leagues behind him before slowing his mount and giving in to the tremors that started in his hands and crept inexorably through the rest of his extremities. They preceded a sharp pain that radiated throughout his body like a thousand burning brands. Though he maintained his hold on the crone's power, it still tortured him with ruthless regularity. Using it, as he had in the marauder's camp, only exacerbated the problem.
Never had he thought the aftereffects of the battle to linger beyond the hag's death. If anything, they should have gotten weaker over time. It did not help that his own power still did not feel completely whole.
The knot forming in the back of his skull tightened like a fist around his brain, and Donovan cried out in agony His vision blackened and he slid from the saddle, not even attempting to break his fall. He sprawled on his back in the lush grass, sweat plastering his hair to his forehead and tracing cool fingers down the side of his face. Never had it been quite this bad. The intensity of the pain made him regret leaving the priestess behind. Although he hated to admit she had any great worth, he could not deny her ability to relieve the agony the crone's power brought him.
He waited until his vision cleared before taking the risk and propping himself up on his elbows. Encouraged by the lack of discomfort that caused, Donovan shoved himself to his feet and staggered like a drunkard to where his horse grazed. He pulled a flask from one of the saddlebags and downed half the contents in a swallow that bit like the harshest cold before spreading soothing heat throughout his limbs. He shivered, re-corked the flask, and hauled himself back into the saddle. By nightfall the attack had become no more than memory, and put Donovan leagues closer to Nisair.
***
Bolin leaned against a tree, head back against the rough bark, knee bent, the sole of his boot flat against the trunk. He closed his eyes. They'd put a great many leagues behind them, stopping only long enough to swap mounts. The Southrun couldn't be too much further, but already the sun rested on the horizon. Bolin wouldn't have called this stop if not for the fact that he knew Sully hurt. Though the Lieutenant would never admit it, Bolin could read it in the tightness in his mouth and the stiff way he rode. Nialyne didn't have healer training, but she wrapped the Lieutenant's ribs, and brewed him something to ease the pain. He wouldn't let her do any more than that.
For Bolin the rest meant he could feel for Ciara without being concerned about staying on his horse's back or keeping a rear guard.
"You need food." Nialyne's quiet voice snapped him out of his reverie, or woke him from sleeping on his feet. Either way, he hadn't even heard her coming. "You look exhausted."
He glanced at the plate she offered, overfilled with bread, cheese, and dried meat that did nothing but send his stomach churning. "Still think coming along was a wise idea?"
She ignored the question. "We're going to get her back, Bolin."
"I just wish I could just get a sense of where she is." He shook his head, staring off into the distance. His hand drifted to the slim chain around his neck, but the pendant laid cold and heavy against his breast. "I can feel her, always. I know she's alive. I just can't locate her. I don't know why. It's like a ship trying to find its way in the fog. If Donovan--"
"He won't."
"I'm a fool, Alyne."
"Yes, you are. But we still love you for it."
"I could call it," Bolin said, not meaning to give voice to a thought he hadn't even wanted to acknowledge.
Nialyne's expression clouded. "I don't believe that would be wise."
"What do you know about her power?"
Nialyne studied him, her piercing gaze missing little. "I know its name and origin. I think this power should have been allowed to keep sleeping. Donovan woke it, thinking to hold it himself. When he failed, he found a way to entrap it. Why he chose Ciara's mother only he knows. Perhaps he thought a child born of that union would be more likely to survive than one with no magic at all. Thank the Goddess he didn't find Ciara as a child, before the power began to waken."
She looked off into the distance.
"You know more than you've let on," Bolin said. "That's why you insisted on coming to Nisair, isn't it?"
"The longer my wards are in contact with it, the more I learn. I will need to share what I know with the Emperor."
"Will Ciara die if it is taken from her?"
"At one point, no. But now?" Nialyne sighed. "I cannot say for certain. If it was taken, and she did survive, she would not be the same. At some point she will need to fully claim it. As much as it longs for freedom, its nature demands it be controlled. It is like a young child and needs to know structure and boundaries. It will test those. Always. I think if it feels Ciara is too weak, it will search out someone who is not."
Once more those piercing eyes locked on him and held him fast. Nialyne had always been able to read him easier than any.
"Please, don't." Bolin scrubbed a hand across his face.
A tepid breeze whispered past them carrying the sounds of harness jingling, horses tugging up grass, and men moving about. Nothing unusual. Nothing that should suddenly cause his pulse to quicken or the nape of his neck to tingle. Except...
A hand twisted in her hair, yanking her head back. Berk lay on the ground unmoving. I can kill them. Fear. Anger. A raging torrent of emotion. She would make them leave. A dagger glinted silver as it sliced through the air. A roar like thunder ripped from a raw throat.
Bolin lurched forward, and Nialyne caught him by the elbow. He hissed in a breath through clenched teeth. "Goddess's blood."
"What is it?"
He swiveled, like a dog questing for an elusive scent. They were close. So close. There! He sprinted toward Sandeen, leaving Nialyne to trail behind. Garek intercepted him before he could swing into the saddle.
"I've got them," Bolin said.
"Where?"
"Southeast. Not far."
"Then we all go."
"There's no time." Bolin pulled out of his grip and mounted, but Garek grabbed Sandeen by the bit. Bolin leaned forward. "Stop me, and someone is going to die."
Garek looked about to argue then swung away and started snapping orders to break camp and mount up. Bolin didn't wait. He followed the tug of Ciara's power like a guide rope, driving Sandeen at a breakneck pace.
Ciara's power hit him like the pounding surf as he rounded a dense copse, and Sandeen rocked back on his haunches, swiping at the air with his front hooves. Bolin took in the scene with one quick glance. One man lay sprawled on his back, a sword jutting from his chest. Another man lay near the tree line. Ciara sat in the tall grass beside Berk, cradling his head in her lap. An immense, shadow encircled her as though she nestled between the legs of a huge beast. The illusion became even more disturbing when the massive head lifted and focused its attention on Bolin.
Bolin dismounted and approached Ciara cautiously, as though she were a wounded lion. She looked up when he drew close, and her eyes stopped him. They were dark. Hard, cold, and dancing with flickers of red. Anger flashed in them, and Bolin braced himself, but it faded instantly.
"Oh, it's you," she said, her voice flat. "I thought they came back."
She looked down at Berk, and carefully brushed the damp hair off his forehead. His eyes were closed, his chest rising and falling with a slight hitch. Blood stained the front of his tunic. Bolin edged closer, and though Ciara didn't look up the shadow of power around her darkened.
&nb
sp; "I wouldn't come any closer if I were you. He's very angry, and I'm not sure I can control him just now."
Bolin ran his tongue along the edge of his teeth, and concentrated on calming the surge of emotion Ciara's condition pushed through him. "You're safe now, Ciara. You and Berk both. Tell him he can go."
She shook her head. Her hair fell thickly around her shoulders in a dirty tangle. "I can't."
"Yes, you can." He crouched down, an arm's length from her, ducking his head to try and catch her eye. "Ciara, look at me."
"Please," her voice wavered, no more than a pained whisper. "Leave us alone."
A growl rose from the shadow when Bolin reached for her.
"I did it again." She gave a furtive glance in the direction of the man with the sword in his chest. "I killed them just like those men on the road. I didn't want to. I swear. I tried to make them leave. I begged them to. He was going to kill Berk. I couldn't let him do that."
The pain in her voice and her eyes twisted Bolin's gut. "You're right, you couldn't. But it's over now. You're safe, both of you."
She surprised him with a short, bitter laugh. "Safe? How can I ever be safe? How can anyone around me ever be safe?"
He touched her arm. Her head snapped up. The narrow-eyed look she turned on him gave Bolin pause. Her lip curled back over her teeth, and her power lashed out like a whip. Bolin flinched but didn't withdraw. The shadowy head dipped on level with his.
"Time for you to go back to sleep," Bolin said, sliding his gaze past Ciara to the manifestation.
And if I choose not to? Will you make me?
"Aye, if I have to."
A long moment passed in tense silence. Bolin fought to keep his breathing level. He could die here in the blink of an eye.
A gust of warm air brushed across him, and the shadow dissolved like a wisp of smoke. Bolin let out the breath he'd been holding. A shiver coursed through Ciara. She blinked at him, the normal hazel of her eyes moist with tears that didn't fall.
"I told them to leave," she said.
"I know. Are you hurt?"
She shook her head. "I don't know if I can help Berk. I'm...I'm really tired."
"Nialyne will see to him."
He heard the rest of the party arrive behind them. Garek rushed over with Sully at his side, his face grim as he knelt beside Berk. "Is he--"
"Alive," Bolin said.
Sully blew out a relieved breath.
Garek scrubbed a hand through his ragged beard. "Let me take him, lass."
Ciara shifted out of the way so Garek could get an arm under Berk's shoulders. He hefted him as though Berk weighed no more than sack of potatoes, and carried him to the shelter of the trees. Bolin caught Nialyne's eye and nodded in Garek's direction. Ciara sat absolutely still, staring at her hands folded loosely in her lap. Bolin reached out to gently brush the hair off the side of her face.
"You would think I'd get used to killing people."
"It's not something you want to get used to, trust me."
"They're going to come after us, aren't they?" She didn't look at him. She sounded drained. No, more than that. Hollow. As though her body had become just a shell, and all emotion had left her. "They won't like that Berk and I escaped."
"They won't like that we took their horses either."
"You did?" That brought her head up. "No, Lenai will definitely not like that."
"Lenai?"
"Their leader." Her gaze drifted to where Nialyne tended to Berk. "He tried to protect me. I should have stopped them from hurting him." She tugged at her lower lip with her teeth, and her voice became hard. "I should have killed them all."
"That should never be your first choice." Bolin cupped her face in his hands and forced her to look at him. The cold, bleak expression she wore terrified him. It looked as though some part of her were missing.
"And now Donovan will know where I am."
"It doesn't matter," he said. "I won't let him near you. I swear by my life."
"Don't." She placed her hands over his and drew them down, her gaze following them to her lap and lingering there. "Promise me you won't give your life for mine."
Bolin would have given anything at that moment to erase her pain. Would have promised her the moon from the sky and spent the rest of his days trying to make it happen. But not that.
He stood and reached down to help her up. She took his hand and got to her feet, wobbling like a newborn foal that didn't know what to do with its legs. Bolin scooped her into his arms, and she nestled her head against his shoulder without protest. She muttered something when he kissed her forehead, but fell asleep before he took three steps.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
"She's just exhausted herself," Nialyne said.
Bolin wished he could be as certain. Ciara had felt so light in his arms, as though there was nothing left to her. And she hadn't stirred since being laid beneath a warm pile of furs under the shelter of the trees.
"She needs sleep, that's all." Nialyne tucked a fur up around Ciara's shoulders and stood, taking Bolin's arm and drawing him away. "There's nothing you can do by pacing."
"What of Berk?"
"Ciara must have tended to him at some point. His wounds are shallow, and already starting to mend. He's got some nasty bruises that are fresh though, and he's just as exhausted. We can't move them, Bolin. Not tonight. Not unless there's no other choice."
"We'll post watch in pairs, but we'll need wards set as well. I don't trust any of us to stay awake."
Nialyne shook her head as though in disbelief of some random thought that had just passed through her mind. "Do you realize how incredibly strong she is? I mean, her earth magic alone. Not only did she set a healing spell on Berk, but she was able to weave a sleeping spell over an entire camp. One that lingered even after she left. And all that on top of everything else that happened to her. I'm surprised she could even call on her other power after that and not totally lose herself to it."
Bolin looked back over his shoulder. Either by some trick of the night, or his own weariness, it appeared that a huge shadow curled around Ciara. "Is it possible her earth magic works with the other?"
Nialyne's forehead creased, and she pursed her lips. "I wouldn't think so. Earth magic is of the Goddess and the other...well, isn't. But then, I've never known anyone to possess more than one type of magic. The Sciath na Duinne come the closest to doing that, but then it's different because you weren't born with power. Not as we know it, at least. And you normally don't take it without somehow altering its essence. Am I correct?"
"Correct," Bolin said, not missing the scolding tone to Nialyne's voice. If he had to guess, his indiscretion with the Dominion magic still bothered her.
"But you can combine various magics?"
"Aye, once I alter it I can manipulate it any way I choose. Though I've never tried to do it any other way."
"And I'm not suggesting you do," Nialyne said. "In fact, I'd recommend you don't. But it does suggest that it may be possible for vastly different types of magic to coexist within one person. Perhaps, with time, Ciara's will blend into one."
Bolin arched an eyebrow at her. "Is that meant to be somehow comforting?"
"It's not?"
"Quite honestly, I find it terrifying," Bolin said. "I've had more than one taste of the power she wields, both of them. You've just said how strong her earth magic is on its own. I don't want to imagine what it would become if ruled by the other."
"Why do you assume her earth magic would be ruled and not the other way around?"
Bolin took another look at Ciara. Under the trees the night had become complete, and around her even more so. No trick of the imagination there. Within that shape the starlight glittered, reflected in an obsidian eye focused their way. A tremor of anger coursed across the nape of his neck, a tepid caress on the breeze. He drew Nialyne's gaze that way with a tip of his head.
"That is why."
Nialyne's mouth pulled into a line. "All the more reason she nee
ds you by her side."
"I'm not convinced that's such a good idea."
"Who else has such vast experience with so many different forms of magic? I don't believe there are any you could not bend to your will." She held up her hand when Bolin would have argued with her. "Even the Dominion magic, as dangerous as it is, you have somehow used against my advice. I won't ask what you did. I suppose it no longer matters. The fact is you have. Would you rather the Imperial Mages are charged with training Ciara?"
"Training is not what they have in mind. They are already convinced she is a threat."
Nialyne pursed her lips, and her eyes flashed angrily. "Has it never occurred to the Imperial Mages that the biggest potential threat to the empire is you?"
Bolin's arm twitched, and his fingers curled into a fist. He sucked in a breath, his jaw working as he forced down the first three replies that came to him. "I think, Danya, you are overtired, as we all are, and you are not yourself."
"I am most definitely myself," she said. "I mean you no disrespect, Bolin, you know that. And I certainly would never question your loyalty to the Emperor. The facts remain what they are. Just as the fact remains that Ciara needs you, in more ways than one. I believe you need each other. Is it stubbornness or pride that causes you to deny that?"
"Neither, and this conversation is over. If you would kindly set the wards, Danya, I'll see to the watch."
"Bolin--"
He swiped a hand through his hair and stared off at nothing. "I'm sorry, Alyne, I can't do this now. If we make it to Nisair, and you feel the need to continue this, we can do so then. Now there are more important things requiring my attention. Like living to see morning."
He gave her no chance to reply, but turned on his heel and went to find Garek.
***
The Southrun proved to be less than a league from where they camped, and they were further north than Bolin had suspected. For the first time since leaving the Greensward, it seemed they had won the Goddess's favor. They had spent a blessedly uneventful night under the trees and struck out with the first light of dawn. Ciara seemed well-rested, but moved as though in a dream, and her eyes had an unfocused look about them. She rode quietly next to Nialyne, only speaking when the elder asked her a question. Berk looked worse: pale, his face drawn, he said even less than Ciara, and rode as though every step of the horse caused him pain. Still, he dropped back to take up rear guard beside Sully.
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