Emergence (Book 2)

by K. L. Schwengel

  Her head whipped up, a snarl on her face. She shoved to her feet, chin held high, the ever-present defiance pulling her upright.

  "Leave us."

  Her lips pulled back over her teeth, and she tendered a curtsy. "As you will, my lord."

  Arnok watched her sashay from the room.

  "Payment, then, for your aid?" Donovan said.

  "That?" Arnok said, with a tip of his head toward the door and a sour look on his face.

  "If you like," Donovan said. "Or the throne. Perhaps both."

  Arnok's expression gave nothing away. "Besides General Bolin's head, you haven't told me what it is you want here."

  "Exactly what he has claimed: My daughter, and the power she wields."

  "To do ..."

  "Whatever I please."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  The Splintered Oak Inn sprawled across the ground like a huge, disjointed beast. The main structure had been built around an immense, dead, oak tree, the bole of which had been hollowed out and now served as the central fireplace. What they had used to coat the inside with to keep it from burning Ciara couldn't guess. Single story additions jutted out haphazardly from the central hub of the inn. They reminded Ciara of the soldier's barracks back at Broadhead, just as plain, but not as ordered. Some were shingled with slats of wood, other sections were thatch. Shuttered windows were spaced irregularly beneath the eaves as though an afterthought.

  Bolin had sent Sully ahead to arrange for room and board, so by the time the rest of them arrived a private back room had been prepared and a meal ordered. Several young boys ran out to greet them and take their horses, assuring them they'd see their packs to their quarters as well. The private room they were led to for their meal had a comfortable, homey feel to it. Its low, beamed ceiling and huge stone fireplace reminded Ciara of her aunt Meriol's cottage, and she fought down a pang of homesickness. She sat beside Nialyne near the end of a long table that dominated the center of the floor. The rest of the men, including the four soldiers Captain Rothel had sent along, ranged themselves along either side, a somber group in its entirety even though they'd passed a blessedly uneventful day. One more day on the road and they would be at Nisair

  Chairs scraped, the men starting to their feet when Bolin and Garek joined them. Garek waved them down.

  "At ease, lads." He took the seat across from Ciara, leaving Bolin the head of the table.

  Several servants followed them in carrying trays of food. Simple fare, but more mouthwatering than anything they'd had on the road, or at Broadhead for that matter. No one talked much, and Captain Rothel's men ate with far more gusto than any of the rest of them. Salek barely had anything, and Berk made a good show of shoving food around on his plate before excusing himself. Garek watched him go, then gave Sully a look. The Lieutenant shook his head in response and went on with his meal.

  When the rest of the men finished and started to take their leave Sully stood, nudging Salek to his feet. He turned to Garek before he left. "I'll see to it everyone finds their beds."

  Surprisingly, Garek pushed his chair back and made to leave with the men. He bowed his head to Ciara and Nialyne. "Sleep well, ladies." He slid a frown Bolin's way. "With the dawn, General."

  Bolin opened his mouth to say something, but Garek had already turned away, leaving him to scowl at the door as the Commander closed it behind them.

  Nialyne gave Bolin a long, thoughtful look. "Is everything all right?"

  "Aye," he said, but the tone of his voice spoke otherwise. He leaned his arms on the table and stared into the contents of his mug, the scowl not leaving his face. The silence dragged on, punctuated by the snap and hiss of logs in the fireplace, and the muted sounds of laughter drifting in from the common room.

  "Ciara, do you know where Donovan is?" Bolin didn't look up, and asked the question so quietly it took a moment for Ciara to realize he'd spoken to her.

  "Do you?" she asked.

  That drew his gaze from under his brows, a glint of anger in his eyes. "Were you thinking of telling me, then? Or do you have a reason for keeping that bit of information to yourself?"

  "No."

  "To which question?"

  Ciara lifted her chin. "No, I wasn't going to tell you."

  She expected an outburst of wrath, but got only the quiet drumming of his fingertips on the tabletop as he studied her. "Why not?"

  "I don't want you going after him."

  "And what do you intend to do?" he asked, and the anger reached his voice.

  Ciara rolled her lips together and averted her eyes. She honestly didn't know what she intended to do.

  "May I make a suggestion?" Nialyne said.

  Bolin cocked his head. "The voice of reason?"

  Nialyne's brows rose and she answered him in Galysian, her voice sharp and her eyes hard. Bolin looked away, his fingers drumming with more intensity.

  "Neither of you--" and Ciara received the same glare "--is going to sacrifice yourself to Donovan on some misguided notion that it will save the other. I swear, I have never met such a well-matched pair of stubborn, single-minded, individuals as the two of you. I am glad you have found each other because very few others would survive you."

  Ciara's jaw dropped, and Bolin's fingers stilled in mid motion.

  "Has it never occurred to either of you, that there are more ways to solve a problem other than running headlong into it?" She turned and pinned Bolin with a look. "Regardless of what you think, it is not a sign of weakness to ask for help."

  "I've never claimed it was."

  "No? When is the last time you asked anyone for help in any matter?"

  Ciara snorted. "Never."

  Both pairs of eyes landed on her, and she looked hastily away.

  Nialyne took a deep breath and splayed her hands on the table. "I will not allow another rash act by either of you. I hold you both too dear. We will trust in the Emperor's judgment and will seek his counsel upon arriving at Nisair. There will be no argument or compromise on that point. This discussion is over. Good night."

  The Galysian elder stood, holding herself stiffly. Bolin rose with her but she ignored him. Without another look at either of them she strode from the room. A log snapped in the fireplace as if to punctuate her leaving, and the noise of the common room rushed in through the open door to fill the silence left in the wake of her departure. Ciara risked a glance up. Bolin stared fixedly at nothing, rubbing his chin with the tip of his thumb.

  "I really wasn't thinking of doing anything," she said, her voice quiet, half hoping he didn't hear.

  "And I'm to believe you?" He didn't look at her.

  "No, I don't suppose so. I guess I've never given you much reason to, have I?"

  Raucous laughter spilled across the room, and Ciara turned to watch the people drinking and having a good time. She wanted to be one of them; some simple farmer or traveler without a care beyond the normal challenges of day to day life, enjoying time with friends and family. But she had precious few of either of those, and no one seemed to feel much like laughing these days.

  "I'm afraid of what's going to happen," Ciara said. She turned her attention to a knot in the wood of the table. The smooth lines of the grain flowed around it like water around a rock in the middle of a stream. She sat stranded on that rock, watching the world rush around her, powerless to stop it. "Actually, I'm terrified. And really, I just want to go home. I want to sleep in my own bed, help Findley with the horses, make sure the miller's son hasn't gotten into any more scrapes...but I don't have a home to go back to, do I? Even if I could." She sighed. Words made things so much more real. "You know, I never thought of a future without Meriol. I never thought I'd leave her farm, or be anything other than a simple country healer. Though I'm not nearly as good as she was. And now...everything has happened so quickly. My head spins when I try to make sense of it." She closed her eyes. "I don't know what's going to happen, or what I'm supposed to do."

  Bolin wrapped his hand around hers and dre
w her to her feet, into the circle of his arms. He rested his cheek against the top of her head. "All you need to do is trust me."

  Ciara leaned back to look up at him. "No. Because when you say that it just means you're going to put yourself in danger. I don't know what my future is, but I know I don't want one without you in it."

  Bolin studied her face. Ciara noticed for the first time the deep lines around his eyes, and the shadows that lingered there. "I can't give you back what you lost, Ciara, and I can't promise what you want me to. Not because I don't want it as well, but because, as much as you don't want to hear it, I have a duty."

  She stiffened and started to pull away but he held her fast, his gaze intense.

  "Listen to me," he said when she tried again to distance herself. He held her by the upper arms now, firmly but not ungentle. "I can't change who or what I am, or the implications of that, though Goddess knows there are times I want nothing more. I honestly can't think of one thing I've ever done to garner your affection, and I'm not sure I even deserve it, but you need to see me for who I am and not some image you hold in your head. If I have to give my life to insure your well-being I will do so, without thought, a thousand times over."

  "I never asked you to." Ciara didn't want to hear it. His words twisted around her heart, squeezing the life from it.

  "You didn't need to. I would do so whether you wanted it or no because I can't bear the thought of you hurt or in danger."

  She pulled against him. "Let go of me."

  He surprised her by doing it. Ciara stood there, confusion running through her as Bolin crossed the room and closed the door. He kept one hand braced against it, his back to her, and for a long time said nothing. For Ciara's sake he could keep it that way. She should have left with Nialyne because now the only way out was past , and his mood frightened her. He'd once again managed to send her emotions swinging from one extreme to the other. Damn him. Damn this whole situation. Ever since Meriol's death, Ciara's life had been in turmoil. Probably all some elaborate joke of the Goddess to see how much she could take.

  "I'd like to go to my room, if you don't mind," she said, forcing the words out as though they weren't the ones she really wanted to say. And they weren't, but she didn't have any others.

  Bolin's shoulders rose and fell in a deep breath. He gave a short laugh as he shook his head. "It seems I've developed a bit of a problem thinking clearly where you're concerned." He turned to face her, leaning back against the door. "In case you believe otherwise, that's not a good thing. It has caused me to second-guess my own decisions as well as everyone's around me. I've been an insufferable ass to Nialyne. I even questioned Garek's loyalty this morning. Garek of all people. It would have been kinder of me to drive my dagger through his heart. I only hope he'll see his way clear to forgiving me for it, and not kill me instead."

  Ciara opened her mouth, but Bolin stopped her. "Let me finish."

  "No, you've said enough," Ciara said. Her emotions had stilled, landing on hurt with a healthy sprinkling of anger. "It's obvious I've made your life a misery. But don't worry, once we get to Nisair you can hand me over to the Emperor and be done with me. You won't need to be bothered with me ever again."

  "Love of the Goddess." It came out in a growl as Bolin pushed off the door and came toward her.

  Ciara retreated until a chair against her backside stopped her. She reached back to steady herself, and flinched when Bolin lifted a hand as though to touch her cheek. His jaw tightened, and he lowered his arm, curling his fingers into a fist. He paced to the fireplace, and Ciara had just made up her mind to head for the door when he turned to look at her again.

  "The thought of losing you terrifies me," he said. "I have a hard time thinking past that, and, quite frankly, it's not an emotion I'm familiar with. You have no idea what you've done to me." Bolin took a shaky breath. "I would rather turn around and take you back to Galys Auld, but I have no choice. I don't know what Donovan's game is any more than I know what you're liable to do. All I know for certain is he's running out of time to make a move. But he will. Likely between here and Nisair. How, where..."

  "I could find out."

  "No. You'll do nothing. You'll stay with Nialyne until we reach the city, and not use your power for any reason. Is that clear?"

  Ciara nodded. She wanted to be angry but seeing Bolin so unsettled had pushed her to the brink of panic. It must have shown on her face because Bolin's brow furrowed, and he swiped his fingers through his hair, dragging them over his scalp to rub the back of his neck.

  "I'm sorry," he said.

  "For what?"

  "Everything. Every move I've made has been the wrong one, and you've been the one to pay."

  "Others have paid more," Ciara said. Bolin's head jerked up and Ciara realized too late how her words must have sounded. "I didn't mean--Bolin, I'm sorry. I just meant it hasn't been an easy trip on any one."

  He looked about to say something else. Instead, he opened the door, and stood back to let her pass. "I'll see you to your room, then."

  Ciara needed to say something. Anything would have been better than leaving it at that. But Bolin refused to look at her and no words came so she let herself be guided through the throng of obliviously happy patrons and down the hallway to her room.

  ***

  Bolin found Garek outside, leaning against the corner of the inn deep within the shadows. He held out one of the two mugs he'd brought with him, and Garek eyed it skeptically.

  "Peace offering," Bolin said.

  Garek grunted and took the mug, raising it to his nose to sniff. "Should've brought the barrel, I'm thinking."

  "Who else is out?"

  "Sully's round back, and I've got one of Rothel's men on the roof. All quiet so far."

  "Let's hope it stays that way."

  A gentle breeze whispered past, carrying with it the muted ruckus from the common room. The smell of meat roasted past the point of being edible mingled with manure, horseflesh and wood smoke in that peculiar blend found only around inns. No clouds obscured the host of stars littering the sky. They provided the only light beyond the orange glow of lanterns slipping through some of the shuttered windows.

  Bolin took a swallow of the dark ale that made the Oak famous, and looked over at his friend. "I owe you an apology."

  "Aye, that you do." Garek kept his eyes on the gloom along the edge of the road. "Not sure I'm of a mind to accept it just now."

  Stubborn bastard. "You'll let me know when you are, then?"

  Garek glanced sidelong at him. "Of course. But so you're aware, I intend to take it out of your hide."

  "I don't blame you." Bolin frowned at nothing in particular. "Listen, Garek--"

  Garek shook his head. "Don't try. You'll stumble around it like a bull in a pig hut and likely make matters worse. I've a thick skin, but even I can only take so much insult from a man closer to me than a brother. I know why you're acting like an ass. The problem is you don't. Or you won't accept it. Until that happens, you'll continue to irritate, and I'll continue to point it out, and hopefully we'll both survive."

  Bolin gusted out a breath. "You're right."

  "Which part?"

  "All of it."

  "Huh." Garek looked down into his mug. "This stuff must be stronger than I remember. Did you just tell me I'm right?"

  "Aye." Bolin wished he had brought the whole barrel, or at least a pitcher. "I'm an ass."

  "Not going to argue, but what's brought about the epiphany?" Garek peered at him. "Are you drunk?"

  "I'm--" Goddess's blood, he couldn't even string the words together.

  "Smitten? Besotted? Enamored?"

  "It's not that simple."

  Garek laid a hand on Bolin's shoulder. "It never is with you. Not that it's all that simple with a normal man, mind. The problem is, you don't think of yourself in those terms. You put yourself so high above the rest of us, as though you're somehow immune to feeling anything us regular sots do. Or maybe for some reason you t
hink you're not entitled." Garek shook his head. "I honestly don't know how you put up with being you."

  "I'm beginning to wonder myself."

  Garek took another long drink and wiped his beard with his hand. "Look, magic's always been a bit beyond me. I don't trust it. A true healer's touch is one thing, all the rest...You would think, spending my youth around you and Dain I would have gotten used to it, but it still puts me on edge. What you have, what you can do, it's different than Dain. Pretty much different from everybody. But you're still a man, Bolin. You still bleed like everyone else. Still need food, drink, sleep…and there's not a man I know who doesn't need what that woman in there is offering you. Say there is and you're a liar. You're a fool if you turn your back on that. You'll deserve it when someone else takes her out from under your nose."

  "She'd be better off with someone else."

  "You keep trying and you'll eventually get her to believe that," Garek said. "But sounds to me more like you're trying to convince yourself, and I just can't puzzle out why."

  "Do you want the list of lies I tell myself? Or the ones I tell her?"

  Garek chuckled. "I can probably guess most of them."

  "I don't know how to do this, Garek," Bolin said. It took all he had to admit it. "I can't think straight where she's concerned. The thought of her in Donovan's hands again, of her being hurt, it clouds everything."

  "It's called love, my friend. I think you've experienced it before."

  "It was different with Ari. I didn't have to worry about keeping her safe, and we both knew it could never really be."

  "Ah, now we've come to the crux of it," Garek said. "You're terrified because you think with Ciara it actually could be. Goddess above, man, you should be happy about that."

  Bolin scrubbed a hand over his face. "I'm too old for this."

  "That's one."

  "One?"

  "One of the lies. Now tell me what's really behind it."

  Bolin downed the rest of his ale.

  "Or don't," Garek said. "But I don't think you came out here just to bring me a drink, and make sure I'd set a watch. Though I do appreciate the mug. You could get me another before you turn in. I'll take your apology only if I know it won't happen again. That's not going to be possible if you don't come to some kind of acceptance. Either let it go, or face it. You don't have any other choices. Not if our friendship means more than your pride."