Emergence (Book 2)

by K. L. Schwengel

  "It's not pride."

  Garek snorted.

  "This was a bad idea. Wake me for second watch." Bolin started to turn away, but Garek grabbed him by the arm. His bushy eyebrows rose, the expectation and determination on his face telling Bolin there would be no leaving until he answered his friend's question.

  "Dammit, Garek."

  "You wouldn't let something chew me from the inside out."

  Bolin looked away, and his temper flared for no particular reason except being forced to say what he didn't want to admit. "I don't trust myself. Not around her power. And I can't honestly say it's her and not it that I want."

  Garek's grip relaxed. "Some village is missing its idiot." He shook his head. "Believe me, it's Ciara you want. If you've really any doubt of that, ask the men. You may not realize it, but you've made that abundantly clear from day one. As for the other bit...like I said, I don't know much about it and I don't want to, but I know you. Every man has his doubts, Bolin. You're no exception. But you've also got more honor than any man I know. You may not trust yourself, you may feel tempted, but ultimately, you'll do what's right. Trust me on that."

  Bolin took Garek's empty mug from his hand. "Village idiot, huh?

  "Aye. And an ass."

  "I'll send the maid out with a refill," Bolin said, waggling the mug. "Wake me?"

  "Aye. Second watch is all yours."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Bolin made a quick stop in his room before slipping out the back of the inn. He kept to the shadows, waiting until Sully went by on his rounds before ducking under the cover of the trees. He needed to put enough space between him and the inn to make sure no one stumbled on him by accident. It would take all his concentration and focus to do what he intended without having to worry about some drunk looking for a place to relieve himself.

  He bypassed the first couple of likely spots and moved deeper into the woods, finally settling on a smaller clearing shrouded by three huge pines. Their dense boughs intertwined above him, totally obscuring the sky. Bolin dropped to his knees in the thick blanket of pine needles. He sat back on his heels, drew the crystal from a pouch at his belt, and peeled off the cloth wrapping it. He ran his tongue along his teeth, ignoring the ache in his arm. Goddess be with him on this one. He didn't trust the Dominion magic to act as any other magic would, and had no desire to take it into himself again. He also didn't wish to summon the witch as he had the last time. What he intended relied on her not even being aware of what he did. She may feel the tingle of her magic returning, but if Bolin did this right she wouldn't be able to trace it back to him.

  He tapped into the magic in Ciara's pendant, being as careful as he could, and drawing out only the smallest amount. Ciara waking up and coming to find him before he finished would not be a good thing.

  Another breath to settle his focus, and he slid into the cool, grey world of the ethereal. A whispered word in ancient Galysian opened the crystal, allowing the black ooze of the witch's magic to spew from its center. It coalesced in front of him reeking of malice and hatred. Bolin's lip curled, and he suppressed a shudder as he reached up to pinch a small bit of the inky darkness between his fingers.

  "Now, return to your mistress," he said.

  The rest of the witch's magic spun upward, then slid away like a snake across water. Bolin kept hold of the piece burning his fingertips, and allowed part of his consciousness to follow the tail of that snake as it slithered away. It headed unerringly north, and Bolin felt a chill start to creep through him that had nothing to do with the night air. When the magic continued over the wall of Nisair, the chill turned to ice.

  Bolin should have released his hold right then, but he needed to be certain of the destination. That Donovan would be arrogant enough to venture into Nisair had never occurred to him. The idea he would flaunt himself under Dain's nose, under that of the Imperial Mages, seemed so far-fetched as to be laughable. Yet the stream of Dominion magic never veered from its course. It dipped over the southern wall and twisted through the streets toward the inner curtain without so much as rippling a single ward.

  That should have been impossible. The realization struck Bolin at the same instant he felt another presence. He swore and let go his hold on the Dominion magic.

  "Ah, the wayward son, come home at last." Donovan's voice rippled around him, as smooth and greasy as the Dominion magic had felt. He stepped before Bolin, taking shape out of the gloom, a smug smile lifting the corners of his mouth. "Not quite the welcome you expected is it?"

  Donovan held out a hand. The glob of inky Dominion magic wound around his wrist, and flowed between his outstretched fingers to settle in his palm.

  "Fascinating, is it not?"

  Tendrils of fire crawled beneath Bolin's skin, up his arm, and across his chest. He tried to pull his consciousness back to his body, but the burning sensation spread. Donovan flicked a finger and a streak of tar-like magic coiled around Bolin's waist like a rope.

  "The priestess and her power are bound to me, General," Donovan said. "You will not win this."

  "You cannot hold me," Bolin said, though at the moment he found himself hard-pressed to prove his words. "Not from within Nisair. It's not possible."

  "No? But it seems I am doing just that."

  Another motion of his finger, and Donovan sent a second coil Bolin's way. This one Bolin deflected. He reached out to the magic in the pendant to slice through the one still bound around his waist. But when he did, the Dominion magic fragmented into tiny bits that drove into his skin, burrowing like worms in the earth. Bolin gasped at the pain and instinctively made to gather the bits.

  That's when he realized his mistake.

  ***

  Ciara jerked awake, covered in sweat, and standing in the center of the small room she shared with Nialyne, a scream reverberating in her head. She stumbled for the door, only dimly aware of Nialyne rising from her own bed and asking her something.

  "Bolin," Ciara muttered. Visions swirled before her eyes--a whirl of thick, black specs in the deep grey of the veil. Pain. Unrelenting, searing pain. Her earth magic flared around her and Andrakaos rose from his chamber with a rumble. "Goddess, no."

  Ciara staggered into the hall, unseeing, following the pull that squeezed her heart as though it meant to crush it. Hands reached for her, and she shrugged them off, ignoring the voices that accompanied them. A breeze played with her hair. Her cheeks stung; lashed by branches she didn't see. Pine needles jabbed at the soles of her bare feet. None of it mattered.

  Another scream tore through her, and she thrust out a hand blindly looking for support. She found it on both sides of her, strong arms helping but not hindering. Her foot caught on something. A body, sprawled across the ground, and she fell to her knees beside it.

  He is beyond us.

  "No," Ciara said. "Help him. Bring him back."

  The Darkness has taken him.

  "No." Ciara refused to believe it. She spread her earth magic through the veil. "Bolin? Answer me."

  Silence.

  Ciara waited. The thud of her own heart reaching a panicked crescendo. Faintly, a whisper on the breeze...

  He lives yet. Andrakaos swirled around and then past her.

  ***

  Bolin gasped for air and got none. The greyness of the veil darkened, or his vision did. He couldn't be sure. He felt...fragmented, like bits of brittle, fall leaves pushed about by the wind. When he sought to gather the pieces they tore into him, refusing to be manipulated.

  Whispers.

  Voices on the edge of his hearing swirled around him.

  Or did Bolin swirl around them? He could no longer feel himself as a whole and had stopped even trying because every attempt brought more excruciating pain than the last. He had failed for the final time. Had lost everything on a gamble. Regret had never been a comfortable emotion, and now it assaulted him from all sides. Every move he had made since finding Ciara had been the wrong one. His desire to keep her safe had clouded his judgme
nt, blinded him to sensibility, had brought him inexorably to this point of loss and despair.

  "Did I not say you would not win? You are mine. Has that not become clear to you yet? And with you by my side, she will be mine as well."

  No. Denial brought him more pain. Slammed into the pieces of him scattered about. But it served to show him he still maintained some small part of himself. A willingness to continue the fight.

  Laughter. "So stubborn. Fight if you must. Every failed attempt only weakens you further. When you are ready to relent, I will scoop up your scattered remains and remake you."

  A scream rose in Bolin, but he had no means of release for it. He had nothing.

  "Bolin, answer me."

  He flinched. Ciara's voice drifted through the veil. Possibly it drifted through his imagination alone. She shouldn't be here. He wanted to tell her that. He had lost, he could admit that now, but he couldn't allow Donovan to have her as well. But he had no voice. Could form no words.

  A shadowy form loomed up around him then faded away.

  No. Bolin reached feebly for it. Call him back. Now. Please.

  Voices drifted in and out. Hands touched him, each one sending searing spikes of pain through what remained of his awareness. Someone called his name again. The growing darkness of the veil rolled back behind the white light of the Goddess, mingled with the soft green of the Greensward. But then the thick, inky blackness of the Dominion magic fought back, and Bolin could do nothing but ride the waves as the battle raged through him.

  ***

  A light touch on her shoulder pulled Ciara unwillingly from the depths of her exhausted slumber. She lifted her head from where it rested on her arms on the edge of the bed. A mug of something hot appeared beneath her nose, and she wrapped her hands around it as she sat up, inhaling the spice in the steam. Her eyes found focus over the rim of the mug, and her chest tightened.

  Bolin lay on the bed beside her chair, blankets askew, skin ashen, his dark hair slicked to the sides of his face with sweat. His chest alternated between heaving breaths and moments of utter stillness. He hadn't gotten any better over the course of the night.

  "We need to get him to Nisair," Nialyne said. She rubbed a hand across her eyes. "There is nothing further we can do for him."

  "I'm a healer," Ciara said, her voice hollow. "Why can't I find him? I can sense him in the veil but it's like he's...everywhere."

  "You'll do no one any good draining yourself."

  "I have to try again, Nialyne. Please."

  "It's the Dominion magic," Nialyne said. She lowered herself to the edge of the bed and Bolin groaned. "I should have taken the crystal from him. After he used it the first time, I should have known he would try again."

  "Donovan had something to do with this."

  The Darkness is claiming him. He will be lost to us. Unchain me.

  Ciara rolled her lips. "What will you do?"

  Nialyne looked a question at her.

  "Andrakaos. He says the darkness will claim Bolin. He wants...I think he wants to help."

  "I don't think that would be wise."

  The Lady does not understand. She fears us. We cannot lose him.

  Ciara squeezed her eyes shut against the uncharacteristic pain and longing in the mental voice.

  "Ciara?"

  "I'm sorry, Danya," Ciara said. "I have to keep trying. I don't think it's just a matter of him dying. I think that if we can't bring him back from this Donovan will have him. And then we may as well kill him now because I know he would rather die than let that happen."

  Nialyne's eyes clouded and she looked away. When she turned back her face was a mask of sorrow and resolve. "Do what you must, but be careful. I will aide you where I can."

  Ciara took a deep breath. She put her mug aside, reached for Bolin's hand, then let herself slip between worlds to where Andrakaos dwelled. She stood before the hulking manifestation of her power, the slender chain of earth magic resting across her palms. Andrakaos paced at the end of it. Stone shredded beneath his fore-claws. Flashes of red and white danced across the ebony of his eyes. Whorls of smoke from a hundred torches filled the heated air of his chamber, stirring in the violent surge of his restlessness. Never had Ciara seen him so animated and distraught, and it took all her resolve not to run away.

  We waste time.

  "I can't release you," Ciara said.

  Then we will lose him.

  "No. We'll go together."

  He stopped moving and lowered his head, his upper lip curling back over fangs as large as she was tall. No.

  "I'm not frightened of you any more," Ciara said. "I can't be. And Bolin can't afford for us to stand around and argue the point. He's running out of time, and I'm exhausted. Now, can you find him or not?"

  A growl vibrated the ground, rising up through the soles of her feet and rumbling through her. Ciara stood firm as the moment stretched, refusing to be intimidated. A puff of air blasted across her.

  As you will. The huge head tilted up like a hound scenting the air. He is...

  Ciara gasped and almost lost her grip on the chain as the chamber fell away, replaced by the veil. Or at least, it looked like the veil. But something didn't feel right. The ground squished beneath her boots, and her clothes clung to her skin. She pushed damp locks of hair from her forehead, trying to breathe in the thick air. Everything felt heavy.

  "Where is he?"

  Here.

  "Here...where?"

  Here.

  "You're not being very clear." Ciara peered through the shifting haze. "Bolin?"

  He cannot hear us yet. He is as the wind.

  Ciara closed her eyes. A dull throb echoed through her head with every beat of her heart.

  You must join with me.

  "Join with you?"

  He blew out a frustrated exhalation of breath as he continued to spiral around her. I will not harm you. If you do not, then he is lost to us forever. He will become the Darkness. He will take us then, and we will not be able to stop him. We will become the Darkness.

  A growing lump wedged itself in Ciara's throat. She rubbed her palms against her thighs. "Tell me what to do."

  Do nothing.

  Ciara sucked in a terrified breath as she felt her body dissolving. She flashed back to the battle with the old woman, how Donovan had snatched her across the leagues as no more than a thought on the wind.

  Be still.

  Andrakaos surrounded her. Warmth flowed through her, washing away the fleeting panic. A body formed. Ciara flexed a hand and ground crumbled in the grip of powerful talons. A smile broke across her muzzle, drawing her lips back from sharp teeth. She could feel every bit of Andrakaos's muscled strength as though it were her own. The haze of the veil came alive with color and light, and Ciara experienced a moment of complete disorientation as she adjusted to seeing through his eyes.

  "Ciara?" Nialyne sounded concerned.

  "It's all right," Ciara said, and her voice rumbled from Andrakaos's throat, deep and vibrant. She slid the chain of earth magic toward the Galysian elder. "Hold onto this. You may need to guide me back."

  Andrakaos snorted. We must gather him and hold him within us. Bind him with the white magic.

  "Gather him?"

  Feel him. He surrounds us. His essence has been shredded and scattered to the winds. We must hurry. There is not much of him left that is aware. We must find those bits first. Feel him. Call him to us.

  Ciara felt back along the chain of earth magic to reassure herself of Nialyne's presence. Fatigue burned behind her eyes, but she pushed it aside. She let herself drift, her consciousness entwined with Andrakaos's, and emptied her mind of thoughts and doubts, filling it instead with every image and memory of Bolin she could recall.

  It seemed to take forever, and Ciara came close to giving up before the first tingle of recognition brushed across her like the wings of a butterfly. She startled, but Andrakaos latched onto it before it could flit away. He drew it in, within the sling of Ciara's
earth magic, as gentle as though it were a newborn babe. Piece by piece they gathered the shattered remains of Bolin's essence and Ciara bound them together with her earth magic. Awareness built with each one and with it pain. Even Andrakaos shuddered at the intensity of it.

  How long they worked, Ciara couldn't even guess. Time moved differently in the veil. The process was painstakingly slow, and Ciara could feel herself slipping. The drain tugged at her, pulling her down into a grey haze.

  Lady, Andrakaos said, his mental voice as worn thin as Ciara felt, we are close. Help us.

  For a long moment Ciara thought Nialyne hadn't heard. Then a slender vine of green-tinted power slid up the chain of earth magic connecting them. It wound around them smelling of sun-warmed grass and fresh breezes. Ciara felt it course through them, refreshing them, lending strength.

  Hard on its heels she heard a whispered name. Her name. Faint and so distant. It tore at her heart and ripped a sob from her.

  "Bolin? Please, oh please, be you."

  She stretched outward once again, hope and the power of the Greensward infusing her with energy.

  "Ciara?" Definitely Bolin. "You shouldn't be here."

  She laughed. Of course he'd sound angry and not want her help. It would have worried her if he hadn't. "Neither should you. Time to come back."

  "Donovan…"

  That one cannot touch us.

  "Let me go."

  "Never," Ciara said, and with the last bit of her flagging strength, she caught up the final pieces of Bolin's shattered self and wrapped her earth magic tightly around it.

  We have him, Andrakaos said.

  Ciara breathed a sigh of relief and let herself collapse into darkness.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE