Emergence (Book 2)

by K. L. Schwengel

  Garek cocked an eye at the window. "Slightly after dawn puts it at a day and a half. I sent Berk and Salek on to Nisair to apprise the Emperor of our delay. The Lady thought it best not to move you or Ciara, or I'd have thrown you in a cart and we'd be there ourselves. I could've spent the night in my own bed as opposed to this rock of a chair worrying over you. Do you realize how close to dead you were?"

  Bolin shoved himself up, leaning back on his elbows until his head caught up to the movement. He hurt. Everywhere. And the last thing he wanted was a lecture on the stupidity of his recent actions. Garek didn't move.

  "Donovan's in Nisair."

  "So I hear," Garek said. When Bolin looked a question at him, the Commander elaborated. "You talked a bit. Even if you hadn't, Ciara told me. You owe that woman your life. We all do, I guess." Garek swung his legs off the bed, and shoved out of the chair. "Damn it to the thousand hells, Bolin."

  The confines of the room didn't offer much space, but Garek used it all to pace out his anger.

  "It was a calculated risk," Bolin said, his own temper rising at having to explain himself. His arm muscles quivered with the strain of holding himself up, but he refused to give in. "I had to know what Donovan was up to. Or would you prefer to keep running blind?"

  "I'd prefer to know what my other hand is doing behind my back."

  "Had I said anything, Nialyne would have attempted to stop me."

  "And with good cause." Garek ran both hands through his mane of hair as though he meant to pull it out. "You push the limits of tolerance, Bolin. You really do."

  "If you're about done, I could use my clothes." Bolin sat up slowly, easing his legs over the edge of the bed to prevent tipping over.

  "Done?" Garek snorted, and shook his head. "Oh aye, I'm about done, a'right."

  He pinned Bolin with a glare, and Bolin took his meaning. He breathed out a sigh, dispelling his anger with it. "I won't apologize. Not this time. It needed doing, and had I told of my plan ahead of time the outcome would have been no different."

  "I find that hard to believe."

  "Find it whatever you choose," Bolin said. "I now have a much better idea of the strength of our enemy and where he is."

  "How much good would that do us if you were dead?" Garek turned away to gather up Bolin's gear and clothing. He tossed it on the bed. "You probably shouldn't even be getting out of bed yet."

  "Likely not." Bolin rested his elbows on his knees, and buried his face in his hands, allowing himself a moment of wallowing.

  "If it helps any, my message to the Emperor details everything we know at this point," Garek said. "And I can tell you're trying to cook up another scheme in that battered noggin of yours, but you need to just let it go. At this point, Nisair is our only option. You know that. And we know what awaits us now thanks to your attempted suicide."

  Bolin glowered from beneath his brows, but Garek appeared not to notice.

  "Do you need help getting dressed?"

  Bolin didn't dignify the question with a response.

  Garek shrugged. "All right then. I'll go get you something to eat instead."

  Bolin sat motionless for a time after Garek left, trying to reconstruct exactly what had happened and finding the task too monumental. There were too many unconnected dots and no line to draw between them. Trying to find the line required a level of concentration he couldn't seem to muster. He opted instead to make an attempt at dressing. He managed his pants and tunic before a light knock on the door announced Nialyne's arrival.

  "Garek told me you were awake," she said by way of greeting.

  Bolin braced himself for the coming lecture. He'd have to take it. He didn't have the energy, or the desire, to argue with the Galysian elder.

  "Are you thinking we'll be leaving this morning?" she asked, her words carefully measured, her eyes hiding something.

  "I'm sorry, Alyne," Bolin said, guessing at what lurked beneath her carefully composed exterior, and giving her the same argument he'd thrown at Garek, "It had to be done."

  "Not in that manner. We nearly lost you, but not to the Goddess's arms, a task which would have been laid in Garek's hands."

  Something clicked in Bolin's memories, and all at once he understood Garek's anger and Nialyne's terror because both hit him at the same time. Losing himself to Ciara's power had always been his main concern because arrogance kept him from believing he could ever lose himself to Donovan. He'd convinced himself he would die first, by his own hand if necessary. He also held a firm belief the Goddess would never allow such a thing to happen. Yet after he'd been shattered by Donovan's attack he had been one heartbeat away from giving in.

  He flinched at Nialyne's touch and took an inadvertent step backwards.

  Bolin made it a point never to dwell on things that may have been. Either they didn't happen and no longer mattered, or they did and you found a way to live with it. This one hadn't happened, but all the same it stuck, thrust through his guts like a twisting knife. The ramifications of what could have been tore through him in a moment of sheer horror that left his mouth dry and sweat running down his back. He lowered himself to the edge of the bed, his legs refusing to continue supporting him.

  He took Nialyne's meaning. Had he become Donovan's puppet, had they no way of bringing him back, Garek would have killed him. Bolin would have expected it. Goddess above, he would have asked for it had he been able. Maybe he had. He couldn't dredge all that many memories out of the murk of the veil, and he didn't want to. Not if they showed him that.

  Someone shoved a mug into his hand.

  "It's finally hit him, I take it?" Garek's voice, followed by the clattering of a tray, and the scent of some kind of stew, then a hand under the mug guiding it toward his face. "That's for drinking, not coddling."

  Bolin took a drink. The sharp heather wine hit the back of his throat and scalded all the way down, burning like the hells' own fire and bringing tears to his eyes. He blinked them back, coughing, and downed the rest. That brought more tears and another fit of coughing but served to shake him out of the pit he'd fallen into. Or at least allowed him to poke his head from the depths of it.

  If Ciara hadn't managed to do whatever she'd done...

  "Unholy mothers," he murmured.

  A heavy hand landed on his shoulder. "You need to let it go. We all do. It's done."

  "If I--"

  Garek tipped a bottle and refilled Bolin's mug. "A wise man once told me to learn from the past but not to live in it. We all know what could have happened. Well, I'm still a little muzzy on some of the details, but I don't need to know. Don't want to. Just want to get you back on your feet, and everyone safely to Nisair."

  Bolin snorted. "And then? We're walking right into Donovan's arms."

  "There's the Bolin we all know and love," Garek said. "How about we take one problem at a time. Let's get to the city first. I would bet the Emperor has things in hand by now. Can we please try, just once, to put a little faith in someone else? I know it's a huge step for you, but all things considered, it is about time. Aye?"

  The heather wine hit easier than it had the first time. Bolin lifted a look at Garek from under his brows. "I hate it when you're right."

  "I know."

  "It's been happening a lot of late."

  "Nice of you to notice."

  Bolin finished off the mug and set it aside. He stood and drew Nialyne into his arms, bowing his head to rest against her shoulder. "You raised a fool through no fault of your own," he said in Galysian.

  "At least he can admit it," she said. "That tells me there is hope for him yet."

  ***

  Andrakaos hadn't stirred in a full day. Not that Ciara had done much beyond sleep, but even when she reached to his chamber he didn't so much as twitch. Something felt different between them. Even though exhaustion plagued her, Ciara felt a sense of...satisfaction? Completion? For the first time since her mother's death, she had found some kind of internal harmony.

  And it completely t
errified her.

  Mostly because she didn't have a clue what it meant. She couldn't even say she wanted to find out. Not yet. She didn't have the strength to deal with it. Pulling Bolin back from the depths of the veil had sapped her of every last ounce of energy she had. Nothing in her healer training had prepared her for such a task, and she knew she couldn't have done it with just her earth magic alone. Had Andrakaos not helped, had she not trusted him, Bolin would have died.

  Ciara gasped as the thought of that tightened her chest.

  She rolled out of bed before she lost herself to the shadow of that thought, dressing quickly to keep her brain from dwelling on it. She would check on Bolin, and then find Garek and Nialyne.

  Ciara pulled the door open, and a startled squeal escaped her. Bolin stood on the other side, his hand raised to knock. She threw her arms around his neck without thinking, and then the tears came. Hard on their heels followed the incoherent blubbering. Bolin stood for a moment as though too shocked by the nature of her greeting to do anything else, and then his arms folded around her and pulled her close.

  "I thought…we almost...if you had..." The words burst from her around wracking sobs. And then she shoved away from him, thrusting her palms hard against his chest. "How dare you. Did you even think about the rest of us? Do you know what we would have had to do if I couldn't get you back? What Garek would have had to do? Damn you."

  She whirled away, back into the room, her hands balled at her sides. Each breath shook out of her, hard and quick, slowly taking her hurt and anger with them. When she thought she could face him again with some semblance of decorum, Ciara wiped her cheeks with the back of her sleeve and turned.

  Bolin hadn't moved from the doorway. He watched her, brow furrowed, shadows and dark lines framing his eyes. "I wanted to make sure you were all right."

  "Well I'm not. Thank you."

  His jaw worked, and he looked away. "I did what I felt I needed to at the time."

  "As always."

  His focus snapped back to Ciara, and she did her best not to flinch. But then he looked away again.

  "You just can't do it, can you?" Ciara said.

  His gaze slid to her face. "What's that?"

  "Admit you might have been wrong. That maybe you made a mistake. That you're in any way prone to errors in judgment just like anyone else."

  "Is that what you want to hear, then?"

  Ciara threw her hands in the air. "Not if I have to pull it from you. Are you even sorry for what you put us through?"

  "Goddess's blood, Ciara." His voice cracked, and Ciara bit her lip. "Do you not think I know what could have happened? Even if I didn't, Garek and Nialyne have seen fit to make sure I'm well aware of it. That doesn't change the fact it needed to be done. What you did..."

  Ciara held her breath. Don't you dare say it, she thought. Don't say it was reckless or I shouldn't have done it.

  "You saved my life." He sucked in a breath. "It's all I'm trying to do for you."

  He stepped back into the hall and walked away, and Ciara watched him go wondering how he always seemed able to turn her inside out. Then she sprinted after him and caught him by the arm. She spun him so she could once more wrap her arms around him, resting her cheek against his chest.

  "I'm sorry," she said. "I was so scared. We came so close to losing you."

  She felt him trembling, but whether in anger or some other reason, she didn't know. He held her stiffly a moment, then buried his face in her hair and whispered something in Galysian. They stood that way for a long time before Bolin finally stepped back. He brushed his hand across Ciara's damp cheek.

  "We'll be leaving this morning if you feel up to it," he said. "I'm putting Garek in command so do as he says, please."

  Ciara's stomach lurched. "What's wrong?"

  "Nothing."

  "You're lying." Ciara reached for his brow to check for fever, but he caught her hand and lowered it.

  "I'm tired, is all," he said. "And probably not making the best decisions right now."

  "Then we should wait another day."

  Bolin shook his head. "We can't. I want to be in Nisair before dark, and it's already past mid morning. Get something to eat. I'll send one of the men when we're ready to head out. It won't be long, though."

  She stared up at him, but couldn't read his expression in the dim light of the hallway. "Are you sure you're all right?"

  The honesty of his answer shocked her. "No. Far from it, I think. But I'll keep till Nisair. You've done what you can, and for that I'm grateful. Though…it was a reckless thing you did."

  Ciara blew out an exasperated sigh. "You just couldn't go without saying it, could you?"

  She thought he grinned at that, but it must have been some trick of the poor lighting.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Berk leaned against the wall near the north tower, watching the early morning sun play against the Ranwynn as it tumbled through its tree-lined banks. The Reaches sat on the horizon beyond it, a purple-grey haze, the higher peaks already covered in white. His eyes followed the jagged line, coming to rest on the snow dusted cap of Kavluun. Partway up its side, Lord Verrun's fortress nestled at the lip of a broad valley. Berk sighed, a pang of homesickness throwing itself on top of his melancholy. It had been over three years since he'd seen any of his family. So much had changed in that time. So much had changed in the past seven days.

  Thoughts he had tried to stay away from danced through his head in a gruesome parade of images and emotion. Each time he thought he'd seen the worst of them, something else intruded.

  Goddess's blood, he needed to find a way to lock them in a box, wrap a chain about it, and stuff the damn thing in the murky corner of his soul where he hid all those memories he'd rather not revisit. There weren't many, thank the Goddess, but he seemed to have doubled the count in short order. He had to find something to block them out. Unfortunately, the only thing that offered itself was the one thing he couldn't have. Not in the way he wanted at least. Her heart belonged to another. Obvious to Berk if not to the man himself, and that made them both fools.

  Berk shoved off the wall with a growl and headed for the stairs. If he were given to drinking his problems away, he would have spent more of the previous night at Mol's with Salek and the day watch. In which case he also would have still been in bed. Instead, he made for the practice yard hoping to find someone to spar with.

  Ciara's healing spells had taken care of the physical aspects of his injuries. He rotated his shoulder to work the stiffness and ache out of it. The myriad of bruises across his ribs were now a lovely shade of yellow and purple, but he could at least draw breath without the accompanying sharp stab of pain of just a few days ago. Even if he found it hard to move in the morning, the physical activity and resulting discomfort of a rousing morning of sparring would certainly keep his mind occupied.

  "Such a long look on such a handsome face."

  Berk startled at the sultry voice as he passed through the gate to the yard. His hand dropped to his weapons, and he turned to face the woman who had spoken. She stood just within the shadows of the archway.

  "Is she worth such torment?" she asked.

  "Excuse me?"

  She leaned forward, and the light falling across the side of her face gave her eyes a lavender sheen. "You pine for someone you cannot have."

  Berk's brow furrowed. "Do I know you?"

  The woman's mouth curved into a smile. She stepped into the open and prowled around him, brightly colored skirts swishing around her ankles with each step. A memory chased cold fingers down Berk's spine. The way she circled him like a hungry predator reminded him of another woman. One he owed blood for blood. When she reached up to trail a hand across his chest, Berk grabbed her by the wrist and pushed her away.

  "Is there something I can help you with?" He tried to keep his voice from reflecting the distaste he felt.

  "Many things, I would imagine," she said. "Perhaps later, when we've more time."


  With more strength than he would have thought, she grabbed him by the front of the tunic and spun him around. His back hit the wall. Before he could stop her, she arched up on her toes, her free hand grabbing his nape as she forced their lips together.

  Berk's skull smacked stone hard enough to send lights dancing behind his eyes as he jerked away. The woman laughed, keeping a firm grip on the back of his neck. Berk didn't think he'd hit his head hard enough to blur his vision, but her face distorted--all except the brightness of her violet eyes. He blinked furiously. His lips tingled, and running his tongue across them only dragged the sensation into his mouth, along with a slick, oily taste that caught in his throat.

  "What--"

  "Shhh." She placed a finger against his lips. "Hush, pretty one. No arguing now."

  But Berk wanted to argue. He wanted to push the vile woman away, and draw a breath that didn't include the cool, musky scent of her. The muscles in his arms bunched as he tried to bring up a hand to shove her off and succeeded only in curling his fingers into his palms.

  "What did you do to me?" Even his voice wouldn't fully obey him, coming out in slurred, broken syllables.

  "Nothing permanent, I assure you."

  He recoiled when she reached up to trace the healing gash across his forehead with the tip of a finger.

  She clicked her tongue. "What evil would mar such beauty? When we are finished here, perhaps I will get to keep you as my own. Then the only evil touching you will be me, and I promise not to leave any marks."

  Berk's lip twitched. "I'd rather be dead."

  "That can be arranged." She glanced over her shoulder. "Come now, time to walk in the shadows."

  Berk's leg whipped forward, his hips turning to pull him from the wall. He followed behind the woman as she walked away, skirting the empty practice yard, his body going against his will. Muscles clenched until they hurt as he fought each wooden, jolting step. Sweat trickled along the side of his face and skittered across his skin like a spider. A sense of dread crept over him, tightening around his chest with its cold grip.