Her eyebrow rose. “What do you speak of? When have I done these things?”
Marcius didn't feel like stopping. “When you met the Elders today.”
This time the shock on her face was genuine and Marcius felt perverse self-satisfaction at having surprised the implacable elf. But she shook her head, throwing his accusations away. “We will speak of this when we are under safer circumstances. Come, we must go back quickly before more Myst beasts smell the blood.”
Marcius opened his mouth to say something particularly nasty when that low grinding sound, the shifting of dirt and rocks, once again rang out over the still air and this time there was clearly more than just one. He and Selene exchanged knowing glances and he was quick to grab her offered hand, his shoulder protesting as he was yanked forcibly up beside her.
Too late! Their squealing steed reared up as the ground burst all around them. Marcius's grip faltered and Selene's hand shot out, attempting to reel him back. Surprisingly, she managed to keep him from falling, though it wasn't enough to stop the bucking animal from jarring every bone in his body.
In an amazing display of agility, the mount veered to the right as yet another attacker burst from the ground and the spirit beast began to pick up speed, dodging lashes of tail and claw.
One of the monsters managed to maneuver itself in front of them and at the speed they were going there was no way they could have avoided it. So Selene didn't even try. Instead, bringing her deadly lance to bear. It slammed into the creature’s chest, impaling it. Selene just let it fall, stuck in the body, a bloody flag. Out darted her sword and she took out another beast's eye as they passed.
They didn’t see the other creature before it leapt from the Myst, crashing into them and tossing the spirit beast aside like an errant child. Amazingly, the steed managed to twist itself upright midair. It was then that Marcius’s grip faltered, his fingers slipping on Selene’s armor.
The world spun as he flew, and he was aware of the feeling of falling, of timelessness. He hit the ground hard, with a shock that reverberated through his body, bouncing as he skidded. Marcius’s vision blacked out, and he shifted in and out of consciousness.
His extremities felt as if they were weighted with boulders, and all he wanted to do was sleep, but his body acted of its own accord. He wasn’t sure if it was merely adrenaline or force of will, but Marcius pushed and strained against the shackles that kept him in place. He conquered the wave of dizziness long enough to look up and see Selene spring from the cluster of rolling bodies like a cat, dodging limb and claw as the monsters tore into the spirit beast with abandon.
Marcius barely had time to realize that she was running right at him before her hand was already under his armpit, heaving him to his feet. “Run,” she growled. Marcius stumbled after her, risking a brief glance at the grisly scene behind him.
The spirit beast no longer moved.
He wasn’t sure how far he ran, but he couldn’t help but to collapse in relief when the lithe elf finally stopped. She had other ideas besides his rest, stopping and presenting her back to him. “Help me out of this armor.”
“What?” he could slap himself with how inane he sounded, but he was too tired to care at the moment. Everything was caving in.
She glared back at him with a look of strained patience. “I am unable to undo the straps myself. The scent of blood is still on the armor and they will find us unless we get rid of this.”
“Oh.” And it was then that he noticed the crooked angle her left arm hung, and the way she favored it. Obviously it had broken in the fall, but she showed no outward sign of pain. Though the closer he looked, he noticed a thin film of sweat hung on her brow and her skin was paler than usual.
He moved behind her, reaching nervously for the straps that held the armor together. She made no move to stop him so, with increased confidence, he started unhooking the thick buckles, trying to be as delicate as possible. Marcius knew it was inappropriate, considering their environment and situation, but he couldn’t stop himself from the thought that the whole action was erotic. The tips of his ears grew hot at the thought of essentially undressing the elf.
For his credit, he did try to avert his eyes.
Selene let out a hiss of relief as the final strap was unhooked, relieving her shoulder of the majority of the weight. He was surprised at the bulkiness of the armor; it was heavier than he expected. He couldn’t imagine the fortitude that it took to do what she had just done with a broken arm to compound it.
“Throw it away and let us continue. We must find a shelter. It is the only choice of we have,” Selene commanded as she took a knife from her belt and cut a piece of cloth off the under-armor padding she wore. There was a sickening sound as she set the bone and then she wove the piece around her head to fashion a makeshift sling for her arm.
Marcius dropped the armor with little ceremony, his stomach a little uneasy. “What about your sword? It would also have blood on it.”
“I threw it as we ran,” Selene said. “Come, we should get going, away from the armor and the fight.”
She set off with Marcius in tow. They didn’t say much as they walked. The pace she had set was blistering, and soon his haggard breathing was the only sound that broke the silence. There was aimlessness to her travel that he had never seen before. The walls of Myst were closing in and he struggled to keep her in sight, the icy grip of fear beginning to gnaw that the edges of his thoughts.
“Selene. . . are you alright?” he asked between huffs, his breath visible in the chill.
The elf stopped. “Yes. I’m fine.” But he knew from the way her voice cracked that it was a lie. She started walking and then stopped again. “He was my friend. . . ” she whispered, as much to herself as him.
“Who was?”
She wasn’t even paying attention to him anymore, and he approached her cautiously. Tears framed her eyes. “He died to save us.”
It became clear for Marcius. “You mean the. . . spirit beast?”
She didn’t respond and all the anger, all the resentment he felt melted away at the honest expression of pain on the woman’s face. His heart went out to her, and he was moving before he could even stop to think about what he was doing. Marcius cocooned the elven woman into his arms, drawing her close as the sobs came. It was a pleasant surprise that she didn’t resist. He wasn’t too sure what to do with his hands, so he just rubbed her back; something he hoped brought Selene at least a small level of comfort.
Hesitatingly, he rested his chin on the top of her head, drinking in the heady mix of scents that was so uniquely her. This whole situation was ridiculous, he realized, still amazed at even being allowed to hold the woman in his arms. They stood in the middle of an endless field of gray, the air heavy and laden with the humidity of the Myst. Nameless monsters lurked in the corners of their vision, waiting and willing to pounce, to tear the life from their bones. And yet, through it all, here they stood, two beings, two people, from vastly different worlds, comforting each other.
He found, at the moment, that he didn’t give a damn about what lurked in the Myst.
But Selene was the first one to push away, and he looked down on her questionably. “What is that in your pouch?” she asked, wiping away a tear.
Marcius followed her line of vision. His leather pouch was aglow. The amulet! At some point he must have tucked it into his pouch. “It is nothing,” he lied, feeling guilty at his deception.
The vulnerable woman was gone in that instant. “Is that why you did something as stupid as wandering in the Myst with no aleare?”
Marcius’s mouth moved, but no response came out. She pushed him away. “You foolish human! You got it from that thing didn’t you? I risked my life chasing dragon teeth for you!” she reverted to Elvish at this point, stringing together words so rapidly and with such vehemence that Marcius shrank physically back from her.
Come to me. . .
He jerked his head up. What was that?
Come to
me. . .
The amulet was once again calling. Should he listen? As if to answer for him, the glow dimmed and fathomless shadows began to form on the edges of the Myst. He grabbed Selene’s hand, ignoring her protests. He could feel them closing in with hungry open maws. There wasn’t time to think, and there wasn’t time to rationalize.
There was only time to act.
He trusted his gut, the feeling deep inside, and as they ran, the glow became brighter, banishing the nameless beasts that waited beyond the white curtain. At first he thought it was an illusion, but the Myst began to recede, becoming lighter and the chill was replaced by an alien humidity. It was heavy with unknown scents.
Marcius had the feeling he wasn’t in Selenthia, but he continued to run, pushing himself beyond what he thought he was capable of. Selene, thankfully, had stopped struggling and was now running with him.
He realized what he had done wrong. The amulet was guiding him, leading him, but if he stopped, so would the protection. It must have been the reason why those beasts were even able to see him for brief moments. The amulet was showing him the alternative. It had an agenda. . . Velynere’s agenda. He had been a fool to accept the elven mage’s proposition.
Still, he’d rather be a living pawn than a dead free man. He could work on the former later.
Chapter 27
Marcius knew he had arrived when the white haze fully lifted. The amulet roared its approval. Marcius went down the steep hill, every jarring step sending waves of pain up his side. He must have hurt himself from that fall earlier, but he kept going, trying to put the maximum distance possible between him and the edges of the Myst. Selene was as agile as ever, despite her injury, and she finished well in front, breathing calmly.
“What is this place?” Selene whispered, echoing Marcius’s thoughts. They stood on a massive courtyard, broken and beaten, scarred by time. Fallen piles of bricks and mortar littered the area like children’s toys, while twisted vines and other vegetation scrambled over everything else in a tangled haphazard mess.
In the center, a single circular tower stood defiantly despite the large chunk of wall missing from its side. The top was pointed, like a triangle, the fallen pieces arranging themselves along the top spire in the crude facsimile of a grinning smile, complete with missing teeth.
“I’m not sure. But it’s safer than staying out here,” Marcius said once he caught his breath.
Selene shook her head. “It would be wiser for us to stay here. There is no Myst. We can safely wait until morning here in the courtyard. There is no point for us to go into those ruins. We do not know what the place is, nor what could be there waiting for us.”
The amulet sang, filling Marcius’s mind with images of promises, whispers of barely contained power. Desire tickled the edges of his consciousness, denying the elf’s words. “There’s something here, I know it,” he found himself saying, his mouth taking a life of its own. “I’ve come too far to just let it die here.”
Her hand came around, knotting itself in his collar as she dragged him down until they were eye to eye, “Are you blind as well as dumb? I was meeting no Elders today. I was called away on a false report, and it was only the feeling that something was going on behind my back that I came back in time to realize that you were gone. That abomination got my spirit beast killed!” Her eyes became distant. “As a child I waited in fields at night, braving death to perform the ceremony, to prove my right of leadership, hoping against hope that one would answer my summons. They are, in a way, the symbol of our authority. And—,” she paused, swallowing back a sob, “And he was my only true friend that I’ve had here. I gave it up to do my duty, to save you, and this is how you pay me? Risking your life further?”
Marcius rocked back on his heels. He didn’t know! How much had he done because of lack of knowledge these past ten days? He heard these words before, from a different mouth, with the same exasperation. Hadn’t Alicia said the same thing to him?
Help me. . .
The amulet was merciless, bombarding him with images of powerful figures, men and women who stood at the fount of magical prowess.
This can be you. . .
Memories flooded forth: his father laughing at some hidden joke, Antaigne’s early morning blustering, Lian clapping him on the back in praise, his Master’s table shaking from chuckles as he told stories from when he was a child. . . They passed by so rapidly that he only got brief glimpses. Finally, it ended abruptly on the blank stare of Lian in the hospital, his mind shattered.
What about them. . . How has the world paid you. . . ?
“Marcius are you okay?” he heard Selene’s voice from far away. She sounded concerned, a trickle of fear creeping into her voice. She said his name. That pleased him.
Everything exploded.
❧ ❧ ❧
“You play with elements beyond your ken, nether wraith.”
Velynere didn’t look up from the basin he was hunched over, only acknowledging the intruding presence in his chambers with a slight nod and grunt. “Is that not the nature of all things? Always moving forward on the shoulders of discoveries and knowledge of things we barely understand?”
“Perhaps,” the elderly woman shuffled closer, peering with her hooded face over the basin. Inside, the liquid swirled violently, churning like boiling water. “You might kill him.”
He snorted, “I am too practiced for such a thing. He just needs to be guided.”
“Do not damage him,” she warned. “Or I’ll remove the last thing that keeps your meager existence tolerable. I did not risk everything that I have in order for him to be killed in this thin plan to get him to the catalyst.”
Velynere’s lips pursed, but his voice was steady and reasonable. “This plan will get him to the catalyst. And as payment you will -“
“Weaken the imprisonment around you, yes, yes.” The wizened woman said, a hint of exasperation in her voice. “There is something that doesn’t make sense. I know you’ve had the time to weaken the bindings, if you concentrated these last long years on just that. Why make such a demand if it was a problem you could solve yourself?”
She paused, as if thinking. “Unless it was something you had no interest in. What would possess an immortal creature, an unnatural abomination, to help, to make a pact with that which he hates the most?” Velynere didn’t say anything, so after a few moments, the woman continued in a voice that indicated that she knew exactly why it was so, “Know what I think? I think he is weary of the long years, that he wishes to make an impact on the threads of fate-“
“Fate!” Velynere scoffed, interrupting the woman. “There is no such thing. What we mistake as Fate is merely the unseen hand of people of power, people such as you.”
The woman acknowledged his point with a nod. “Maybe, maybe not. Does it matter to pawn on the board who moves it? No, all it knows is the direction and the path. Perhaps Fate is merely controlling the possible branches of travel. Why does it matter to you? Do you wish to find a new path, a new board to move upon?”
“No, I wish to shatter it. Every pawn one day wishes to be a queen, remember that. Even board pieces dream of a path beyond that of black and white.”
The woman frowned. “Knowing this, I should destroy you.”
“And yet you won’t,” he responded with a smirk. “Because you need me. Need me to do what you cannot. Even one such as you has rules they must obey.”
“When you do your end of the bargain and I remove the enchantments that bind you to this place, your familiar will come back. The corruption will begin again. You will die and come back as a mindless beast.”
“When you have lived as long as I have, you’ll learn that the alternatives to death are generally worse. Then again, you wouldn’t know what it is to truly live, would you?”
Her frown deepened to a scowl. This dog did have teeth.
Selene managed to catch Marcius before he fell, and she gently lowered him to the ground. Her broken arm throbbed painfully at
the simple action, but she paid it no heed. She felt his forehead, regarding the apprentice with concerned eyes. His forehead was deathly chill, and a thin film of sweat coated his skin.
Marcius's hands were clenched firmly around his head, his fingernails digging into his scalp as he rocked back and forth. She wasn't sure what was going on, only that he was in pain and that she didn't know what to do. Selene was a warrior, and when it came to battlefield injuries she was well versed in such things. She didn't know where to start, but she knew she couldn't leave him in such pain.
Marcius screamed. Hands flexing, convulsing, and half-reaching for his belt, a new spasm rippled through him. She followed his hands and her attention fell upon the pouch, glowing wildly. She stared at it for a moment. It was the instrument, the guiding hand, of that creature and it most likely was what was causing him the pain.
For a moment her own hands hesitated, the thoughts of a thousand possible dangers flitting through her head. Marcius jerked, agony contorting his face, and she untied the pouch as fast as she could with her one good hand.
She unstrung the pouch with practiced caution, lifting the object inside up by the chain. An amulet? Was this the reason he went into the Myst by himself? Was this what led her spirit beast to die? She felt the familiar rise of anger, but as quickly as it formed, she pushed it away. Now was not the time. She could mourn properly once they were back in Selenthia. Still, the human wizard had some things to answer for.
Selene didn't know what exactly she intended to do, but he would give compensation, though, in reality, what exactly was proper compensation for the loss of a friend? Did she have the right to demand it? They had grown close over the last few weeks, and she had begun to consider him on friendly terms. He confused her, though. His actions, his thoughts, everything was so foreign to her. She felt so thrown off balance by him. Were all humans like this?
A Dead God's Tear (The Netherwalker Trilogy) Page 41