A tingle sparked to life in my fingertips. It spread over my hands, up my arms, and across my chest. It escalated and climbed over my entire body, warm and prickling. I wasn’t used to feeling Sienn’s magic so acutely, but I liked it. And something about the uniformity of the sensations brought my mind’s picture of Lirih into sharp focus.
Short legs, button nose, doll-like face, messy off-white hair, and sightless eyes; my daughter was very unlike me in appearance. That might change as she grew and the years passed. She was only eighteen. But so far, the only noticeable traits Lirih had inherited from me were my magic and my attitude.
Pressure developed on my hands as Sienn tightened her grip. Her magic pulsed tight around us. A sudden airy feeling set in. Movement encased me fast and swift, then impact—and chaos.
NINE
Her hunger was profound. Deprivation raked like talons; scraping at our shared insides, hollowing them out. Fear and adrenaline pumped the heart I was using painfully fast. But the thumping ache was a distant hurt compared to the rest of the pain. Her entire body—her very core—was twisted and knotted, like the gnarled roots of an old tree. Muscles and tendons screamed as they stretched, becoming warped and misshapen. Shoulders wrenched. Skin peeled. Nerves smoldered and burned. Her cries, throaty, raw wordless pleas, became mine. They tore out of me, one after another until the cords in my throat felt frayed and tattered.
I couldn’t stop the screams. I couldn’t shut out her agony. I floated in it, unable to gauge how long, until the blur of suffering suddenly dissipated. And I could see. But the eyes that had become mine portrayed a world that existed only in varying degrees of purplish gray. The bars of the cage, the far away sunless sky, the sloping rows of stone seats that towered like walls on two sides, the huge expanse of sand in between with the heat-distorted haze of distant mountains. Closer, on the wide, open dais, loomed a tall-backed throne. The chair, a sleek, dark stone construct dotted with smaller flecks of colored stone, was empty.
I had no doubt where I was, or who the throne belonged to, but there was no sign of him.
Where is he?
I wanted to find him. I wanted to rip apart the man who had arrogantly proclaimed himself Emperor and taken Lirih from me. But the sight of it all, after expecting nothing from her blind eyes, was disorienting. I would have been less rattled if the spell had failed and bounced me back into my own body. Being known for her ability to make doors, it would have been a safe bet to assume Jem had dosed Lirih with Kayn’l to prevent her escape. If the drug was in her, magic couldn’t penetrate. Yet, the spell hadn’t failed. It sent me elsewhere.
Why, I had no idea. But I was here, and I could see, and I couldn’t ponder what it all meant when there were so many overlapping sensations. The bombardment was absolute. My ears rang with my own screams; an onslaught of noise made worse by the hundreds of cheering people filling the stands. A strong wind blew, pelting me with tiny grains of sand, and the hot stink of meat on a fire. Smoke, sweat, and a dozen other, pungent smells all vied for attention. One pierced the veil to stand out above the rest: the distinct metallic aroma of blood.
It was on the air. My body was slick with it. I tasted it in on my tongue.
I was so fucking hungry.
Below the dais, a man was kneeling on the sand. A chain around his ankle hitched him to a steel bar in the ground. Crying, dark blood spilled from his mouth and from the many slices in his bare chest. The streams ran over his bruised skin, dripping off to wet the ground.
I watched those drops like I could hear them; anticipating every single one. I stared at his quivering limbs, at the pulse I knew jumped in his throat. And my teeth ached. Saliva formed in my mouth. It moistened my chin. My appetite grew. It was a force inside me, violent, burning like a scorching wind, pushing me, propelling me to escape—to feed.
I reached for the bars. My hands latched onto steel. My claws wrapped around…
With a cry, I threw myself out. I hit my own body, and the cave on Kabri came back fast and hard. My scream not yet done, I stood, but the feeling of falling was strong and I couldn’t find the ground. I connected with it roughly.
“Are you all right?” Sienn rushed to my side. “What happened?”
Residual pain pressed in on my head. The ragged breaths moving through my lungs scraped raw against my tender throat. The smells and sounds were still with me. It was an intense, cloying, amalgam of stench that made my stomach churn.
There was so much gray.
I couldn’t shake it.
“You’re trembling.” Sienn tried to help me stand. After a moment she gave up and sat with me. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
I forced my breath to calm. My voice was raspy. “It wasn’t her.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It wasn’t Lirih.” Shaking my head, I closed my eyes a couple of times, blinking until the color came back. “The spell didn’t work.”
But it did, I thought. It dropped me into the mind of some random beast. It showed me my future once the scars had their way. It showed me what I would become: a creature that thought of nothing but death; plagued with the constant pangs of deprivation and need.
If it’s not magic, it’s blood. I will always be hungry.
“Ian.” Sienn’s hands were on my face, making me look at her. “What did you see?”
I couldn’t give voice to it. “It doesn’t matter. It wasn’t her.”
“But you were gone so long.”
“How long?”
“Nearly an hour.”
I blanched. We both knew that was lengthy for an oracle spell. Even spending minutes in a vision would bring you back within seconds of leaving. Only sustained visits to the past or future used any significant chunks of real time. “It must have been taken me longer than I thought to adjust to being in her mind.”
“Her? But you said it wasn’t Lirih. Ian, whose body were you in?”
“An eldring. A female eldring.”
Sienn’s voice rang of disappointment. “You were supposed to clear your mind.”
“I thought I did.”
“Then how did this happen?”
I shook my head. I couldn’t tell her. Not yet. Weeks back I’d confessed to her what the scars would lead to, but if I told Sienn the eldring spell was progressing, and animal traits were emerging, worry would consume her. Worse, she would never look at me the same way again.
“You are unwell,” she fussed. “Are you feverish?” She moved a hand to my forehead with a loud rustle of dress. Her hair fell against my face, heavy with fragrance. I turned my face into the soft, crystalline strands, breathing in the aroma. “Gods, Ian. Your heart is racing.”
“I’m fine.”
“You most definitely are not.” Sienn’s breast grazed my arm. Moisture beaded her lips. I watched them move as she spoke, but all I could hear was her pulse. It picked up as she noticed me staring. My increasing nearness made the heat rise in her body. The smell of her, the excitement and fear I sensed in her, pulled my groin tight.
I wanted to kiss her as badly as I wanted to push her away. But I was afraid to move. The lust fueled by my lingering eldring senses was too strong, too primal. The last thing I wanted was to release it on Sienn. I needed another focus.
With effort, I shifted my awareness to the approaching footsteps. They were far back in the tunnel. The quick, impatient gait came with the scent of sea air and damp leather.
The pace increased. Sand sprayed. I heard the grains falling. Sheathed metal jangled. It was a light sound. More like a dagger than a sword slapping against a swiftly moving body. Farther away, voices ricocheted off the rocks. The smells there were mingled. A musky mix of animal and people, they were too remote and overlapping to isolate at this distance.
Taking my divided attention for uncertainty, Sienn stood. I reached to stop her and a slap of anxiety that wasn�
��t mine knocked me out of the gripping reverie of my amplified senses. A stilted breath later, Jarryd Kane burst into the chamber. Out of breath, the brown hair sprouting on his head sparkled with drops of water. Tan leather tunic, breeches, and boots, all soaked, clung to him as he gripped the cave wall.
His voice shattered the fading symphony of sensations as he gasped, blue eyes wide, “What…the hell…was that?”
I gave him a blank stare from my spot on the ground. Then I understood: the jarred, unpleasant look on Jarryd’s face was all my doing. It hadn’t even entered my mind to close the link between us when I asked Sienn to cast the spell. Nevertheless, Jarryd’s consciousness hadn’t journeyed with mine. He wouldn’t see what I had until the next time our memories were exchanged and only then if he chose to. He hadn’t felt what I had with the same level of detail or intensity. But sensations or emotions I experienced outside my own body would bounce to him as a disturbing, jumbled echo. Apparently, the emotions my heightened senses provoked came across in an equally unpleasant way. “I’m sorry. I was trying to reach Lirih. I took a wrong turn.”
“It felt like….”
“Eldring.” The vertigo lingering, I gripped the cave wall for support and pulled myself up to lean against the cool, mossy rock. “I didn’t mean to drag you into it.”
“That’s going to happen a lot more isn’t it?”
I glanced at Sienn. Her lack of reaction meant Jarryd’s matter-of-fact inquiry had slipped by her. Still, I knew full well his vague question hadn’t referred to our link, but to my descent into the eldring consciousness. He’d been feeling my occasional bouts for days.
I also knew he wasn’t as matter-of-fact about the situation as he was letting on.
“You should try another tracking spell,” he offered.
“I’ve already tried five and they all failed.” My annoyance slipped out. “Hasn’t being bound to me taught you anything about magic?”
The old arrow scar traversing Jarryd’s cheek tightened. A trace of humiliation seeped across the link. Anger came, too. It often did with him, but this time I deserved it.
Just because I’d given Jarryd half my soul didn’t mean he was Shinree.
“Another tracking spell won’t help,” I said, attempting to sound less surly. “Jem is shielding her from being detected.”
“With hornblende? It is the only stone that messes with magic.” A corner of his mouth lifted in a sly, crooked grin, as if to say: see. I’ve learned things.
“Probably. But it could be a spell, or Kayn’l, or something else. The way Jem’s been flirting with alchemy, mixing stone shavings with brews and magic, who knows.” I pushed off the wall. The dizziness was fading, but my limbs were slack and uncooperative.
Detecting my feeble state, Jarryd moved to steady me. Then a quick, subconscious glance at his hands spawned a feeling of inadequacy and he backed up. It didn’t matter that Sienn had straightened Jarryd’s fingers. Or that his weakened, sometimes awkward grip had greatly improved. In Jarryd’s mind, his hands were still as bent and gnarled as the day I rescued him from prison.
I tried to lighten his thoughts. “Why are you wet?”
“I was at the beach.”
“In broad daylight?” I frowned at his carelessness.
“No one was around. I thought I’d sneak in some fishing.”
Sizing him up, I grinned. “With your teeth?”
“This was your fault,” he pointed at me. “I was out in a skiff when the link exploded with—whatever it was.” Jarryd gave me his typical, one shoulder shrug. “It was too strong to even understand it. I was watching these Kaelish trading ships coming in, and the next thing I knew, I was on my back under water with the boat overturned and my fishing pole floating away. And just now, in the tunnel, the lust coming off you was…” Jarryd stopped. He winced, realizing his mistake as Sienn’s slender body went abnormally still.
Her lips were slightly parted like she was unsure what to say. Her cheeks flushed.
Sienn was embarrassed. Yet, something else reflected in her white eyes as they met mine.
She looked away before I could define it.
Jarryd attempted to ease the tension. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“Not at all,” Sienn assured him. “We were finished anyway.”
“No,” I said, “I want to try again.”
“I don’t think so,” she said. “Without knowing why you were pulled into the eldring, I might not be able to stop it from happening again.”
“I’ll be ready this time. And it wasn’t a total fail. I saw my father’s throne.”
Sienn took an anxious step. “Jem?”
“There were people in the stands. It looked like a big affair.” I stopped short of telling her about the man in chains. The man whose blood I wanted to taste. She was already on edge. “I didn’t see Jem. I didn’t see anything helpful. That’s why I need to go back.” I ran a frustrated hand through my hair. “Word came from the castle this morning. Malaq plans to join his forces with Langor’s by week’s end. He wants me with him. That doesn’t leave me with much time to find Lirih.”
Jarryd replied. Sienn interjected. But their voices had become tinny and far away; lost beneath a sudden eruption of shouting. The uproar was deafening. I didn’t get why they were still bothering to talk.
Because they can’t hear it.
The commotion I was picking up was too far away for their ears.
But not for an eldring’s.
I refused to think that what I’d brought with me through the oracle spell might be permanent. Worse, that the trip had accelerated my change. But for as long as my improved senses lasted, I’d be a fool not to use them, or let them overwhelm me again. I was stronger than that.
Steeling myself, I opened up. I felt it immediately; a presence, spinning and jumping erratically. If ‘wild’ was something to be trapped in a cage, it was inside me. And it wanted out.
I reduced my focus. Striving to retain control, I separated and partitioned the blitz of incoming sensations. I picked apart the senses that might help me most, isolating sound and smell in the same way I sorted through my stash of Jarryd’s memories. It was like sifting grain, pushing it through a smaller and smaller sieve until only a few, select granules remained.
When they did, I knew shouts were coming from the beach. More were ringing out from the city streets. There were boots on the ground; heavy thuds that struck the stone with resolve. And softer ones; squishing in the sand, splashing in the water. A ceaseless clank of metal reverberated through me. Animal stink and sweat was on the air. And blood. The smell of it was strong. It burned my nose. The taste crawled across my tongue. With each pull of air, the enticing flavor intensified. It set my heart to pounding and my jaw to aching. Badly, my mouth wanted to close, to clench around something solid. I wanted to feel resistance as my teeth penetrated and sunk in. To taste the warm juices as they sprayed.
Shouts became screams of pain. Some were beast. Most were man.
Something about the moment brought to mind my five year visit into the future, and I recalled the conversation I had with Malaq when he described the day the eldring stormed the island. They’d come to Kabri on my father’s orders, to collect the Shinree. Future-Malaq said the attack was not long after our camp was destroyed. The beasts fell upon the island. After arriving on a Kaelish trading ship.
I dragged myself out of the maelstrom of eldring sensations and oracle memories. Jarryd and Sienn’s voices came rushing back. I snagged Jarryd’s attention. “What kind of ships were you watching?”
“Kaelish trading vessels.” Worry darkened his blue eyes. “Why?”
I gripped Sienn’s arm. “Round everyone up. Take them deep into the caves. Use an elemental spell and move the rocks. Barricade yourself in. I don’t care how. Just make it thick and sturdy. Understand?”
My
urgency troubled her, but she didn’t question it. “Of course.”
She turned to leave, and I tightened my hold. In the future, Sienn died not long after the eldring came to Kabri. I’d never told her. If I had, at best she would’ve chastised me for putting weight to the moment. At worse, my concern would’ve made her feel awkward. Our relationship, as a whole, was already one big pile of misunderstanding and regret. Yet, in this moment, our troubled past and the tangle of emotions it inspired seemed far away. “Be careful,” I said.
She smiled slightly. “You as well.”
It wasn’t enough.
I leaned in and placed a brief kiss on her lips. As I backed away, Sienn gave me stunned eyes. She didn’t understand the gesture. I wasn’t sure I did, either. I knew only that the future felt far closer than it ever had before.
TEN
Animal hide or flesh, it made little difference. Plunging steel into a body produced the same distinct sound. There was always the slight resistance, more so from armor and bone. The burst of organs, the sudden, warm bath that glazes your skin and exposes your soul; nothing is as vile, or as satisfying. It’s a unique kind of intimacy when a blade sinks in and your opponent’s life gushes out onto your hand. Death invades the eyes, and in that instant as he settles in, he sees you. He adds your kill to the tally and moves on. You do the same. You rip your weapon out, advance, and plunge it in again, always with equal pride and self-loathing.
That was battle.
Magic leaves a different impression than physical combat. Lost in the spell, you can’t differentiate between pleasure and pain. Superiority and shame don’t overlap when you’re magic-blind. In that purely sensual moment—where you would abandon everything you hold dear if it would only go on—morality just isn’t possible. It was a euphoric experience that was hard to turn my back on. To know I had the power to eradicate a good number of the men and beasts invading the streets of Kabri, yet couldn’t without paying a steeper price than ever before, was maddening. Not just to me, but to the power inside me. Below the leather of my armor and the linen of my shirt, the nine auras were writhing. Being immersed in the fight incited them. They whispered promises of victory and taunted me with the ecstasy that would follow; tempting me to give no care to the citizens my spell would drain, or the flesh I would exchange for scars.
The Crown of Stones: Magic-Borne Page 8