Bound By Darkness

by Alexandra Ivy

“A wise choice,” Sergei murmured.

  The wise choice would have been to remain loyal to Ariyal as all his instincts had urged, he silently told himself. A damned shame he was only realizing the truth when it was too late.

  “Get the child,” he commanded the mage.

  “Of course.”

  Sergei warily moved forward, his gaze on the wizard, who was frowning at Tearloch in disbelief. Clearly he couldn’t believe that his sway over Tearloch wasn’t as great as he’d thought.

  “Do not be hasty, my friend.”

  “Hasty?” Tearloch’s laughter held an edge of hysteria. “Like an idiot I’ve allowed both of you to manipulate and use me to gain the best advantage for your own glory. But no more. I’m done with this game.”

  “I have promised to perform the ceremony,” the wizard reminded him in that captivating voice.

  Tearloch pressed his hands to the wall behind him, concentrating on the smooth stone beneath his palm in an effort to block out the wizard’s voice.

  “And yet, you always have an excuse why it must be delayed.”

  Rafael glanced toward Sergei, who continued his tentative approach toward the babe before he was smiling with malevolent anticipation.

  “Very well.”

  With a dramatic lift of his hands, Rafael shook back the sleeves of his robe and began to weave his fingers in a complicated pattern. It couldn’t have looked more clichéd. The scary-ass-looking wizard in satin robes. A dark, spooky cavern. A horde of vampires about to attack.

  Tearloch might have laughed if it hadn’t been so achingly sad.

  Then those waggling fingers began to glow with an eerie light that spread through the air, shimmering like a portal.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Thinning the veils between our world and the Dark Lord.”

  He might have thought it was just another trick if it weren’t for the distinct change in air pressure as the shimmer widened until it was the size of a typical doorway.

  “That’s the ceremony?” he asked, a strange dread pooling in the pit of his gut. “A wiggle of your fingers?”

  “It is the beginning.” Moving with a startling speed, he was standing at the base of the flat rock, blocking the child from Sergei. “We will use this as a temporary altar. Of course it must be sanctified.”

  Tearloch stepped forward, reaching over his shoulder to pull his sword from its leather scabbard.

  “I told you I will not sacrifice my brothers.”

  Rafael merely smiled, his hands shifting toward the mage. “Then it is fortunate that we have Sergei’s blood to offer.”

  “No.” Sergei tried to back away, only to discover that he’d been caught in the wizard’s spell.

  Rafael chuckled as he made a sharp gesture with his hand. “Come to me, mage.”

  The mage gave a strangled groan, his hands clawing at his throat, as if he was being choked by an unseen force.

  “Tearloch, help me,” he pleaded.

  Rafael moved to stand directly before the mage. “Do you refuse to be of service to our beloved master, Sergei?”

  Tearloch licked his lips, watching the two magic-users with a swelling sense of regret.

  This was what he had so desperately wanted, and yet now that the moment was here, he would have done everything in his power to turn back the clock.

  “That’s all you need to resurrect the Dark Lord?”

  “Of course it isn’t,” Sergei managed to spit out, falling to his knees as his face turned a peculiar shade of puce. “He merely needs my blood to part the shroud between worlds enough that the Dark Lord can slaughter you and your brothers. Only then will the master share his spirit with the chosen child.”

  “Shut up,” Rafael snarled, moving to knock the mage to the ground before shifting his attention to Tearloch. “He seeks to betray you, Master.”

  “No.” Tearloch shook his head, his thinking clear for the first time in weeks. He pointed the sword at the creature he had so foolishly called from the grave. “You’re the one who has betrayed me. Now I’m going to banish you back to the hell you crawled out of.”

  “You leave me no choice, Sylvermyst,” the wizard growled, releasing his magical hold on Sergei to point his hand toward Tearloch.

  In the process of severing his connection to the spirit that kept Rafael anchored in this world, Tearloch was unaware of just how dangerously exposed he left himself.

  Not until a blinding light filled his mind, scouring away all thought and bringing a brutal end to his brief taste of independence.

  Tearloch was lost.

  Crushed beneath the will of the wizard.

  Ariyal sensed his tribesmen shadowing them as they entered the lower tunnels.

  Impatience gnawed at him as he continued to jog forward.

  Dammit. Time was slipping away. He had to convince his brothers to leave before the vampires attacked.

  A little difficult when they were making it clear he was an unwelcome intruder.

  But he wasn’t stupid enough to try and pull rank on them.

  Commanding them to stand and talk was likely to earn him an arrow in the back.

  Or worse.

  Acutely aware of Jaelyn’s barely leashed frustration as she followed behind him, he deliberately turned into one of the larger caverns. It had reached the point of now or never.

  Thankfully, it was now as the Sylvermysts at last took the bait and, leaving the shadows, surrounded him and Jaelyn in a tight circle.

  “That’s far enough.”

  Ariyal stood motionless as the tall, slender Sylvermyst with long amber hair pulled into a queue at the nape of his neck and pewter eyes moved to stand directly before him.

  Their gazes locked in a silent battle of wills before Ariyal acknowledged his brother with a faint dip of his head.

  “Elwin.”

  “Just slumming or has the mighty prince decided to join with the riffraff ?” the older Sylvermyst mocked.

  “I don’t join with traitors.”

  Elwin’s lips tightened, clearly annoyed by the sharp rebuff. But Ariyal didn’t miss the fact the man didn’t call for his bow or pull the sword holstered around his narrow waist.

  “Then why the hell are you here?”

  With a low hiss Toras shifted to stand next to Elwin, his pale gold eyes perfectly matching his hair, which had been cut to shoulder length.

  “Can’t you guess?” he growled.

  Elwin paused; then his eyes narrowed as his gaze shifted from Ariyal to the silent Jaelyn.

  “Mated,” he spat out. “To a leech?”

  Toras pointed a finger of condemnation at Ariyal. “He’s here to turn us over to the bloodsuckers.”

  “And you call us the traitors?” Elwin sneered.

  Ariyal leashed his burst of anger. Later he would teach his brothers the penalty of showing anything less than respect for his mate.

  For now nothing mattered but getting them safely out of the caverns.

  “I’m here as your prince to offer you safe passage out of these caves.”

  “Straight into the arms of the vampires?” Elwin’s hands fisted, a jaded distrust smoldering in his eyes. And who could blame him? He’d first been convinced to trust Morgana le Fey, and now he was trapped in the caves with a leader who verged on madness. Why wouldn’t he assume that Ariyal intended to betray him? “You can’t lie to us—we know they’re up there.”

  “Yes.” There was no point in trying to lie. The vampires had made no effort to hide their presence. “They’re preparing to rescue the child and to send the wizard back to hell. I requested they hold off their attack until I could speak with you.”

  Toras snorted. “So now you’re allies with the leeches?”

  Ariyal shrugged. “For as long as it takes to halt the return of the Dark Lord.”

  “Have you forgotten that he’s our master?” Elwin demanded.

  Ariyal didn’t miss the edge in his brother’s voice. Elwin might mouth the right words, but he
was no longer drinking the Kool-Aid.

  “I’ve forgotten nothing, which is why I intend to do whatever necessary to keep him banished from this world.” He paused to turn slowly, capturing each of his brothers’ gazes until returning to Elwin. “I have no intention of bowing to another master ever again.”

  A tense silence swelled through the cavern, the future hanging in balance.

  Ariyal barely dared to breathe as he absorbed the mishmash of emotions that battered against him. The wariness, the fear, and the fragile hope that could be so easily destroyed. And running beneath it all, the steady comfort of Jaelyn’s presence. Without saying a word she was assuring him that she had his back.

  Always.

  At long last Elwin cleared his throat. “Say that we’re stupid enough to trust you, what happens to us?”

  He waved a hand. “You’re free.”

  “Free?” The pewter eyes narrowed. “We can just walk away?”

  “Yes.”

  “What of our duty to you?” Toras demanded.

  Ariyal arched a brow, every inch the prince they’d forced him to become.

  “You have revealed yourself to be unworthy of my trust.” His voice held pinpricks of magic that reminded his brothers of his power. He hadn’t become the leader of his tribe because of his winning personality. “If you wish to return to my tribe, then you must earn your place.”

  The Sylvermyst shifted behind him, wise enough to realize that his words were hardly designed to lure them into a false sense of security.

  Not that they were ready to jump on the bandwagon. Even if any of them knew what the hell a bandwagon was.

  “This is a trick,” Toras muttered, proving his point.

  Ariyal stepped toward the golden-haired Sylvermyst. “Have I ever lied to you?”

  “No, but—shit!”

  There was a sudden burst of magic that made the Sylvermysts gasp in pain and Jaelyn scowl in confusion.

  “Ariyal,” she rasped, “what’s happening?”

  There was only one explanation.

  “They’ve found the mage,” he muttered, grimly accepting that they’d run out of time. Things were about to go bad in a hurry. All he could do was salvage what he could.

  “Elwin.”

  The Sylvermyst snapped to attention at Ariyal’s commanding tone. Some things were just instinct.

  “Yes, sire?”

  “Take the men and get the hell out of here.”

  The man wavered, concern etched on his slender face. “What about the vampires?”

  He reached to grab his brother’s arm, holding his gaze. “You have my word they won’t harm you so long as you don’t do anything to provoke them. Will you trust me?”

  Elwin paused, then gave a slow nod of agreement. “Yes.”

  “Good.”

  There was a collective surge of relief from the gathered Sylvermyst, as well as a barely leashed yearning to rush from the dark caves to breathe the fresh air. But Elwin didn’t immediately leave the cavern. Instead he regarded Ariyal with a frown.

  “What of you?”

  “I have to get Tearloch and the child.”

  Elwin gave a shake of his head. “He won’t listen to you. He’s under the thrall of the wizard.”

  Ariyal shrugged. “No one gets left behind.”

  Something shimmered in the pewter eyes before Elwin was abruptly dropping to his knees, his head bent in regret. In less than a heartbeat the rest of the tribe were also kneeling, their swords being drawn and tossed onto the stone floor in a gesture of surrender.

  “My lord,” Toras breathed. “Forgive us.”

  “We have all made mistakes,” Ariyal assured them. “Now we must hope that we can learn from them.”

  Elwin lifted his head. “If we survive this, I pledge that I will do whatever you ask of me to return to our tribe.”

  Reaching out, Ariyal firmly pulled the Sylvermyst to his feet, his expression somber.

  “All I ask is that you take care of our brothers.”

  “You have my word.”

  Elwin placed a hand on Ariyal’s shoulder in a silent pledge. Then with a sharp whistle he had the rest of the tribe on their feet and racing silently from the cavern.

  With a silent prayer that they would make it out safely, Ariyal turned toward his mate, knowing better than to even suggest she join his tribesmen in their flight from the darkness.

  He might not be Einstein, but he wasn’t stupid.

  “Are you ready?”

  She held her sword in her hand, her fangs fully exposed. “Let’s do this thing.”

  Chapter 21

  Jaelyn bit back her protests as Ariyal led them through the increasingly narrow tunnels that reeked of ambush.

  A fighter never allowed herself to be cornered in cramped spaces. It was too difficult to maneuver for even the best trained warrior.

  Unfortunately, while she couldn’t sense the magical battle that must be happening ahead of them, she could feel Ariyal’s pulsing urgency, which meant that haste had to overcome caution for now.

  Not that it had to make her happy.

  Concentrating on her duty to make certain nothing approached them from behind, Jaelyn was unprepared for Ariyal’s abrupt halt.

  Ramming into his hard back, she swiftly regained her balance, rubbing her nose as he turned to face her with a tense frown.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Listen,” he said softly.

  Distantly she could hear the sound of Sergei and Rafael in a heated argument, the occasional shake of the tunnel warning her that they were doing far worse than merely throwing punches at one another.

  If they weren’t careful they would bring several tons of rock plummeting onto their heads.

  Not the most pleasant thought.

  But even as the image of being buried alive flashed through her mind, Ariyal’s eyes were widening with a fear that had nothing to do with a cave-in.

  “Ariyal?”

  “The wizard,” he managed to rasp between clenched teeth.

  “What about him?”

  “He’s started the ceremony.”

  “Shit. We have to stop him.”

  Ariyal shook his head. “It’s too late.”

  “No, it can’t be.”

  She moved to dart around him, only to be stymied as he caught her in his arms and began pushing her back down the tunnel.

  “We have to get the hell out of here.”

  “But ...”

  “Dammit, Jaelyn, those idiots have created a rift between dimensions.”

  “What does that mean?”

  The question had barely tumbled from her lips when she caught sight of the white mist that was boiling through the tunnel, heading directly toward them.

  “Hold on,” Ariyal commanded, pressing her head against his chest as the mist surrounded them, seeming to suck them forward with a ruthless force.

  She focused on the feel of her mate’s hard body pressed against her as the world melted away. It would be terrifyingly easy to become lost and disoriented in the thick fog.

  After what might have been a few minutes or an eternity, the sense of movement came to a halt. Tentatively, Jaelyn pushed away from Ariyal, studying the walls of mist that appeared to go on forever.

  “This isn’t good.” She pointed out the obvious.

  “No.”

  Ariyal pulled his sword as Jaelyn sent out her senses to probe the fog.

  She wasn’t an expert on alien dimensions. Her varied training had included many things, but vampires weren’t intended to travel from world to world. Not unless they happened to be ancient Immortal Ones.

  But she did know enough to realize that this wasn’t typical.

  In fact, she would guess that they were standing in the strange place between dimensions, not actually in one or the other.

  Not the most comforting thought.

  And it was becoming even less comforting as she caught the distinct scent of the wizard in the distance.
r />   “We aren’t alone,” she breathed softly, uncertain how sound would travel in the mists.

  Everything seemed ... muffled, but she wasn’t going to take unnecessary risks.

  “Where?” Ariyal demanded, his voice equally low.

  She hesitated, struggling to get her bearings before at last pointing to a spot over his shoulder.

  “That way.”

  Ariyal didn’t hesitate, turning to flow through the mists in the direction she’d indicated. Following in his wake, Jaelyn felt warmth spread through her heart at his absolute faith in her abilities.

  That trust was as precious to her as his unconditional love.

  They moved in silence, the strange mist swirling around them.

  Or at least she assumed they were moving, she acknowledged with a grimace.

  Their feet were stepping forward.

  And there was a faint breeze she could see stirring the loose fabric of Ariyal’s shirt.

  But the landscape remained shrouded behind a fog that made it impossible to determine if they were making progress or running in place.

  Refusing to consider the horrifying thought that they might be eternally trapped in the smothering mist, Jaelyn forced herself to latch on to her strengthening awareness of Rafael. Moving or not, they were growing ever closer to the wizard.

  Which had to be a good sign, didn’t it?

  “He’s near,” she warned softly.

  Ariyal slowed, his sword held ready. “Can you tell if he has the child?”

  She shook her head. “No. If the babe is here it’s still wrapped in the spell that prevents me from being able to track it.”

  Ariyal’s lips parted, but before he could speak, a form abruptly appeared out of the fog, standing directly in their path.

  Tearloch.

  No, not Tearloch, she silently corrected, catching sight of the Sylvermyst’s eyes.

  The beautiful silver had been consumed by a crimson that smoldered like the fiery pits of hell. A sure sign that he had become a mere puppet to a powerful being.

  Her nose wrinkled. Even his scent had been overwhelmed by the acrid stench of brimstone that made Jaelyn’s stomach churn in revulsion.

  Without expression he held up his hand in warning. “Stop.”

  Ariyal studied his tribesman with a wary frown. “Tearloch ?”