Dark Lady's Chosen (34 page)

Tris doubled his effort, sending the full power of his magic along the link to her, searching for the blue glow of Carina’s life thread. Carina’s thread faltered and flickered, buffeted by the power of the Flow.
Sweet Chenne, she’s dying,
Tris thought as he connected his power to her. Tris slipped deeper into the trance until his sole focus became Carina’s life thread.

He willed his power to strengthen the thread, anchoring it to his own life energy.

The Flow began to convulse and Tris could now feel Carina’s healing magic streaming out into the damaged river of energy. Tris poured his magic into the link, letting the power flow through him. The pounding of his heart seemed to shake his whole body, and the sound of his breath was deafening. Every fiber of his being tuned to the pulse of the Flow. He felt its pain. Images of the Soulcatcher orb being torn from the Flow flashed in his mind, and caught up in the Flow’s magic, Tris felt the rending as if he were being torn on the rack and disemboweled. His body arched in agony and he screamed, but no sound came. Wave after wave of pain shuddered through him, too intense for him to black out.

Hesitantly, Carina reached out toward the Flow with her healing magic. She felt the pain of the long-ago rending and the imbalance in the Flow’s energies as if it were torn muscle and sinew. Acting on instinct, Carina began to will all of her healing essence into mending the broken places and soothing the pain. She could feel the draw of the Flow depleting her, weakening her life force, and she knew that without Tris’s support, soon she would be lost to the currents of energy that pulled her under in the torrent.

Carina willed herself to ride the waves of the Flow, focused completely on its pain. She let the pain wash through her, cleansing the energy. As the Flow calmed, she no longer sensed the boundaries between herself and the river of energy. Carina felt strength returning, and she could sense her connection to Tris, knew he was supporting her with his magic and his life force.

Suddenly, Carina’s view shifted and she saw a dimly lit temple with soaring gray stone walls. Banks of candles and torches in sconces flared along the temple walls, and a glowing stained glass image of Istra hung from the buttressed ceiling. A man lay slumped against one of the temple pillars, and as he struggled to his feet, battered and covered with blood, Carina recognized Jonmarc.

Carina fought down panic. Bound to her energy, the Flow flared brilliantly in angry shades of red. Carina saw Jonmarc’s sword snap in two and watched as Malesh pulled him in for the kill.

Jonmarc loosed his hidden quarrel, and Carina felt Malesh’s pain as it tore through the
vayash moru
’s heart. Carina’s screams echoed in the rock chamber as the wild energy of the Flow whipped around her. Fire engulfed Malesh, and Carina felt her skin burn and blister.

It took all of Tris’s will to focus on the blue glow of Carina’s life thread. Just when he thought the pain would overcome him, he felt Carina’s healing magic as a cooling presence along the pathways of power. The chaos of the Flow was beginning to coalesce, and the inchoate energies torn asunder by Arontala’s betrayal were weaving together into a seamless whole.

Tris watched in awe as the strands of power blended together and the pain gradually subsided. Power from the healing river of energy surged into him, giving him the energy to sustain the link.

Suddenly, Tris felt as if his chest had been pierced by a sword. Panic overcame reason and he fought for control. Gasping for breath, he realized that he felt Carina’s pain. Linked to her life force, Tris tried to blunt the worst of it, taking what he could onto himself until he cried out and every muscle strained. A searing wave of fire engulfed them. Tris could feel it consuming Carina, hear her screaming. Carina’s life thread flickered wildly, slipping away.

Tris wrapped his power around the dimming thread, drawing heavily from his own life energy until he felt both of their threads weaken.

The Flow roiled. Power beyond his imagining surged around them, lifting them up like an ocean wave. Tris redoubled his grasp on Carina’s life thread and felt the Flow shift. Like a storm surge, the Flow rushed back, and Tris felt his whole body burn with wild magic as the Flow channeled its power through him, making their life threads glow brilliantly.

The Flow had become a maelstrom, howling like a blizzard wind. Carina felt her life force flicker wildly. Then she felt Tris wrap his power around her, supporting her with his magic and his own life energy. She knew Tris was tiring quickly, and she drew on Tris’s power in the hope of sending one final burst of healing energy into the Flow.

Time meant nothing suspended in the infinite currents of the Flow’s power. Gradually, the violent reds and oranges faded to more subdued hues of yellow and pink, and then calmed to the blue-green of the clearest ocean. The energy drew back from Carina and Tris. The Flow swirled around them as powerful as the tides. As the tempest subsided and the currents of the Flow became quiet, Carina felt Tris gently withdraw his power. The Flow became a sparkling curtain of light once more, and Carina realized she was lying on the floor of the shattered vault as the world grew dark around her.

In the darkness, she could still feel the Flow sustain her. An ethereal music called her back from unconsciousness, and Carina could feel the Flow all around her. Gone was the raging storm. The energy that pulsed around her was soothing and gentle. The magic of the Flow suffused her body, warming her. Gradually, the music faded. Carina drew a deep breath and opened her eyes.

She was in her own bedchamber, surrounded by her friends. Taru sat on the edge of her bed holding her hand as the others looked on with worried expressions. Raen glowed dimly in the corner, and at the edge of her senses, Carina could hear the ghost girl singing nervously to herself.

Tears glistened in Taru’s eyes as she smoothed back the hair from Carina’s face. “It worked,” she said. “The Flow is healed—and so are you.”

The memory of what she had witnessed through Malesh’s eyes returned to Carina vividly enough to take her breath away and she began to sob. “He’s dead. I saw him die.”

Taru took her by the shoulders. “What are you talking about?”

Carina looked up, struggling to breathe through the tears. “Did you see when the light flared?”

“Yes, but—”

“The bond Riqua said was between Malesh and me, the bond between maker and fledgling, it was real. All of a sudden, I saw through Malesh’s eyes. He was in a temple, with candles all around and a stained glass image of the Dark Lady. He and Jonmarc were fighting, and I saw Malesh sink his teeth into Jonmarc’s neck. I
felt
it. And then, Jonmarc struck Malesh through the heart and I felt that, too. Malesh fell against the candles and he burned, and—

Goddess help me!—I burned with him.”

Taru and Riqua exchanged glances as Lisette gasped. Royster paled at the description and ran to thumb through a worn book on the desk. “What happened then?” Taru asked quietly as

Carina struggled for control.

“Tris hung on to me and supported me with his magic. And then the Flow surged. It seemed to know… know what was happening.” Carina turned to look at Riqua. “You were right about the bond.”

Riqua’s expression softened. “I am so sorry.”

“The Flow is healed,” Carina murmured. “Maybe now, Tris can win the war.” She looked back to Riqua. “I saw a temple to Istra. It had a large stained glass portrait of the Dark Lady.

Do you know where that temple is?”

Soberly, Riqua nodded. “In the hills, several candlemarks’ ride from here. It’s a sacred place for the
vayash moru
, for all who worship the Dark Lady. For Malesh to desecrate it with battle means that he really did mean to make the offering to Shanthadura. He thought the old legends were true, that he could become the consort of the Goddess. And for him to get that far means Gabriel and the
vyrkin
could not protect the temple. I’m afraid this evening’s victory comes at a tremendous cost.”

Carina bit back tears. “We don’t dare send Kolin to Wolvenskorn after what happened last time, not with the mob at the gates and no idea where Malesh’s fighters are. At dawn, I’ll have Neirin see if two mortal guards can slip through and find out what’s happened.” She paused until she found her voice. “At least… perhaps they can bring back the bodies.”

A panoply of colors and images that defied description danced through Tris’s mind as he remained locked in the connection with Carina and the Flow. Time and place became meaningless as the cosmos seemed to bend around him. Gradually, the brilliant display faded and along with it the light that shone from Carina’s thread. The Flow was whole, and Carina’s life energy was stable. Completely weary, Tris withdrew his magic, following his own glowing life strand back to consciousness. He came to himself with a start. The candle in front of him burned steadily, barely lower than when he had begun the working, but the runes on the sword at his knees were blazing with cold fire.

Shaking from the exertion, Tris climbed to his feet and raised the sword, dismissing the wardings. He could hear Fallon chanting as she, too, released her warding. Only then did Tris realize that Coalan was also chanting, and he smiled tiredly as he recognized the words to a prayer very young children learned to banish shadows from under their beds.

Coalan stopped suddenly, as if he only then realized they could hear him.

“What? It’s the only chant I know,” Coalan said defensively as Fallon helped Tris to a seat.

“Did it work?” Fallon asked anxiously. Tris could feel her magic wash over him, assuring her that he was undamaged. “Something happened, that’s for sure.”

Coalan pressed a glass of brandy into Tris’s hand, and Tris downed it to steady his nerves as the aftermath of the powerful working gave him the shakes. After a moment, he found his voice and told them as best he could what had happened, finding that words were insufficient to fully describe the experience. “Thank you both,” he said, setting the empty glass aside. “But Fallon and I had best get back to the fight.”

“Are you up to it? A working like that should have you flat on your back.”

Tris managed a wan smile. “Thank the Flow. I could feel it healing Carina—and it seemed to know that I was fading, too. It healed both of us. To tell you the truth, other than being a bit shaken, I feel better than I have in weeks.” He sobered. “Which is a good thing. Once Curane’s mages realize that the Flow is healed, I’m afraid they’ll make a final strike with everything they’ve got left. We breached the wall in several more places. Their line can’t hold much longer. One way

or another, this ends tonight.”

Before half a candlemark had passed, Tris and Fallon rode back to the front lines. In the torchlight, Tris could see the pounding Lochlanimar had taken. Two more sections of the outer wall had fallen, and the Margolan forces now held a position closer to the fortification than before. The night smelled of pitch and smoke as the trebuchets lobbed large, tarred bundles of straw into the air which archers set afire in flight with flaming arrows. They streaked across the clear winter night sky like comets, landing between the inner and outer walls.

Around them, teams of men maneuvered catapults over the frozen ground for a better shot at the inner walls through the gaps in the outer fortifications. Once those inner walls were breached, Senne’s soldiers were ready to storm through, along with the remaining
vayash
moru
and the legion of ghost soldiers that were Margolan’s own battle dead.

Tris sent out his magic to touch Tabok.
Are you in position?

Aye,
Tris heard the ghost’s reply.
Mohr’s been tearing the place apart, throwing whatever he
can move. He drove soldiers out of one wing of the castle by hurling pots and pans at them.

And he flooded the cellar with wine and ale by popping the corks and splitting the barrels.

I don’t know when I’ll need you, so be ready for the signal.

As you wish, my king.

The spirits from the necropolis beneath Lochlanimar did not speak in words, but the images they sent as their restless energies swept through the the walled keep told Tris that they, too, were committed to ending the battle this night. Fallon, Vira and Beyral, the remaining mages, were ready to join their magic with Tris’s for a last salvo. Tris looked up as a horse and rider came up beside him and he recognized Soterius.

“You’re not supposed to be out of bed.”

Soterius gave a harsh laugh. “Neither are you.”

“Shows how well we listen.”

“Is everything in place?”

Tris nodded. At ninth bells, the final full press to take Lochlanimar would begin. Tris knew how badly his own forces were stretched, and the ghosts within the stronghold had informed him that Curane’s resources were even thinner. Whichever side survived this night would take the victory, and Tris could only guess how high the cost in blood would be.

“Where do you need me?”

Tris met Soterius’s eyes, and knew that his friend was well aware of how much was at stake this night. “Senne’s covered the front press. Rallan has the rear and west. The mages and I will also be at the front—the ghosts say it’s closest to the mages’ workshop, and we’ll make the best strike against them from that angle. That leaves the east without a senior officer.

We’ve got several catapults in place, lobbing whatever we can burn over the walls.”

Soterius smiled tightly. “Then that’s where I’ll go.” He paused. “Be careful, Tris. Out of all of us, you’re the one who has to make it home in one piece.”

Tris clasped his forearm. “I intend to bring as many home with me as I can. Watch your back.” Soterius nodded, and rode off.

A sense of foreboding washed over Tris as the candlemarks passed. Curane’s response to their attacks had been muted at best, without the all-out counteroffensive Tris expected.

There could be only one reason: Curane was saving his waning resources for a final strike.

And knowing Curane, Tris feared that the traitor lord would not hesitate to sacrifice his own people in a doomsday maneuver.