First Of Her Kind (Book 1) (20 page)

"I will send a distraction to occupy my nephew while we steal away your daughter." She moved around the fire, and put herself directly before him, so close he took a step back to better see her. "You will not cross me in this. My hounds hunt whom they are told. We'll work together, you and I, to spirit your child here. He'll know who has taken her. He will come."

"You will see us both destroyed, crone."

"It is you who has allowed this threat to live," she reminded him. "You, who have allowed him to slip through your fingers like so much sand, more than once. Your ambition clouds your judgment. The girl will join us to save his life, and he will sacrifice himself to save hers. And we'll use them, one against the other, to our own ends."

Donovan drew in a deep breath, ripe with the mustiness of age and mold and, always, the enticing aroma of ancient power. Using the General, broken and disillusioned would have been hard enough. Attempting to turn him when he'd recovered some of his strength could prove to be their undoing.

"You hesitate?"

"I have no desire to see our plans thrown hastily into the fire," he replied. "Let me return to my fortress with the girl. I will turn her and then bring her here."

"You've had your chance, and failed."

Donovan took a step forward before he realized it and stopped himself, hands clenched at his sides. The crone still smiled, her eyes bright.

"Do not forget," Donovan said, his voice soft as he made no attempt to disguise the threat, "it is you who needs me. Together we can bring the girl here, no doubt. The Sciath na Duinne will follow as you say, and you, Crone, without my aid, will fail. You. Will. Fail."

The air between them crackled with energy, but the crone’s expression did not change. She laughed suddenly, breaking the tension. "We're the same, you and I, Lordling. I'm anxious to see which of us survives this alliance."

She turned abruptly, and walked through an archway Donovan hadn’t noticed before. Her voice echoed back to him as though down some distant tunnel. "We've no time to waste. My hounds hunt with the moon."

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Ciara catapulted into complete darkness. She thrust her hands blindly out in front of her to stop her momentum, but Bolin's arm around her waist took care of that as he pulled her tightly back against him.

"Quiet," he whispered.

Muffled voices joined the baying of the hound behind them. Ciara could feel Bolin's heart beating calm and steady against her back, playing counterpoint to the frantic hammering of her own. Sandeen shifted beside them, and though less than an arm length separated them, Ciara couldn't make out even a ghost of his shape.

"We can't risk a light yet," Bolin said, his voice so soft Ciara had to strain to hear him over the pounding of her pulse. He turned her, and guided her steps next to Sandeen. "Take hold of his tail and don't let go."

He placed the coarse strands of the stallion's tail in her hands and curled her fingers around them.

"Keep a tight hold," he repeated, and gave her hands a squeeze.

The hound had stopped barking but the voices were still debating something. Sandeen started forward and Ciara lurched after him. She stumbled against his rump, and prayed his steady nature and years of training would keep him from kicking her back through the wall. Even the darkest, moonless night couldn't compare to the blackness that surrounded them -- so totally devoid of the hint of color or light. She couldn't even see Bolin’s carefully constructed working, though she could feel it around them. Soon the voices behind faded. Their own footsteps and the hollow clop of Sandeen's hooves became the only sounds -- deadening just as quickly as they were made.

Ciara tightened her grip on the stallion's tail. Sweat trickled down her back despite the chill in the air, and the longer they remained encased in the nothingness the more her panic threatened to overwhelm her.

"Bolin?" Her whisper sounded like a shout and Ciara cringed. A witch light would have been really helpful about now. Any sort of light actually.

"We're nearly through." His disembodied voice drifted back to her. "Hold tight."

Ciara's eyes ached from straining to see, so she closed them, and concentrated on the strands of hair between her fingers. The tension had just started to leave her muscles when her leg jerked suddenly forward, and she fell backwards with a cry. Sandeen's tail ripped from her grasp as he snorted and hopped away. Ciara hit the ground hard. Her head smacked rock, and lights erupted behind her eyes.

"Goddess light!" Bolin's low curse slipped past the ringing in her ears. "Ciara?"

She groaned. The blue glow of a witch light cast wavering shadows above her, and she shielded her eyes from its relative brightness. Bolin knelt beside her, the light hovering nearby.

"Are you all right?"

"No," she said.

"Can you stand?"

She waved a hand at the witch light. "Can you get that thing out of my eyes?"

Bolin took her hand, and pulled her up despite her mumbled objections. She wavered on her feet and fell into him, her forehead resting against his chest. Her moan turned into a hiss as he reached behind her head to feel for injury, and his fingers found the large bump there.

"The ceiling's too low for you to ride," he said. "Can you walk? It's not much further."

Ciara lifted her head to answer, and would have toppled over if Bolin hadn't grabbed her by the arms. She could feel his frown.

"I didn't hit my head on purpose, you know," she said.

"I didn't suggest you did, but we need to keep moving."

The way he said it made Ciara forget her pain for a moment. "What's wrong?"

"It's best not to linger too long within these passageways," he said. "They're not always . . . predictable."

"Not always predictable?" The phrase could've applied to the entire fortress. Ciara blinked. She had a hard time determining if things were blurry because of the wavering witch light, or the knock to her head.

"Ciara?" A hint of impatience hardened Bolin's voice.

"Go." She pushed him away.

He turned and brushed past Sandeen, leaving the witch light to bob in the air mid-way between them. Its faint illumination showed sloping walls close in on both sides, and a ceiling so low Sandeen's ears brushed against it. In front of them, and behind, nothing but darkness the witch light couldn't penetrate. Ciara tried to make her breathing deep, and calm, telling herself they would soon be safely out of Donovan's fortress. But the stifling confines of the passageway became overwhelming.

Though her hands were raw from Sandeen's tail ripping through her grip when she fell, Ciara grabbed hold of it again. She looked nervously over her shoulder. The skin between her shoulder blades prickled, and she crowded against Sandeen.

By all the unholies, how much longer would this take? Ciara sucked in a shallow breath, and then another as her chest began to tighten. The walls seemed to close in with each step. She focused on the witch light, but the glow of it hurt her eyes so she stared at Sandeen's ghostly shape instead.

And then it seemed the darkness ahead of them brightened. A few more steps and the witch light became lost in the increasing glare. Ciara shielded her eyes as the light grew stronger, and the darkness faded away behind them.

Fresh air wafted over her as they emerged from the passageway. The late evening sun streaked across the broken landscape, and Ciara sighed with relief. She let Sandeen’s tail slip out of her grasp. A glance back showed only the high, black wall surrounding the fortress, an unbroken surface with no sign of the passageway they had just exited.

Bolin didn't pause but continued to lead Sandeen down the rough embankment towards more level footing. Ciara picked her way across the tumbled boulders as quickly as she dared. Her head still throbbed, and she had to squint to see clearly. By the time she reached Bolin, he had already mounted. He reached a hand down for her and Ciara hesitated.

"We've no time for delay," he snapped. "Unless you'd like to present yourself back into Donovan's hands."

"No. But-"

"Then get on."

She frowned but locked wrists with him and slipped her foot into the vacated stirrup to swing up behind him. She wrapped her arms loosely around his waist and felt him tense. Then they were moving, Sandeen picking his way confidently among the boulders and jagged rocks. Ciara had forgotten what a bleak and rough land the Nethers were.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"For now, the Greensward. Galys Auld in the ancient tongue, to someone who may have paid attention to her lessons."

Ciara ignored the barb with an effort. "Is it far?"

"If nothing delays us we should be there before sunset tomorrow."

"Will Donovan follow us?"

He glanced over his shoulder at her. "What do you think?"

Ciara bit her bottom lip. "I’m sorry I got you into this."

"You aren't to blame," he said.

Ciara snorted. "And the sun doesn’t rise."

"It does. Daily. And no amount of regret or wishing will make it otherwise."

The web of magic Bolin had woven around them lingered until they were well under way. Ciara felt it dissipate in the same instant the pendant went cold and heavy against her breast and Bolin sucked in a quick, hard breath.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

He held himself stiff in the saddle, as though the slightest movement caused pain. "Aye."

"You're lying." Ciara realized that when he released his working, he let her healing spell go along with it. "You're not invincible, Bolin. How far do you think you'll make it if you don't let me help you?"

He didn't answer. Ciara closed her eyes, and in her mind she traced the image of the sigils on her pendant -- the gentle, round curve of her mother’s blending with the more angular twists of her aunt’s. She refused to touch upon the Goddess’s. The pendant warmed with the steady pulse of familiar magic. She drew it out and twisted it around the words of the healing spell she whispered. Risking refusal and anger --  neither of which came -- she wrapped it around Bolin like a blanket.

Her head pounded, and exhaustion washed over her. She leaned against Bolin's back, rested her cheek on his shoulder, and gave herself over to the steady movement of Sandeen beneath them.

* * *

As much as he wanted to, Bolin couldn't prevent Ciara's embrace in either the physical or magical sense. Getting them free of the fortress had meant bending the pendant's magic to his own purposes -- purposes it hadn't been intended for -- and the task had pushed him to his limit. The fortress's builders had been masters of more than masonry. They knew how to use and manipulate ancient magic like no one else. The danger of taking their hidden passageway had been far greater than he'd suggested to Ciara.

He drew a breath, grateful for the healing spell that made it possible to do so without pain. Despite her own beliefs on the matter, Ciara would make an excellent healer, given time. Not, however, if the Imperial Mages got their way.

She snuggled closer to him and her hands slipped down to his lap. Bolin tensed. Donovan had pushed Ciara at him when his defenses were in shreds. The unintentional kiss, and her reaction to it, tormented him more than physical pain ever could. If he'd have seen that kiss through to its conclusion the act would have undone years of carefully cultivated discipline. It would have thrown him in the lap of power he couldn't have resisted. Bolin would have taken that power as he would have taken her, and Ciara would have fought him.

The thought sent a shudder through him and Ciara mumbled something in her sleep. He needed to quiet his thoughts. She would be safe at Galys Auld. There were those living in the Greensward older and wiser than he. They would protect Ciara until he had a chance to confer with the Emperor. At least there she would be out of Donovan's reach.

He scowled. When had his life become so complicated? The politics of the imperial court were simpler. Hells, even war had been easy by comparison. Fighting in the name of the Emperor and the Goddess had a purpose, and not for the first time he wished the Goddess had chosen to take him in battle.

But, it remained a sad truth that his wishes and the Goddess’s plans did not often coincide.

* * *

The sun set long before they reached the sheltering cover of trees that marked the southern fringes of the Nethers, and would eventually give over to the thick forests of Galys Auld. The moon peered above the horizon under a thin veil of clouds. lending its wan light to the fractured landscape. They were leagues from Donovan’s fortress, but still not far enough for Bolin to feel at ease. Donovan would be after them as soon as he realized they were gone. Losing Bolin again would wound his pride. To lose Ciara cut much deeper.

And she would draw him to her like blossoms drew the bee.

None of which mattered because Bolin couldn't go any further. He halted Sandeen in a sheltering ring of pines and reached back to give Ciara a gentle shake.

"Are we there?" she asked, her voice sleepy.

"No, but we all need a rest."

She slid off Sandeen, and the quiet spell she'd wrapped around him slipped away with her. Pain and exhaustion returned in its wake. Ciara stretched, and surveyed their surroundings. She glanced at Bolin, still seated on Sandeen's back. He didn't trust his legs to hold him, but dropped his stirrups and flipped his leg over the back of the saddle. Ciara steadied him as he landed, her face a mask of concern, a quiet fear lurking in her eyes.

"Bolin-"

"I'm fine," he said, with more of a growl than he meant.

Ciara scowled at him and stepped back, her fists on her hips. "Of course you are. Are we making camp here?"

Bolin nodded. "At least until the moon is fully up."

Ciara continued to study him, her expression guarded. He imagined he looked like something that had crawled out of a cesspit. Goddess knew, he smelled like it.

"I trust you can manage a fire?" Bolin asked, as much to distract Ciara as himself.

The corners of her mouth pulled downward. "Of course."

He nodded and turned to Sandeen. He loosened the girth and slipped the bit from the stallion’s mouth, but left the bridle on. He could feel her behind him. She hadn’t moved.

"Fires don’t normally make themselves," he said.

"Do you think a fire wise?"

"Do you think Donovan can't find you, fire or no?" He turned and instantly regretted his words. Ciara’s eyes were wide, her mouth open in shock as the reality of that sunk in. Bolin took a step toward her and stopped. "I’ll set wards." He resisted the urge to follow through on his impulse to draw her into his arms. "If you allow me the use of the pendant again."

Her eyes flashed, fear replaced by sudden, quick anger. A look -- like lightening across the night sky -- that put him in mind of someone else. "Why bother asking now?"

He raised his brows. "Would you have preferred we stayed there?"

"I would've preferred some consideration for once."

Bolin said nothing for a long while, and when he finally spoke his words surprised her. "I’m sorry I couldn't give you that courtesy. I do so now."