First Of Her Kind (Book 1) (24 page)

Her bright eyes peered at Ciara, and sliced through her defenses. She chuckled. "Ah, that’s the way of it, then? You hold out hope the great Sciath na Duinne will come to your rescue? You place your hope in folly, child. This is my place. My domain. You cannot stand against me here. You will bend to me or die."

"That was not our bargain, Crone." Donovan’s fingers bit into Ciara’s arms; she could feel the heat of his anger rising.

"I have opted to alter our bargain, Lordling. But never fear, you may still have what remains of your daughter when I'm finished with her. I may even let you keep this paltry excuse for a world."

"You cannot hope to do this without me," he warned.

"And you have no choice but to aid me." The old woman’s bright eyes fixed on Ciara once again. "It would be best, child, if you were to remain open and quiet."

Ciara choked. She'd heard those words many times but they’d never tasted so bitter, or filled her with terror like they did now. She squirmed in Donovan’s grip. On a sudden impulse she brought her heel down on top of his foot with as much force as she could muster, and shoved backwards. Donovan swore and stumbled backwards, losing his grip on her as he tripped on the stones. Ciara spun away from him, still within the ring of stone and cold black flame.

The old woman smiled. Her lips moved, and Ciara shuddered as the words reached her ears like a distant whisper on the wind, in a language she'd heard before. The chant dove deep into the earth and pulled up power so old even the rocks seemed young. Ciara recoiled as the air became crowded with wispy sigils that danced and swayed around her.

The wards Bolin had wrapped around the wilding wavered and withered into nothingness. Ciara cried out as sudden, blinding recognition flared through her. Andrakaos knew these words, understood them, and ached to answer their call.

The words formed and reformed as they swirled about, swooping and weaving in a mesmerizing dance, keeping cadence with the woman’s scratchy chant. Ciara hissed at the shivers of pain as the sigils slid through her like icy knives. The woman lifted her hand and Andrakaos leaned into the caress.

"No!" Ciara willed him back but he lingered, watching the dancing sigils. Her earth magic -- shattered by the working -- lay scattered about her in glimmering bits that she scooped up and tried desperately to mold into something more substantial.

Too little, too late. The old woman’s chant carved past Ciara’s tattered earth magic, and left her with nothing but the wild, tumultuous power of her birthright. She could embrace it or die. She knew that now -- saw it clearly in the old woman’s eyes.

For the love of the Goddess!  Ciara grit her teeth and braced against the gale of words buffeting her.

The old woman’s harsh, wicked laughter shocked her, and interrupted the rhythm of the chant. "The love of the Goddess? You fool!  The Goddess doesn't love you. She fears you. And rightly so. Love you?" Again the laughter. "Had she more brains than compassion she would have killed us all. Her compassion stayed her hand, and it will be her destruction. I will be goddess then, child, and you shall serve me."

Ciara’s lip curled in a snarl. "I do not serve her, and I won't serve you."

She renewed her efforts to spin her earth magic into something formidable. She drew it out and flung it toward the woman, instinct overriding conscious thought. The black flame around her leapt to intercept it, and the magic ricocheted back. Ciara ducked, almost too late, and it shattered behind her, scattering around the edges of the stone ring, sizzling as it died, like lightning gone wildly astray.

"Daughter."

Ciara whirled to face Donovan where he stood, just outside the ring of stone. "Don't call me that!  I am not your daughter."

"We are blood-bound, nothing can change that."

"You are nothing to me."

He held out a hand. "Give me Andrakaos. Let him come to me."

"So you can give him to her?" Ciara flung a gesture at the old woman.

Silence -- a moment too long. A moment Ciara read almost as quickly as the old woman. "You think to betray me," the old woman said, more accusation than question.

Donovan didn’t move. "Do not be foolish, Crone. You cannot face the Goddess without me, and we will not win against the Goddess without the girl's power. Would you rather she continue to fight us? I can control the power and her. They are part of me."

The old woman hesitated, her wizened face a frozen snarl.

In the next instant her body contorted violently, and she hurtled backwards across the chamber, her screech an inhuman sound full of fury and hatred. Donovan whipped around, and dropped to a crouch as the flames around Ciara roared upwards. The air in the chamber swelled, pushing outward. Donovan raised a hand, and Ciara felt the force of his magic zip past her ear. She turned with its passage and gasped when she saw the intended target. Bolin!  He dove out of the way, rolled, and regained his feet in one smooth motion.

"Nephew." The old woman pushed herself away from the table that had broken her momentum, dusting herself off as though she had nothing more important to do. "How sweet of you to join us. Restrain him, Lordling, and don't fail me this time."

"No!" The black flames shot up as Ciara tried to leave the fire pit. They crackled when she ran into them but didn't give, and she bounced off and landed hard on her backside.

"You're done here, old woman," Bolin said.

She scoffed. "Done? I haven't even begun. You are the last bit of the plan, nephew. Your mother's demise at your hands, poetic justice, don't you think?"

"You underestimate me. You and your lackey both."

"Do we? Or is it you who underestimate us? Do you think I would set a trap without careful thought and planning? Do you think I'm powerless here?" She spread her arms, a gesture meant to encompass everything around them. "In this place I have ultimate power. Centuries confined here, an afterthought, another oversight of your blessed mother. She couldn't bring herself to kill me any more than she could kill the girl. Murder's not in her blood. I, on the other hand, have no such compulsions."

The shield of magic Bolin spun wavered under her attack but didn't fail. He laughed, cold and hard. The kind of cold you paid heed to or died because of. "Neither do I."

Donovan edged cautiously around the outside of the stone ring, angling for position. Ciara felt the surge of power rise in Bolin, and in that instant everything slowed. She watched as he gathered the assorted strands of magic he had collected, pulled them deep into himself, effortlessly formed them into something stronger, and directed it all at Donovan in a force with one purpose. Kill.

Andrakaos screamed in defiance.

Time spun out. Bolin's hand came up. Nothing stood between him and Donovan save the dancing flames and Ciara.

In an instinctual mimicry of Bolin's moves Ciara snatched at the bits of her shattered earth magic and formed a shield of her own. She flung it at Donovan a moment before Bolin released his magic. Donovan threw up his arms, and disappeared in a haze of color and smoke. Ciara held her breath, watching. The breath escaped in a sigh of relief as the smoke cleared and revealed Donovan pushing himself off the ground.

The old woman crowed in victory, and clapped her hands. "You see!  Blood is a strong bond. She won't allow you to kill him."

"Well, there's always you then." Bolin turned. "I doubt she feels the same misguided loyalty where you’re concerned."

But the old woman hadn't been idle. Bolin lurched backwards, unable to absorb the warded force that struck him like a raging bull. He staggered, and dropped to one knee. As he regained his feet he flicked a gesture outwards. The old woman twisted and writhed then straightened, her lips pulled back over her teeth in a snarl. She should have died. Ciara felt it. All that power -- it should have destroyed her.

Go, Ciara. Leave. Now.

She couldn't be sure where the suggestion came from any more than she could comply, and she had no time to brace herself before Bolin jumped the circle of stone. He crashed into Ciara, and sent her flying out of the fire pit, limbs flailing. The flames seared her skin as she catapulted through them and landed on the ground. Hard. Someone grunted, followed by the sound of bodies colliding behind her. Before she could get to her feet she went sprawling again as Bolin and Donovan tumbled over the top of her in a tangle of limbs.

Then someone yanked her to her to her feet and, with a hard hand against her back, shoved her toward an open archway.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Ciara never made if from the chamber. The air grew thick, and her feet felt as though they were mired in muck. She turned to seek out the old woman and found herself the target of those sharp, grey eyes.

The woman began to chant again; a strange sing-song that reminded Ciara of the one that had bound her and Sandeen in the forest. It vibrated up through the soles of her feet, and in that frozen moment of panicked hesitation it found Andrakaos and moved across him like a lover's caress. The sensation rippled through Ciara and she shuddered, her eyes half closed. Her breath quickened, anticipation growing-

-a man's face, a jagged scar across his cheek that twitched in laughter as he held her down, his hands groping at her. She had killed him for trying to take her, just as this old woman tried to take Andrakaos from her now. Ciara should have felt terror at the invasion. Instead, the languid warmth left her and she screamed in rage. She would never let this dry, old, hag of a woman take any part of her.

The woman smiled at her -- smiled, of all things!  As though she had just won a victory. Ciara sucked in a deep breath, stretched out her hand, and called Andrakaos to her.

"That's the way, child," the woman said. "Let it consume you."

"Let it consume you!" Ciara raised her arms to the dark swirl of power and called his name again. She stretched her arms out to him and spoke the ancient words that gave him shape. The sigils danced all around her. Ciara knew what they were for now, and how to join them. She knew how to say them -- the meaning behind each one. The old woman had given them to her in the strains of her chant. They were the words that would control the darkness and give it form.

The woman's eyes glowed in anticipation. Ciara’s mouth curled into a smile cold as the deepest winter. Did the hag foresee her own death and welcome it? Decaying old fool. She didn't realize she could never stand before Ciara. Not now. Not ever again. No one could. Donovan had been right. Andrakaos rose far above mere magic. This was true power, strong and wild. He flooded her veins in a rush that blinded her to all else. Nothing else existed, and couldn't unless she allowed it. And she existed only because of Andrakaos.

Ciara sucked air as though for the first time, nostrils flaring, and saw nothing beyond the swirling power -- black as a starless night, fraught with streaks of red and silver.

Her focus snapped outward again, and locked on the old woman. Anger coursed through her, as it had that day on the road, and Ciara lashed out without thought. A single dark strand of power flew across the chamber, focused on that one target. It sliced through the fire pit as though the flames were made of fluff. Ciara bared her teeth in a feral grin that turned snarl when the flames clapped suddenly shut.

She jerked backwards, but couldn't pull free of the trap; nor could she release her grip. The flames held her tethered.

"You see," the woman cooed, as she advanced around the ring of stone towards Ciara, "you can't win here. I shall have your power, child, and together we will destroy the Goddess."

A frustrated growl rose from Ciara's throat and she threw her weight back in vain, only peripherally aware of movement. Someone reached past her from behind and wrapped hands around the dark length of power, began to draw it back from the flames and away from Ciara.

She whirled and her rage found a new target in Bolin. It would be such a simple thing to kill him.

"Yes!"

Ciara looked at Donovan, his dark eyes were bright and eager. That day on the road -- he had encouraged her, had pushed her to kill even as he did now. Ciara's gut twisted at the realization. Is that what he wanted of her? Blood? She wavered.

Bolin spoke to Andrakaos as he had before, in the same ancient language as the woman's chant. But these words were different. They carried none of the anger and heat the others had. They were words of calming. And Bolin drew Andrakaos in as though he owned him.

"Ciara!" Bolin gave no more warning than that. He yanked the strand of power to him and it wrenched Ciara around, spinning her into the circle of his arms. The coils of darkness hissed and twisted around them as Bolin worked to bring them under his control.

Ciara struggled against him. She had lost track of the words, and they scattered like leaves in the wind. Leaves the woman collected and sang with renewed force, enticing them from Bolin. Ciara shoved against Bolin’s chest to free herself but he held her tightly.

"He would control you just as the Goddess would," the woman said.

"Daughter." Donovan held out a hand to her. Blood streaked the side of his face. "Come to me."

But Bolin held her fast and Ciara could no more go to Donovan, than she could control the fury swirling around her. Andrakaos no longer heeded her. He listened only to Bolin now, and responded to his touch as he never had to hers. He rose up in Bolin’s embrace, Ciara with him. Her breath tore through her in ragged bursts as Bolin wrapped them in a seething blanket of darkness.

But there were chinks in Bolin’s working, and the old woman found them, pried them apart like vine through mortar as she wrestled with him for control of Andrakaos. Even through the confusion around her, Ciara felt the sudden swelling of the air, and knew what to expect in the same instant Bolin swung her out of the way and sent a blast of power roaring towards the woman.

Her power!

Andrakaos hissed. Shards of red and silver scattered around her and skittered around the chamber, angry and alive. Blood lust seeped through Ciara's confusion, the same thrilling sense of omnipotence she had felt when the belt tightened around Scar-face's throat.

Ciara twisted from Bolin's grip on her wrist to free herself of the shield he had built around them.

Shield or prison?

A thought and a gesture
, Donovan’s voice whispered in her head.
You have the words now. Use them!

"Ciara." Bolin's voice in her ear, as unshakeable as the man himself.

Trust only yourself. Kill them or lose me.

"No!" She tried to move away, but Bolin pulled her back against him. "Leave me alone!"

She turned away from him in time to see Donovan gesture their way. The words she spoke were foreign to her tongue. She drew them up from the darkest part of her, pulled them out of the ground beneath her feet, and hurled them outwards with as much force as she could. Bolin jerked violently, and sucked in a ragged gasp as the world around them exploded.

Stone cracked in the ceiling overhead and tumbled down in great chunks as a whirlwind of power sent everything in the chamber spinning -- tables and books, jars, bits of stone. Only the four of them seemed rooted in place in the midst of the turmoil.

They all wanted her. They pushed at her, tried to force her to their will, and Ciara lay on the road again, stones cutting into her back as he held her down. The stench of sweat and manure clogged her nostrils. Her throat burned. Rough hands pulled at her clothing.

"Leave me alone!" she screamed, with a force that made the edges of her vision go black. But pain no longer mattered. Ciara sobbed, and in that moment opened herself over to the full force of her power.

Everything around her dwindled.

All save that one person, who stood firm in her way, unyielding as the earth itself. He gathered the bits of destruction and reshaped them as quickly as they appeared. She watched him for a moment, her curiosity growing. What would he do with them, she wondered? Would he use them against the old woman? Against Donovan? Or would he use them against her? He wanted her. She could feel the desire in him. If she tried, she could look into his soul and see everything behind the mask.

His light eyes found hers. "Stop."

She laughed, the sound an hysterical cackle. "Too late." In a voice not her own.

Icy calm replaced hot anger and she began to mimick Bolin, gathering up the scattered bits of Andrakaos. This is what Donovan had wanted to teach her -- to control not be controlled.

The old woman stood amidst the chaos, taunting her, still singing her foolish little song.

Ciara snarled. "You think to stand against me, old woman?"

A shimmer licked suddenly around her, and Ciara cocked a brow at it. She looked sidelong at Donovan, reached out a finger, and poked the cage of light. It popped like a bubble. Donovan flinched and braced as though expecting a blow, but Ciara laughed again in sheer exhilaration. The room whirled around her, and she rode the cords of power past Donovan and Bolin, past the withered old stump of a woman, as an eagle rides the wind. No one would ever touch her again.

"Ciara, stop!"

Bolin, again. A growl rose in her throat, and became a roar as he reached for her. He disappeared beneath the blast of power in that sound, but before she could think to regret it, he reappeared, and an inhuman scream ripped from her. Why did he constantly stand in her way? He wanted the old woman dead; Ciara could do it. He wanted her to learn how to control her power, and she tried. Yet he stopped her at every turn.

Something seared her shoulder from behind, and Ciara cried out in sudden pain. She turned to find the source. Donovan and the woman stood side by side, chanting. The old woman flicked a hand her way as though waving away a fly. Ciara jerked back, and more pain erupted through her. Words surrounded her. They shimmered in the air, and held her rooted in place. Andrakaos began to slip from her grasp, pulled upwards into the air beyond her reach. Ciara snarled, swiping and clawing at the elusive words as she tried to reclaim her power.

The room became solid around her again as her hold on Andrakaos weakened, and her mind began to clear.

Be still and open.

Again? And who told her now? Too many voices and words swirled around her. Sigils danced before her eyes like bits of broken ice as Andrakaos soared higher and farther from her.

Still and open.

Ciara dragged in a tattered breath. Her mouth moved, her lips shaping those same words, words that would draw Andrakaos back to her. A voice whispered to her what to say, and helped her put order to the sigils that whizzed about her in chaotic frenzy.

The old woman shrieked in anger. Ciara yanked hard on the strands of power she had gathered, and pulled them back without regard for the consequences. They hit with the force of a blast, ripping through to her core. Somehow she managed to keep her feet, and she sent all that power streaking back at the only target she could be certain of.