Edge of Darkness ~ A Darkness & Light Novel Book Three (31 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Sunlight brightened Bolin's vision. Shortly after the realization that his eyes were open, came a muscle clenching shiver of intense pain. When it passed, the unmistakable slithering of steel on stone reached him, and he rolled his head to find Berk seated just outside their shelter, drawing a whetstone along the edge of his dagger. Bolin forced himself up, bracing on his elbows.

His first attempt at talking resulted in little more than a hoarse bark, so he cleared his throat and tried again. "How long have I been out?"

"Since just after dawn." Berk kept his focus on the blade. "It's mid-afternoon, in case you're wondering."

Bolin cursed under his breath. "You should have woken me."

"I tried. It didn't go well."

"Meaning?"

"Nothing major." Berk angled his head enough for Bolin to see the split in his lower lip. "Next time, I'll keep my distance, and poke you with a stick."

"Where's Grumnlin?"

Berk gestured outside with his blade. "Moping. He wanted to go hunting for something more to his liking than jerky. I didn't feel comfortable letting him out of my sight."

"Wise decision." Bolin eased his way out of the shelter and stood, stretching cramped muscles. The landscape before him appeared normal but somehow… dull, and it took him a moment to spot Grumnlin.

He pushed down a wave of panic. He drew breath yet. Had his strength, his wits, at least for the moment, and Ciara remained safe in Nisair. Never mind that her pendant lay like a hard lump of lifeless rock against his breast, or that he couldn't feel even the smallest brush of Nialyne's power.

He had Ciara. He clung to that, even knowing it wouldn't last. He would lose her. There was no coming back from this. If he succeeded in killing the witch it would likely be before she reversed the blinding. He didn't know whether anyone else alive knew how, or could manage it before it became too late. Bolin couldn't live like that, bereft of even the tiniest glimmer of magic. He could well understand why others had taken their own lives. He only wished he had Ciara beside him now. He wanted her in his arms to chase away her fears, to make his apologies, and say his goodbyes. He could let go of everything and go willingly to the Halls, if he could spend one more night with Ciara nestled against him. She'd no idea how much she gave him. How she filled in the bits of him that were missing, and brought a shine back to the jaded pieces of his soul. He'd never told her as much, because doing so would mean admitting it to himself, and that would have left him exposed. Vulnerable. Like now.

"Unholy mothers."

"Is there a problem, General?"

A harsh laugh escaped him. "No. Nothing at all."

How had he managed to allow things to get so out of hand? Bolin waited, expecting the witch to respond. She'd been so free with her opinions and commentary before, though, perhaps Berk was right. Perhaps it was all in his imagination.

"When we go?" Grumnlin asked from his perch on a nearby boulder.

"Now, little man," Bolin said, rubbing a hand across his forehead.

If his thoughts were this jumbled already, it didn't bode well for the coming days. If only he could sense even a sliver of Nialyne's power, or the magic in the pendant. At this point, he'd settle for the disgusting slick feel of the witch's magic. Anything.

He cried out as shards of color sliced behind his eyes before robbing his vision altogether.

"Goddess's blood." Bolin ground the curse out between clenched teeth. Every muscle in his body constricted in an agony-laced spasm. He dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around himself. Sweat beaded his forehead as he rode the tidal wave of pain until it faded and his vision slowly returned.

Berk helped him to his feet, and Bolin leaned heavily on him for a long moment, blinking to clear his eyes. "That was… unpleasant."

"Is that going to happen often?"

"Only if I think about magic." Bolin focused on Grumnlin, who watched them from a distance, round, grubby face unreadable.

"In that case, may I suggest you don't?"

"Try not thinking about air when you can't breathe." Bolin snapped the words out.

"Go now?" Grumnlin asked.

Bolin waved him on. "Go now."

Grumnlin took off at a much faster pace than Bolin would have expected, not glancing back to make sure they were following until he reached the tree line.

"He seems in a hurry all of a sudden," Berk said.

"I doubt his reasons and mine are anywhere close to the same." Bolin took a few deep breaths, ignoring any thoughts other than the most superficial and mundane. "We're going to have to push the pace as much as possible."

"Going to let him take the lead?"

Bolin opened his mouth to ask if Berk felt the need to question everything, but stopped himself before the words could make it out. The man didn't deserve his rancor. He took another calming breath. "For the time being. It's likely he knows quicker paths to Kensing Tor than I. It's been a great many years since I travelled there."

He obviously failed to keep his irritation from showing because Berk's shoulders drew back and his gaze darted to the side. He gave a brief nod. "As you say, sir."

Grumnlin's gravelly voice rolled up the embankment. "Come now, Great Lord. Talk later."

He waited until Bolin and Berk started toward him before trundling off, and within moments they were trailing after him through the trees.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

"Her name's Toora," Ferris told Ciara, as he helped her mount Marcien's chestnut mare. Heavy shadows darkened the Sciath's eyes, and Ciara guess he had gotten as much sleep as her, which amounted to very little. "She's some of the same blood as my Beya. She'll be a bit fresh at first. She's young, and has a lot of fire in her. But she'll go like the wind and not tire, and she's a bit braver than your previous mount. Not to say she won't pitch you, but she's less likely to run off after doing so."

"That's comforting," Ciara said. She could already feel Toora's energy building beneath her. It reminded her a bit of Sandeen, but where he was all raw strength and held back fury, Toora felt quicker, more like lightning.

Donovan waited a bit apart from them, his expression unreadable in the dim light of early dawn. Marcien's hounds sat one to either side of his horse, and the beast shifted nervously between them. Ferris hesitated by Ciara's stirrup as though wanting to say something, but changed his mind and went to swing lightly onto Beya's back.

He led them out of the yard, keeping to a narrow track for most of the day, galloping when they could. He hadn't exaggerated about Toora. The mare felt like a coiled spring beneath Ciara. Fine and light, handling the mare demanded a bit of concentration, and more use of thigh and leg muscle than Ciara was used to. Toora never fought her, but the slightest suggestion from Ciara that she wanted more speed, intentional or not, and the chestnut mare would leap obligingly forward. Ciara found it exhilarating and exhausting all in the same breath.

They stopped in the early evening to take a light meal. No one talked much. Ciara had no desire to converse with Donovan, and it seemed as though Ferris purposely distanced himself from them both. Admittedly, Ciara had been a bit cold to him when she learned of his oath, but it had shocked her. It still did when she thought about it, which she tried not to do, because then worry for Bolin crowded in. Not only in regards to Ferris's oath, but what the effect on Bolin would be if they couldn't reverse the blinding. He wouldn't want to live like that. Ciara would lose him. That single thought mired her in fear until she pushed it aside. She wouldn't let it happen. She
couldn't
. Somehow she would find a way to reverse the blinding.

She looked across to where Donovan sat against a log with his head tipped back, hands folded in his lap, and his eyes closed. She hadn't sensed him at all when she went looking for him in the ethereal, but she wondered if her attempts to do so had drawn him to her.

"The weight of your scrutiny is without subtlety," Donovan said, not even bothering to open his eyes. "What is it you are hesitating to ask me?"

Ciara scowled. She hated her inability to keep him from reading her so easily.

"I did not. Until just now, when your irritation caused you to lower your guard. Ask your question, Daughter."

Ferris had disappeared from view, but as soon as Donovan started talking, he moved back into the periphery of Ciara's vision.

"All right. How is it you found me at High House?"

Donovan didn't move. "How have I ever found you?"

"But why did you even come looking?"

"Have I not made that clear?"

"Where were you?"

"Many places."

"Andrakaos told me you were hidden, but not by your own doing."

Finally, the glitter of midnight eyes through his lashes. "You were searching for me? How touching. Concerned for my wellbeing?"

"Hardly."

"We need to move on," Ferris said, leading Beya and Toora forward.

Donovan winced as he got to his feet and, despite herself, Ciara went to him. "I should check your wound."

"It needs no further tending. Your spell was adequate enough, and I have fortified it with my own. It is inconsequential."

"Pity, that," Ferris said.

Donovan's lip twitched upwards, but the Sciath had turned away to check Toora's girth and run the stirrups down. He held the mare while Ciara mounted, leaving Donovan to reclaim his own horse.

The land they traveled remained a blend of lush grass and tall, smooth-barked trees covering gently rolling swells. In most places, the trees grew far enough apart to allow for quick passage between them. In others they grouped tightly together, forcing the riders to either slow their pace, or go around. A blanket of spongy moss and thick ferns covered the ground whereever the grass didn't, and even with the season leaning heavily toward autumn, the scent of greenery hung heavy in the air.

As the shadows started to lengthen he slowed the pace considerably, stopping occasionally to rise up in the stirrups and survey the landscape.

"Lost already?" Donovan asked after one such time.

Keeping his eyes on some point in the distance, Ferris backed Beya until she drew even with Donovan's horse. He didn't look Donovan's way, but leaned slightly in the saddle and said something to him that caused Donovan to arch one slender brow. Then Beya skipped sideways, crowding Donovan's horse over before leaping forward into a canter. Toora bounded after without any encouragement, and by the time Ciara felt safe in looking at either of the men, Donovan's expression had gone tight and dark, and a smirk twisted Ferris's mouth.

Not long after, the Sciath veered sharply to the left and began following what appeared to be little more than a game trail. They were forced to ride single file, which left Ciara bringing up the rear. When the trail broadened enough for Ferris to draw to the side, he motioned Ciara up to the front.

"Just stay to the path," he said. "I'll let you know if you're going wrong."

Ciara coaxed her mare to the fore, and kept them to a walk as the faint track twisted through the ever-thickening trees. Daylight faded fast beneath the dense canopy of leaves, even though the sun hadn't quite reached the horizon. More than once, Ciara lost the trail and had to have Ferris point it out again.

"Maybe you should lead," she said to him, after they had to turn back for the second time.

"We'll be entering Erret Maw soon," he replied. "It's not more than a league further. You're doing fine."

"Her 'fine' is likely to drop us off a cliff," Donovan said.

"If there were a cliff nearby, I'd be sure to put you in the lead."

"Would you two stop," Ciara said, her voice betraying the spark of her rising temper. "If you want to kill each other when we're done with this, I won't stand in your way. Until then, just stop."

Her thighs burned, the increasing chill of evening had worked through her cloak, and her stomach had been complaining for the last three leagues. All of which paled in comparison to the growing fear they would be too late to help Bolin.

Toora stopped so suddenly Ciara lost her balance and lurched forward over the mare's neck. When she looked up to find the cause, she realized she hadn't done as Donovan feared and run them off a cliff, but rather, smack into one.

"Um… Ferris?"

"Turn right. Follow along the base. Stop when you get to the stream."

Ciara did as instructed, casting glances upwards at the vine covered wall of stone rising up beside her. Closer down, the rock looked black. When she craned her neck back and leaned to the side, she could see where the last rays of the sun streaked it with gold, but still couldn't make out the top.

The clear, fresh burble of running water tickled Ciara's ears. The stream Ferris mentioned came into view around an outcropping of stone and Ciara gave a surprised gasp, pulling Toora to a reluctant halt.

A cavernous hole opened in the face of the cliff. Calling what lay beyond a cave would have been a grand understatement. Andrakaos, in his corporeal form, with wings extended, could have walked through the opening without worrying about brushing the sides or top. Though the fading sun couldn't reach the interior, it glowed with a soft bluish-green light as far back as Ciara could see. Most of the illumination appeared to come from the water. The stream opened to a deep pond just inside the mouth of the opening, then narrowed again, wending its way into the depths of the cavern.

"Erret Maw?" she asked Ferris.

"Aye. We'll go in a bit further before taking a rest."

He took over the lead, giving Ciara plenty of opportunity to look around. She had never seen anything like Erret Maw. The walls were rough, giving the appearance of having been chiseled by time and the elements. The strange iridescence of the water glittered off them as though millions of tiny shards of broken mirrors were scattered throughout the rock.

A thought occurred to Ciara, and she eased Toora up beside Beya. "Ferris? Why couldn't we see this from a distance? I mean, it must be immensely tall. Shouldn't we have gotten a glimpse of it before running into the side?"

"Its magic protects it from being found, except by those who know where, or how, to look. Can you not feel it?" He tipped his head back, breathing deeply. He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them to look at Ciara, they were so bright they glowed. "It's very intense."

Ferris brought Beya to a halt and dismounted, coming around to hold Toora's reins while Ciara did the same. She didn't miss the look he awarded Donovan before leading the mares to the edge of the stream to drink their fill.

"We'll be able to take a longer rest once we're through the other side. For now, a quick meal and a short sit will have to suffice."

***

Ferris insisted they go on foot since the stream and overall dampness made the footing dangerously slick. Though the strange, ambient glow lit the vast space like green-tinged moonlight, heavy shadows still clung everywhere. The stream itself varied in width and depth. In some spots it narrowed to a mere trickle on the face of the rock and, in others, it became so wide they were forced to walk a narrow strip along the wall. In those wider, deeper sections, Ciara swore she caught the shimmer of fish moving through the clear water.

"None you'd want to risk catching," Ferris said, when Ciara asked him about them. "Not unless you intend to make poison."

Even speaking softly his voice slid around the cavern, the vastness of which Ciara still had a hard time coming to terms with. There were parts so wide and tall, Nisair's castle could have sat comfortably within it with room to spare.

"How is it you knew of this place?" Ciara asked.

He flicked a glance Donovan's way as though considering his words. "I spent some time here once."

"Spent some time? As in, you lived here?"

"Not exactly."

Ciara's brow furrowed. She would have asked him to elaborate, but he tipped his head to indicate the direction they'd been travelling in. "We should keep moving."

Toora proved to be an inquisitive beast. She pranced more than walked, her head high, ears in constant motion as she scoured their surroundings. More than once she stopped and twisted her elegant neck to look off to the side, or behind them, then she'd turn and bump Ciara with her nose as though wanting her to look as well.

Between Toora's antics and concentrating on where she placed her feet, Ciara didn't notice the increasing brush of power until Andrakaos's voice sounded in her head, as strong and clear as if he stood beside her.

Where are you?
The question sounded like a demand, and brought Ciara to a sudden halt.

"Are you free?"

No. Where are you? I feel--

Toora's whinny bordered on a scream as something huge passed overhead. She reared back, striking out with her front hooves. Ciara managed to keep hold of the reins, but couldn't do the same for her footing. Her boots slipped on the slick stone and she slid forward as Toora backed in panic.

"Andrakaos, is that you?"

WHERE ARE YOU?

His bellow erupted in her head with enough force to cause Ciara to relinquish her grasp on the reins in favor of clapping her hands over her ears. She dropped to her knees and Toora danced away. Pain exploded through her skull as though someone had clobbered her with a blacksmith's mallet, followed by a wave of nausea, and then a sense of longing and desperation that stole her breath.

A horse screamed, and Ciara jerked her head up in time to see Donovan knocked to the side as his gelding whirled in a terrified bid for freedom. It made it two lengths before being grabbed around the barrel by a clawed fist. Its bones gave way with a sickening crack, but Ciara couldn't make herself look away because the creature mantling the poor beast looked like Andrakaos, though much smaller and two-legged. It craned its neck down to look at the limp horse in its grasp before swinging its head toward the humans and remaining horses.

Ciara took a deep breath and got slowly to her feet, her mouth dry, and her pulse raging. Donovan stood against the wall to her right, Ferris off to her left, struggling to keep a hold of both Beya and Toora. As soon as Ciara moved, the creature's lip curled back against fangs as long as she was tall.

"Daughter?" The word held both warning and question.

I must come,
Andrakaos said.

"Can you leave the city?"

I must.

Another longer moment passed in which the creature tightened its grip on the body of Donovan's horse and took a menacing hop forward, using one foot and the claw at the joint of its wing.