Edge of Darkness ~ A Darkness & Light Novel Book Three (32 page)

She will help,
Andrakaos said, an image of Ariadne accompanying his words.

The creature lunged forward before Ciara could even think of a response. A blast of power pushed past her from Donovan's direction, at the same time, Ferris darted between her and those deadly jaws, sword drawn. Donovan's power clipped Ferris's shoulder, spinning him half around. The rest of the blast shattered against the beast as ineffectually as a raindrop against an inferno.

The creature reared back, wings fanning the air, showering them with a mix of water and pebbles. Its screech bounced through the cavern, reverberating off the walls and ceiling and making it sound as though they faced many instead of one. Like a snake striking, it whipped down toward Ferris and Ciara leapt into its path, hand outthrust.

"Stop!"

Hot sour air pushed against her, and droplets of saliva flecked her face but the beast halted, the tip of its snout touching Ciara's upraised palm. She held her breath, no idea what to do next. Curiosity radiated from the creature, but any other feelings it had were a chaotic jumble. Ciara leaned slightly, angling to look it in the eye. Where Andrakaos's were solid, obsidian orbs full of light, this one's were dull orange with slit pupils, like a snake's.

It took Ciara a moment for to realize the low rumbling vibrating the ground was coming from the creature.

"M'lady," Ferris said softly from behind her. "Step away."

"I don't think--"

A challenging bugle shook the air and the creature craned its neck to look upwards. Another figure hovered above them, unmistakable in size and shape, though seemingly lacking in substance. The creature facing them released the mangled remains of Donovan's horse and scrambled backwards, rising up on its haunches and leaping skyward. Andrakaos roared again, folded his wings, and plummeted before the smaller creature could get airborne. He hit the ground in a spray of water and rock and, keeping his wings partially spread, crowded the smaller creature against the far wall. It struck out and Andrakaos slapped it with a forepaw, sending it skittering sideways and proving that, even in his ethereal form, he could inflict damage.

Go,
Andrakaos said.
I will deal with this one.

"Probably wise," Ferris said.

Despite the circumstances, a grin tickled the corners of Ciara's mouth. Andrakaos's presence filled her with warmth and surety. If she could have, she would have run to him and thrown her arms around his neck. The power they shared had never left her, but Andrakaos's absence had created a hole nothing else could fill.

"What is it?" Ciara asked, curiosity holding her in place.

A wyvern.
Andrakaos's mental voice projected disdain.
Feral and loathsome lizards.

"M'lady, we must go."

The wyvern lunged forward again, passing half through Andrakaos before being flung to the side. Ferris grabbed hold of Ciara's arm and drew her away, and Donovan trailed silently in their wake.

"Beya and Toora?" Ciara asked, belatedly looking around for the horses.

"Likely to the far end by now, Goddess willing," Ferris said, his expression tight. "That, or halfway home."

"A brilliant suggestion, coming this way," Donovan said.

Ferris whirled, his face twisted in anger, but Ciara stepped in front of him and placed a hand against his chest to keep him from going for Donovan. Ferris's eyes flicked her way briefly, then past her to where Donovan stood. The Sciath's lips compressed, quirking up into a smile that never made it any further. He looked about to say something but turned around instead, propping his sword against his shoulder and walking away.

"Stop pushing him," Ciara said, rounding on Donovan. "Or next time I won't get in his way."

"As you wish, Daughter. However, keep in mind, this delay has cost us precious time, as well as a horse. Then again, perhaps your dog has no interest in getting to the general in time to save him. It would make things simpler for him, I imagine."

Ciara didn't need to look to know Ferris had stopped. The air around them stilled the way it did in that instant of realization between a strike and the blow landing.

"I'll not be questioned by the likes of you," Ferris said, and though he didn't face them, and still held his sword casually against his shoulder, the threat in his voice coursed down Ciara's spine. "In deference to the lady, I'll stay my hand until after this is over."

"You assume you will live through it."

"I'll wager you're making the same assumption regarding your own survival."

An ear-piercing screech echoed through the cavern, followed by a thunderous roar and even more screeches. Ciara didn't know if there were more wyvern, and she had no desire to find out by having them show up en masse.

"Andrakaos?"

Are you away?
His mental voice sounded winded.

"Not quite."

There are many.

"Do you need help?"

They are--
Pain flared in Ciara's leg across the link she shared with Andrakaos, followed by a burst of indignant anger. The cavern reverberated with noise, shaking stone from the ceiling, and sending ripples skating across the surface of the stream.
Insolent lizard!

Ciara sprinted back the way they had come, heedless of Ferris's shout behind her. She skidded around an outcropping and found herself face-to-face with a wyvern. A startled yelp escaped her as she ducked beneath the snapping of its jaws. Her fingers moved without conscious thought, sketching a quick sigil of power in the air. She flicked it at the wyvern just as it twisted for another attack. Ciara had no time to delight in the creature's sudden disintegration, because three of its friends noticed her arrival and broke from harassing Andrakaos to veer toward her. From the quick look Ciara could spare, the group surrounding Andrakaos like a flock of starlings after a hawk, numbered in the twenties.

Ciara took a deep breath of cool, damp air. She allowed instinct to guide her, and the power she shared with Andrakaos came at her bidding like quicksilver. It flowed through, and from her, as effortlessly as her earth magic ever had. No longer did Ciara fight it. No longer did she fear it would escape her control. Instead, she allowed it to wash over her like a gentle rain on a hot day. Wound in brilliant strands of light, it danced from her fingertips with barely a thought, and Ciara wanted to shout at the wonder of it.

Another wyvern fell, then a third, and then suddenly they were coming fast and thick as gnats. Too many, far too quickly. Ciara's excitement faded beneath the assault. Sweat trickled down her temples as she struggled to keep the wyvern from reaching her. One slipped beneath its companions, darting in so low and quick Ciara didn't see it until there was nothing she could do except brace for the impact.

A spray of warm blood showered her face and the wyvern tumbled to the side, dragging a partially severed wing. Ferris pushed past Ciara to follow it, bobbing out of the way as it whipped around in pain-laden rage to search for its target, his sword streaming gore.

Ciara lost sight of sight of him after that, because the swarm continued its assault. Two more wyvern fell at her hands before another managed to land a glancing blow with a leathery wingtip. It burned across her ribs like the lash of a whip and, on the heels of her pain, came an incensed bellow from above.

Andrakaos plummeted from the sky, nothing ethereal lingering about his form as he dropped onto a handful of the creatures and drove them into the stone floor beneath his massive weight. His tail lashed outward, felling even more. Ciara dispatched another wyvern, and as Andrakaos continued to guard against others reaching her, she started to form a working with both hands, fingers moving nimbly at first, but slowing as pain and exhaustion crept up on her. She backhanded sweat from her brow, blinking as it stung her eyes and blurred her vision. Twice she lost the rhythm of her spell. Once to dodge out of Ferris's way, and once to protect herself. Just before she lost the threads a third time, she threw her arms up, palms outward. The cavern went still and silent for the space of a single breath before an explosion of black flame and short-lived squeals filled it.

In the quiet that followed, Ciara sucked in a ragged breath and slumped back until a rock caught her. The shaking in her legs worked its way through her entire body, making her teeth chatter. Andrakaos swiveled around to face her, radiating smug superiority.

Lizards.

"Those… lizards… almost had me… for dinner," Ciara managed, around panting breaths, each one of which caused a sharp pain in her side. The wyvern had certainly cracked one of her ribs.

She looked around, past the mangled corpses of the wyvern Andrakaos had crushed, and at least three felled by Ferris's blade, until she spotted the Sciath half way across the cavern, leaning heavily on his sword. He nodded when Ciara caught his eye, but made no move to join her.

"Are you all right?" she called across to him.

Ferris nodded. "Right enough." Though the rough burr in his voice told a different story.

Ciara pushed cautiously away from her rock perch and took a couple unsteady steps forward, clutching for Andrakaos's leg when the cavern tilted precariously beneath her feet. An arm slid around her waist and Ciara looked up in surprise to find Donovan at her side.

"Ferris," she said, waving a limp gesture in his general direction.

Donovan's voice tickled her ears but the words were slurred. Ciara shook her head, intending on asking him to repeat himself, but the movement caused her stomach to revolt. Fighting down the urge to vomit sent pain cascading up her side, and that in turn made her lose the battle. One moment she was apologizing to Donovan for throwing up on his boots, the next she laid cradled against someone's chest as the world darkened around her.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Grumnlin moved with more agility than Berk would have thought possible, and with more noise than six men in heavy armor. He couldn't take a step without an accompanying snort, snuffle or utterance of some type. Berk didn't know if the grumbles were actual words, or just mindless noise. In any case, he totally eliminated the prospect of them avoiding notice should there be anyone nearby. All well and good if that someone happened to be the Guard. Berk didn't care to think of the other all-too-real and more likely possibility.

He also didn't care to mention it to the general. Not because the man's overall mood grew darker as the day wore on, but because more than once Berk caught him muttering to himself as well. Everyone did it at some point or another, but the general seemed to succumb with regular frequency, and as though having an actual conversation with someone else. At first Berk thought the general was talking to him. After being waved off when asking for the man to repeat himself, Berk realized his error. The latest in a growing list.

"This is a mistake."

Since the general didn't look at him, Berk assumed the words weren't meant for him. Then Bolin half turned, brow furrowed, a thoughtful frown on his face. His gaze skated past Berk as though something far distant had caught his attention.

"I should have trusted Dain."

"Why stop?" Grumnlin called from a good length ahead of them. "Men keep walking."

"We could turn east," Berk said without much hope. "Head back to the road and try to meet up with the Emperor."

The general seemed to consider that. He put a hand against his chest, his thumb tracing a pattern in mindless repetition. "He won't be on the road. He'll be searching for us. Trying to pick up our trail."

And hopefully finding it,
Berk thought. "We could backtrack then."

"No." Breaking branches and disgruntled snorts preceded Grumnlin as he rejoined them. "No tracking back. No finding anyone. We go." He stopped beside the general and tugged at his arm. "No stopping."

Bolin jerked his arm away, and the snarl that curled his lip sent Grumnlin back three paces, eyes wide. "It won't take much for me to decide to kill you."

Grumnlin put up his hands and took another step back. "No kill. Take you to Pretty Witch. Fix head."

"Or make it worse," Berk said.

The general's face twisted in pain. He reached out to brace himself against a nearby tree, head bowed, breath coming in shallow, rapid bursts. A groan escaped him and his knees gave way but he caught himself before Berk could, his fingernails digging into the bark.

"We go on," he said.

"Yes. Go." Grumnlin started to force his way through the increasingly heavy underbrush. "Almost to stopping place."

"Kensing Tor?" Berk asked. He'd thought it would be further.

"Stopping place, not dead place. Not yet."

"Grumnlin--"

"Leave him," Bolin said. He shoved off the tree to follow the creature, and after a few staggering steps, seemed to get his strength back. "It doesn't matter. At the moment, we go where he leads. And if you plan to question that, I'll be rethinking my decision not to have you executed."

Berk closed his mouth, although the prospect of a quick execution held a certain appeal compared to other alternatives.

They trudged along after Grumnlin until the shadows beneath the trees deepened. They finished off the last of their water and jerky on the walk. Though they could do without food for a while, they definitely needed water. Not only that, but somewhere along the way Berk had twisted his ankle, and the throbbing had grown decidedly worse. So much so, that when his other foot caught as he stepped over a log and he threw his weight onto his left leg, it gave way. He lurched sideways, and thrust out his arms to try and arrest his fall, cursing loudly when something sharp skittered off the top of his boot and stabbed into his calf.

The general helped him up, keeping hold of his elbow as Berk limped to a boulder and sat. He twisted his leg to get a better view, his stomach lurching when he saw the broken stub of a branch jutting from his calf, just above his boot. Blood seeped from the wound, and each beat of his heart sent an echoing throb of pain pulsing up his leg.

"Clumsy man," Grumnlin said.

Berk scowled at him as the general crouched down to inspect the wound.

"We go meeting place."

The general gave the little man a quick, dark look. "This wound needs tending first."

"Leave clumsy man to fend for self. We go."

"We'll go when I say." He pulled a knife and Grumnlin skittered away, but the general ignored him and slid the blade up Berk's pant leg, peeling the fabric back. He glanced up at Berk. "Ready?"

Berk sucked in a breath and-- "Damn the unholies!" Black specks danced across his vision as the pain shot all the way to his thigh. If he hadn't been gripping the boulder hard enough to turn his knuckles white, he probably would have fallen off.

Fabric tore, followed by a steady pressure around his upper calf. He blinked sweat out of his eyes to find the general standing beside him, a hand on his shoulder, the bloody shard of wood in his other hand.

"Still with me?"

Berk nodded.

"We need water."

"Water at meeting place," Grumnlin said.

"We can go," Berk said, his voice hoarse. He stood and took a tentative step, unable to bit back a gasp.

"There has to be water closer." Bolin forced him back down onto the boulder. "Stay here. I'll go see if I can find some."

"I don't think we should split up."

"I don't think I asked your opinion." The general took the water skin and looked down at Grumnlin. "You stay here as well."

Grumnlin's round face wrinkled under the hair and dirt. He plopped to the ground, drew his legs up to his chest, and muttered under his breath. The general left without another word. Berk frowned after him. They hadn't totally lost the light yet, but if Bolin decided to abandon him with Grumnlin, there would be no way of tracking him with the coming night. Berk would be forced to make for the road and hope for the best.

Grumnlin edged closer, and Berk yelped when the little man thrust out a finger without warning to poke the flesh just above the bandage covering his wound.

"Needs poultice," he said, and before Berk could do any more than glare at him, Grumnlin got up and walked away. "I find things."

"You need to stay here."

He shook his head and crashed off through the scrub, leaving Berk to listen to the fading sounds of his departure. At least, if there were any marauders in the vicinity, all the racket would draw them to Grumnlin and not Berk. Not until the creature pointed them in his direction.

Berk blew out a disgusted sigh. He needed to stop thinking along those lines. The Emperor had managed to rid him of most of his nightmares. Those having to do with being in the marauder's hands, however, lingered, twisting the actual memories into horrific visions he didn't care to revisit, even in the full light of day. The prospect of falling into their hands again filled him with a very real dread.

He tried to direct his thoughts elsewhere, but even thinking about Sully's suggestion that he accept a promotion led him down paths that brought him right back to his current situation. How could Sully believe Berk capable of leading men, when he couldn't even keep himself out of trouble? He seemed to be developing quite a knack for making rash decisions. Commander Garek would have a fit when word got back to him about this latest one. Then again, if Berk wound up dead, it wouldn't really matter.

And there he was, right back down the dark tangle of thoughts he tried to avoid. He drew his sword and fished an oiled rag from a pouch to give him something else to focus on, losing himself for a time in the familiar and comfortable routine of polishing steel.

Snuffling and snorting alerted him to Grumnlin's return and he stood, sword at the ready in the event he didn't return alone. Grumnlin looked around as he emerged from between the shrubs, something cradled in his arms.

"Where Great Lord?" he asked, and dumped his collection of oddities on the ground.

"A better question is, where were you?"

Berk startled at the general's quiet question and whipped around. The world spun with him. He staggered before catching himself on the boulder again. The general's hair lay plastered to his head, water dripping from it. Slicked back from his face as it was, the dark bruise across his temple stood out, but no fresh blood accompanied it.

"Make medicine for clumsy man's leg."

"I didn't know you were a healer," the general said.

Grumnlin made a face. "No healer. Know bad plants. Stick was snake weed. Make clumsy man sick. Know tricks to make leg better so no more stopping."

The general passed Berk the water skin before hunkering down beside Grumnlin. He looked through the collection of plants and what appeared to be animal dung and, once they passed his inspection, he turned to remove the bandage from Berk's calf. Grumnlin set about making his poultice, using a flat rock to smash and combine his ingredients. It smelled like rancid meat and made the water Berk had just drunk churn in his stomach. He hissed when Grumnlin pressed the poultice to the angry wound, but the effects were immediate. The pain dissipated, and the heat radiating from the injury cooled.

"Now," Grumnlin said, wiping his hands on his already grubby jacket, "we go, and no more stopping."

He headed off into the woods again before Berk could even get back on his feet. As he stood to follow, the general stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"Take these," he said, not meeting Berk's eyes. He held out his sword and long knife bundled together with his belt. "Don't argue with me. Just do it."

"And if we run into trouble?"

"Then you can give them back. If I look capable of using them."

Berk took the weapons and slipped them over his shoulder. "Can I at least ask why?"

The general rubbed the back of his hand across his jaw. He started to say something, his brow furrowing before he cleared his throat and tried again. "I… considered using them on myself." He looked off into the distance, blowing out a rough breath. "I never thought I would ever be that weak. As fleeting as the inclination was, I can't guarantee the next time it won't be more persistent."

"And you're certain there will be a next time?"

"Aye." He still refused to look at Berk. "I don't care what I threaten you with, you're not to return those unless we're facing a foe you can't take on your own. Understood?"

"Understood."

"Good. Let's go before we lose Grumnlin along with the light."

***

The faint scent of smoke tickled Berk's nostrils and he stopped to sniff the night air like a questing hound. The trees had gradually given way to wide stretches of waving grass dotted by scrub and boulders. Clouds hid the stars, and a bitter breeze kicked up out of the northwest, making the elusive scent all the harder to pinpoint.

The general glanced back and raised a questioning brow.

"Wood smoke," Berk said. "Can you smell it?"

"Campfire?"

"Fire, yes," Grumnlin said. "At meeting place."

Berk's hand dropped to his sword. "And who's at this 'meeting place'?"

"Helpers."

"What kind of helpers?"

Grumnlin waved a gesture. "Men with swords. Mebbe woman."

Berk's mouth went dry. "Marauders?"

Grumnlin shrugged and turned to trudge off. He gave a frightened squeal when Berk grabbed him by the shoulder and whipped him back around.

"Who are you taking us to?"

"Men like you. Rude. Mean. With sharp swords and knives. One mebbe has magic. They see Great Lord to Dead Place."

"They'll see us both to the Halls," Berk said. "But only after they've had their fun first."

"What game are you playing at, Grumnlin?" the general asked.

"No game."

"How far is this meeting place?"

"Not far. Over ridge."

Berk peered into the night. They wouldn't be able to spot the ridge until they were standing on it. The marauders must have sheltered on the downside of it, because he couldn't make out so much as an orange glow from their fire.

"How many are there?" Berk asked.

Grumnlin shrugged again. "Don't know. Told to take Great Lord to them. They take Great Lord to Dead Place."

The wind gusted, bringing a stronger whiff of burning wood. They weren't far. Hopefully far enough they wouldn't hear the current conversation.

"Get us close enough to see their camp," the general said. "But you make any sound to draw them to us, and I'll let Berk slit your throat."

"Always ready to hurt. I help blue man. I put medicine on leg and help. He owe me." Grumnlin sank to the ground and hugged his knees to his chest. "Go past lonely tree and over edge. Meeting place there. Go look. I stay here."

"I'll go," Berk said.