Unbonded (First of the Blade Book 1)

by D. K. Holmberg

  Imogen didn’t pause. She brought her blade back around, now flowing within the sacred patterns, letting the angle of the blade carve forward and sweep through the next of the creatures. This stone enchantment looked to be almost human, though a version that was stunted, with arms that were longer than expected and hollows where the eyes should be.

  Energy began to build through her, but she ignored that, knowing she needed to stay within the sacred patterns.

  “Focus on the Toral,” Benji said.

  Imogen slowed, moving through mud with Petals on the Wind, and she used the pattern to carry herself toward Benji. He remained crouched on the ground, his back arched slightly, and there was something almost animal-like to him as he did.

  “I need to get through these enchantments,” she said.

  “The enchantments are not the problem. The problem is the Toral. I need you to keep moving and take out the Toral.”

  She didn’t argue with him. She doubted that anything she could say would convince him that she was not going to be able to stop a Toral. Imogen had no idea if she could or what it would take, but in her mind, Benji was wrong.

  It was about the enchantments.

  “You are more powerful than you know,” Benji said, his voice a whisper in her mind.

  She would have to focus.

  She would have to find the power within her patterns.

  She would have to let herself fall into them in a way she had not before.

  How could she do it?

  When Imogen had trained in the sacred temple, she had never managed to successfully do so. In the time since leaving, she had started to feel as if she recognized what she needed to do, but she hadn’t uncovered the truth. Not yet. And maybe she couldn’t.

  She fell into her patterns. As she spun her blade around, she struck another enchantment, then another. Each time her blade hit home, the enchantment exploded into various materials—dirt, rock, and even one that seemed to be air, as if it had coalesced into something physical and solid.

  Imogen darted through, managing to finally reach the Toral.

  “Interesting,” the Toral said, sneering. “I was not expecting anybody of your potential. Perhaps we were misled. You were to bring him to me, and that is all.”

  That had to mean Benji. Could that be what this was all about?

  The adlet had attacked Benji, but she had thought that to be chance more than anything else. If it wasn’t, and if he had been hunted, did it mean that the Sul’toral believed they could harm Benji? A Porapeth?

  The Shadows of the Dead was a place of power, and the Sul’toral wanted that power.

  Imogen worked through her patterns and tried to find something fluid about them. It was Master Liu’s voice in her mind, chastising her for rigidity. What she needed was to find the flow. She stayed within her traditional patterns, but even as she did, the Toral battered her with magic.

  Most of the magic had color to it. His magic tried to swirl around her, but she carved through the spell he used, causing it to retreat. He stepped forward, and her skin grew taut.

  While away from the Leier homeland, she had faced sorcerers. She hadn’t expected to, but she had used her knowledge and skill to defeat them more often than she would’ve expected.

  This, however, was something else.

  While in Yoran, she had fought alongside others who were as capable as she was, or even more so. She would not have that benefit now. She would have to do this on her own. Her patterns could disrupt the spells, but could she stay ahead of his magic enough to keep him from attacking her with it?

  Imogen didn’t know. She had to try, and she thought she could work at it, but she wasn’t sure she could be fast enough.

  A loop of pale-white energy spiraled out from the Toral and started to work its way up her legs and toward her arms. She had seen magic like that before, had even dealt with it recently. As it started to sneak up her body, she twisted her blade, forcing it around in a sharp arc and using a jerking movement to carve through the bands of power holding her. As she did, she could feel the energy around her react, withdrawing with a sudden jolt.

  The Toral whipped himself away from her. She danced forward, twisting with Leaf on a Tree, using that technique to spiral toward him. But even as she did, she could feel some resistance coming from the Toral. The strange, invisible energy made it difficult for her to go any farther.

  As she spun around, she slammed into that barrier, then again. Each time, there was a futility to it, and each time, Imogen felt as if she needed to fight even more, as though all she had to do was come up with an answer about how to get through.

  The Toral crossed his arms, then he spread them in a slow movement. It was a pattern, and though it was one she didn’t recognize, she still understood what it was. Sorcery was nothing if not a mixture of power coming from patterns. Imogen had been taught that the Leier needed to know how to disrupt the patterns in order to defeat sorcerers. The most skilled Leier were able to disrupt the patterns the fastest.

  As the Toral tried to complete his pattern, she twisted her blade, driving it toward him. She managed to block his magic just enough that the pattern exploded, but it still had the force to throw Imogen back.

  She landed on the ground, and one of the disgusting mud enchantments began to stomp toward her, the ground rumbling with its power. Imogen rolled to her feet and jumped up, sweeping the sword around in a sharp arc as she did. She carved through the enchantment, which shrieked, a wet sound that split the air. She darted forward, needing to get to the Toral again, but resistance began to build once more.

  Imogen focused on speed and precision. This was what she had trained to do—not to fight monsters but to fight sorcerers. She could handle this one. She surged forward, focusing on her patterns, needing to disrupt the spell he was attempting.

  Magic threw her back.

  This time, she tumbled and got to her feet, wincing as she did. Her hip hurt, throbbing where she had landed on it. This was going to disrupt her patterns.

  She pushed the pain out of her mind, using techniques Master Liu had taught her all those years ago, techniques that had been designed to help her find the peace and tranquility she needed in order for her to engage within the sacred patterns.

  But even as she did, she could feel some pressure building once more. The Toral started to use his power again. The more he did, the harder it was going to be for Imogen to do anything against him.

  She glanced back. Benji crouched on the ground, his hands pressed into the wet earth, his mouth working quickly. The enchantments were surrounding him. If she waited too long…

  She raced toward him and tried to use the sacred patterns, but she did not have enough time or focus to do so. She fell back into traditional Leier patterns, sweeping her blade around, and she carved through three enchantments as quickly as she could. They exploded around her.

  Benji looked up at her, holding her gaze with his. “I can handle these bastards,” he muttered.

  “I only thought—”

  “I know what you thought,” he said, and he flicked his gaze toward the Toral. “But you need to take care of him.”

  Imogen gritted her teeth and swept her blade around, and she cut through two more enchantments on her way back toward the Toral. The air around the man crackled with energy. She tried to ignore the way it looked, the way it reminded her of Master Liu and the power he held on to when he had demonstrated his sacred patterns.

  “Did you think we wouldn’t feel you coming?” the Toral said. “Both of you? You brought him right to us.”

  What would a Toral need with a Porapeth?

  It had to be linked to the Shadows of the Dead somehow, but why would that make a difference? Benji had told her this place was tied to power. Did the Toral intend to use Benji’s magic? Would they use him to free the power of Sarenoth?

  She darted toward the Toral, sweeping her blade, but she limped as she did so, which made her pattern fail.

  The
Toral chuckled. “I was impressed you lasted this long. I would’ve expected someone like you to have fallen already. Perhaps the rumors of the Scourge were far more accurate than I had realized.”

  The Scourge. That meant Timo.

  The Toral glanced at her blade, then up to her face. His arms were crossed, but they were moving, twisting in a faint pattern.

  Imogen needed to disrupt it.

  She spun, swinging her sword, and she slowed as she tried to find herself in one of those sacred patterns. If she could use one, even just the hint of one, that might be enough that she could focus her energy.

  With her injured hip, though, every movement was difficult.

  The Toral watched her, as if he understood what she was trying to do, as if he was amused by her mere attempt at trying to target him.

  She moved her arms, ignoring the pain in her legs. It wasn’t the sacred pattern she had used before, but it was still a pattern, and she mimicked what she saw from the Toral. Imogen had trained with enough sword masters over the years, and then training with Gavin Lorren, the Chain Breaker, had helped her find an understanding within those patterns and see a certain connection to them.

  She suddenly drove her blade forward, blasting through the Toral’s protections and disrupting his pattern just enough.

  He staggered back while spreading his hands wide, energy glowing from his palms. “More formidable than you appeared,” he muttered. He waved his hands, and darkness spilled from his fingertips, dispersing around him.

  Imogen swept her blade down and around, recognizing that his spells were designed to try to overpower her before she had a chance to even react. Each time an enchantment poured from the magic at his fingertips, she was there, not needing the sacred patterns to carve through them, and instead using her traditional sword skills.

  The Toral stepped back and twisted his hands slowly, making a small circular movement around himself. The pale-white glowing light Imogen had seen started to shift, taking on a darker tone, and then the energy began to build again.

  “Most difficult,” he murmured. “Thankfully, you will not pose a problem for me for much longer.”

  “I’m not going to let you get him,” she said.

  She didn’t know if she meant Benji or Timo, but her brother had to be out there somewhere.

  The Toral smirked at her with eyes that were nearly black. With the slight pout to his lips, she couldn’t help but feel as if he was mocking her. “What makes you think I haven’t done what I want already? Do you think I fear your sword?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  She faced him with her blade in front of her, meditating briefly, focusing on the various patterns. Her hip still throbbed, which meant she was going to have to find a pattern she could use even while working within her pain and incorporate that into the way the sword moved.

  Imogen focused, and her mind went blank as she prepared. It was the only thing she could think of doing.

  She could do this. She had the power necessary to do this.

  And she would destroy this Toral.

  But she had to focus. Center herself. Meditate.

  “You made a mistake in letting me fortify myself,” the Toral taunted.

  “I haven’t made a mistake,” she said. “I am waiting.”

  “Waiting to die?”

  “Preparing my mind.”

  With that, she pushed forward. Each step she took brought her closer to the sorcerer. He waved his hands, and she had to duck beneath a tight ridge of green light that looked like it had been honed into a blade that swept toward her. Imogen pushed out again, driving her blade forward, following her pattern.

  The pattern was simple, and one she had never fully mastered. It was like every other sacred pattern she had tried to learn in the temple, but that didn’t mean she didn’t understand how to use it—only that she had never done so the way Master Liu had wanted.

  Lightning Strikes in a Storm.

  She pressed her sword outward slowly, and then with a flourish, she jammed it home. Her weapon drove into the Toral until he collapsed.

  Only then did Imogen withdraw her blade. A flash of pale-white light faded from it.

  Fatigue struck her, and she sank to her knees.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Imogen got up slowly and looked around, and through her exhaustion, she tried to understand what had happened. The ground was soggy, and the air held a thick, oppressive humidity. She tried not to take too deep a breath, as there was a foulness to it that suggested rot. There were no further enchantments active—it seemed as if Benji had removed the rest.

  The Toral lay unmoving on the ground.

  Imogen started toward him and kept her blade pointing at his fallen form. He still hadn’t moved, and the dark barrier that had been around him was gone. She drove the sword into his chest one more time. The blood stained his gray cloak, but he didn’t move, nor did he make any sort of whimper as she stabbed the blade into his flesh.

  “He looks dead to me,” Benji said, moving toward her, though doing so slowly. He tilted his head back and sniffed the air before sweeping his gaze around and settling on her.

  She licked her lips, swallowing. Her mouth was dry, and a strange fatigue washed through her. “He was looking for you.”

  “Is that right?”

  “What does this have to do with your power?” Imogen watched Benji for a long moment, but he ignored her and continued to sniff, as if the air held all the answers he needed.

  She turned her attention back to the Toral. He had been a sorcerer of obvious skill, and one who had been willing to use dark power to accomplish his goals. She knew she should not have hesitated to cut him down, but she still felt a bit of remorse at what she had done.

  A black metal chain hung around his neck, with a pendant that was a symbol of a star and moon. She plucked it off his body. The metal itself was cool, almost cold, and it tingled along her skin. She could feel something within the necklace, as if there was power stored within it, and she set it off to the side. Perhaps it was an enchantment.

  She checked his pockets, turning them out carefully. There was nothing other than a few other small, metallic items, all made of the same dark metal and cool to the touch like the necklace was. Imogen traced her fingers over one of them, a cylinder with a strange script along the side.

  Benji coughed. “I think you need to be careful with what you find on him.”

  “I don’t know what any of this is.”

  She stacked the items on the ground, setting them in a pile. Then she searched along his legs, finding nothing more. On one of his hands, she found a dark stone ring that circled his middle finger.

  “The Toral ring,” Benji said.

  She looked up at him. Timo had claimed a ring but had said that he’d destroyed it. How could he have destroyed a ring like that? How could anyone?

  “Why do they need a ring?” she asked.

  “For several reasons. To hear the Toral talk about it, it is merely a marker, though I doubt it is exactly that. More likely, the Toral ring connects them to the Sul’toral, and to the power the Sul’toral has tapped into. It is a conduit.”

  “An enchantment,” she said.

  “Perhaps. Though a powerful one, if that.”

  She pulled the ring off the Toral’s finger. It didn’t reflect any of the pale moonlight, almost as if it were trying to absorb it instead. There was a strand of dark metal that seemed to loop around it, and it looked to be woven into the stone itself. As she twisted the ring, she was tempted to slide it onto her finger.

  “Don’t,” Benji said, shaking his head.

  “Don’t what?”

  “I saw the way you were looking at it. It is compelling, but don’t do it.”

  “I wasn’t going to try to do anything,” she said.

  “There is something within the conduit,” he began, and he crouched down next to her, looking at the ring. He didn’t attempt to move his hands toward it, like he didn’t want
to get close to it. Was he afraid of the ring? “There is some aspect of it that demands that it be carried, as if the ones who hold the ring can call something within it. I do not know the key to it, but that is because I’ve never been compelled to carry one.”

  “Have you seen a Toral ring before?”

  “Many times,” he said.

  “What about the Sul’toral?”

  His gaze flickered for a moment, and he said nothing.

  “We should get moving,” she said. Timo was out there, still chasing after the rumor of Dheleus. Somewhere.

  “It is getting late. I think we must rest.”

  As much as she wanted to keep moving, to find her brother, she started to wonder whether they would be able to do so. With how dark it was outside, if they encountered another sorcerer, Toral or not, it would be difficult on her. That said nothing about the other creatures they might run into.

  She got to her feet, and pain seared through her hip. She nearly staggered, dropping to one knee.

  “What is it?” Benji said.

  She touched her hip and winced. Imogen twisted, looking down. Blood stained her pants.

  “You were hurt,” he said.

  “I fell.”

  He stretched his hand toward her, and she jerked away, but not quickly enough. He touched her lightly and traced his finger in a slow, steady swirl. Where his finger touched, her skin felt cold, tingling as if she’d been holding on to one of the enchantments again. The tingle turned into a burning sensation.

  “This is an unnatural injury,” he said.

  “It felt natural when I fell,” she said. “I landed on a stone. Maybe a branch.”

  “You did, but you landed askew.”

  Imogen grunted. “It is not magic.” At least, it didn’t seem like it was magic to her.

  Benji eyed her with a worried look in his eyes.

  She glanced down at the enchantments she had recovered from the Toral. “What do we do with those?”

  “We leave them.”