They neared the box, and from a small hidden hallway came the echo of her mother’s ring. “Aislynn, down that path,” Nalah called, and pointed the way when the elf turned to look at her.
Aislynn swerved, and now there were no guards, but this time the elf couldn’t outrun her because barely two dozen steps into the hallway were two bodies lying in the middle of the hallway.
Beylor and Tiffany, both recognizable despite the multitude of claw marks on their bodies and the chunks of flesh torn from their exposed torsos, expressions of horror still detailed on their faces. This wasn’t a quick kill – someone took time slicing them both up. Bile rose in Nalah’s throat, a thick lining she swallowed hard against as she stepped back and averted her eyes to the elf. Aislynn had no expression and didn’t appear to be fighting the nausea like Nalah was. Aislynn’s eyes wandered over the bodies before her gaze met Nalah’s. “Is this the woman who had the Realm Jumper?”
“Yes.”
“Her hands are bare. The ring was taken.” The corridor branched off into five possible routes of escape, and Aislynn gave a quick glance around each exit. “I see no obvious sign of which path was taken. I need you to find the ring.”
Tiffany hadn’t been a friend in the strictest sense, and she’d made her choice when she’d taken up with Beylor, but the good-hearted blonde hadn’t deserved this. Nalah had seen the aftermath of death, but not this type of desecration. Magic infused the corpses. There was an echo of joy attached to the bodies, pleasure in the pain and fear they’d experienced, even a shade of disappointment it hadn’t lasted longer – sick joy that was burrowing into her, becoming part of her, past the feeble defenses that were losing ground by the second. The bile thickened, and Nalah pressed her hand hard against her mouth.
Cool, smooth skin stroked over her brow. “Nalah.” The voice was understanding, with warmth, and love for life, all things opposite of the magic surrounding her represented. “The ring is heritage from your mother, a link to her goodness and love for you. Fight now, and protect it.”
The weight of Aislynn’s words penetrated, dissipating the evil, and Nalah breathed deep, blanking her emotions. She pushed her power out, searched the myriad of corridors the killers may have used, keeping all attention away from the bodies. “Down the farthest right.”
They took off, but not ten more steps Nalah grabbed at Aislynn and pulled her back, hard enough that despite her superior strength, the elf stopped and turned in confusion. If only Aislynn could see, she would understand. Magic shifted in impossible ways, swirled through the air in violent streaks past her, a shredding of barriers that existed for very good reasons. “Aislynn – something’s wrong.”
Chapter Seventeen
‡
Aislynn made to bring up her bow, but Nalah didn’t let go of her arm. “Shouldn’t we wait for Fallon?” Even this evil didn’t blot out Tenro’s signature, a hard burn bursting against her and making Nalah’s skin tingle, and no offense to the skilled elf archer, but nothing in Aislynn compared.
“I would love to, but there is no time. I carry nothing that can contact Fallon through the blackout zone and inform her of where we are, and as this development was not one we prepared for, I do not know when she will arrive.” With that, Aislynn disentangled herself. If the archer felt any fear, it wasn’t evident in her sure stride or steady hands. She went forward, keeping Nalah behind her and protected.
Whatever door once was now lay in ruined shards on the ground, letting the late afternoon light filter in. Aislynn tilted her head, and twenty-to-one odds the elf was doing it to listen for any traps before they stepped into the sun.
Either she didn’t hear anything or she decided to chance it, because Aislynn pushed forward, slow and deliberate.
An unearthly giggle, and Aislynn’s arrow flew toward a cluster of treetops. Rustling started at one end of the long line of trees and then moved, shaking branches straight down to the other end.
Then both giggle and movement stopped.
Another arrow in Aislynn’s bow, and though the elf’s head moved in small motions back-and-forth, her arms were locked in position. “Where do we go now?”
Nalah extended her senses. The other magic pounced as if it had been waiting for her, dominating her own meager powers as it began stripping her of her protections.
“Nalah, the ring?”
Ring, ring, what about a ring? There was no ring, there was, there was…there was dark, putrid magic, so cloying it clogged her senses and blocked even Tenro.
“Nalah, stay with me.” A vague, floaty voice, but the other descended upon her, desecration, decay, bloat and the pure joy in – only happiness in – shred-the-soul suffering.
Dark, so dark, so cold, always cold, and she was falling. It had her.
It had her.
You’re mine, Magic Breaker.
Esh threw the guard over his shoulder down to the lower levels as he made for Beylor’s box. A woman descended from the ceiling and began shooting arrows, then went into the crowd. Since Rorth and the redhead hadn’t moved to combat her, she must be Guild too. Which meant she’d go for Nalah, and Nalah would lead her to Beylor and the ring.
Beylor’s box was empty, a door to a hidden hallway behind it open. Esh followed through the long corridor, sliding to a stop in front of the two bodies.
“Fuck!” They were brutalized, and Nalah was walking into the path of whatever had done that. Before him – Fucking Shit – five paths. Five fucking paths, and he didn’t have time for a wrong choice, not with what these sliced-up bodies meant. The evil Nalah had been talking about had decided to make itself known, and Nalah was running toward it.
Nalah. Nalah, Nalah, Nalah.
Panic, blind and frantic, her name on a loop in his head. She was alone without him, alone with creatures capable of this, and he had no fucking clue.
The burn deep in his belly flared, orange-red flame winding its way around his lungs, his heart, heading straight for the center of him and demanding attention.
It was enough to break through the loop of panic and in unthinking movement, Esh hit out with the side of his fist against the wall, the jarring pain resetting his brain.
He had to get to Nalah. He didn’t have time to search and hope he got lucky. How the fuck was he supposed to find her?
The flame flickered, drawing his attention. It was straining, stretching against binds that held it. It was offering, promising what he wanted, if he would give it what it needed.
It wanted freedom.
He wanted Nalah.
There was no hesitation. Esh dug deep inside, raced for the flame, concentrated on releasing every tie that held it back.
It wanted freedom.
And as long as Nalah was safe, he would give it.
The last tie released and the flame shaped itself as it stretched out, two wings of fiery plumage reaching for the sky, the neck arching, a red-orange beak, sharp and lethal, opening to cry a song of freedom, of joy.
It infused him, spread through his limbs, and knowledge lit within him, the ancient knowledge of what he was, and the strength to protect what was his.
Nalah.
Chapter Eighteen
‡
The wing of flame surrounded her, pushed back the dark, broke through the deep death magic that crept around her with stealthy paws. Nalah jerked, Aislynn’s voice above her.
“Nalah, answer me.” Aislynn still had the bow and arrow at the ready, dividing her attention between Nalah and whatever lay beyond their sight.
“I’m here. Someone’s coming, to help us I think.”
Aislynn’s chest rose and fell in a deep breath, the only outward sign of any emotion. “I hope you are correct.”
The words were no sooner spoken than that giggle again, and from the trees the Pale Lady emerged, and she wasn’t part of the magic, she was magic, the wielder of such profane power – power as ancient, as brutal, as undeniable as Tenro, housed in this delicate woman before her. The magic manifeste
d as a black sludge surrounding her, its oily tentacles floating in the air close to her body.
The bowstring drew taut, but no arrow was released. Then another giggle, a whisper of wind, and Aislynn’s bow was broken in two in her hand, a clean slice through the center given by a sharp blade.
The Pale Lady gave a demure laugh, her hand coming to cover her mouth. “My little pet, so loves to play. The two before only whet the appetite.” The voice was high, girly, and held madness the depths of which Nalah had never plumbed. “Elf royalty, a princess? Am I remembering right, or perhaps an ancestor of yours? Time, so little meaning.”
One second the Pale Lady was alone, the next a child – pre-pubescent, twelve, thirteen? Boy, girl? – was kneeling next to her, shapeless clothing, black hair long and straight, covering its face except for the strip down the center, wide enough it showed the black eyes. Eyes that were lifeless, but not in a way that suggested zombie. No, there was no soul in those almond spheres. It was an empty container that existed only to please its master.
The child’s face was blank, pure mask, and it was still as the Pale Lady ran her hand over the hair, its arms hanging at its sides, and on the end of each finger were sharp, thin blades, at least a foot long and too far away to tell if they were placed on the child, or part of the child.
“Where did – it – come from? Did magic bring it here?” Nalah asked Aislynn, who’d dropped the pieces of the bow and now held a short sword.
“No, it moved to her side, so fast I did not see until it stopped.”
That was very bad news, considering how extraordinary elven senses were purported to be.
“Another demonstration, little Magic Breaker? So cute, how you kept fighting me and how you were so overwhelmed by all the bad, scary magic.” The Pale Lady pushed her lips out and scrunched her face in an exaggerated pout.
To Nalah’s eyes, the child never moved from the silver-haired woman’s side, but Aislynn cried out, a sharp sound she clamped down on. On Aislynn’s chest, four long cuts were gouged into her skin, visible through tattered leather, and a slow seep of blood welled forth and darkened the brown vestment.
The mad woman gave a quick triple clap, like a little girl trying to capture her parents’ attention. “Would you like to know a secret? I despise the color red. I wear it to announce what I am to those inferior, but I dream of the day it goes away, when it no longer splashes around me. Alas, my little pet loves it so, and loyalty deserves reward, don’t you think?”
Aislynn stood, weapon at the ready, her face not betraying any emotion or pain from the ever-seeping wound. And though Aislynn tried to step in front of her, Nalah maneuvered to stand at the elf’s side, though her heart thumped hard inside her chest and unlike the elf, her shakiness was easy for anyone to see. But she would stand, and meet her death without cowering.
Arms encircled Nalah, but there were no blades connected, and the arms were too thick, the chest against her back too broad, to belong to the child.
Within and without, wings of fire, strong in their magic, surrounded her and warmed parts she didn’t know had gone cold in the presence of that mad woman. Nalah shifted, looked to her protector. “Esh?”
His eyes were a brilliant blaze, as if she was staring into the heart of an inferno. He let her go, turned to face their enemies, standing in front of her, magnificent and powerful. His back displayed four deep cuts in his back, cuts that were meant for her and were stitching together even as she watched.
“How?” she whispered, her hand moving to stroke the fast healing skin before she stopped herself. Power pulsated from him, and that piece of innate in him she’d sensed now twisted tight around him, mixed with him so completely it was no longer a separate entity but part of him. And it was beautiful, every shade of red and orange represented and a songbird’s melody floating around him. “What is this?”
“Yes, what?” The Pale Lady asked, fake simpering in that voice. “I want to know.”
The child next to the white-haired woman lifted its blade covered hands, and the woman’s tongue came out to swipe along the edge. Her eyes widened in a sickening parody of awe. “Phoenix fire and phoenix blood,” she breathed out, a smile without humanity on her face. Her gaze focused on Esh. “How exciting. I don’t have that in my collection. This means we must play.”
From beyond the Pale Lady the albino emerged. Before, he’d been terrifying, but now, with the vicious power flooding through him, Nalah quailed against the horrific onslaught of magic. She huddled closer to Esh. “He’s been magically enhanced.”
He looked down at her, the expression easy and sure. “I know. I can see. Don’t worry.”
He’d said that to her before so many fights, but he always meant it, and he always won. With that, belief in him calmed her, and with a smile to show her faith in him, she let him fight.
Watching Esh had always roused something in her. He was made to fight, his movements strong and deadly and so decided. There was fear for him, but it was a small undercurrent, barely noticeable amidst her admiration. Instead, she concentrated on the animal grace he exuded as he went after his prey, the muscles bunching with restrained strength and his body sinuous in the way it flexed and spun.
Now, with the phoenix, it went further. He fought as one with his flame, the new power giving a heretofore unknown power to his blows, the flame following each strike to deepen the wound, painting the albino in streaks of blue and black and red, breaking bone and crushing flesh.
The albino once terrified her, but now it was pathetic how it fell before Esh. Esh stepped back as the albino lay on the ground, the body releasing magical vapors. The phoenix lifted its head in a war cry.
The Pale Lady had an intense frown on her face as she stared first at the body, and then toward Esh. “I don’t like this game anymore.”
The black coils of magic surrounding the woman arced out with sudden speed, the ends morphing into the faces of snarling black dogs with rows and rows of white shark teeth, green saliva dripping from their fangs, magic that was visible only to Nalah, but all three fell to the ground as the dogs tore into them.
Pain was her world, but she fought to keep her eyes open because Esh rose beside her, his own magic coming to the fore, his magic in the form of the phoeniex with wings beating fast, the beak sharp and ripping into the black magic, but the multitude of dogs clamped down onto it with fierce jaws, and the bird screeched in fury and pain.
And then…
and then
The world was no longer red or black, but a deep rich green shot with silver. It separated the magics and threw back the dogs. The dogs howled with rage, snapping and growling at the intruder but pulling back all the same.
A wave rolled through – so hot it froze all in its path or such a deep, deep cold it incinerated?
The black tentacles of the Pale Lady circled in long sweeps across the landscape, probing and pausing and when confronted with the wave, jerking back, hesitating in their path before they rushed forth, and the two opposite magics collided.
And Nalah’s magical shields, battered and bloodied for so long, fell.
Chapter Nineteen
‡
What the fuck? The pale woman pulled back her attack, and now something else was entering the battle. Esh’s flame settled in him, aware but still. This incoming second power must be connected to someone good, or at least on their side.
Beside him on the ground, Nalah tore at her braids and began screaming, bringing her knees to her chest and rocking her body.
“Nalah!” He fell to his knees, the elf coming to crouch beside her as well. “Was she hit?”
The elf ran her hands over Nalah’s head, across her still screaming mouth. Nalah seemed unaware, still locked in her mind. “Strong magic can break the minds sensitive to it.” The elf looked up to the pale woman, then around. “And the magics here are some of the strongest of this world.”
Nalah’s screams were interspersed now with sobs, her head moving back and fort
h. “What can we do?”
The elf shook her head. “I have no skill in this area.”
Esh rose, ready to tear through the pale woman, but the elf grabbed his wrist. “Let go,” he said, and the words were a snarl. She may be an ally, but he’d destroy anything to protect Nalah.
“Wait,” the elf replied, and motioned with her head to the path that led to the building.
Down the path came the red-haired woman, the impressive sword in her hand glowing with blood and magic, a veritable inferno of escaping power. The skin of her sword arm was marked with red flames…no, not marked. The flames moved in the skin, reaching up past her shoulder to the edges of her neck.
Rorth moved at her side but traveled some steps behind, enough to let her swing that huge sword without hitting him.
The woman walked straight ahead and never took her gaze from the pale woman. The white-haired woman returned that look, her face twisted and without the previous maniacal glee. The child at her feet hissed at the swordswoman, but clung to the pale woman’s skirt.
The redhead walked without stopping on her journey to the other woman while Rorth went toward the elf. As the swordswoman passed before him, the flame in him rose, and it bowed to her.
Beneath him, Nalah’s screams turned to constant whimpers. Ahead of him, the redhead walked until several feet away from the other, the sword steady at her side and the other woman square in her sights.
The look between the two women was as familiar to Esh as the break of bone. It marked bitter enemies, those who would fight without the promise of money or glory, only to feel the pain and humiliation of the other.
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