To rush would mean certain death. Her hand was slick with sweat, making the grip of her sword all that much more difficult.
But she would not attack too soon. She would have only a few quick moments of surprise to make her attack work. And she would need every second of those moments.
But the idea of him getting nearer and nearer made her almost physically ill.
But weakness wouldn’t save her ass, or find Jushua and Deki.
It was them that had her faltering courage resurging. “You think you are so special? There are eighteen realms—“
“Nineteen. Why do people always miss that? There are nineteen and I can name them for you.” There was such madness on his face. And…had he bathed in the last century? It certainly didn’t look like it.
“Nineteen, then. Nineteen realms and there will always be a sociopath or one hundred just like you. Ready and willing to take what doesn’t belong to you and damn whomever else it hurts. What makes you so special? Your funky hair?”
“You were quick of tongue back then, too. Tell me, Nelanora, did that matter? You still died just as quickly.”
“I was a child then, and untrained. I have had eighty lifetimes to learn.” She pulled the sword up, to where they both could see it.
It glowed orange, something it had never done before. Before it had always been red.
The sword vibrated and she struggled to hold it in place.
It burned to attack, to rid the worlds of this evil.
She was not alone. She had the sword, and somewhere out there was Jushua, and maybe Deki.
Look at him, Nelanora, and see with other than your eyes. See him…for what he truly is…
And that gave her purpose. When next she looked at the Dark Sorcerer, she saw him for what he really was.
A ragged shell of a man who had a little bit of power—ok, a lot of power, she wasn’t stupid—and had abused it.
But power could always be shut off, couldn’t it? Even with a mad Laquazzeana?
That’s what he truly was. And newsflash for him. She’d met a few Laqueazzeana before. He could die. She had no doubt about it.
If not, she could possibly shut that power off—at least for a little while. Long enough to finish what it is she is supposed to do.
She just needed to find his switch. “Come here, puppy. It’s time to get neutered.”
He smiled, an absurdly handsome male. Gorgeous, but completely dirty. She fought a shiver; she’d never seen a colder expression on anyone. “You…you will be quite a prize. Perhaps I will not kill you so quickly this time. Feel like being the pet of a god?”
“Please…I follow no god. My people were the gods of this land. Or have you forgotten that?”
“Of course I haven’t forgotten the myths that have abounded for all these millennia. I just chose to change them. Make me the center of their world. Rather than your father, or that of the Dardaptos line.”
“Please…can we hold off on the true megalomania? At least long enough for me to think here. I need to do something with you, but what kind of cage holds an idiot with a god complex?” Yeah, she seriously needed to figure out the answer to that question. Or find a way to get herself out of this safely.
Which wasn’t entirely probable.
But…Destiny had never misguided her so badly before. The dreams had very clearly pointed to her rising the Dark Sorcerer from the seas. Yet…here he was. And there wasn’t a bit of water around anywhere.
What was she missing?
Maybe this wasn’t her final destination, so to speak.
The sword hummed in her hand, reminding her she wasn’t alone.
And there was no use beating around the bush.
If she was going to live today, she’d rather get the nasty part of her day over.
If she was going to die—or just get hurt really, really bad—it was better to get a jump on the asshole before he could get the jump on her.
“Bring it on, bastard.” She struck, bringing the sword up between them.
He laughed, then attacked with a simple gesture of his hand. Loren crashed into the far wall.
Her own gifts, nowhere near as deep or strong, flared around her. How was she supposed to use Druidic gifts against a Laquazzeana sorcerer who has taken everything powerful and twisted it for his own purposes?
Water, earth, air—those were the elements she had even a rudimentary ability in. There was nothing in her gifts that had anything to do with dark fire commanded by a sorcerer.
She met his staff with her sword, and her arm went numb.
His power was in that stick, wasn’t it?
“Sword of Estacles? I searched for it, you know. Where has it been all these years?” Lust was filling his eyes and she knew instinctively it was for the sword and not for her. Why? And how could she use it to survive this? To get back to Jushua, and Jade, and Deki, her mother and his, and everyone else who mattered most to her?
“With someone dedicated to protecting it. Until it returned to its rightful owner.” Because Estacles had wanted her to have it. He’d presented his prize blade to her on her sixteenth birth year. Nelanora had been so incredibly humbled by the act.
He was one of the greatest warriors of the people. And he’d chosen her for his sword.
There had to be a reason she’d been chosen. Had to be a reason why she’d found the weapon again now.
She struck with the sword, bringing with it all the fury that had been pent up within her for the last eighty lifetimes.
His eyes flashed, going from green to yellow in an instant. “So you have far more skill now than you did. You know how to wield that sword much better. Yet how did you manage to hide it after your death before?”
“I do not know.” And she didn’t; she hadn’t even considered asking Dekimos how he’d ended up with the sword. Maybe she should have. “Why do you want it so badly?”
“There is Dardaptos blood within that blade. Blood that is mine, as well as the power.”
There definitely was power within the sword, wasn’t there?
And it made perfect sense that he would want it.
Power hungry assholes were never content unless they were grabbing more power for themselves.
But she had power, too, and the sword was meant to be hers. And she would use it, defend it. To defend the worlds.
He struck her across the face with his staff and Loren went down again. The sword clattered across the floor, reminding her that all the determination in the worlds wouldn’t mean squat if she didn’t back it up with some serious kick ass.
She pushed herself back up and reached for it. He was there first. He kicked her back. He hefted the sword. “Does not weigh nearly as much as I thought it would to hold what it does.”
“Power can be both light and heavy. Except in your case.” Loren made it back to her feet, but she didn’t know how.
He packed quite a punch, and it was very clear she didn’t stand a chance in direct battle.
She’d have to find some other way to bring the man down.
Or bring the castle above the Gardens of Ihth, once her father and mother’s, down around them.
That might be her only option. Not one she liked, but it might just work.
He was barely looking at her, so dismissive and arrogant.
But he stared at the sword in his hands like it was the most precious relic in the world.
He’d wanted that sword.
And she’d brought it straight to him.
Had that been what the Four Fates had had in store for her?
No. No, she would not be giving him exactly what he wanted. Even if that meant her death.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Jushua heard her screams and nothing he could do got him to her. Something had sealed the entrance to the hole. His gifts didn’t work, the power he’d always carried inside himself didn’t do a damned thing, and there was no other obvious entry.
He started digging with his bare hands. Even if he had t
o pull the Nellana Castle that directly above the Gardens of Ihth down with his fingers. He would do it.
No matter what had happened to her in there, he was not leaving her to die inside a cave. He was not losing her now.
Eighty lifetimes had passed for her. He would not sit back and let eighty-one come too soon.
Strong hands tried to pull him from where he dug. He fought.
“Jushua! This is not the way! Stand back!”
Dekimos was there. His brother, looking much filthier than the last time Jushua had seen him.
Deki had something in his hands, a staff unlike any Jushua had ever seen. He pointed it at the rubble and cursed.
The rubble shifted, moving enough that Jushua could slip through.
He did, knowing his brother was right behind him.
And then the walls came crashing down upon them.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
She’d done it; pulled the walls down around them. He’d screamed, and the horrific sound had nearly burst her eardrums. She was shocked she hadn’t been crushed to death.
And she still held the sword, though it was burning far weaker than it ever had before.
Loren crawled as frantically as she could toward the far back of the castle basement. They’d never called it a dungeon, but that’s what it had been.
This was what she had dreamed, what she had known was going to happen. Her nails clawed at the rock floor, but she couldn’t get away.
Tears nearly blinded her. Her knees scraped against sharp rocks and broken bricks until the skin over them was bloodied and torn.
A male hand wrapped around her right ankle and pulled her back toward it with preternatural strength.
Loren screamed.
The hand flipped her, and there he was. The monster in her dreams. The one she’d feared for eighty lifetimes.
But she wouldn’t die passively. In any lifetime. She kicked out with her left foot. She hit nothing.
She grabbed a rock and rammed it into the thing’s face. Then another.
But he kept dragging her.
Until she was directly beneath him. She rammed her fingers into his eyes.
He screamed, but he never let her go. His hands, his claws, were on her neck now, and she could feel the blood on her skin.
He looked far worse than he had even a few moments ago. He was almost unrecognizable. The eyes, they were the same, but the madness was far more evident.
The filth was far, far worse.
And there was a light emanating from him, illuminating the pocket of rubble they were now in.
There was more blood. Blood everywhere.
Whose? Hers? Her neck burned.
He opened his mouth and the small amount of light surrounding them reflected off his teeth.
Just before he sank those teeth deeper into her neck.
She fought.
But they both knew it wasn’t going to do a damned bit of good.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Every cell in her body was burning when she next regained consciousness. She held herself together with nothing more than sheer determination. Loren held on; somehow, she did it.
Jushua was there, but she could not get to him. She could hear him and sense him…somewhere. Possibly nearby. Trying to get to her.
So was Dekimos, but he was equally as inaccessible.
And there was only the light from the sorcerer in front of her for her to see by.
The only being she could touch was the sorcerer. The broken one. “Who are you?”
She knew he wasn’t evil; did Deki? Jushua?
Something separated her from the two men, something held her to him.
The man from her visions, premonitions, whatever they were.
“Brother.” He rasped the word and she struggled to understand. The old language, the one of her people from so long ago. But even that was accented, ancient. Far more than five thousand years old. “Twin.”
“No shit.” They were identical, but this one was emaciated, and pale, sickly. Once there would have been power, but she had no difficulty sensing that his reservoirs were nearly depleted. “What were you doing in there?”
“Trapped. Locked by Haliophux. Sacrificed.” His fingers dug into her skin. “Kill me, now. Set him free.”
“He’s already free.”
“Not my brother. But theirs…”
With that, he collapsed at her feet—directly upon her sword. It pierced his abdomen, but he didn’t so much as make a sound. Had it been deliberate?
His tears were even silent ones. But he did not move, did not react to what had to be utter agony.
Loren dropped to her knees beside him, and pushed her dwindling power to surround the sword.
Try to minimize the damage as much as possible. Dekimos was the first to breach the rubble barrier and get to her. He yanked her against his chest and held her. Loren pulled away, then pointed to the mostly dead Laquazzeana at her feet.
“Heal him. Hurry, we don’t have much time.”
Dekimos looked at him, then her, for a long moment but he didn’t question. “I am not sure I can do that.”
“He’s not him. I promise this. I can see it. We have to help him if we’re ever going to have any answers. It’s why I am here.”
Jushua pulled her to her feet and away from the sorcerer. He kissed her, hard, and Loren wanted nothing more than to cling to him.
But that wasn’t what she was supposed to do. Not now. She dropped to her knees and placed her hand over the man’s heart. His eyes opened, his hand wrapped around her wrist.
And they were sucked away, straight through a barrier between worlds. She screamed, someone yelled her name. Only this time…she was not the one pulling the others through.
And then it was total white, so white she could not keep her eyes opened. It burned.
And then they crashed to the ground somewhere. And Loren couldn’t breathe.
Was afraid she’d never breathe again.
Chapter Forty-One
She landed hard.
Surrounded by power, held to the creature she had found’s soul. Her and Dekimos.
She knew what he was, and had from the moment the white had cleared around them. Laquazzeana, and an extremely ancient one, at that. They all three were—the Ancient, Dekimos…and her.
She had never truly died five thousand years ago, had just been cursed by the Dark Sorcerer.
That would take some serious getting used to.
Power was radiating from the Ancient, in every color of the spectrum. So much that she was having an extremely hard time even finding her own amidst it. Whenever she’d try she’d be knocked back down.
Was he unconscious? Was that why he couldn’t seem to control it any longer? Her hand went to the puncture holes in her neck. Had he possibly stolen some of her gifts? She tried once again to find her feet, to get away from him. To just stop damned touching him long enough to get to some space between them.
That so wasn’t happening. She closed her eyes, and that’s when she felt the world around her right itself a little. Enough that she wasn’t going to throw up…again. She wasn’t entirely certain she’d not heaved a few times during the trip from Evalanedea to Thrun.
And they were definitely back in Thrun. In the very center of Jade’s cousin’s garden.
She’d been able to bend the barriers between worlds since she was seventeen, but the ease with which this creature had managed it while nearly dead terrified her. She didn’t know how he’d done it, or much of anything else in that moment.
Other than the absolute certainty that taking him back to Thrun with them had been exactly what she was meant to do. Or had he pulled her, Deki, and Jushua back with him?
He was where he was meant to be.
And she was still alive. As was Jushua…and Dekimos.
What had happened to Deki, anyway?
Loren forced her eyes open and searched for Jushua’s brother.
He was shaking on the ground
not more than three feet away from her. She reached for him, fearing that she’d not be able to break through whatever hold the Ancient had on her. But that wasn’t so. Deki was on the same side of the barrier as she. Why? Why had he picked her and Deki and not Jushua? Or had it just happened that way when the fell through the world barrier?
When her hand wrapped around his, Deki’s eyes opened. He stared at her, then rolled to his side. He tried to stand. “Hold him down. He’s needs the connection or he’ll fucking explode. With his strengths he might take the two of us with him.”
Loren did as he said. “What is he?” She had to shout for him to hear her.
“I don’t know!”
“He looks just like the Dark Sorcerer!”
“Really? I hadn’t noticed!”
“You sure he’s not him?” Loren knew he wasn’t, but she had to make sure, didn’t she? “What are we supposed to do?” She tried getting up again, but fell, this time landing on top of the man’s chest. She could feel the muscles beneath his ragged shirt, but he looked half-dead. He opened his eyes, and they were empty blue. Not the green of the Dark Sorcerer. That reassured her. Some.
Loren leaned closer.
He grabbed her again. Dekimos pulled his hand off of Loren’s shoulder. “Go. Get away from him. I’ll do it.”
“I can’t. Something is holding me here.” She tried to crawl away from the man, but whatever his power was, it was holding her to his side.
Jushua was there, so close to her. But Loren couldn’t touch him. He was pounding on the barrier with both fists, his fear for her and his brother on his handsome face. She wanted to go to him so badly but couldn’t. Dear Jushua, so strong and brave. Bold and arrogant.
But so loving and afraid to lose those he cared about.
“We need to contain him, if the power within him explodes, it can take down the entire city.”
Dear Fates, Loren hadn’t even considered that. “What are we supposed to do?”
Chapter Forty-Two
Jushua’s hands were bloodied, but he didn’t stop. Nothing was going to keep him from getting to his brother and his female. But what force was it that kept him from them? Had the Dark Sorcerer trapped them with his body? Why? Had Loren been wrong when she claimed him not the Dark Sorcerer? And how did he get through it?
The Witch Page 12
