Summoning a mage globe, he sent it soaring through the archway. The room beyond was thrown into dim illumination. Shadows warred with the light, reflecting off the facetted surfaces of twelve massive Wardstones stretching from floor to ceiling. Sorntar created three more mage globes and stationed them randomly around the room. He patrolled the chamber, checking for flaws in the crystal. Finding none, he returned to Ashayna.
She had finished her herb paste and watched the palely glowing pool with her hands fisted at her sides. “If you take much longer preparing, I might lose my nerve. The scent and feel of that,” she gestured at the pool, “...is unsettling this close. It’s the same liquid we drank at our testing, isn’t it?”
He nodded. “Only much more concentrated. We must paint the seven symbols of the Larranyn—the Servants of Creation—upon our bodies, drink a small amount of the magic blessed spring water, and then bathe in the pool. Our painted symbols act as gateways for the Larnkin. It aids their escape.” Tugging at the buckle clinching his belt together, he shed it and tossed it aside. His kilt joined it on the ground a moment later.
“What are you doing?”
Sorntar shifted his wings out of the way and looked over his shoulder at her. “What? Overcome with modesty? If you wish to change your mind there’s still time.”
“A fate worse than death or you.” The light of challenge flashed in her eyes. She raked his height with her stare. Lingering a moment more, she studied his shoulders and chest, then dropped her gaze down to his feather-covered loins. “That’s not a very hard decision.”
He turned from her, using the ruse of embarrassment to hide his true feelings. However it was pride, not self-consciousness, which sent waves of warmth radiating throughout him. His little human’s fiery disposition never failed to amuse him. He hoped Ashayna trusted him enough to obey when it came time to bond. It could be their deaths if she argued.
When she began removing clothing, he walked past without glancing in her direction, trying to give her at least a semblance of privacy. Coming to a stop at the table, he picked up a pot of paste and gave it an unneeded stir.
“Now what?” Ashayna’s tone was abrupt, which spoke of nerves.
“We must paint the symbols…” He turned to her as he explained to find her standing rigid, her fists pressed against her hips and eyes locked on his left wing. His eyes skimmed over her form, and it was more than just simple curiosity at seeing a naked human. He found her smaller, battle trained body with its supple muscles and balanced grace interesting. And her curves, which were more bountiful than what nature graced a female of his species with, he found those strangely appealing, too. With a greater act of will than he’d thought he’d need, he looked away from her pert breasts and gently flaring hips. He realized belatedly, she had stood straight and uneasy under his assessing gaze. At least the feathers covering his loins hid the evidence of his growing desire from view. Good thing, too, since her every muscle and locked joint spoke of her need to find cover. Only sheer stubbornness held her in place. Her fierceness and her beauty drew him equally. He regretted she’d never offered to instigate courtship. But she was human and did not know the ways of phoenix relationships; perhaps she expected him to take the first step.
A blush crawled up her skin at his appraisal. Sorntar, realizing he’d looked far longer than was polite, gathered his scattered wits and cleared his throat, trying to find his tongue. “We must paint the symbols of bonding. There are seven in all, one to honor each Larranyn.” Sorntar tapped his forehead, area over his hearts, abdomen, hips, and lastly held out both palms. He didn’t miss how her eyes tracked his hands. Her skin darkened another shade.
“Just get this over with…please.”
Her ‘please’ sounded more command than plea. Sorntar spun around, heading back towards the table with the pretense of retrieving a pot of paint. It was a good excuse to prevent Ashayna from seeing his grin. He couldn’t seem to help it. The situation should have demanded his fear in full measure. Instead other emotions eclipsed his fear. Desire, pride, joy, happiness…. Sorntar shook his head. The stress must be getting to him.
“What are you thinking?” she asked. “You slammed your mental shields up so fast it made my ears ring.”
“Sorry. I think I’m addled.”
“I could have told you that.” She snatched the pot from his hand. “Tell me what to do, since you seem unable to pull yourself together.”
“Here, sit on the bench.” He motioned to a bench hidden away in another alcove. Ashayna walked over and sat without a word, her posture just as stiff as when she’d been standing. “Don’t slap my hand away, even if this tickles. The patterns must be accurate. Watch as I paint them and then you’ll have to recreate the same ones on me. Understand?”
She nodded. Dipping his finger into the paste, he surrendered control to his Larnkin.
Power welled up within, spilling over into his consciousness. Magic flared, danced along his skin and among his feathers. Opening his eyes, he watched his hand paint the first symbol on her forehead, then it glided down to lightly paint the next on the upper swell of her breast. His Larnkin was all business and moved on to the next symbol, stroking paint onto her belly. Ashayna trembled at his touch, clearly not unaffected. He tracked his hand’s movements as it flicked and slathered damp paste onto her skin, his body winding tighter with each touch. Suddenly, he wanted to be the one commanding his hand, touching and caressing her until she shivered with desire as powerful as his.
With the seventh symbol painted, his Larnkin returned control to Sorntar.
“Your turn,” he whispered as he looked Ashayna in the eyes.
“I…I’m not sure I can get them right.”
“Start with my forehead. That symbol is just a crescent moon. I’ll guide your hand for the more difficult ones.”
“All right.” She didn’t sound at all certain, but she scooped a bit of paste and applied it to his forehead. The dampness felt cold against his hot skin.
She managed the double diamond shape over his hearts, but her hands started to shake when she tried to paint the complex knot symbol on his abdomen. He captured her hand and turned it over, stroking one thumb along her wrist.
“You’re doing fine.” He kissed the silky skin on the inside of her wrist and then guided her hand back down to his belly. With his help, she completed the symbol.
They continued in silence. When she finished the last symbol, he sighed in relief.
Looking down, he beheld a number of symbols marking his dark skin, painted in shades of smoky blues, somber greens, and stormy greys. The first to be painted—those over his hearts and on his abdomen—were already glowing with pale light.
The Larnkin stretched as it reached to those conduits. The strange motion caused Sorntar some discomfort. He looked up at Ashayna; from her expression, she wanted to be elsewhere. His Larnkin shifted again, and Sorntar wondered if he might want to be elsewhere as well. For once Ashayna had no biting remarks for him.
He retrieved a goblet from the table before walking to the pool’s edge. It felt heavy in his hand, a reminder of the importance of what they were about to undertake. He dipped the goblet below the surface and filled it to brimming. Turning back to Ashayna, he held it out as he began the ceremonial words of bonding.
“Drink of the water blessed by the Great Mother and the All Father and be judged by Them. Let any unworthy of Their gift be exiled from the world of the living.”
Ashayna didn’t take the goblet, only staring at it with distrust. With a shrug, he drank it down by half, and then held it out to her in challenge. She snatched it out of his hand and downed the liquid in three gulps.
A warm sensation, not altogether unpleasant, radiated outwards from his center. In its wake all his defenses lay shattered, much faster this time than it had for his testing. While he was still able to command his legs, he walked out into the pool. He looked over his shoulder at Ashayna, motioning her forward. She didn’t look pleased, but fol
lowed him out a ways before diving under its surface.
The water pressed against him. Its embrace warm, yet no longer comforting. He dove under the surface, kicking and beating his wings. He surfaced on the other side, breathing heavily.
He waded back to shore, where Ashayna was just exiting. The liquid fell from him as he climbed the shore, leaving his skin and feathers dry. The sensation of his Larnkin pressing against the inside of his skin nearly drove him into the bonding chamber.
“Sorntar.” Ashayna called his name, and then breathed out a surprised hiss. “Quit stalling, I think our Larnkins are getting angry at the delay.”
The Wardstone chamber awaited them. There were no more preparations to make. Taking three deep breaths, he cleared his mind and fell into a light trance to regain the peace he would need for what was to come.
Calm again, he walked into the chamber, the clicking of his talons a strange contrast to the soft padding footsteps of human feet.
* * * *
As Ashayna followed Sorntar, a mix of dread and desire tightened her stomach with each step. The massive Wardstones reminded her of the Oracle, though these were mostly dark, with only a random flickering of light in their crystalline hearts. It gave them the illusion of life, as if they lay dormant, awaiting the raw power cast off by their bonding to come alive once more. A chill raised the hairs on her arms and neck.
Sorntar lifted his arms, his palms facing the rough-hewn ceiling. His wings imitating the motion, their tips pointed to the shadows above. Power ignited his feathers and coiled around his body, circling up towards his raised arms. Racing up their lengths, magic pooled above his open palms, hovering there in an ever-enlarging sphere.
Without a doubt, he was the most beautiful creature she’d ever laid eyes on. A small part of her was awed such a being could be willing to risk death to save her. Her eyes welled with tears. When had he managed to get past the fortress she’d built around her emotions?
He tilted back his head and chanted to the shadows and light above. “We accept the gift the Great Mother and the All Father have given us. And by Their grace, let no harm come to us while we serve the Light. Welcome is Their gift.” The muscles of his arms knotted, and with a violent heave, he sent his magic flying up and out. It collided with the Wardstones at circle’s edge, setting them aglow with runes. A deep humming filled the room, increasing in volume as the power intensified. The sound escalated another octave, making Ashayna cringe with each ear piercing jab. Instinctively, she wanted to put space between herself and the bruising noise, but it came from all around. She covered her ears in a vain attempt to block it.
Sorntar resumed his incantation to the gods. “We accept the gift of the God and Goddess. By Their grace, no evil shall touch us while we serve the Light. Welcome is Their gift. Guide us in our path to wisdom.” Sorntar’s chanting filled the room, rising and cresting into true song, in a haunting melody no human voice could match. The loud droning from the Wardstones softened. They wavered, uncertain, and then matched their tone to Sorntar’s singing.
The breath stilled in her lungs as his voice wove an enchantment over the ancient Wardstones.
“Always we shall share both defeat and victory. In this life and the next. Let nothing tear us apart. This we ask.” His voice sailed above the song of the Wardstones. When the last note echoed to silence, he closed his fists. “Let now two powers become one.”
A sheet of magic fire leapt between each of the pillars at circle’s edge, forming a solid dome of golden light.
Ashayna was about to ask what was next, when he stiffened. His teeth snapped together with a click and spasms shook his wings. The symbols painted on his flesh brightened as magic flooded those gateways. A shimmering pool of magic formed between them.
Chaotic magic slowly ordered into something more solid. A shape took form. Its edges misty, but the transparent suggestion of arched wings, the line of erect crest, and the broad-shouldered form were the twin to its host.
It looked at her, a penetrating gaze, like it could see through her skin to something within, reading what lay at the heart of her soul, her most private thoughts. She shuddered. It beckoned her nearer with an inviting motion of one graceful transparent hand. Its expression was blank, unreadable, for which she was thankful. Seeing either eagerness or impatience on its face would have broken her nerve.
Ashayna took halting steps closer. At this distance, the pull of the Larnkin’s power was almost more than her discipline could handle. Panic caused cold sweat to run along her back. An arm’s length separated them and still her magic remained quiet.
“I don’t want to be locked away, banished to the darkness below this city to serve as a tomb guard.” She looked past the Larnkin while she spoke. Sorntar sat half-collapsed, his wings and tail draped the ground around him like a cloak, but he was alert. His gaze locked on her, Sorntar nodded encouragement.
She dare not study Sorntar more and returned her attention to the Larnkin. It remained unchanged. “Please help me,” she begged of the creature standing opposite.
Its posture still didn’t change, but the magic swirling around it slowed and parted like mist, and she met its eyes or at least the illusion of eyes. Its cold, foreign soul looked back. She shivered.
A hint of legs and a tail became visible before the power shifted and spiraled away like smoke. Where a moment ago the outline of wings had been sharp, they softened and blurred, vanishing back into the swirling magic. Ashayna’s hope dwindled. It seemed Sorntar was wrong, their Larnkins were not yet strong enough to bond. One minute it was vanishing back into a shapeless blue fog, the next its image sharpened and it reached to touch the symbol over her heart.
A burning radiated from where he’d made contact. The unpleasant sensation grew stronger. She looked down in time to see the Larnkin slide its hand inside her chest. Something within released, breaking like a dam. Power surged free, pouring out of the symbols to fill the chamber with radiance. Silver power danced with blue in bright chaos. Terror held her jaws locked.
She had to look away or risk being blinded. Time slowed, then stopped or perhaps it sped forward, she could no longer tell, yet it did not move as it should. The heat of the bonding raged all around them in a storm of fire and radiance. Magic continued to hemorrhage from the symbols, until she feared it would strip away her life, maybe even her soul.
After a length of time the pressure eased, the wildly swirling magic of both Larnkins no longer increased unchecked. Ashayna mastered her fear when she realized she wasn’t dying. Nevertheless, the line of tense muscles running the length of her shoulders wouldn’t relax.
Ashayna looked over at Sorntar. He struggled to stand. “It will be over soon,” he said. “The worst is behind us.” His gentle undertones were a gallant attempt to reassure her.
Calm returned, a bit at a time. She managed a glare even with her sweat slicked muscles shaking with the effort to hold her upright. “I don’t wish to do this again, ever.”
The Larnkins separated back into two distinct colors. Her silver one glided back towards her while Sorntar’s took phoenix shape once again. It looked across the distance at her and she had the impression it wanted to say something, but exhaustion overtook it and it returned to a formless mist. After a moment it rushed back towards its host. Hers did the same. Ashayna braced herself for some new unpleasantness, but her Larnkin’s return was much easier than its escape. The magic slid effortlessly back into the symbols, vanishing below her skin.
Time returned to its proper course. Her magic was once again an uncomfortable but familiar sense of power deep within. Unable to fend off the bone deep ache of exhaustion a moment more, Ashayna collapsed and patted a spot on the floor next to her. Sorntar took a step towards her, swayed, and then his eyes rolled back in his head. He dropped to the ground with a thump. She crawled to him and pressed her fingers into his throat. His pulse beat strong and steady.
With a sigh, she curled her body against his. Her vision darkened aroun
d the edge. She was about to lose consciousness and a brief moment of fear spiked through her at the thought of what the tomb guards might do if they found them helpless.
Through her fading vision, she saw magic rise to the surface of Sorntar’s skin. He rolled to his side and mantled a wing over her. He looked down at her with Sorntar’s slanted dark eyes, but the shimmering power within held none of his gentle spirit.
“Fear not, my beloved. I shall never let the Dead King take what is mine.”
She wanted to cry out in fear, but even that was beyond her. He gathered her unresisting body into his arms, kissed her brow and tucked her head under his chin. “Rest now,” the Larnkin whispered, ruffling her hair with his breath.
Darkness claimed her.
Chapter Fifteen
Silk-soft feathers brushed her arms and a comforting spicy aroma surrounded her. As her fingers stroked through blanketing feathers, Ashayna snuggled closer to the heat source and distinguished the pattern of two distinct heart beats. The deep vibration of Sorntar’s cooing told her they were safe. Sliding her hand along his side, she found his arm and intertwined her fingers with his. She nestled against his firm, muscular chest and pressed her lips in the hollow of his throat, smiling at the direction her dreaming mind had taken.
He shifted against her, nudging his knee between her thighs. His lips sought hers, nipping gently at her lower lip. She returned his kiss, seeking more, needing to be impossibly close—a part of him, like his Larnkin. His hands skimmed across her skin in a light touch that heated her blood. Her bones were going to melt. She didn’t care. After capturing his hand, she guided it to her breast. It was her dream, after all.
Sorntar froze, before he pulled away.
What? He wasn’t allowed to get all shy in her dream.
“Ash, you do realize you’re not dreaming, don’t you?” Sorntar’s thoughts invaded her dream.
Betrayal's Price (In Deception's Shadow Book 1) Page 17
