Betrayal's Price (In Deception's Shadow Book 1)

by Blackwood, Lisa

  “I don’t know what to do. Please, Sorntar, I need your help.”

  “You can…do this,” his whispered reply was barely audible. “You are…the Destroyer. Shields are your gift. Your power…to undo damage.”

  He fell silent and his head lolled to one side. She collapsed next to him, searching his throat for a pulse. It was there, a shallow but regular rhythm.

  “I can do this. I must do this.” She chanted the words as she gathered magic to strengthen her muscles. With a grunt, she lifted Sorntar back over her shoulder. He was a hard carry, long and lanky, even his wings threatened to trip her up. She stood a moment before summoning a shield around her. Willing it to be solid, completely watertight with a generous quantity of air, she took a firmer hold of Sorntar’s legs and stepped free of the tunnel’s ledge, out into the green depths of the lake.

  A great pressure descended on her mind. She fought panic and concentrated on maintaining the life-giving bubble. The sense of pressure decreased after a while, replaced by one of drifting. The strange life raft bobbed from side to side as it rose. Their speed increased, carrying them towards their destination faster by the heartbeat. She steeled herself for their eventual surfacing.

  The surface was dark, not light. What had happened to the day? It hadn’t seemed like they had been down in Dakdamon’s prison for more than a candlemark. Then in the next breath, she remembered a turbulent thunderstorm had been chasing them. The surface would offer them no more safety than the lake.

  Sorntar struggled feebly and she lowered him to the pale glowing floor of her shield. His eyes tried to focus on her, but blood from a cut on his forehead dripped into his eyes. She linked with him and his thoughts came to her. She felt his determination to remain lucid in what could be their last moments together. “Oh, Sorntar, I’m so sorry.”

  He smiled weakly and formed an image in her thoughts, a possible escape. The complexity of his plan boggled her mind, and likely required magical strength she lacked. The effort to maintain the shield while calling a gate into being was beyond anything she had attempted in practice.

  “And under the surface of a magic-summoned lake, with the father of all demons practically under my feet.”

  “Ash, my bondmate, it is not so grim.” Sorntar’s thoughts were as weak as his physical body and Ashayna leaned closer out of instinct, even though it would do nothing to aid her hearing. “You have power. Focus your will, it will do your bidding.”

  “What of him?” Ashayna pointed down, beyond her feet, to the dark reaches of the lake bottom.

  “If he could stop you, he’d already have done it. All he can do is hope he’s planted enough self-doubt to cripple...”

  “He succeeded. I can’t do this.”

  “You can. Summon power…direct it to form a gate. Should we survive, heal me. He broke something inside.” His thoughts becoming more and more disjointed.

  Tears rolled down her cheeks, feeling abnormally hot against her cold skin.

  “It’s all right, Ash.”

  “No, it’s not! I’m not all right with you dying here in this place!” She grasped his face in her hands and tilted his head back to look into his eyes. “I’m not all right with anything that monster said or did. I’ll get us out of here, I promise.”

  “Gate…to santhyrians,” Sorntar said. His eyes drifted shut and she thought he’d lost consciousness. Then his mind brushed against hers. “You can do this, my beloved.”

  She nodded, tears spilling down to splatter on his face. Ashayna held him tighter and gathered the last of her power. Rage for the injustices Sorntar had suffered fueled her strength. Magic arced and snapped out from her body and coalesced directly in front of her bubble. The gate took shape, fluctuating and flaring as she fought to control it and maintain her shield. She thought her mind would split in two. She held on until the gate formed then willed her bubble through the gate.

  The darkness of lake and storm vanished. Power teetered unsteadily on the edge of escaping her control. The shield failed with a popping sound, and her stomach plummeted as she fell half a body length to the ground. She lay there, stunned. The grass under her cheek prickled and when she turned her head, her cheek brushed feathers. Mildly astonished, she looked around.

  Summer Flame stood looking down at them, with Winter’s Frost only a few paces farther off.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Sucking in a breath, Ashayna inhaled a lungful of powdery dirt. A racking cough assaulted her, causing a sharp pain to lance through her side. Her vision blurred, fading in and out of focus until her eyes remembered how to work together.

  Winter’s Frost stood over Sorntar with her head bowed. A pale healing magic flooded the area around them. Earlier discomfort forgotten, Ashayna struggled to her feet and then ducked under Winter Frost’s neck to kneel next to Sorntar. Ashayna kept her hands at her sides, afraid if she said or did anything it would distract the mare and do Sorntar greater harm. A quick survey of the immediate area showed Summer Flame nosing through a pack. Using his teeth, he pulled out an oil wrapped package. After tossing the packet next to her, he retrieved a water satchel and dropped it in her lap.

  “Eat, drink, and regain some strength,” Summer Flame said. He bobbed his head at Sorntar. “We can keep him alive for a short time, but Itharann is hemorrhaging magic. He is beyond our abilities to fix…you must find the resources within yourself to heal him or you will both die.”

  Ashayna looked back to Sorntar. His skin was as wax, worse than with the wardlen’s bite. He’d reverted back to himself at some point. Itharann must be close to death if he’d surrendered control to Sorntar so completely.

  “Ashayna, don’t just stand there looking dim as a new foal. Do something.” Winter’s Frost swiveled an eye in Ashayna’s direction. She pawed the earth with a hoof and snorted. “When Summer Flame said we could keep Sorntar alive, he meant we could give Sorntar more time by sacrificing ourselves. I’ll give my life to protect my friends, but I’d prefer to find another alternative, all the same.”

  “Tell me what to do,” Ashayna pleaded.

  “What happened to Sorntar is beyond our understanding,” the mare replied.

  Ashayna sighed, and closed her eyes. She laid her hand flat on Sorntar’s chest. The faint rhythm of his two hearts gave her some hope. If she could lend him some of her strength, as the santhyrians had been doing, perhaps he could heal himself. Filling her lungs with deep steadying breaths, she willed her magic to respond.

  It came to her command like a loyal war steed. Magic swelled, hurtling itself up through her body before breaking through the inadequate barrier of her skin, where it awaited her command. If only she knew what to do with it.

  If she was to believe Dakdamon, she wasn’t even human, but some unnatural hybrid—the remains of a Larnkin married with the bits of her shattered soul. It explained so many strange occurrences.

  She shook her head in denial. “I’m not that. I’m Ashayna Stonemantle. A human woman, not some monstrosity brought about by the games of gods!”

  “Not monstrosity…my beloved,” Sorntar sighed out the words.

  While she’d ranted denials, her magic had gone ahead and blanketed him. His injures remained unhealed, but he was awake and looked at her with such love it made her squirm.

  “Please tell me how to help,” she begged. “How can I save you?”

  “Trust instincts,” he whispered. The effort to keep his eyes open proved too much and his lashes drooped shut again.

  Ashayna lay down next to him, curling her body around his. With a whispered prayer to the Great Mother, she closed her eyes. For the length of ten heartbeats nothing happened. Then something within her awoke, remembering what it felt like to expand her senses free of her body. She became aware of magic leaking from Sorntar, as Itharann slipped closer to death. Following his escaping magic, she navigated the dark below the ground, hunting and gathering the essence of Itharann as she went. Finally, when she held every scrap she could find, she flowe
d back up the current of magic leaking from him, gathering it to her as she returned.

  She flowed into Sorntar, and ran head-on into Itharann. He had folded himself down into a tightly bound ball of energy, but it did little to stop his life force escaping from the ragged hole she felt in his spirit. Ashayna pondered her options a moment. Then with a mental shrug, she shoved all the power back at Itharann. He twisted and coiled, a rolling mass of magic.

  “Hurts, does it now?” But she didn’t stop force-feeding him. Willing or not, he absorbed the power back into himself, gaining strength with each passing moment.

  She continued until she’d returned his magic, then started sharing hers. He uncoiled and stretched within Sorntar, causing his wings to shift and his limbs to twitch. She could feel him growing in power and was glad she couldn’t ‘see’ how he controlled the host. The damage inflicted by Dakdamon showed like an eroded riverbank, dark against surrounding healthy energy and diverting it from its natural flow. For now, feeding him kept the tide of power flowing into him, but as soon as she stopped it started rushing out.

  “Curse it,” she growled. “What am I supposed to do now? Stay like this for an eternity?”

  Itharann continued expanding out around her. She didn’t like being surrounded—even in her mind—and pulled away.

  “You need to mend the torn parts, or else all your loving work will be for nothing.” Itharann chuckled.

  Humor on his part must mean she was doing something right. “Some suggestions would be nice.”

  “You’re doing fine.”

  “Bastard.” Since she lacked a body, she couldn’t even glower at him properly.

  “Well, since you don’t require my help, I’ll just busy myself elsewhere,” Itharann informed her a moment before he began a weaving.

  She didn’t know what spell he wove, but by the feel of the fine thread-like strands of power he spun around her, it wasn’t good for her continued freedom. “Never did like spiders. Or double crossing, misbegotten, manipulative…,” She paused. He’d given her an idea. She drew her swirling power to rein and began to spin it out like spider silk. When she had a length of it, she concentrated on the rift.

  “I really have no idea what I’m doing, but you seem altogether too relaxed, so I must be on the correct path. I hope I give you a good scar, at the very least.” Taking the length of magic thread, she began ‘sewing’ Itharann’s rift shut. Slowly, the power flowing from the wound choked off until only a little leaked between the sutures.

  “Thank you, my bondmate. It’s appreciated.” Itharann purred. She felt him strengthen his weaving another notch.

  “Whatever you’re doing, it better not be preparing for some unnatural Larnkin mating ritual or I’ll gut you and let you bleed out again.”

  Surprisingly, Itharann didn’t come after her, but let her slip from his magic’s grasp and she found herself back in her body. She collected her wits and shook the last of the magic webbing from her mind.

  Indigo-colored wings blocked out a good portion of the light and strong arms held her close. She stiffened. “Let me go. You can pretend to be Sorntar all you want, but I know it’s you.”

  “Rest,” he said. “Sleep now.”

  Ashayna tried to fight his compulsion, but her magic didn’t consider Itharann’s weaving a direct attack. Her eyelids grew heavy and she succumbed to his command.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Ashayna awoke to the swaying motions of a santhyrian’s walking gait and realized she was astride Winter’s Frost. Rubbing her eyes, Ashayna looked around. Night had passed her by while she slept, but apparently Itharann had made use of the time and they had traveled a good distance from where she’d fallen asleep. There were still mountains in the far distance, though the air no longer held the humid jungle quality. She recognized some species of trees dotting the landscape around a small mist-covered lake. It shone bright in the morning light and its source seemed to be a small, picturesque spring. A large redwood, covered in soft green of leaves, shaded the spring’s headwater. The tree swayed slightly in the breeze. The tranquility of the place was at odds with the horror of seeing Sorntar in his changed form. In the grey light of the Wild Path and later in Dakdamon’s prison, she had been able to forget the extent of Sorntar’s changes. Now, under bright morning light, she saw again the harsh changes.

  Itharann stood at water’s edge and relaxed his shoulders. Until then she’d been unaware of his tension. Ashayna took note of it, promising herself she would not overlook anything else she might use as a weapon against him. His slow smile revealed pointed fangs. The teeth unnerved her more than some of the other changes. What purpose would those serve? Nothing good.

  “Perhaps after we achieve the next stage of our bonding, we will explore the uses for my fangs.” His voice was a low purr. “We can learn together.”

  “May the Mother shrivel your manhood.” Her voice came out a rusty crackle. She cleared her throat and gave him a chilly smile. “And if you try anything, I’ll make a necklace out of your teeth.”

  His short laugh echoed across the water, disturbing a pair of water fowl. When the panicked flapping of bird wings diminished, the area around the lake returned to its earlier peaceful state.

  He didn’t allow her to reply, instead sealing her mouth shut with another weaving. She didn’t fight him. Knowing he planned to force the bond, she conserved all her strength for later. She couldn’t afford to let herself think of him as noble and gentle Sorntar. Itharann had granted her a favor by changing his appearance.

  Summer Flame wandered a little ways off at Itharann’s signal. To hold Winter’s Frost, he wove a halter of power and tied her to a nearby tree. After Itharann secured the mare, he allowed Ashayna to dismount. She grimaced. Though free to move, she was still helpless.

  Despair was stirring in her heart when a familiar and beloved mind touched hers.

  “Ashayna?”

  He whispered her name into her thoughts. Faint at first, then his voice grew stronger.

  “Ashayna, can you hear me?”

  Yes, she heard him, but didn’t want to believe. Surely this was another of Itharann’s tricks. “Sorntar?” Ashayna asked, unable to resist even if it was another trick.

  “Yes, beloved. When you healed what was broken within Itharann, you changed something. I’m not sure what, exactly, but when he’s focused on other things, he can’t block me from speaking to you. And his memories are open to my invasion. I know everything about him, his weaknesses and his wants. This lake, it’s sacred to the Mother, and even Dakdamon can’t influence Itharann here.”

  Ashayna’s heart lightened at the sound of Sorntar’s mindvoice. If this was another trick, she didn’t think she cared. She opened what remained of her defenses to him, welcoming him into her mind. It was as close to an embrace as she could manage. “Do you have a plan?”

  “More of a desperate last hope. The Elementals must now know of the darkness within Itharann’s soul. They’ll seek to destroy him. I don’t want to die, but I think there is more at risk than personal survival. I believe the Great Mother and the All Father have sent us back to fix Dakdamon’s mistake. For that, we need to be whole. Only the Destroyer can undo the damage Dakdamon did to Itharann. You will not get a second chance. Dakdamon’s grip on Itharann grows with each day.”

  Ashayna sighed with despair. Sorntar asked the impossible. “How am I supposed to accomplish this?”

  “After what Dakdamon did to him, Itharann no longer trusts anyone, not even me. But when you healed him, you flooded his soul with the essence of his lost love’s power. He remembers the strength of his love for her—for you. I think you’ll be able to reach a part of him not even Dakdamon has touched. During the bonding ritual, he’ll be vulnerable to your magic. That’s your chance.”

  “You want me to seduce him while we are in the midst of the bonding ritual? Are you out of your mind?”

  “When you put it that way, yes, I do sound crazy. And no, I don’t mean seduce
him physically. You need to persuade him into releasing all control to you, so you can use your magic upon him. What do we have to lose? Itharann is winning.”

  “If I do manage to seduce an ancient Larnkin, what do I do then? I doubt Itharann will just let me go poking around in his soul.”

  “You’re the Destroyer.” Sorntar’s voice faded, then rallied again. “You have great destructive powers, but also the power to unmake, the power to purify. You must unmake Dakdamon’s work. Sever the connection between Itharann and the God of Mists and Time. Then forge a stronger bond of love with Itharann yourself.”

  “But I don’t love Itharann.”

  “Are you so sure of that? You are half Larnkin, and your Larnkin-half loved Itharann. Look within yourself.”

  “I don’t know how to reach that part of me, if it even still exists.”

  “You must trust yourself…and your magic,” Sorntar said, his mindvoice sounding stressed. “I can’t maintain the link… I’ll try to help you when the time comes.”

  “Sorntar…I love you.” But he’d already vanished from her thoughts. She cursed mentally. Like so many times in her life, she’d missed another opportunity. Next time she was with Sorntar, she’d show him how much she loved him. If she was given another chance.

  While she’d conversed with Sorntar, Itharann had returned from surveying the lake. She immediately detected a flaw in Sorntar’s plan. Itharann’s thoughts brushed hers.

  He held out a hand and beckoned her forward. “What are you hiding from me, my little scout?”

  No point in wasting energy on a lie. “Sorntar thought if I seduced you, I might gain your trust and heal you. I told him I’ve never heard such a crazy idea.”

  Itharann’s somber expression transformed, his eyes lighting with laughter. “Indeed.”

  She arched an eyebrow, expecting a darker reaction. Anger at the very least.