In Deception's Shadow Box Set: Book 1-3
Page 24
“Brother, what news has fallen upon your sharp ears?” Vinarah hailed.
“I know only what I knew before the Dead King raised his shields. He plans to make Lamarra the next Dead Queen to increase his power before challenging me. Even though I am pressed for time, I’ll still deal with you for the role you played in Ashayna’s abduction and the abuses she suffered while in the Oracle’s Tower.”
Vinarah’s eyes widened in shock, but it was too late. Itharann raised a hand. A bolt of blue power rushed out, slamming into Vinarah. Her shields saved her from a quick death, but in her haste to raise it there were weaknesses even Ashayna could see.
Vinarah fought, twisting and thrashing against Itharann’s power while Kandarra launched her own assault. Her first bolt deflected off Itharann’s shields. A second never came. Itharann wrapped Kandarra in bands of power without taking his eyes from Vinarah. Ashayna stood immobile, her fury and anguish burning strongly, just not strong enough to set herself free of his enchantment. With growing panic, Ashayna realized he was using Vinarah’s own shield to crush her. Vinarah’s screams, high and eerie, were terrible to hear. Both wings crumpled with wet pops and sharp snaps.
Ashayna wanted to retch, but even that was beyond her control. Itharann’s power stretched Vinarah’s skin tight over her bones, showing a fine tracery of veins beneath. Tears of blood welled from her eyes and drops of the same covered her lips. The phoenix tried to rise again, only to fall to the ground in an unmoving heap.
Kandarra lay unconscious upon the ground next to her sibling.
“Please stop.” Tears flowed down Ashayna’s cheeks. “If ever there is a chance for us to peacefully coexist, it will be forever destroyed if you kill them.”
She didn’t know if her plea would have swayed him, for a black streak collided with him. When the two opponents slowed, she saw Caltanwyn held the advantage. The lupwyn forced Itharann’s head back until his throat was exposed and lunged for the life pulsing there. Teeth snapped and flesh parted with a spray of blood.
Fire leapt up, forcing the lupwyn’s muzzle back. Itharann gathered himself, pushing his opponent from him with a grunt of exertion. There was a bloody mess where Itharann’s throat should have been. Screaming, Ashayna ran to him, uncaring if this was Itharann she helped. She might hate herself later but could not stand by and watch Sorntar die. In response to her fear, her Larnkin flooded her with power until her hands pulsed with it. She skidded to a stop within arm’s reach of Itharann and had to duck when he launched another mage bolt at the lupwyn. This one knocked Caltanwyn off the path and into the trees at garden’s edge, nearly twenty paces away.
Itharann smiled, and Ashayna realized his throat looked almost whole. Then he coughed and a wave of blood cascaded over his lower lip. He spat and wiped a hand across his lips
“Perhaps I do require a little of your power. You were always better at unmaking damage.” He dragged her close and slanted his lips against hers, nipping almost gently. He began drinking her power like it was water and he was dying of thirst. Ashayna shivered in disgust and jerked her head to the side. Itharann grinned, and then looking beyond her shoulder, his expression sobered and he tossed her behind him. She peered around his broad wings and saw why. Caltanwyn had recovered.
The scent of blood and magic filled the air, until it coiled in the back of her throat. Ashayna stumbled away from the battle and realized she was in command of her own body. Wasting no time, she picked up her saddlebag, fumbling for the vial within. The straps tangled in her panic to get it free. Two more tries and she wrestled the large vial free of her saddlebag.
“Itharann!” she called, holding the vial aloft. “Leave them, or I’ll destroy this.” She gave the heavy vial of silver liquid a small shake, making it shimmer with promise.
Surprise and fury played across his face, and he redoubled his efforts on her shields. Ashayna defied him, feeding more power into her defenses. Then she turned and ran, hoping Itharann would follow her instead of killing the lupwyn.
She ran and only the sound of her own footfalls reached her ears. Either Itharann was far behind or he hadn’t taken the bait.
A sudden wind whipping her hair around her head was her only warning. She threw herself to the ground in a roll as Itharann flew over her position. A strong jerk and a tearing sound heralded the ruin of her leather outer vest.
With a hiss of disgust, Itharann discarded the torn bit of leather and winged back over her position. Ashayna scrambled to her feet and ducked into an alley too narrow for Itharann to fly through. He landed beside the entrance, dwarfing the narrow opening.
Yes, she liked those odds much better.
The gradual rise of the ground between the buildings changed into a sharper ascent, slowing her passage and making her legs burn. A worried glance behind showed Itharann still at the alley’s entrance, trying to squeeze his bulky wings into the alley, his talons scrambling for purchase. But with both the ground too smooth and steep for his talons, and the walls too close for flight, he backed out again, taking to the sky with an enraged cry.
Her ears throbbed. Sweat beaded on her brow and soaked her hairline; still, she ran. The alley came to a sudden end. To her left was a large expanse of soft, green pasture. On the right, elegant, white stones of the stables glittered steadily in the late afternoon light.
Itharann dove out of the sky to land across from her. The backwash of wind from his wings buffeted her. Dust and gritty bits of gravel hit her face and obscured her vision. Before she could take a proper fighting stance, he was upon her. Her world narrowed down to one of blue feathers and the tainted warmth of his power. He twisted the dagger from her grasp. She delivered a kick to his crotch. While he was distracted, she aimed a sharp elbow to the belly, and drew her last dagger. The first blow tangled uselessly in his long primaries. She wasn’t willing to risk losing her only weapon, so instead she broke away.
She lifted the crystal vial with one hand, forestalling him from attacking. Giving the vial a shake, Ashayna held it long enough for him to look from her to the vial and back again before she smashed it against the doorframe. The liquid darkened the surrounding stone, dripping down to the cobbles below in slow, thick drops. It reflected golden light from the setting sun for a heartbeat more before vanishing into a pale mist, sparkling with energy. She watched until the last of the mist disappeared, then looked to Itharann.
He stood still and mute, expression unreadable. Even the breeze failed to ruffle his wing and crest feathers. Only his magic still pulsed around him, its movement seen just beyond the surface, but the wild rage driving it was gone. He shifted, battle stance changing to a more relaxed pose. When he spoke, his voice still lacked warmth, but was calm again. “You have accomplished nothing. Surrender to me and no more harm need come to anyone this day.”
“We’ll not complete the bond, that’s accomplishment enough for me.” As she spoke, she fed more power into her shields. She scanned his features for some nuance of his thoughts. “You’re tired from fighting, aren’t you?”
His expression gave nothing away.
“Having trouble controlling Sorntar?”
“A minor problem,” he acknowledged. “As for you breaking the vial, that’s another problem easily solved. There are two other springs blessed by the Mother where we can go to find what is needed.” He brushed at the fragments of glass shattered across the ground with one foot. “This is replaceable.”
“All I need to do is hold you off until an elder comes.” She returned his cold stare with one of her own.
“That could lead to our deaths, foolish youngling.” Desperation must have lent him strength. Itharann renewed his attack, stronger than before. Magic crashed against Ashayna’s shields. With a sound like a scream, her shields buckled. An echoing throb of pain stabbed into her mind.
She had no will to fight, even if she had been free to do so. Her heart a leaden weight, she walked up to stand next to him and watched the herd drawing nearer.
Chapter
Twenty-Two
The individual members of the santhyrian herd became visible. Ashayna’s throat tightened when she recognized two members as they detached from their herd-mates. Winter’s Frost and Summer Flame raced forward, not knowing the danger they faced. They covered the distance in a blur of speed, blending silver-pale with lustrous, red-brown as they galloped.
“Don’t harm them like you did your sisters. I’ll do as you ask. Just don’t make me stand by helpless again.”
“I shall not kill them. Besides, I have a use for them.”
In their haste, both santhyrians came to a skidding halt. Ashayna was surprised to see old sweat and grime marked their coats.
“Crown Prince, we came as quickly as we could. Shadowdancer is still on his way with Sorsha,” Winter’s Frost said.
Fear and dismay filled Ashayna’s heart. Itharann would torture Sorsha just like Sorntar’s sisters.
Summer Flame moved closer to Itharann. In contrast, the pale mare flared her nostrils and backed away, nearly losing her footing in the slick grass. “Why do you smell of a weaving of restraint?”
“The Dead King wants Ashayna. I’ll explain later,” Itharann replied.
“Very well.”
Ashayna mounted, helpless to deny Itharann’s commands.
Winter’s Frost rolled an eye in Ashayna’s direction, and while Sorntar mounted, the mare broke into a reckless gallop with a surge of her powerful hindquarters. Even as she galloped, Winter’s Frost sent a silent warning to Summer Flame.
Reaching the crest of a hill, the mare slowed to a trot and looked back. Ashayna couldn’t look away either. Itharann and the santhyrian engaged in battle. Summer Flame bucked to disengage his rider while Itharann clung doggedly to his back. Blue flames erupted along Itharann’s wings. In less than a heartbeat, his power had spread to the santhyrian stallion. At the contact, it flared, changing color. No longer blue, it now shone an oily purple-black. The young stallion screamed and fought to free himself, but the purple-black mist adhered to him before vanishing beneath the skin with a flash of power. When it cleared, it left in its place a series of tattoos. Even over the distance, the design of the tattoos made her eyes hurt. The tattoos shimmered, solidifying into diamond-shaped scales as large as her palm. Two curved horns crowned his head.
The changed stallion continued to buck a handful of times more before settling to await his master’s orders. When Itharann straightened from crouching over the stallion’s neck, he was as changed as the santhyrian. His feathers were darker, nearly black, his skin a shade paler than milk. He leaned forward to whisper some command in the stallion’s pricked ears. In a fluid move, both stallion and rider turned to watch Winter’s Frost and Ashayna. Winter’s Frost broke into a gallop.
“We must warn the city and gather help.” Wind threatened to steal Ashayna’s words.
“I have already tried to cry warning, he blocks me. It echoes back against a powerful shield.” Winter Frost’s message was cut short as the ground in front of them opened up. In its place, a smooth-sided pit awaited them. The mare gathered her hindquarters beneath her and sailed over the chasm. She stumbled on landing, but resumed her gallop within three strides.
“Winter’s Frost, you mustn’t trust me. If he commands me, I must obey him. Itharann hasn’t commanded me to jump off because the fall would harm me. He requires me whole for his plans.”
“Then I’d better not slow down to a speed you can safely jump from.”
The sound of powerful wings beating the air came too late to warn her. Itharann, faster in the air than anything a santhyrian could match on the ground, overtook them. He came to a landing several lengths in front of them.
“He thinks I’ll not risk running him down. After what he did to Summer Flame, I’d risk breaking all my legs for a chance to avoid such a fate.” The mare lengthened her stride, pouring every bit of strength into her flight.
Itharann’s expression changed to surprise and he had to dive out of the way.
“Ashayna, tell me what has happened. Did he draw on some ancient power, one which was tainted perhaps? Or is it something else?”
Another glance behind showed Itharann back astride Summer’s Flame. Both stood still, unmoving, and Ashayna didn’t like it. He was planning something.
“It’s not new, this darkness,” Ashayna said, answering the mare’s question. She paused to draw a deep, steadying breath, fighting the wind for the air she needed. “He calls himself Itharann—he is the Judge, leader of the Twelve. He was corrupted by darkness long ago.”
The mare lost her stride, stumbling for two full lengths before finding her footing again. “That’s not possible. Whatever he said was a lie. The one you speak of died long ago, killed by Dakdamon when he wouldn’t betray the Twelve. Even if what you say is true, he wouldn’t be able to hide such a thing. The queen and council would know. He lies to deceive you into doing as he wishes.”
“It’s him,” Ashayna said with conviction, “and he didn’t plan to betray the Twelve. He had no choice.”
“No. If he’s what you say, he could capture us and shape us into any tool he required. He wouldn’t need to chase us down to do it.”
To save having to shout above the wind, Ashayna spoke to her mind-to-mind. “He can capture us. And then he’ll shape us into his tools, like he did to Summer Flame. Itharann was weakening even before he changed Summer Flame. If we’re lucky, he can’t have much magic left.”
“Human, you make no sense.”
“Never mind. Tell me about the city’s defenses. Itharann was going to do something with them.”
“Offensive magic and powerful shields…” If the mare would have told her more, she never found out. They were almost to Grey Spires’ gates and possible help. Another thousand paces separated the way when the land heaved under their feet a second time. Ashayna had only a moment to curse her bondmate, then she was falling. She slammed into the ground. Earth and bits of rock rained down all around her as she rolled.
The world righted itself as she eased onto her back. Looking up, Ashayna saw what had stopped her roll. A massive crystal pillar reared up towards the sky. The tingling of her skin warned her moments before magic rushed up the crystal’s length from some source deep within the earth.
“Get up, human. If you stay there, you will die.” Winter’s Frost screamed into Ashayna’s mind as she trotted out of a cloud of dust and fine grit. “The city’s defenses have been triggered.”
Itharann hadn’t revoked his original order for her to ride the santhyrian, so when Winter’s Frost was even with her, Ashayna vaulted onto her back. Muscles, bruised by the fall, let her know of the abuse. She looked around to take inventory and to locate where Itharann had gone. Of him, there was no sign.
More crystal pillars, sisters to the one in front of them, were rising up all along the city’s outer walls. Winter’s Frost leaped to the side, narrowly avoiding being impaled by another of the pillars. The mare wheeled around and ran back the way she had come. Ashayna clung to Winter Frost’s back and could only watch as the second ring of crystals rose up faster than the first.
Only by the grace of Winter’s Frost’s speed were they able to escape before the last pillar completed the circle. Within, power surged forth from each ring, forming two separate domes of energy—the outer starting to contract as the inner expanded.
“That was too close,” Winter’s Frost said, fear still sharpening her mental tone.
Ashayna agreed wholeheartedly.
***
“That should keep the Dead King busy.” The voice didn’t belong to the mare, but the beautiful, insidious voice Ashayna dreaded.
The mare froze in mid-stride. Ashayna feared to look at Itharann and be trapped as the mare was trapped.
“Ashayna, look at me.” That voice again. A shiver ran down her spine. Fear became a distant thing, weak and insignificant. His soothing tone lulled her and she found herself studying him in detail where he sat upon Summer Flame’s back.
The changes didn’t stop there. Where once his crest was indigo, it was now inky black. Upon his brow a ridge of bone flared up to meet with his crest feathers. The effect was not unlike a crown. His wings, too, were different. There were now a number of sharp, bone-like blades in among the longest primaries. For all his deadly changes, he still possessed a cold beauty, as if the one who shaped him had a care for the outcome.
“Come, beloved,” Itharann gestured her closer. “We have somewhere to be.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Rage had sustained Ashayna in the beginning, but was now long exhausted. Even fear—her companion when she couldn’t maintain rage—had fled. Her mind had grown numb, disconnected from her own body, unable to muster enough willpower to fight against the creeping lethargy stealing across her body. Ashayna swayed with the rhythm of Winter Frost’s stride. Her consciousness, her very personality, slipped farther under the fog of Itharann’s influence with each step. Or perhaps it was just the soul-weakening cold of the Wild Path—its chill far worse than she remembered from her first trip through the eerie grey world.
A spark of Stonemantle stubbornness flared and she roused herself enough to ask, “Where are you taking me?”
Itharann looked at her over his shoulder, his expression bland, lacking anything to give away what he was thinking. After several moments of his unfathomable look, he returned to watching the path ahead.
“You will find out soon enough.”
Soon was sooner than Ashayna would have thought. Another arch loomed up out of the shadows and mist. An unheard command halted Summer Flame. Itharann leaned close to the arch, running his talons along the stone. With a surge of power, the arch burst into life. Itharann urged Summer Flame forward. Stallion and rider vanished through the arch and Winter’s Frost followed close behind.