“Harrison, no. Please!” Green eyes implored him. “It nearly stopped your heart last time. I thought I’d lost you.” Her voice dropped, low and pained. “I can’t lose you.”
But he’d made up his mind. What use was his life if he couldn’t save the ones he loved?
“Shh, it’s going to be okay.” He hoped to hell he was right.
Moving behind her, he curled one arm around her waist, pulling her tight against him as he reached over her shoulder.
For a single harsh second he hesitated, knowing it could be his last. Then stealing himself for battle, he brushed his cheek against Ilaria’s soft hair and took hold of the draggon stone where it hung at her breast.
The blast slammed into him like a bolt of lightning, pure undiluted energy. Like he’d grabbed an electrical wire. He fought to hold on, though inside he felt as if he were shattering, as if the blast were trying to rip him apart from the inside out.
His skin felt as if it were frying, his body turning into an inferno of heat. Steam wavered before his eyes. His body shook, but he held on to that stone, his teeth clenched so tight he doubted he’d ever be able to pry them apart again.
He. Would. Not. Die.
The energy raced through his body, through his veins, attacking him. He fought to hold on, certain that if he let go, he’d fly into a million pieces. Far beyond himself he sensed a warmth, a strength, as if the sun itself were calling him.
From deep in his memory, Jack’s voice floated through his mind. The hawk that wishes to reach the sun must first learn to ride the wind.
Ride the wind. Jack’s words suddenly made sense. He had to give in, to jump off the cliff knowing he might crash into the ground, a broken shell.
Or soar.
To gain the power the stone wanted to give him, he had to quit fighting it. He had to let it in.
For one terrible moment, he didn’t think he could do it. How did he give up a control he’d clung to with two steel fists for so many years? How did he let go, knowing he could shatter into a million pieces?
The sweetly exotic scent of gardenias drifted into his nostrils, exploding inside his head, his heart. Ilaria’s scent.
For her he could do this. For this woman who’d become the heart beating in his chest, he could—and would—risk anything.
Taking a deep breath, he tried to relax and let the power take him. But nothing happened. He was locked too tightly in the battle. He had to let go. Not literally. Not of the draggon stone, at any rate. He had to let go of his fierce control.
He took another breath, letting it out slowly. Then another. And another. Little by little, he relinquished that iron control that had formed the structure of his life for so long. Little by little, the energy broke through.
Finally, on a hard exhalation, those tight muscles that comprised his will gave way. The energy shot through him like a lightning bolt, spinning him end over end in a terrifying whirl of chaos and pain. The kaleidoscope all over again, only this time he’d become the spinning lights as if he’d been blasted into a million pieces—a million pulsing, radiant pieces.
All at once, his physical senses shut down, taking the pain with them. No longer was he flesh and blood, a living organism. He was light and energy. Wind and nature. Everywhere and nowhere. The universe. And nothing.
Lost.
Gone.
For one grief-filled moment he thought he’d died. He’d failed, leaving Ilaria and Charlie and the others to battle an unwinnable war alone.
Then everything changed. He came back to himself in a rush, his blood fizzing and bubbling, strength pouring through his limbs and body. His senses returned twice as strong as before. His sense of smell sharper, his hearing keener.
His vision cleared, revealing the barrier like an oil spill, plain as day.
“Harrison?” Ilaria held his face in her hands, her expression a mix of shock and wonder. Tears sprang to her eyes, a smile lifting her glorious mouth.
Love rushed up inside him so strongly he thought it might tear apart his chest. He grabbed her and kissed her, sharing his love, his strength, and drawing both in return. The realization flowed through him, rocking him to his core. Love. She loved him in return.
And when he pulled back and stared into her soft, tender eyes, he knew it was true.
He stroked her cheek with his knuckles, his mouth spreading into a rare smile. “I feel like I swallowed the sun and survived.”
Her eyes widened. “More than survived it, I think.”
“Jesus, Harrison,” Charlie exclaimed. “Your eyes are glowing. And your hair’s standing on end. What in the hell just happened?”
Harrison turned to his brother, a smile bursting from him, uncontainable. “I’m not entirely sure. But it’s time to find out.”
He grabbed Ilaria’s hand. “Let’s open this thing.”
She eyed him with excitement and curiosity. “Someone’s told you how?”
“Not in so many words. I just know we have to do it together. Put one hand on the barrier, keep one linked with mine.”
The wind whipped at near hurricane force as he stepped up to the barrier. The unknown. But this time he didn’t hesitate. The power whispered to him, telling him this was what he’d been born for.
As one, they slammed their palms against the barrier.
“Break it with your mind,” he told her. Then turned his own will against the oil slick that separated them from Rith. A creaking groan ripped across the mountain, an inhuman sound like a piece of wood straining against breakage. He pressed his power, pitting his strength indirectly against Rith’s, and felt the wall beneath his palm shatter with a horrible screech. Shimmering shards of oil slick flew in every direction, a colorful display he sensed only he could see.
“We’re through!” Charlie crowed.
Harrison met Ilaria’s triumphant gaze, then as one, they turned and ran. Moments later they crested the rise that overlooked the Temple of the Ancients a hundred yards below.
Like the other structures he’d seen in Esria, this one had no roof and no walls. Carved from blood-red marble, the temple consisted of little more than two rings of intricately carved columns—one set within the other. Between the rings of columns, the marble floor of the temple dipped several feet, creating a wide trough.
At the center of the inner circle rose a cone-shaped tower of stairs rising to a round platform some thirty feet in the air. It was here that Rith stood, his hands in the air, his hair whipping around his head. Above his fingertips, flying in a tight, fast circle were the six stones of Orisis.
Harrison’s heightened senses took in the situation in an instant—the five royal guards circling the temple, two of them cocking arrows at the intruders.
“Incoming.” He slammed his visor down, hearing the click of Charlie’s visor behind him as he tugged Ilaria back, blocking her with his body.
She gave a disgusted huff. “Arrows can’t hurt me, Harrison. They can kill you.”
He knew she was right and squeezed her hand, then felt his own hand lifted to her lips for a sweet kiss. With a smile, he tugged on her hand and together they raced down the rocky path, arrows whizzing past. One arrow sliced across his upper arm, sending a blazing fire ripping through his flesh. Liquid warmth began to trickle down his arm, but he said nothing. He could still run, still fight. And that’s all that mattered.
“Let’s get Rith,” Charlie said behind him.
“No. He’s mine alone.”
“Harrison…” Charlie came up beside him. “We’re taking him together.”
But Harrison shook his head. “The draggon stone chose me for this. I need the rest of you to take on the guards.”
The five Esri guards gathered in a line between them and their king, two firing arrows as three pulled swords.
Charlie’s mouth compressed, but he hesitated only a moment. “All right, then. Tarrys, can you hit their weapon hands?”
“Of course.”
“Do it from back here. Harrison
, I’ll block for you, then keep them busy.”
“Good.” Harrison turned to Ilaria. Their gazes slammed into one another’s and he felt her love flow through him, filling him with strength and purpose.
“Be careful,” he said.
“You, too.”
Tarrys’s aim was perfect, as always, and she injured the weapon hands of all five Esri so quickly she might as well have shot the arrows at once. As swords and arrows fell harmlessly to the ground, Charlie dive-tackled the closest guard, slamming him into a second and giving Harrison an opening.
Harrison took the opportunity, and leaped onto the outer marble walkway and down into the trough. But as he reached the inner ring of columns, a blast of energy hit him square in the chest, knocking him back with a force that stank of decay. And evil.
The lightning swirling inside him called to him. Acting on pure instinct, Harrison lifted his hand and willed that energy at Rith, then watched with amazement as a fireball flew from his palm. Holy cow. The king stumbled back, barely catching himself from falling off the platform.
Violent satisfaction curled Harrison’s lips.
At the edges of his mind, he felt the magic call to him again, demanding he open himself once more. This time he did so without hesitation, feeling the souls of the dead kings and queens who resided here urging him on.
He pushed forward, onto the dais, and leaped for the stairs. But even as he felt an inflow of power, Rith hit him with a blast that knocked him into the air, sending him sprawling on the marble behind him. His teeth clattered together, the wind knocked out of him both from the force of the landing and the certain knowledge that Rith’s terrible power was growing.
How, he didn’t know. Was he, too, gaining strength from the temple, or was he absorbing the energy Harrison threw at him, making it his own?
Harrison forced himself to his feet, his back and tailbone aching. Gathering the forces within him, he attacked his opponent with all he had, hoping it was enough to knock the bastard off that pedestal once and for all.
But Rith didn’t even stumble this time. His eyes gleaming with victory, he raised his hand and fired.
The blast picked up Harrison and threw him backward into a column. His head smacked against the marble, his vision narrowed to pinpoints of light as he landed in a boneless heap on the marble slab. He willed himself to rise, to fight back, but the pain was too much. His mortal body wasn’t built for a battle between gods. He’d come so close to victory. But for him, this battle was lost.
* * *
Ilaria saw Harrison crash against the column and go down. A cry escaped her lips at the sight of him, his body lying at an impossible angle. It was all she could do not to run to him to try to heal him. But the situation demanded otherwise. There was no time. The wall between the worlds hung together by the finest thread. Within moments, even that would be gone and the worlds would collide in a violent explosion of magic and destruction.
Even now, Rith stood high upon his platform, his magic tearing apart the sky. Rain poured down in a stinging torrent, drenching her hair and gown as she made her way around Charlie and Findris, who were battling the Esri guards, and into the temple.
The air stank of sulfur and greed, the screeching of the sky interspersed with violent claps of thunder. She had one chance left to stop this tragedy and seconds before it was too late even as the thought of what she must do had her quaking with terror, her hands as cold as a human’s winter.
She must call the fire of creation.
While Harrison had battled, she’d found within herself the knowledge she sought—the words to call that mystic fire—and begun pulling that ancient magic through the draggon stone, through her royal blood. It gathered inside her now, ready to ignite. If she stopped to run to Harrison, she’d have to start all over again.
He’d sacrificed too much for her to fail them now. She had seconds to complete her task, seconds before Rith completed his. But she was terrified to the depths of her soul.
Fire. She must call the fire.
It’s up to you, angel. Harrison’s voice was a soft caress in her mind. I’ve done all I can.
Hold on for me, Harrison. I’ll heal you when this is through if you’ll just hold on.
I’ll do one better. I’ll hold on to you. What strength of mine that remains is yours.
She felt it, the rush of strength and the warmth of his love wrapping around her, battling back her fear. In another part of her mind, she felt the walls between the worlds losing their grip and beginning to crumble.
Clinging to Harrison’s presence in her mind, her heart pounding, sweat drenching her back and scalp, she squeezed her eyes closed and murmured the words that resided deep in her royal memory, calling to the power of the temple.
The heat of the mystic flame erupted all around her, flickering bright against her eyelids. Terror rose up, a choking, quaking beast that attacked her body and mind, threatening to shut her down, to ruin any chance she had of winning.
Ilaria! Ilaria, stay with me, angel. It won’t hurt you. The fire can’t hurt you. It lives for you, to do your will. Harrison’s voice held her at the edge of the abyss and she clung to it, to him. Finish it, Ilaria. He’s almost done.
I have to take the stones, Harrison.
Call them, angel. They belong to the flame. They’ll come if you call. A deep, violent rumble tore through the temple, shaking beneath her feet. Call them, Ilaria! Keep your eyes closed and call the stones of Orisis home.
She did. Using her own strength combined with Harrison’s, she lifted her hands high above her head and locked on those six green evil gems, catching hold of them with her mind. Body trembling, she willed them to her, demanding they heed her call.
That’s it, Ilaria! They’ve stopped spinning. They’re falling. Into the flame! Harrison’s mental voice rose with triumph even as a terrible, unnatural scream rent the air as if the stones themselves cried out at their destruction.
Ilaria wrenched open her eyes, her heart pounding like a drum in her chest. Fire surrounded her, rising all around. A scream built in her throat.
It can’t touch you, Ilaria. Harrison’s voice encircled her like warm, loving arms. You don’t feel it, angel, do you? Do you?
No. Through shuddering breaths, she felt no burning, no pain. Only a gentle heat and the blanketing warmth of Harrison’s love.
Look at Rith.
Her gaze flew to the pedestal, to Rith high atop the stairs, and she watched in fascinated horror as his face and body began to disintegrate in jagged chunks, much as the sky had.
“He and the stones had become one.” Harrison’s voice sounded outside her mind, right behind her, and she tore her gaze from the disturbing sight of Rith’s destruction to find Harrison approaching, whole and fine. He slid his arm around her waist and pulled her back against him. She let him, settling her head against his shoulder as her gaze returned to the stairs to witness Rith’s final moments. Though her heart pounded, strong arms held her terror of the flames at bay.
“As they disintegrate, so does he,” Harrison murmured.
“You’ve healed.”
His cheek brushed her hair. “I thought I was dying. Then the pain slipped away. I don’t know what happened, but I’m not complaining.”
She’d felt the destruction to his body and had been terrified he wouldn’t survive until she could reach him.
In a flash of colored light, Rith was no more.
“Douse the flame, angel.”
Ilaria closed her eyes, then with a deep breath, released the magic. She knew, even before she opened her eyes, the fire was gone. A relieved shudder tore through her as her gaze rose to the solid, bright orange sky above.
She whirled in his arms, a grin breaking over her face. “We did it!”
Harrison’s smile bloomed more slowly, creasing his face, filling it with wonder and love. “We did. We make a good team, you and I.” That smile dimmed, a shadow obscuring the brilliant gleam in his eyes.
He was leaving to go home. Of course he was. And her duty was here.
Tears sprang to her own eyes. “I love you, Harrison.”
His hands lifted to stroke her face. “I love you…Queen Ilaria.”
She smiled, her bottom lip beginning to tremble as he dipped his head and kissed her with tender passion. Her arms went around his neck and she clung to him, her heart breaking. If she could, she’d give up the crown to follow him back to the human realm. But there was no one else to lead. And her people needed her.
Tears rolled down her cheeks as she kissed him. Deep within her mind a cheer sounded—the voices of her people raised in joy and thanksgiving. Harrison pulled back, staring at her with a funny look, his eyes unfocused as if he, too, heard them. And suddenly, light erupted all around them. As one they gaped at the sight, their gazes flying around the temple. The Temple of the Ancients had begun to glow a soft, warm red as if the marble had been lit from within.
“What’s happening?” A bemused smile creased Harrison’s face. “I hear cheering in my head as if we were surrounded by thousands.”
As Charlie, Tarrys and Findris joined them, Ilaria looked around. The mountain was empty but for the five of them.
“Rith’s guards?” Ilaria asked.
“As soon as you drew the fire of creation, they fled,” Findris told her. “I don’t think you’ll have to worry about them—they were followers, not leaders—but I’ll keep an eye on them, nonetheless.”
Charlie’s hand went to his brother’s shoulder, his eyes echoing with remembered grief. “When I saw you go down, I thought it was all over. No way should you have been able to rise from that.”
Harrison shrugged, a smile playing at his mouth. “I wasn’t as badly injured as I thought I was.”
Ilaria took his hand. “Yes, you were.”
He cocked his head at her. “What do you mean?” “I felt it. Your injuries. Your healing.”
But he clearly wasn’t convinced. “No one heals that fast.”
Warrior Rising (Harlequin Nocturne) Page 20
