THE EXPLOSION FINALLY ripped Alistair and Barrow apart. Their fight had been relentless and ugly. A fight with no honor, only animosity. Too close for clear blows, the knights had been reduced to biting, ripping, and tearing at each other like wild beasts. Neither gained the advantage, but both were so consumed by hatred that they willingly embraced the futility of their struggle.
Alistair didn’t see Eira slay her sister. He took no note of the strange object that consumed Cian’s body. All he did see was the man he despised, a man who wanted to steal what was his. He kicked and twisted in Barrow’s grasp. Cursing and spitting, they wrangled each other along the stone floor.
When the room filled with light and sound, an unknown force threw Alistair and Barrow against the wall. For a few minutes, Alistair was knocked senseless. When he opened his eyes, the room was blurred, and the ground felt as if it were shifting beneath him.
“Fall back!” Lukasz’s command reached Alistair’s ringing ear. “Get to the portal!”
More shouts and the pounding of feet above him in the gallery compelled Alistair to rise, despite the wave of nausea and dizziness that crashed through him. He stumbled forward, drawing his sword. A single thought had taken hold of Alistair’s mind.
He could not let Ember leave.
Alistair began to run, gulping air to help clear his head and clinging to his singular purpose.
“Rhys!” he shouted. The wolf leapt from the shadows to run at his heels.
Reaching the gallery steps, Alistair took them two at a time. At the top of the staircase, he threw himself forward, hurtling wildly ahead as he saw a shimmering door appear at the far end of the hall.
Barrow had reached the gallery just ahead of Alistair. Ember gave a cry of relief as she threw herself into Barrow’s arms. He lifted her up, his mouth crushing into Ember’s as she wrapped herself around him, welcoming his embrace in a way Alistair would never know.
Alistair opened his mouth and what emerged from his mouth was a howl of such anguish that it sounded inhuman.
Ember broke from the kiss at the sound of his cry. Grief etched across her face. Pushing Barrow toward her sister, Ember took a step toward Alistair.
“Ember!” Barrow called in warning.
Looking over her shoulder, Ember said, “Get my sister and mother to safety.”
“I’m not leaving without you.” Barrow glared at Alistair.
“Give me one minute.” Ember took another step forward, away from Barrow. “I’ll be right behind you.”
Something in Ember’s voice must have silenced Barrow’s protests. He nodded grimly. Taking Ossia Morrow’s hand, Barrow guided her to the waiting portal.
“Alistair,” Ember said softly, coming toward him. Her eyes flicked nervously toward Rhys. “I don’t know what’s happened to you, how Bosque has twisted your heart, but I can’t believe you fully belong to him. I remember the boy who taught me to fight. I remember my friend.”
Alistair lowered his sword, watching Ember approach.
“Come with us.” Ember stopped, just out of reach, and extended her hand. “I cannot give you what you want, but I swear you will always have my love in friendship. Is that not enough?”
“Enough?” Alistair repeated. Casting his gaze upon the wolf at his side, Alistair said, “Your time has come, Rhys. Retrieve my ring.”
Ember flinched when Alistair looked at the wolf, but not quickly enough. In a flash of fur and fangs, the wolf leapt at her. She threw her hand up to guard her throat, but that was precisely what Rhys wanted.
The wolf’s jaws closed on the fingers of Ember’s left hand. She screamed, and Rhys jerked his head back.
Barrow had been shepherding Agnes toward Rebekah’s portal, but turned at Ember’s cry. He lifted his sword, but Agnes moved even faster. Her eyes had locked on the young wolf that had knocked Ember to the ground.
And suddenly it wasn’t Ember’s sister lunging at Rhys, but a snarling she-wolf. Her fur shone with threads of pale gold; her body was heavy with the baby she carried. Agnes snapped her teeth, and Rhys jumped back.
“To me!” Alistair shouted, and Rhys darted to his side, matching Agnes’s snarls with his own.
Transfixed, Alistair stopped and then took a step back, then another. Agnes bristled, her teeth bared as she stared him down. Alistair’s rage gave way to a surge of triumph.
Despite her wound, Ember uttered a tremulous cry of shock. The sound brought Agnes’s head around, her ears flicking toward Ember. Then Agnes was a woman again, and her body began to shake.
“Barrow!” Lukasz shouted to the huddled trio from the edge of the portal.
Barrow scooped up Ember with one arm and stretched his other hand to Agnes. She stumbled toward Barrow, grasping his fingers. Alistair watched as Barrow dragged Agnes and carried Ember to the waiting door. Lukasz stood guard as they rushed through the portal and then he followed. The gleaming door vanished; they were gone.
“Your friendship would never be enough, my love.” Like a man entranced, Alistair put out his hand, and Rhys dropped Ember’s two severed fingers into Alistair’s palm. One was encircled by a golden band.
THE SUN DISAPPEARED behind the mountains as Ember joined Agnes at the water’s edge.
“The stew is ready,” Ember said quietly. “If you’re hungry.”
Agnes nodded, but her expression was distant.
“It’s not so different from home, is it?” Agnes gazed out over the fjords.
“I suppose not,” Ember answered, not wanting to disagree with her sister, but although the Norse country was wild and rugged like the highlands, the air carried unfamiliar scents, the slope of the hills was a bit too rough, and the sky was too bright. It wasn’t home, and Ember doubted she’d ever feel a true sense of home again.
Agnes sighed, her hand moving to her swollen belly.
“Are you unwell?” Ember asked.
“No,” Agnes said. “Just tired.”
She hesitated, the skin around her eyes tightening. “Ember, do you believe my child to be anything other than a monster?”
Ember thought of the boy in the cage. The boy who abruptly vanished and left a snarling young wolf in his place. Rhys had attacked her at Alistair’s command. The wolf-child had taken two of her fingers. But Ember chose to remember the fear she’d seen in the boy’s large yellow eyes when she’d first encountered him. In a moment of crisis, Agnes had transformed from woman to wolf, but she’d done so to protect her sister. There was nothing monstrous in that.
“You’re not a monster, despite what Alistair and Bosque did to you,” Ember said. “Why should your child be so condemned?”
“The others are afraid of me,” Agnes answered. “If they fear me, they must fear what grows within me.”
“No one knows whether the magics worked on you have affected your child,” Ember told her. “And they aren’t afraid of you, they’re afraid for you.”
“You believe that because you are my sister.” Agnes sighed. “But you don’t see how they look at me. You can’t smell their fear.”
Finding no reply, Ember took Agnes’s hand. “Come to the fire.”
Agnes clasped the fingers of Ember’s right hand, but her gaze drifted to the sling that cradled her left arm. Her left hand was enshrouded with bandages. “Do you heal well?”
“Rebekah tells me I do,” Ember replied. “Barrow thinks that I’m best off fighting with a shield strapped to my left arm and a weapon in the right.”
Agnes cast a sidelong glance at her. “Are you so eager to return to battle?”
Ember nodded, offering Agnes a grim smile. She could think of little else. Before the last battle at Tearmunn, she’d been part of a resistance. Now they were truly exiles, wandering the earth until they could finish the work Cian’s sacrifice had begun.
Barrow stood up to meet Ember when she and Agnes reached the encircled warriors. He kissed her, and she joined him beside the fire. Agnes wandered slightly apart, but Rebekah beckoned to her.
Ember glanced around the fire at the faces of her companions. They were so few. Lukasz and Rebekah had hoped that they would gather more allies, warriors and clerics willing to aid them as they searched for what Rebekah called the Elemental Cross—the key to sealing the rift and the magic tied to Cian’s death at her sister’s hand.
Each night as they gathered for the evening meal, Rebekah repeated the Latin words that Cian’s spirit had intoned before her body had become like four stars. Those words were their hope, Rebekah claimed, their new purpose. While Bosque’s attack had disrupted the spell before it could be completed, the power of Cian’s act remained. Her body had become that which could still defeat Bosque and close the gate between the earth and the nether.
Rebekah finished this night’s recitation as darkness closed around them.
“Without the Elemental Cross, the rift cannot be closed. Conatus is no more,” Lukasz said. “The battle lost.”
“But the war has just begun,” Ember replied, and Barrow tightened his arms around her.
“The pieces have flown to the four corners of the earth, where they will rest until the Scion claims them, as Cian’s prophecy foretells.” Rebekah nodded at Ember. “That is when the war will end.”
Solemn murmurs of affirmation answered her. It was such an impossible hope to cling to. But it was all they had. Ember closed her eyes. Though she’d been consumed by the battle, she could summon the final melody and words of Cian’s spirit at will. They all could.
Only Rebekah seemed unruffled by the strange song that had been burned into the memory of each person who’d been in the great hall. It was the nature of prophecy, Rebekah had told them as easily as if she’d been reminding them that the sun rose each morning, to ensure its remembrance.
Agnes huddled on the other side of the fire beside Rebekah. Ember noticed how often her sister raised her head as if catching scents on the wind, or stared into the dark forest like it was calling to her.
The campfire spit and crackled. Ember leaned into Barrow’s chest, nestling her head beneath his chin. She gazed into the leaping flames and saw only wolves.
The battle rages on in
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ONE
I’D ALWAYS WELCOMED war, but in battle my passion rose unbidden.
The bear’s roar filled my ears. Its hot breath assaulted my nostrils, fueling my bloodlust. Behind me I could hear the boy’s ragged gasp. The desperate sound made my nails dig into the earth. I snarled at the larger predator again, daring it to try to get past me.
What the hell am I doing?
I risked a glance at the boy and my pulse raced. His right hand pressed against the gashes in his thigh. Blood surged between his fingers, darkening his jeans until they looked streaked by black paint. Slashes in his shirt barely covered the red lacerations that marred his chest. A growl rose in my throat.
I crouched low, muscles tensed, ready to strike. The grizzly rose onto its hind legs. I held my ground.
Calla!
Bryn’s cry sounded in my mind. A lithe brown wolf darted from the forest and tore into the bear’s unguarded flank. The grizzly turned, landing on all fours. Spit flew from its mouth as it searched for the unseen attacker. But Bryn, lightning fast, dodged the bear’s lunge. With each swipe of the grizzly’s trunk-thick arms, she avoided its reach, always moving a split second faster than the bear. She seized her advantage, inflicting another taunting bite. When the bear’s back was turned, I leapt forward and ripped a chunk from its heel. The bear swung around to face me, its eyes rolling, filled with pain.
Bryn and I slunk along the ground, circling the huge animal. The bear’s blood made my mouth hot. My body tensed. We continued our ever-tightening dance. The bear’s eyes tracked us. I could smell its doubt, its rising fear. I let out a short, harsh bark and flashed my fangs. The grizzly snorted as it turned away and lumbered into the forest.
I raised my muzzle and howled in triumph. A moan brought me back to earth. The hiker stared at us, eyes wide. Curiosity pulled me toward him. I’d betrayed my masters, broken their laws. All for him.
Why?
My head dropped low and I tested the air. The hiker’s blood streamed over his skin and onto the ground, the sharp, coppery odor creating an intoxicating fog in my conscience. I fought the temptation to taste it.
Calla? Bryn’s alarm pulled my gaze from the fallen hiker.
Get out of here. I bared my teeth at the smaller wolf. She dropped low and bellied along the ground toward me. Then she raised her muzzle and licked the underside of my jaw.
What are you going to do? her blue eyes asked me.
She looked terrified. I wondered if she thought I’d kill the boy for my own pleasure. Guilt and shame trickled through my veins.
Bryn, you can’t be here. Go. Now.
She whined but slunk away, slipping beneath the cover of pine trees.
I stalked toward the hiker. My ears flicked back and forth. He struggled for breath, pain and terror filling his face. Deep gashes remained where the grizzly’s claws had torn at his thigh and chest. Blood still flowed from the wounds. I knew it wouldn’t stop. I growled, frustrated by the fragility of his human body.
He was a boy who looked about my age: seventeen, maybe eighteen. Brown hair with a slight shimmer of gold fell in a mess around his face. Sweat had caked strands of it to his forehead and cheeks. He was lean, strong—someone who could find his way around a mountain, as he clearly had. This part of the territory was only accessible through a steep, unwelcoming trail.
The scent of fear covered him, taunting my predatory instincts, but beneath it lay something else—the smell of spring, of nascent leaves and thawing earth. A scent full of hope. Possibility. Subtle and tempting.
I took another step toward him. I knew what I wanted to do, but it would mean a second, much-greater violation of the Keepers’ Laws. He tried to move back but gasped in pain and collapsed onto his elbows. My eyes moved over his face. His chiseled jaw and high cheekbones twisted in agony. Even writhing he was beautiful, muscles clenching and unclenching, revealing his strength, his body’s fight against its impending collapse, rendering his torture sublime. Desire to help him consumed me.
I can’t watch him die.
I shifted forms before I realized I’d made the decision. The boy’s eyes widened when the white wolf who’d been eyeing him was no longer an animal, but a girl with the wolf’s golden eyes and platinum blond hair. I walked to his side and dropped to my knees. His entire body shook. I began to reach for him but hesitated, surprised to feel my own limbs trembling. I’d never been so afraid.
A rasping breath pulled me out of my thoughts.
“Who are you?” The boy stared at me. His eyes were the color of winter moss, a delicate shade that hovered between green and gray. I was caught there for a moment. Lost in the questions that pushed through his pain and into his gaze.
I raised the soft flesh of my inner forearm to my mouth. Willing my canines to sharpen, I bit down hard and waited until my own blood touched my tongue. Then I extended my arm toward him.
“Drink. It’s the only thing that can save you.” My voice was low but firm.
The trembling in his limbs grew more pronounced. He shook his head.
“You have to,” I growled, showing him canines still razor sharp from opening the wound in my arm. I hoped the memory of my wolf form would terrorize him into submission. But the look on his face wasn’t one of horror. The boy’s eyes were full of wonder. I blinked at him and fought to remain still. Blood ran along my arm, falling in crimson drops onto the leaf-lined soil.
His eyes snapped shut as he grimaced from a surge of renewed pain. I pressed my bleeding forearm against his parted lips. His touch was electric, searing my skin, racing through my blood. I bit back a gasp, full of wonder and fear at the alien sensations that rolled through my limbs.
He flinched, but my other arm whipped around his back, holding him still while my blood flowed into his mouth. Grasping him,
pulling him close only made my blood run hotter.
I could tell he wanted to resist, but he had no strength left. A smile pulled at the corners of my mouth. Even if my own body was reacting unpredictably, I knew I could control his. I shivered when his hands came up to grasp my arm, pressing into my skin. The hiker’s breath came easily now. Slow, steady.
An ache deep within me made my fingers tremble. I wanted to run them over his skin. To skim the healing wounds and learn the contours of his muscles.
I bit my lip, fighting temptation. Come on, Cal, you know better. This isn’t like you.
I pulled my arm from his grasp. A whimper of disappointment emerged from the boy’s throat. I didn’t know how to grapple with my own sense of loss now that I wasn’t touching him. Find your strength, use the wolf. That’s who you are.
With a warning growl I shook my head, ripping a length of fabric from the hiker’s torn shirt to bind up my own wound. His moss-colored eyes followed my every movement.
I scrambled to my feet and was startled when he mimicked the action, faltering only slightly. I frowned and took two steps back. He watched my retreat, then looked down at his ripped clothing. His fingers gingerly picked at the shreds of his shirt. When his eyes lifted to meet mine, I was hit with an unexpected swell of dizziness. His lips parted. I couldn’t stop looking at them. Full, curving with interest, lacking the terror I’d expected. Too many questions flickered in his gaze.
I have to get out of here. “You’ll be fine. Get off the mountain. Don’t come near this place again,” I said, turning away.
A shock sparked through my body when the boy gripped my shoulder. He looked surprised but not at all afraid. That wasn’t good. Heat flared along my skin where his fingers held me fast. I waited a moment too long, watching him, memorizing his features before I snarled and shrugged off his hand.
“Wait—” he said, and took another step toward me.
What if I could wait, putting my life on hold in this moment? What if I stole a little more time and caught a taste of what had been so long forbidden? Would it be so wrong? I would never see this stranger again. What harm could come from lingering here, from holding still and learning whether he would try to touch me the way I wanted to him to?
Rise: A Nightshade Novel Page 28
