Ward Against Destruction

by Melanie Card

  The thought of blood brought Ward back to his acute awareness of the Seer’s and the magic within it. He sucked in a ragged breath. “I learned it a while ago.”

  The woman snorted. “I’d say a lifetime.”

  Ward glanced at her. She was staring at him again, her eyes narrow. Without a doubt she knew what he was. The question was, what was she going to do about it? “Do you have henbane? A tincture that’s easy to swallow will probably go a long way.”

  Maura huffed. “It would, but I still don’t know who you are.”

  “I’m the man who’s going to save your Seer’s life.” If he didn’t drink his blood first.

  Chapter Five

  Ward tried to shut out everything but wiring the Seer’s teeth together and setting the bones, while Maura started brewing a henbane tea. The acrid smell of the root mixed with the burn of the magic in the Seer’s blood. A hint of earthy mandragora mingled with the mixture, proving that Maura was more than just some old woman. If the herbs drying in the room hadn’t been evidence enough, the fact that she had access to mandragora—a more useful anesthetic but not as popular as henbane—was proof she was the town’s healer.

  The sounds of battle had quieted a while ago, and she’d shooed Declan from the house to learn what had happened and see if anyone needed help. Ward had mentioned bringing his friends to the house, but he was so focused on being a physician and not a vesperitti he wasn’t sure if he’d actually said the words out loud or just thought them really hard.

  Minutes…hours—it had to be closer to an hour, at least, since he was mostly finished with the Seer’s jaw—the door opened. Blinding sunlight poured into the dark room. No, not sunlight, but the magic within it. Goddess, he was never going to get used to that.

  He could see magic. Him. Mystically blind Ward. As a child—before he’d realized his true calling was medicine—he had prayed and begged the Goddess, Her Light Son, and Her Dark Son to grant him the ability to see magic like his father, his cousins, and his grandfather could. And now his prayer, in the most horrible way possible, had come true.

  Becoming a vesperitti had repaired his mystic blindness. This kind of light couldn’t possibly just be his imagination. That, and the magic was so much stronger than he could have ever imagined. Grandfather had always said the strongest magic was in blood, in a creature’s soul. But sunlight had so much power in it. Bright, shimmering, yellow and white, not dark and red like the soul magic in a person’s blood.

  Ward squeezed his eyes shut and focused on the Seer, but the magic from the sun radiated against his skin, scalding him. He shifted out of the rays, deeper into the shadows, but now sensitized to the magic, the power in the Seer’s blood burned over his hands.

  “There are eleven dead, and five missing. Tessa is helping on the docks, bandaging people up,” a young tenor said. The youth, Declan. “Oh, and I found this woman killing two pirates.”

  “I killed more than two,” Celia said.

  The heat from the sun vanished, and Ward cracked open an eye. The door was closed, and Celia stood beside Declan, even more blood than before splattering her face and clothes.

  “So.” She drew the word out, and Ward could feel the questions in it. Just one word, but weighted with much more.

  In truth, Ward hadn’t really known her for that long. Less than two fortnights, and yet he knew what she was thinking. She wanted to know where they were going and what they were doing. He could sense her uncertainty and fear that he would see more victims in this village and want to stay and help. And beneath all that was the worry about the Master’s assignment to kill this Innecroestri in order to protect her.

  “The sacrifice wasn’t supposed to go so badly,” Declan said. “Goddess! It hasn’t before.”

  Maura harrumphed and glared at Ward. “It seems your arrival has complicated things.”

  “It always does.” Ward turned back to the Seer. One more wire to place and then it was a matter of waiting for the swelling to go down so he could remove the reed in the Seer’s neck.

  “Maybe he’s the help Adolfus foretold would come,” Declan said. “He and his friends.”

  “I’m pretty sure we’re not anyone’s help.” Ward twisted the wire around two upper teeth.

  Declan pointed at the Seer. “You saved Adolfus.”

  “There is that,” Maura said.

  Celia cleared her throat and jerked her chin to the door. “We’re not anyone’s savior. We should find Nazarius and go before we create more problems.”

  The door opened. More blinding light, and Ward shrank back again.

  “This is a mess.” Nazarius closed the door behind him and enveloped Ward in soothing murky twilight. “I tried to buy a boat, but no one will sell us anything. They say we can’t leave the village.”

  Celia stiffened. Cold zinged through the soul chain. “What do you mean, we can’t leave?”

  “I was going to tell you that.” Declan dug his toe into a knot in the floorboard.

  “Tell us what?” Danger radiated from Celia. She shifted, and the soul chain joining them flickered.

  “If you’re not the help Adolfus foresaw, then I’m really sorry,” Declan said.

  Stronger danger vibrated from Celia, making her aura shimmer. “You’re sorry about what?”

  “Oh, for the love of the Goddess.” Maura rolled her eyes. “We’re a village under siege. A black necromancer has taken control of the nearby Ancients’ island. Every week he demands a sacrifice and sends his pirates to collect.”

  “So why can’t we leave?” Nazarius asked.

  Declan stared at his feet. “If anyone leaves, he’ll burn the entire village. No one will let you go. The only place anyone can go is the island, and those who go, don’t come back.”

  “So he’s got pirates patrolling the water and the cliffs behind the village?” Celia asked. “We can get past those.”

  With Celia, a trained assassin, and Nazarius, a Quayestri Tracker and a member of the highest law in the Union of Principalities, they had more than enough skill to make up for any of Ward’s inadequacies in sneaking around. Not to mention that Ward had earned a substantial amount of experience in sneaking in the last few weeks.

  “But Adolfus foresaw that you’d help,” Declan said.

  The old woman shifted as if she wanted to say something.

  “You don’t believe that?” Ward asked Maura.

  “I think you shouldn’t be stuck here, but with the village caught between the lake and the mountain there are only so many paths to get away.” She tucked a wild silver lock behind her ear. “And those paths are guarded. When he first demanded the sacrifices just over a month ago, we fought back, but his pirates are too much. We’re fisher folk, not soldiers. We tried sending messengers for help.” She opened one of her shutters a few inches, and painful magic sliced into the room. “That’s what happened to our messengers.”

  Ward squinted. Half a dozen heads on pikes stood guard by the dock, framed perfectly by the old woman’s window.

  It looked like the Innecroestri that Ward was supposed to kill was tormenting this village. If he killed him, the villagers would be free.

  Wonderful. Sure, the idea appealed to Ward’s sense of justice. Killing this Innecroestri was the right thing to do. But he was having terrible luck with doing the right thing, and he didn’t want to play the Master’s game. Even in death—or rather, undeath—he couldn’t be free of the man. Except… “It’s the only way.”

  Celia stiffened. “No.”

  “I agree with Celia,” Nazarius said. “Not our business. We need to leave before we make things worse. Besides, we’re not in any shape to deal with an Innecroestri.”

  “Staying will satisfy the Master and save these people. It’s the best of a lot of terrible options.” Ward tried to smile, but it felt more like a sneer. “The worst he can do is kill me.”

  “It doesn’t get much worse than that,” Declan said.

  Nazarius snorted. “And yet, it’s stil
l something Ward can get over.”

  Maura harrumphed. “Come on, Declan. Grab my bag. We should help Tessa with the injured.”

  Declan’s gaze darted over Nazarius, Celia, the Seer on the table, and ended on Ward. There was something in the young man’s expression, but the rippling in his aura kept distracting Ward from focusing on his face.

  Maura opened the door, and the movement startled Declan. He grabbed a wicker bag near his feet and followed her outside.

  The moment Maura and Declan left, Celia whirled on Ward. “No.”

  “Do you see any other choice?” Ward asked. He was suddenly very tired.

  “It’s too dangerous, and you can’t kill someone.”

  “I’m a monster now. I’m pretty sure killing people is what I’m supposed to do.” Goddess, he hated to say it, but it was true.

  Nazarius frowned.

  “You’re not a—” Celia said.

  Ward met her gaze, daring her to finish that statement. He was a monster. He knew it. She knew it. Even Nazarius probably knew it. “I don’t see any other option.”

  “And two Seers have foreseen we’ll help this village.” Nazarius shifted from the shadows beside the door.

  She glared at him, her defiance whispering over Ward’s skin through the soul chain. “Oh, and you always do everything a Seer says?”

  “I am a Quayestri.” But Nazarius didn’t sound as if he believed what he said anymore.

  “This is ridiculous,” Celia said. “If anyone’s going to do any killing, it’s me.”

  “I won’t let you go up against an Innecroestri again.” The words spilled out before Ward could stop them.

  Nazarius raised an eyebrow, his surprise clear.

  “Excuse me?” Celia’s gaze turned icy. “You won’t let me?”

  Rage burned through the soul chain. Ward clenched his jaw and forced himself to stand his ground. “This is my problem. Not yours.” He’d already dragged her into too many disasters. He couldn’t put her in more danger. Except that didn’t make sense. She was more than capable of handling herself. More capable than him, that was for sure. But as irrational as it was, every fiber of his being wouldn’t allow her to step into peril.

  Nazarius cleared his throat. “Let’s start with the most basic issue. Stay or go?”

  “Stay,” Ward said. Goddess be damned, he didn’t want to stay, but if he left without helping these people he’d be abandoning what scrap of humanity he had left.

  “No,” Celia said.

  “Do you really want the deaths of this entire village on your hands?” Ward asked. It was an unfair question. Celia might have been an assassin in her previous life, and she might claim to have a heart of ice, but he knew differently.

  “Fine. We stay,” she growled.

  “Next question.” The muscles in Nazarius’s jaw flexed. “Is there a way to deal with an Innecroestri without killing him? I’m assuming necromancers just don’t go around killing them. Are they imprisoned? What happens to them?”

  “Most fight to the death,” Ward said.

  “And that’s how Trackers deal with dangerous situations. Suddenly squeamish?” Celia widened her stance, as if readying for a fight.

  Nazarius dropped his hands to his paired sword and long dagger, matching her aggressive position. “I’m looking for options. You don’t want Ward killing anyone—maybe he doesn’t have to.”

  “Capturing someone is more dangerous than killing them.” Celia narrowed her eyes.

  “I’m aware of that,” Nazarius said. “As much as you might think differently, capturing is my job.”

  “Killing is mine,” she said.

  “And are we really thinking about going against the Master? He said kill the Innecroestri, not capture him.” As much as capture was the compromise Ward really wanted, he couldn’t risk Celia’s life—or unlife…or whatever it was she had—on his personal desire to avoid killing someone.

  “Options first,” Nazarius said. “I’m with Celia on this one. You’re not killing anyone.”

  “Swell.” Two against one.

  The Seer moaned. Magic rippled across his skin, and Ward’s stomach clenched. “There’s a spell that can sever a person’s ability to manipulate magic.”

  “See. Options,” Nazarius said.

  “Doesn’t make the situation any less dangerous,” Celia said.

  Tension crackled between them, and sudden fury swept over Ward. He was hungry and tired and hurt. “Stop!”

  Nazarius and Celia stilled. Fear and worry swept down the soul chain.

  “We deal with the Innecroestri. We kill him, or we don’t kill him. Whatever. There’s a spell that can permanently block a person’s connection to magic. All magic. We’ll try that first. If that doesn’t work, then we go to option B: kill him.”

  “How can you cut off all magic? Anyone can use blood to cast spells,” Celia said.

  A shiver of yearning for blood eased over him, mixing with his rage. “This spell blocks everything. It’s difficult and takes time and concentration, but it’s how the Necromancer Council of Elders deal with Innecroestris.”

  “And you can cast this spell?” Nazarius asked.

  “Do I have a choice?” The anger billowed again, swirling with the craving into a nauseating ball that sat heavy in his gut. “I’ve managed everything else so far. Why not this?”

  Celia growled. “This is the worst idea ever.”

  Actually, the worst idea had been bringing him back from the dead as a monster.

  Chapter Six

  Nazarius left to find a cell or a cave or someplace where they could restrain the Innecroestri for the days it would take to cast the spell, leaving Ward alone with Celia. She pursed her lips. The need to speak trembled through the soul chain, but was mixed with something else. Was that desire, need? Or was he just imagining it?

  She drew in a long breath. Her tension didn’t ease. He was drowning in it, every little emotion, every blink of her eyes, every breath. His chest moved with hers. He shook with her concern. The aches of his body faded. No, they didn’t fade—they changed. His muscles hurt. He had bruised ribs, his wrist throbbed. It was broken.

  Not his wrist. Hers.

  As he thought about it, the sharp agony weakened, but it wasn’t from losing his connection to her. He still breathed when she did, still felt the turmoil of emotions within her.

  “We’ll deal with this and then we’ll be done,” he said.

  “We’ll never be done.” She crossed her arms, sending a spike of pain through her wrist.

  “Let me look at your wrist. It should be immobilized.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “It’s broken.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I—” He stopped before he could say he could feel it. That would admit the truth about them, and he could sense she didn’t want to know, didn’t want to acknowledge it. “I felt it back in the boat. You know, before we fell over a waterfall. At least let me do what I’m good at.”

  “I can’t fight with it in a sling.”

  “You can’t fight with it, regardless. At least if I immobilize it, the bones will heal properly and you’ll still be able to use it.”

  “Fine.” She held out her hand, but didn’t draw closer. “Ward, I—”

  Something trembled through the soul chain, fragile and uncertain, as if she wanted to say something but didn’t know how.

  “What?”

  “I—” The sensation hardened, and she blew out a heavy breath. “Just fix it.”

  “Well, come here.”

  She eased to his side. Her aura flickered. White sizzled along his senses the closer she got. She was so alluring, so beautiful. He’d always thought Celia was spectacular. Even that first night when he’d stepped into her bedroom and prepared to wake her from the dead. Hair so black it had a blue sheen when it caught sunlight, caught moonlight, caught any light, and—now that he was no longer mystically blind—it reflected back the white magic radiating from
her aura.

  “You may want to sit. This could hurt.” He grabbed two pieces of wood he could use as splints and pulled some bandages closer, extras he hadn’t needed for the Seer. Focus on her wrist, not how beautiful she was, or how much he cared for her, or that he’d told her he loved her just before the curse had killed him. They really should talk about that, but he didn’t know what to say without accusing her of turning him into a monster.

  She laid her arm on the table beside the Seer. Her skin, so pale, blended with her aura, making it difficult to tell where flesh ended and aura started.

  His stomach fluttered, suddenly nervous. All thought of being a monster vanished, replaced with how beautiful she was and how he wanted to kiss her again like he had before he’d died.

  Focus. He needed to feel the bone, figure out the alignment for the best healing. He cupped her hand in his. Heat billowed within him. Concentrate on her wrist and nothing more. Despite all their activity since leaving Dulthyne, the bones felt good. Or was that her skin under his fingertips?

  More heat, dancing with tingles, swept up his hands and arms. He needed to protect her. No matter how the logical part of him knew the thought was ridiculous, he had to protect her and heal her and stay with her.

  “Ward.” She said his name on a breath. It trembled between them, billowing across his senses.

  He raised his gaze to hers, drawn to the depths of her soul shimmering within her eyes. There was nothing but her. He had no life without her. He had no purpose. She needed to be healed. Healed like the wound in his chest had healed. If he truly was her creature, he could do that. The soul chain made it possible.

  The tingling increased, swarming around his heart and the magic binding his soul to hers. Then it changed directions, sweeping through his hand into hers.

  She gasped. A quick inhalation that parted her lips. Lips he’d kissed before. Lips that teased him even now to kiss her again. Her gaze dipped to his mouth. He could sense her attention on him, knew how her body called to his.