Ward Against Destruction

by Melanie Card

  A black vein slid over the back of his hands, but he didn’t try to hide it. “It’s the sangsal.”

  “The infection of evil.” She didn’t sound surprised. “You crossed the octagon.”

  “I didn’t have much choice.”

  “The blood magic spell binding you to this side of the veil has made you susceptible to it, so a transfusion spell isn’t even necessary.”

  “How do I get rid of it?”

  Maura sighed and turned sad eyes back on him. “You can’t. You’re dead. The very spell keeping your soul in your body keeps the sangsal locked within you. You’d have to sever the spell and truly die, or sever the spell and no longer be dead.”

  “Well, since no one in a hundred years has been able to cast a true resurrection, I’d say no longer being dead isn’t an option.”

  “You don’t really have many options. Neither does your girl.”

  Warmth filled Ward at that. His girl. Yes, she was his, in a partnership way, not a property way. They’d known each other for so short a time, but she’d stolen his heart. He wasn’t even sure how it had happened. One minute she was the most beautiful, frustrating woman he’d ever met, the next she was a trusted partner. “This is our hardest challenge yet, but we’ll stop Stasik and Lauro. My grandfather is a powerful necromancer, and he’s with other powerful necromancers. If we can get them to Vekalmeer, they can put the sangsal back into the Abyss and deal with the Innecroestris.”

  “Because it’s the right thing to do?” Maura asked.

  “Yes.”

  “And will you then do the right thing, too?” She meant sever the soul chain and die. He should. He was an abomination in the eyes of the Goddess. But he and Celia had just figured their relationship out.

  Celia, Nazarius, and Jared emerged from the cave. Maura patted Ward’s arm and stood. Their conversation was over, even if Ward’s moral dilemma had only just begun.

  “All right, we’re set.” Nazarius rested his hands on the hilts of his weapons, his business-as-usual Tracker pose.

  “We’ll give you and Jared two hours to reach the necromancers’ camp then head out to the village so they can see Ward and me fleeing to the island,” Celia said.

  Movement flashed at the corner of Ward’s eyes. No, not movement. An aura.

  He jerked toward it as half a dozen pirates stormed into the cove.

  Nazarius cursed and drew his weapons. Celia leapt at the closest man, ducked under his swing, and rammed her dagger into his armpit. He collapsed. The pirate closest to him stumbled, and Celia jabbed at him.

  Nazarius swung at the pirate rushing at him. The pirate blocked the strike, while another slashed at Nazarius.

  Jared yelped as the two remaining pirates stormed past Celia and Nazarius toward him. Ward snatched at the soul magic pouring from the man Celia had killed. Dizziness swept over him, and he staggered but slammed the magic into the pirates charging at Jared. They stumbled but didn’t fall. His concentration was too divided, and the reverse wake wasn’t strong enough.

  Maura grabbed Ward’s arm. “You’re stretched too thin. You need to replenish your soul magic. There’s no choice.”

  “No.” He tried to shrug from her grip, but she held tight. “I won’t become a monster.”

  Nazarius slashed one of his assailants across the gut. The man staggered back, clutching his stomach. Blood poured over his hands. Magic billowed around him.

  The hunger twisted within Ward, followed by the icy sangsal tearing at his will. If he took the magic, consumed it, he had to fully accept he was a vesperitti.

  The men pursuing Jared straightened. Ward wrenched from Maura’s grasp and rushed at the closest one—a short, squat man, with a shaved head—and tackled him. They tumbled to the ground, Ward on top, ramming the pirate’s face into the rocks. The man’s sword skittered a few feet away. The pirate bucked and elbowed Ward in the face. Pain exploded through his nose, his eyes watered, and his vision blurred.

  Dark Son’s curses, not a broken nose again.

  But the pain vanished with a wash of red. The hunger burned Ward’s gut. Magic teased and snapped.

  The pirate shoved Ward off him and scrambled for his sword. Ward grabbed his leg and snatched him back. The man jerked around and punched Ward in the face.

  More pain. Another broken nose, another wash of red, and it was gone.

  The man’s eyes widened. He rammed both feet into Ward’s stomach, shoved him back, and dove for his sword.

  Ward gathered the magic around him and shoved it into a ball. Celia swept toward the bald pirate. She twisted her dagger out of the way, and Ward slammed the magic into him. His eyes rolled back, and he dropped forward onto his hands.

  The world twisted and blackened.

  Through the haze, he saw Celia slash the bald pirate’s throat. Blood sprayed the rocks. A fine mist hit Ward’s hands. It burned, sank into his skin, and shot writhing black veins and an icy chill through him. The world flashed, suddenly too bright, then dimmed, the shadows drawing in, fading—

  “Ward.” Celia grabbed his shoulder. “Goddess above. Stop using magic.” Or eat.

  He tore from her grasp and shoved back onto his knees. Blood seeped across the rocks and churned in the water. All six pirates were dead. Jared stared at them in shock. Maura glared, but her aura was too bright, revealing her fear.

  “We can’t stay here.” Nazarius bent over a body and cleaned his weapons on the pirate’s shirt—the long dagger and sword no longer matched. He must have lost one.

  Ward struggled to focus past the bloody temptation undulating around him. “We can’t move Declan. And I wouldn’t want to risk moving Adolfus again, either.”

  “We can’t risk anyone finding the cave,” Celia said. Her breath came fast, as if the fight had winded her. A confusing mix of emotions flooded the soul chain.

  “We move the dead pirates. Maura, stay here as planned.” Ward’s gut hurt. He forced himself to his feet. “If we don’t return by dawn tomorrow, consider us dead.”

  Jared’s eyes flashed wide, and his aura spiked. “But—”

  The muscle in Nazarius’s jaw tensed. He knew the truth. The odds of surviving another trip to the island were slim.

  “But what, Jared? This has to be done.” Ward stepped toward his cousin. Jared pressed tighter to the cliff wall, and Ward shifted back. “The only way to get the elders to go to the island is to get them to chase after me.” And all Ward could do was pray that his distance either wouldn’t affect the necromantic patch on Declan, or the surgery had been enough to save his life.

  “After us,” Celia said.

  Heat Ward now recognized as love swept through the soul chain. He was not in this alone. Except the heat changed again to the confusing mix of emotion. She wasn’t well…there wasn’t time…he needed to eat…no—yes—her aura pulsed, and her heart stuttered, fast, fluttery.

  “Celia?” Ward asked.

  “Nazarius, keep Jared safe until we’re clear,” she said. “The plan is still happening.”

  “Come on.” Nazarius clamped a hand on Jared’s shoulder and nudged him back to the crack.

  Celia turned to Maura. Her pulse was still too fast. “Go take care of Declan and the Seer.”

  Maura frowned. “I’m not sure that’s the best—”

  Celia groaned and sagged to one knee. Panic exploded through Ward, and he rushed to her side.

  “What’s wrong? Where are you hurt?” But he couldn’t see her hemorrhaging any blood or magic.

  “I’m fine.” She gasped and pressed her palm to her head. “It’s just so loud and demanding. I can’t concentrate. Why won’t he just shut up?”

  Light flashed at the edge of his vision. More pirates rushed into the cove. Twelve, no fifteen. There were so many.

  Celia jerked to her feet and staggered. Maura caught her, helping her to stay on her feet. There were too many of them, and without Celia, even with Nazarius’s help, they didn’t stand a chance.

  Goddess above.
Celia was going to hate him. The best way for their plan to succeed was to cast a reverse wake—with his full concentration this time. The realization churned his stomach. The magic sustaining him was already weak. Another reverse wake could kill him. Except the last two reverse wakes Ward had cast had only stunned the pirates.

  Two of the pirates rushed at Celia and Maura. Celia stabbed at one, but the strike went wide, and she fell to her knees again.

  It was now or never.

  Ward scrambled to the closest body. Blood poured from a gash in the man’s neck. The magic from his soul sparked around him. It stole his breath, his thoughts, the essence of who he was.

  He tore at his pale, weak inner magic, using it to gather the red soul magic into a ball.

  Celia blocked another attack while still on her knees, but a third man punched her in the face, while another grabbed Maura. More ran toward Ward. Two more steps and they’d have him.

  He focused all his will into the spell. It exploded as lightning strikes into every flickering pirate aura. The pirates staggered but didn’t drop.

  The world twisted and darkened around Ward.

  “You idiot,” Celia screamed.

  He tried to stand but couldn’t feel his legs.

  A pirate groaned and staggered toward them.

  Celia wrenched around, somehow sliding her dagger between his ribs toward his heart before she collapsed.

  The man howled. Magic poured from his wound, and the world billowed black and red.

  “I said I wanted them alive,” a resonant voice said. Stasik stepped into the cove, his red aura pulsing with strength and magic.

  Pain exploded in Ward’s chest.

  “I have plans for these two.” He clenched his fist, tightening his grip on the soul chain, sending agony roaring through Ward. “And when I’m done, you’ll have wished I left you to my pirates.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Nazarius grabbed Jared’s arm and yanked him back before he could leave the cave. Ward, Celia, and Maura were surrounded, and Nazarius wasn’t a match for fifteen pirates, let alone an Innecroestri. The pirates grabbed Celia and hauled her to her feet. She didn’t look good, and he’d never seen her unable to fight before. There was nothing he or Jared could do except hide.

  “But they’re surrounded,” Jared hissed.

  “We can still go through with the plan if we don’t get caught.”

  “Are you serious?”

  Nazarius glared at Jared. “The only way to deal with this is to get the necromancers to the island. It would have been easier if they saw Ward heading there, but it still needs to be done. Ward knows this.” The idea of letting Stasik take Ward, Celia, and Maura left a bad taste in his mouth, but it was necessary. “Ward has sacrificed a lot already. Don’t waste this for him by getting captured.”

  All he could do was pray Stasik wouldn’t kill them right away. Time was not his friend.

  Stasik strode from the cove, and the pirates dragged Ward, Celia, and Maura away.

  “All right.” Nazarius released Jared’s arm. “I don’t care how you do it, but you need to convince your grandfather to get to the island.”

  Jared swallowed hard and nodded. While he was stockier and a few years older than Ward, he seemed smaller and younger. It was clear Jared’s mettle hadn’t been tested in any kind of fire. Not the kind of fire Ward had faced.

  Here was hoping Jared would have the presence of mind to stick with the plan.

  Nazarius eased to the mouth of the entrance to the cove and checked to ensure none of the pirates remained. Clear. Good. “Let’s go.”

  Jared glanced back into the cave. “But the boy and the Seer?”

  “I need to make sure you get safely to your grandfather or all of this is for naught. If the necromancers don’t get to the island, it won’t matter if Declan or the Seer survive.” Goddess, he hated having no choice, but doing the right thing wasn’t always easy—Ward had shown him that.

  A man-sized figure pulled away from the shadows by a large boulder.

  Nazarius grabbed the back of Jared’s shirt and yanked him behind him.

  Jared yelped and the shadow chuckled. “At first glance you wouldn’t see the family relationship,” Severin said.

  Nazarius didn’t have time for the Seer’s games. “What do you want?”

  “Show some respect, Tracker.” Severin’s tone darkened.

  Nazarius drew in a quick breath. It did little to calm the tension curled tight within him. “Apologies. I’m a little pressed for time.”

  “I know.” Severin shifted so a beam of sunlight caught the side of his face. For a heartbeat he looked dangerous, then the moment vanished and he was the mild, unobtrusive Seer once again. “The way to the elders is clear for the necromancer.”

  Jared tensed. “How does he know what I am?”

  “Don’t ask. Go on ahead. I’ll catch up.”

  Jared stepped toward the archway. “Are you sure?”

  “He’s sure,” Severin said.

  Nazarius nodded, trying to will assurance to Jared. “Remember the plan.”

  “The plan.” Jared glanced from Nazarius to Severin, then rushed past them and out into the streaming sunlight.

  “My lord Seer.” Nazarius squeezed the hilt of his sword and long dagger but managed to keep them lowered.

  “Did you get what I asked for?”

  “Did I—?” Right. He’d been sent to the island to steal a hair. Had it really only been that morning? It felt like a lifetime ago.

  “The hair?”

  “Yes. Of course.” Nazarius pulled the pouch from his pocket. “Do you know what’s happening on that island? Do you know what Ward is planning?” Maybe there was hope. Maybe the plan would work, and the Seer had foreseen that.

  Severin took the pouch. “That’s not your concern.”

  “Is this what you foresaw for Ward?” Was this the terrible darkness Severin had hinted at? Or had that already come to pass in Dulthyne?

  “I said it wasn’t your concern.” The dark intensity returned to Severin’s gaze. “Your assignment is complete. Return to Brawenal.”

  “What?” Nazarius’s mind stuttered. He couldn’t have heard that right. “That island is Vekalmeer. There are two Innecroestri there. I’m not leaving them.”

  “I said, you’re done,” Severin growled.

  “No.” This was not the end. He wouldn’t abandon Ward and Celia to whatever fate Severin had foreseen. Not to mention, Stasik had Maura. She wasn’t involved in any of this, was just a victim. A Quayestri protected victims—he didn’t abandon them.

  Severin shifted, suddenly too close. “You can’t stop what’s coming. Not now.”

  “I have to try.” If he had any hope of calling himself the Goddess’s man, damn it, even the Dark Son’s man, he couldn’t abandon Maura or his friends.

  He shoved past Severin, but the Seer grabbed his arm. He hauled Nazarius around, and a sharp pain bit his side. It was fast, a sudden spike, then a heat that welled over his side.

  Severin jerked him closer. Another spike of pain shot through his chest. It bit higher this time, racing over his chest and stealing his breath.

  “Your job here is finished. Your services are no longer required, Tracker.”

  “I—” Nazarius fought to breathe. His knees buckled, and he clutched the front of the Seer’s shirt to keep his balance.

  The Seer wrenched back, a dagger in his hand, dripping blood—Nazarius’s blood. The heat in his side swelled. He pressed his hands against it, and blood gushed through his fingers. Severin had stabbed him, and it was a killing strike. Goddess above, he’d stabbed him.

  “I—” Something was caught in his throat. He coughed, and the metallic tang of blood washed over his tongue. The man had hit a lung. The only way to survive this was Ward’s surgery, and there was no way Ward would be able to get to him in time. Nazarius was dead, and his body just hadn’t figured it out yet. “You—”

  Severin shoved Nazarius back ag
ainst the cove’s wall. “You can’t return to the island. Ward must fulfill his destiny.”

  “Don’t do this.” He struggled to breathe, coughed more blood, but didn’t have the strength to spit it out.

  “You can’t stop this,” Severin growled. He knelt and leaned close. His eyes were dark, evil. This wasn’t the Seer of the House of Bralmoore—this was the Master of Brawenal’s Assassins’ Guild. This was a man who killed for money. Perhaps even for pleasure. He rammed his fist into Nazarius’s side, against the wound. Lightning shot through him. He gasped for breath and choked on blood.

  “No one can stop this.”

  Severin punched again. Agony roared through Nazarius. Sharp. Blinding. Then darkness.

  Ward woke with a start, engulfed in a burning sunset. His chest hurt, and the soul chain roared with fire and words and disjointed thoughts. Celia was falling apart. Her thoughts conflicted—she needed to hold it together, fight, not fight, eat, no, Ward needed to eat.

  She lay near him. Even with his eyes squeezed tight against the light, he could sense her. If he focused, he could hear her shallow breaths and even her rapid pulse.

  But the moment he loosened his grip on blocking everything out to sense her, the sun became a furnace, the ground lurched from side to side. He had to be on a boat—pirates yelled, their voices booming, the wind roared, and the rope binding his hands sawed at his wrists.

  Above all that was the scent of blood. The tang filled his nostrils and made his mouth water and his stomach growl.

  He struggled to block out the sensations. But Goddess, all he wanted was to jump at the closest pirate and rip out his throat.

  Yes, eat, Celia said in his head.

  “No,” he hissed at her.

  “Are you awake?” Maura asked, her voice soft.

  Ward squinted in the direction of her voice. She sat beside him, her back pressed against the side of the boat. Celia lay beyond, shivering, somehow cold in the summer’s heat.

  The sun flared brighter as if bursting from behind clouds. Ward gasped and squeezed his eyes shut.

  “We’re almost at the island,” Maura said. “There’ll be shade.”