Shadow and Bones (Dullahan Book 1)

by Ryvr Jones

  Silence fell over the world, the wind quieted, all of creation listening to her.

  A small tendril of light fell from her lips and passed through his. Rhys gurgled and stiffened, biting his lower lip until he cut it open. When he couldn’t keep the howls of pain inside, he screamed and roared. His misery and desperation burned through her as he thrashed in her arms, trying to get away. Tamerah hung on with what strength she had left, crying and whimpering.

  And then all she knew was the pain of being torn apart, a piece of her soul being ripped from her, leaving behind bright lines of bleeding emptiness.

  I won’t let you die. It was her last thought before the world disappeared.

  The first thing Rhys registered was the putrid smell of decay, and for a moment he didn’t know where he was. Everything hurt so much, he was sure he’d been through a wood chipper.

  Kill. Kill them all.

  Sharp memories exploded in his head. The field. The Abyss. Tarani had brought him back. The darkness had been unleashed and—the damned souls. Still killing, spreading the darkness like a disease.

  Once again he was back after having screwed up the entire world, unable to do anything to put things to right. You’re a useless piece of shit.

  Opening his eyes, he scrambled to his knees. Tarani was unconscious, bent back in an awkward position. He cradled her to his chest. At least she was breathing.

  “What happened to her?” he croaked, his throat raw.

  “She gave you a piece of her soul.” Seersha’s eyes were focused on Tarani, wide with shock and disbelief. “She freaking meshed your soul with a piece of hers. I didn’t think it was even possible.” Shaking her head, she sighed. “I’ll probably receive another visit from the Enforcers for this, but whatever. If you don’t do something, it won’t matter anyway.” She pinned him with a hard stare. “Are you willing to keep the damned souls inside you, along with the darkness?”

  What the hell was she talking about?

  Realization struck him dumb. His mouth hung open. Jesus motherfucking Christ. By giving him a piece of her soul, Tarani had also provided him with the power to wield the Shadow Word.

  Which he could use to call the souls back to him.

  For a moment, he hesitated. If he called them, he’d not only carry the darkness, but a legion of restless souls as well. Raging inside him for as long as he lived, trying to get out. Would he be strong enough to keep them?

  Even as he shuddered at the thought, he squared his shoulders. He had to at least try.

  “I’m willing to do anything.” He caressed Tarani’s forehead gently. Don’t die on me now. “Will you take care of her?” he asked, and Seersha nodded.

  After transferring Tarani to Seersha’s arms, Rhys got up. Caeron stood near him, over the few rotten corpses he’d beheaded. The rest of the fuckers remained a hundred feet away from them, still as statues.

  “What the hell are they doing?” Rhys asked through the bond.

  Caeron shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m keeping an eye on them.”

  “Hang on. This will be over soon.” Rhys closed his eyes. Everything in him still hurt as a motherfucker, but at least he wasn’t dying anymore.

  I’ll make things right this time. Determined, he flipped through his memories. The Black Dagger had branded his soul with the same symbol the damned souls had on their foreheads. They were forever connected to him, the same as he was forever bonded to the darkness.

  Let’s see how these fuckers like to be imprisoned inside my old skull.

  “Andirah-Merah,” Rhys called, and the souls quieted for a moment, listening.

  “We await your orders,” said the warrior who had spoken to him in the Abyss.

  “Come back to me.” Rhys breathed the Shadow Word, its power singing through his old, tired bones.

  Silence covered everything, then a rush of wind swirled around him and across the field. The black fog came back from the village, rushing towards Rhys, bringing the darkness with them.

  Relief washed over him in a liquid wave. It worked.

  As the Andirah-Merah approached, their terrifying shrieks and howls got louder. They didn’t want to come back, and yet they couldn’t disobey Rhys’s order. But maybe he could put their rage to good use.

  Once they got near Dallan’s army, an evil smile curled Rhys lips. This is going to be fun. “Andirah-Merah. Kill all the rotten soldiers.”

  The fog descended upon the army. The damned souls used tendrils of fog to behead the rotten fuckers. It was a gruesome job, but they reveled in it, squeezing, squeezing until the neck was severed.

  Each beheading added a new soul to the Andirah-Merah, and they were incorporeal, impervious to harm. The corpses didn’t have a chance.

  After at least half the soldiers had been relieved of their heads, the remaining morons finally fled. They dissolved into shadows and retreated to where they had come from, taking the remains of their beheaded comrades with them.

  Dallan was nowhere to be seen.

  “Coward!” Rhys shouted to the sky. “You spineless fucking coward!”

  The damned souls gave chase to the soldiers, but it was useless. They had become immaterial as well. Rhys called them off.

  “Andirah-Merah, back to me.”

  He braced for impact as the fog neared, and yet they managed to dump him on his ass anyway. He dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes as the fog enveloped him, seeping into his body.

  And it hurt. Why the fuck everything must hurt this much, Gods dammit!

  It burned going in as it had going out, searing his skin and scorching his bones. Unable to keep his mouth shut, he screamed in agony to the sky above.

  When it was over, he went limp as echoes of pain reverberated through his limbs and even his eyes. His freaking eyeballs hurt.

  The souls howled inside his skull, and the darkness was once again clawing at him. They wanted out.

  “Oh no, you don’t,” he murmured. “Domerian.” For the first time in centuries, the Sacred Language fell naturally from his lips and the souls went silent, obeying his command. “Shut the fuck up,” he added for good measure.

  Even the darkness stilled. What the hell.

  Apparently Tarani’s soul had also given him the power to control not only the Andirah-Merah, but the darkness as well, using the Sacred Language. He exhaled a heavy, shuddering breath. He wouldn’t die. He wouldn’t be free from the darkness. He’d carry the damned souls inside him, for as long as he walked the Earth.

  But she’d gifted him with the means to live with his burdens, a way to assure he wouldn’t be a risk for humankind.

  “Rhys.” Tarani’s weak whisper interrupted his thoughts. She was sitting on the ground beside Seersha, her head down as if she couldn’t keep it upright. It took all of his strength to get on his knees and crawl to her.

  “I’m here,” he croaked, tugging her to his lap.

  She encircled his torso and hugged him tight, resting her head on the crook of his neck. “You’re alive.” Although her voice was barely audible, her relief and happiness echoed through his body, strong and sure and bright like the morning sun.

  Rhys took a deep breath, breathing her presence as her warmth washed over him. “You brought me back.” A lump lodged in his throat, love and fear and gratitude knotted in his chest. “You saved me.”

  “You got that one right,” Seersha said, resting her arms on her bent knees. “I don’t know how the fuck she managed to give you a piece of her soul, but she saved us all.”

  Tarani let out a ragged, weary breath. “The darkness escaped. I didn’t keep you safe.” Her shoulders slumped, and at that moment she seemed so fragile, so sad, all he wanted was to erase her bad memories and take away her pain.

  “No, no.” He caressed her face gently, entangled his fingers in her hair. “I was the one who failed. I wasn’t able to keep the darkness inside. You made things right again.”

  “How about,” Caeron said, back to his human form, “we forget abo
ut who failed what, put this one under the win column and call it a day?” He plopped to the ground near them, closing their circle. “We’re alive and the world wasn’t destroyed, after all.”

  Yeah, being alive was good, but… “The rotten fuckers didn’t try to kill us. What the fuck was that about?”

  “I don’t know, but I don’t like it.” Caeron scrubbed a hand down his face. “There were only three of us.” He gave Seersha a side-eye, scowling. “And thousands of them. They could have easily slain us in about five minutes.”

  “Dallan wanted me to bring the Andirah-Merah back from the Abyss. I think they attacked you just to give him time to stab me with the Black Dagger.” Rhys shuddered at the memory. “But even if that’s the case, they could’ve killed you both after he got me. Hell, he could’ve killed me once the damned souls escaped. We’re missing something.”

  “Besides the lady historian, you mean?” Seersha arched a brow.

  “What the hell happened to Nell, by the way?” Caeron narrowed his eyes. “Did you do something to her?”

  “I don’t know, and no.” Seersha flipped him the bird. “Also, go fuck yourself.”

  “She wasn’t in the library,” Tarani murmured, guilt written all over her voice. “Seersha said she wasn’t at your place at all, so I came back.” She squeezed Rhys. “I needed to be by your side.”

  “We’ll find her.” He kissed her temple, trying to sooth her. “Maybe she lost her nerve and is hiding somewhere.”

  “Maybe.” The possibility seemed to give Tarani a little hope. “There weren’t any signs of struggle, at least that I could see.”

  “There weren’t,” Seersha agreed. “That doesn’t mean shit, though.”

  “We should get going,” Caeron said. “We need to find Nell, and something tells me our dance with the blind fucker isn’t over. He came, stabbed Rhys and went away. That’s very little, compared to what he could have done.”

  “Are you insane?” Rhys eyes widened. “The freaking darkness was unleashed along with the Andirah-Merah. They could’ve taken over the world, devouring souls as they went. People were slaughtered, their souls were damned. Now they are prisoners here.” Rhys tapped his forehead. “And you call it very little.”

  “It is very little,” Caeron insisted. “There were literally thousands of those rotten fuckers standing here. Dallan could’ve killed Tamerah, or taken her and use her blood any time he wants. He could’ve stolen my head. Better yet, he could’ve stolen your head, and have control over the damned souls.”

  “Alright, you have a point.” Sighing, Rhys turned to Seersha. “How the fuck is it possible I didn’t know they were there?”

  “The Abyss is vast, endless.” She waved a hand. “You could spend a millennium down there and you wouldn’t know most of what exists inside the darkness.”

  “We need to focus on this Dallan asshole.” Caeron leaned forward. “He said he wants vengeance. I don’t know who pissed in his soup, but having an army of damned souls that flies like the wind and multiplies as it kills is a hell of a good weapon to seek revenge. Why did he just walk away?”

  “Maybe he didn’t count on Tarani saving me. Perhaps he thought the damned souls would take care of us.” Under Caeron’s skeptical scrutiny, Rhys bowed his head. He couldn’t keep denying the obvious. “He has some fucking end game, and he used us as pawns.”

  “That’s where my money is,” Caeron said grimly as his face hardened. “We’ve averted disaster today, but there’s more crap coming our way.”

  Staring at the dark horizon, Seersha nodded. “Your work is just beginning. You need to find the lady historian and the other Lineages. And—”

  “Shut up,” Rhys growled. His entire body was a knot of pain, and he was so exhausted he almost believed he could sleep. For a month. “Give us five fucking minutes to recover. We’ve just saved the world, I think it’s enough for one night.”

  Tarani was limp in his arms, no doubt as tired as he was. Rhys caressed her head, smoothing his hand down the blond strands, to the silken skin of her neck, down to her shoulder and arm. There was dried blood on it, because she’d used the Black Dagger on herself, had gone voluntarily to the Abyss, to keep her promise. To bring me back.

  Not only that, which was unbelievably brave and selfless on its own, she had torn her soul apart to save him.

  She gave me a piece of her soul. It was there, enmeshed with his own, illuminating the dark corners of his being, softening his ragged edges. I have a part of Tarani inside me. Forever.

  “She could have died,” Seersha said quietly. “I warned her, but she didn’t care. I hope you’re worthy of her sacrifice.”

  “Sacrifice?” His brain was too fried at the moment to understand exactly what she was talking about.

  “She gave you a freaking piece of herself, dumbass. That part is always going to be missing from her. Souls are organic, are energy, they grow, blah blah blah, yes. But they can’t recreate something that isn’t there anymore. Now you carry the memories, experiences and burdens of the part she gave you.” Seersha bowed her head. “And she’ll always feel the absence of that part.”

  “I’d do it again,” Tarani mumbled, burrowing into Rhys. “I won’t let you die. You’re mine.”

  “Yes,” Rhys whispered in her ear. He’d spend all of his days trying to be worthy of her. Trying to make her happy.

  He looked at Seersha. “That’s what you did for Tarani, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.” She lifted her head and met his eyes. “Thing is, gravedigger, I’m worth jack squat. I don’t count for shit. It was an honor to be trusted by the Sheramath, and a privilege to help Tamerah come to life.” She clasped her hands together. “Now I’m trusting you to protect her. To keep her safe.”

  “You know I’d give my own life to protect her.” He tightened his arms around Tarani a little more.

  “And yet, it was her who saved you and the world, putting herself in danger.” Seersha’s eyes narrowed a fraction, and she leaned forward as her expression became fierce. “See that it doesn’t happen again.”

  “Never again,” he promised. He didn’t know how, but he’d never, ever let Tarani put herself at risk again. Not even for him. Not even for this fucked up world.

  “I can take care of myself.” Tarani’s words were muffled by his neck, but her determination came through all the same. “You two wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for me. So, shut up.”

  Rhys chuckled. “You’re right. Just let me take care of you for a while, okay?”

  “That’s all touching and shit, but let’s go.” Caeron got to his feet and rolled his shoulders, looking around. “We’ve lingered too long as it is.”

  “How are you feeling?” Rhys asked Tarani. They did need to go back to the security of Caeron’s wards as soon as possible, but she seemed too worn out to take them back.

  “Tired,” she whispered. “But I can try.”

  “I’ll give you a ride.” Seersha stood, brushing grass from her pants. “Unless there’s some crap waiting for us inside your house, it shouldn’t cause much of a ripple on the Enforcers radar.”

  Caeron glared at her and crossed his arms. “Of course there’s nothing waiting for us. My wards are unbreakable.”

  “Funny thing, Arawn got in just fine, and the historian got out somehow,” Seersha scoffed.

  “I gave Nell permission to come and go as she pleases,” Caeron shot back. “As for the prick, he’s like a silent disease, same as you. I can’t do anything about it.”

  “Can we please go home?” Tarani yawned and rubbed her eyes. “You can keep arguing once we’re there.”

  Seersha nodded and called the Shadows.

  As they were embraced by darkness, Rhys sighed. He’d never thought of his cabin—his mausoleum—as home. No place had been home to him since he’d left Faruhan-Aleth, centuries ago.

  And yet…he smiled. After all this time, that was what Caeron’s house felt like.

  Home. Let’s go home.
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br />   Chapter Twenty-Three

  As soon as they got home, the absence of Nell became a palpable thing. Guilt unfurled inside Tamerah. What if something bad had happened to her friend?

  “I should have looked for her,” she said, grimacing.

  “She wasn’t here, Tamerah,” Seersha assured her. “I don’t know what happened, but I swear the lady historian wasn’t inside this house.”

  “We shouldn’t have left her alone.” Caeron’s voice was low, his face hard. He obviously felt guilty as well. Tamerah knew he’d developed a special bond with Nell, and his worry and guilt added to her own.

  “It’s useless to cry about what should or shouldn’t have been done.” Seersha walked through the room and stood near the fireplace. “Our time is better spent thinking about what needs to be done.”

  “We’re going to rest for a while.” Rhys got up and cradled Tamerah in his arms. “We’re both too tired to be useful.”

  “Go.” Caeron waved a hand. “I’ll let you know if anything happens.”

  “I hope nothing happens at least for a century,” Tamerah mumbled, closing her eyes and enjoying Rhys’s warmth. She didn’t know how was he capable of carrying her after all he’d went through, but she wasn’t about to complain.

  I don’t think I’ve ever been this tired. A thick fog clouded her brain, and her muscles had turned into jelly. She was glad they were back to their room.

  Our room. Tamerah giggled softly.

  “What?” Rhys asked as he closed the door.

  After he put her down on the bed, she sighed, a contented smile curling her lips. “I was thinking this isn’t your room anymore. It’s ours.”

  “I like that.” He smiled back, a thing of breathtaking beauty.

  “Me too.” She wanted to reach out for him, but her body didn’t want to move. Muscles she hadn’t even known existed were hurting, making themselves known. “Everything hurts.”

  “I know how you feel.” He sat next to her and removed his boots. “How about a hot bath, in our bathroom?” He winked, grinning. “It will help your muscles to relax, and we need to clean up anyway.”