Whatever door once was now lay in ruined shards on the ground, letting the late afternoon light filter in. Aislynn tilted her head, and twenty-to-one odds the elf was doing it to listen for any traps before they stepped into the sun.
Either she didn’t hear anything or she decided to chance it, because Aislynn pushed forward, slow and deliberate.
An unearthly giggle, and Aislynn’s arrow flew toward a cluster of treetops. Rustling started at one end of the long line of trees and then moved, shaking branches straight down to the other end.
Then both giggle and movement stopped.
Another arrow in Aislynn’s bow, and though the elf’s head moved in small motions back-and-forth, her arms were locked in position. “Where do we go now?”
Nalah extended her senses. The other magic pounced as if it had been waiting for her, dominating her own meager powers as it began stripping her of her protections.
“Nalah, the ring?”
Ring, ring, what about a ring? There was no ring, there was, there was…there was dark, putrid magic, so cloying it clogged her senses and blocked even Tenro.
“Nalah, stay with me.” A vague, floaty voice, but the other descended upon her, desecration, decay, bloat and the pure joy in – only happiness in – shred-the-soul suffering.
Dark, so dark, so cold, always cold, and she was falling. It had her.
It had her.
You’re mine, Magic Breaker.
Esh threw the guard over his shoulder down to the lower levels as he made for Beylor’s box. A woman descended from the ceiling and began shooting arrows, then went into the crowd. Since Rorth and the redhead hadn’t moved to combat her, she must be Guild too. Which meant she’d go for Nalah, and Nalah would lead her to Beylor and the ring.
Beylor’s box was empty, a door to a hidden hallway behind it open. Esh followed through the long corridor, sliding to a stop in front of the two bodies.
“Fuck!” They were brutalized, and Nalah was walking into the path of whatever had done that. Before him – Fucking Shit – five paths. Five fucking paths, and he didn’t have time for a wrong choice, not with what these sliced-up bodies meant. The evil Nalah had been talking about had decided to make itself known, and Nalah was running toward it.
Nalah. Nalah, Nalah, Nalah.
Panic, blind and frantic, her name on a loop in his head. She was alone without him, alone with creatures capable of this, and he had no fucking clue.
The burn deep in his belly flared, orange-red flame winding its way around his lungs, his heart, heading straight for the center of him and demanding attention.
It was enough to break through the loop of panic and in unthinking movement, Esh hit out with the side of his fist against the wall, the jarring pain resetting his brain.
He had to get to Nalah. He didn’t have time to search and hope he got lucky. How the fuck was he supposed to find her?
The flame flickered, drawing his attention. It was straining, stretching against binds that held it. It was offering, promising what he wanted, if he would give it what it needed.
It wanted freedom.
He wanted Nalah.
There was no hesitation. Esh dug deep inside, raced for the flame, concentrated on releasing every tie that held it back.
It wanted freedom.
And as long as Nalah was safe, he would give it.
The last tie released and the flame shaped itself as it stretched out, two wings of fiery plumage reaching for the sky, the neck arching, a red-orange beak, sharp and lethal, opening to cry a song of freedom, of joy.
It infused him, spread through his limbs, and knowledge lit within him, the ancient knowledge of what he was, and the strength to protect what was his.
Nalah.
Chapter Eighteen
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The wing of flame surrounded her, pushed back the dark, broke through the deep death magic that crept around her with stealthy paws. Nalah jerked, Aislynn’s voice above her.
“Nalah, answer me.” Aislynn still had the bow and arrow at the ready, dividing her attention between Nalah and whatever lay beyond their sight.
“I’m here. Someone’s coming, to help us I think.”
Aislynn’s chest rose and fell in a deep breath, the only outward sign of any emotion. “I hope you are correct.”
The words were no sooner spoken than that giggle again, and from the trees the Pale Lady emerged, and she wasn’t part of the magic, she was magic, the wielder of such profane power – power as ancient, as brutal, as undeniable as Tenro, housed in this delicate woman before her. The magic manifested as a black sludge surrounding her, its oily tentacles floating in the air close to her body.
The bowstring drew taut, but no arrow was released. Then another giggle, a whisper of wind, and Aislynn’s bow was broken in two in her hand, a clean slice through the center given by a sharp blade.