Betrayal's Price (In Deception's Shadow Book 1) (25 page)

Vinarah’s eyes
widened in shock, but it was too late. Itharann raised a hand. A bolt of blue
power rushed out, slamming into Vinarah. Her shields saved her from a quick death,
but in her haste to raise it there were weaknesses even Ashayna could see.

Vinarah fought,
twisting and thrashing against Itharann’s power while Kandarra launched her own
assault. Her first bolt deflected off Itharann’s shields. A second never came.
Itharann wrapped Kandarra in bands of power without taking his eyes from
Vinarah. Ashayna stood immobile, her fury and anguish burning strongly, just
not strong enough to set herself free of his enchantment. With growing panic,
Ashayna realized he was using Vinarah’s own shield to crush her. Vinarah’s
screams, high and eerie, were terrible to hear. Both wings crumpled with wet
pops and sharp snaps.

Ashayna wanted
to retch, but even that was beyond her control. Itharann’s power stretched
Vinarah’s skin tight over her bones, showing a fine tracery of veins beneath.
Tears of blood welled from her eyes and drops of the same covered her lips. The
phoenix tried to rise again only to fall to the ground in an unmoving heap.

Kandarra lay
unconscious upon the ground next to her sibling.

“Please stop.”
Tears flowed down Ashayna’s cheeks. “If ever there is a chance for us to
peacefully coexist, it will be forever destroyed if you kill them.”

She didn’t know
if her plea would have swayed him, for a black streak collided with him. When
the two opponents slowed, she saw Caltanwyn held the advantage. The lupwyn
forced Itharann’s head back until his throat was exposed and lunged for the
life pulsing there. Teeth snapped and flesh parted with a spray of blood.

Fire leapt up,
forcing the lupwyn’s muzzle back. Itharann gathered himself, pushing his
opponent from him with a grunt of exertion. There was a bloody mess where
Itharann’s throat should have been. Screaming, Ashayna ran to him, uncaring if
this was Itharann she helped. She might hate herself later but could not stand
by and watch Sorntar die. In response to her fear, her Larnkin flooded her with
power until her hands pulsed with it. She skidded to a stop within arm’s reach
of Itharann and had to duck when he launched another mage bolt at the lupwyn.
This one knocked Caltanwyn off the path and into the trees at garden’s edge,
nearly twenty paces away.

Itharann
smiled, and Ashayna realized his throat looked almost whole. Then he coughed
and a wave of blood cascaded over his lower lip. He spat and wiped a hand
across his lips

“Perhaps I
do require a little of your power. You were always better at unmaking damage
.” He dragged her close and slanted his lips against hers, nipping
almost gently. He began drinking her power like it was water and he was dying
of thirst. Ashayna shivered in disgust and jerked her head to the side.
Itharann grinned, and then looking beyond her shoulder, his expression sobered
and he tossed her behind him. She peered around his broad wings and saw why. Caltanwyn
had recovered.

The scent of
blood and magic filled the air, until it coiled in the back of her throat.
Ashayna stumbled away from the battle and realized she was in command of her
own body. Wasting no time, she picked up her saddlebag, fumbling for the vial
within. The straps tangled in her panic to get it free. Two more tries and she
wrestled the large vial free of her saddlebag.

“Itharann!” She
called, holding the vial aloft. “Leave them, or I’ll destroy this.” She gave
the heavy vial of silver liquid a small shake, making it shimmer with promise.

Surprise and
fury played across his face, and he redoubled his efforts on her shields.
Ashayna defied him, feeding more power into her defenses. Then she turned and
ran, hoping Itharann would follow her instead of killing the lupwyn.

She ran and
only the sound of her own footfalls reached her ears. Either Itharann was far
behind or he hadn’t taken the bait.

A sudden wind
whipping her hair around her head was her only warning. She threw herself to
the ground in a roll as Itharann flew over her position. A strong jerk and a
tearing sound heralded the ruin of her leather outer vest.

With a hiss of
disgust, Itharann discarded the torn bit of leather and winged back over her position.
Ashayna scrambled to her feet and ducked into an alley too narrow for Itharann
to fly through. He landed beside the entrance, dwarfing the narrow opening.

Yes, she liked
those odds much better.

The gradual
rise of the ground between the buildings changed into a sharper ascent, slowing
her passage and making her legs burn. A worried glance behind showed Itharann
still at the alley’s entrance, trying to squeeze his bulky wings into the
alley, his talon’s scrambling for purchase. But with both the ground too smooth
and steep for his talons, and the walls too close for flight, he backed out
again, taking to the sky with an enraged cry.

Her ears
throbbed. Sweat beaded on her brow and soaked her hairline and still she ran.
The alley came to a sudden end. To her left was a large expanse of soft green
pasture. On the right, elegant white stones of the stables glittered steadily
in the late afternoon light.

Itharann dove
out of the sky to land across from her. The backwash of wind from his wings
buffeted her. Dust and gritty bits of gravel hit her face and obscured her
vision. Before she could take a proper fighting stance, he was upon her. Her
world narrowed down to one of blue feathers and the tainted warmth of his
power. He twisted the dagger from her grasp. She delivered a kick to his
crotch. While he was distracted, she aimed a sharp elbow to the belly, and drew
her last dagger. The first blow tangled uselessly in his long primaries. She
wasn’t willing to risk losing her only weapon, so instead she broke away.

She lifted the
crystal vial with one hand, forestalling him from attacking. Giving the vial a
shake, Ashayna held it long enough for him to look from her to the vial and
back again before she smashed it against the door frame. The liquid darkened
the surrounding stone, dripping down to the cobbles below in slow, thick drops.
It reflected golden light from the setting sun for a heartbeat more before
vanishing into a pale mist, sparkling with energy. She watched until the last
of the mist disappeared, then looked to Itharann.

He stood still
and mute, expression unreadable. Even the breeze failed to ruffle his wing and
crest feathers. Only his magic still pulsed around him, its movement seen just
beyond the surface, but the wild rage driving it was gone. He shifted, battle
stance changing to a more relaxed pose. When he spoke, his voice still lacked
warmth, but was calm again. “You have accomplished nothing. Surrender to me and
no more harm need come to anyone this day.”

“We’ll not
complete the bond, that’s accomplishment enough for me.” As she spoke she fed
more power into her shields. She scanned his features for some nuance of his
thoughts. “You’re tired from fighting, aren’t you?”

His expression
gave nothing away.

“Having trouble
controlling Sorntar?”

“A minor
problem,” he acknowledged. “As for you breaking the vial, that’s another
problem easily solved. There are two other springs blessed by the Mother where
we can go to find what is needed.” He brushed at the fragments of glass
shattered across the ground with one foot. “This is replaceable.”

“All I need to
do is hold you off until an elder comes.” She returned his cold stare with one
of her own.

“That could
lead to our deaths, foolish youngling.” Desperation must have lent him
strength. Itharann renewed his attack, stronger than before. Magic crashed
against Ashayna’s shields. With a sound like a scream, her shields buckled. An
echoing throb of pain stabbed into her mind.

She had no will
to fight, even if she had been free to do so. Her heart a leaden weight, she
walked up to stand next to him and watched the herd drawing nearer.

The individual
members of the santhyrian herd became visible. Ashayna’s throat tightened when she
recognized two members as they detached from their herd mates. Winter’s Frost
and Summer Flame raced forward, not knowing the danger they faced. They covered
the distance in a blur of speed, blending silver pale with lustrous red-brown
as they galloped.

“Don’t harm
them like you did your sisters. I’ll do as you ask. Just don’t make me stand by
helpless again.”

“I shall not
kill them. Besides, I have a use for them.”

In their haste,
both santhyrians came to a skidding halt. Ashayna was surprised to see old sweat
and grime marked their coats.

“Crown
Prince, we came as quickly as we could. Shadowdancer is still on his way with
Sorsha.”
Winter’s Frost said.

Fear and dismay
filled Ashayna’s heart. Itharann would torture Sorsha just like Sorntar’s
sisters.

Summer Flame
moved closer to Itharann. In contrast, the pale mare flared her nostrils and
backed away, nearly losing her footing in the slick grass.
“Why do you smell
of a weaving of restraint?”

“The Dead King
wants Ashayna. I’ll explain later,” Itharann replied.

“Very well.”

Ashayna
mounted, helpless to deny Itharann’s commands.

Winter’s Frost
rolled an eye in Ashayna’s direction, and while Sorntar mounted, the mare broke
into a reckless gallop with a surge of her powerful hindquarters. Even as she
galloped, Winter’s Frost sent a silent warning to Summer Flame.

Reaching the
crest of a hill, the mare slowed to a trot and looked back. Ashayna couldn’t
look away either. Itharann and the santhyrian engaged in battle. Summer Flame
bucked to disengage his rider while Itharann clung doggedly to his back. Blue
flames erupted along Itharann’s wings. In less than a heartbeat, his power had
spread to the santhyrian stallion. At the contact, it flared, changing color.
No longer blue, it now shone an oily purple-black. The young stallion screamed
and fought to free himself, but the blue-purple mist adhered to him before
vanishing beneath the skin with a flash of power. When it cleared, it left in
its place a series of tattoos. Even over the distance the design of the tattoos
made her eyes hurt. The tattoos shimmered, solidifying into diamond shaped
scales as large as her palm. Two curved horns crowned his head.

The changed
stallion continue to buck a handful of times more before settling to await his
master’s orders. When Itharann straightened from crouching over the stallion’s
neck, he was as changed as the santhyrian. His feathers were darker, nearly
black, his skin a shade paler than milk. He leaned forward to whisper some
command in the stallion’s pricked ears. In a fluid move, both stallion and
rider turned to watch Winter’s Frost and Ashayna. Winter’s Frost broke into a
gallop.

“We must warn
the city and gather help.” Wind threatened to steal Ashayna’s words.

“I have
already tried to cry warning, he blocks me. It echoes back against a powerful
shield.”
Winter Frost’s message was cut short as
the ground in front of them opened up. In its place a smooth sided pit awaited
them. The mare gathered her hindquarters beneath her and sailed over the chasm.
She stumbled on landing, but resumed her gallop within three strides.

“Winter’s
Frost, you mustn’t trust me. If he commands me, I must obey him. Itharann hasn’t
commanded me to jump off because the fall would harm me. He requires me whole
for his plans.”

“Then I’d
better not slow down to a speed you can safely jump from.”

The sound of
powerful wings beating the air came too late to warn her. Itharann, faster in
the air than anything a santhyrian could match on the ground, over took them.
He came to a landing several lengths in front of them.

“He thinks I’ll
not risk running him down. After what he did to Summer Flame, I’d risk breaking
all my legs for a chance to avoid such a fate.”
The
mare lengthened her stride, pouring every bit of strength into her flight.

Itharann’s
expression changed to surprise and he had to dive out of the way.

“Ashayna,
tell me what has happened. Did he draw on some ancient power, one which was
tainted perhaps? Or is it something else?”

Another glance
behind showed Itharann back astride Summer’s Flame. Both stood still, unmoving,
and Ashayna didn’t like it. He was planning something.

“It’s not new,
this darkness,” Ashayna said, answering the mare’s question. She paused to draw
a deep steadying breath, fighting the wind for the air she needed. “He calls
himself Itharann—he is the Judge, leader of the Twelve. He was corrupted by
darkness long ago.”

The mare lost
her stride, stumbling for two full lengths before finding her footing again.
“That’s
not possible. Whatever he said was a lie. The one you speak of died long ago,
killed by Dakdamon when he wouldn’t betray the Twelve. Even if what you say is
true, he wouldn’t be able to hide such a thing. The queen and council would
know. He lies to deceive you into doing as he wishes.”

“It’s him,”
Ashayna said with conviction, “and he didn’t plan to betray the Twelve. He had
no choice.”

“No. If he’s
what you say, he could capture us, and shape us into any tool he required. He
wouldn’t need to chase us down to do it.”

To save having
to shout above the wind, Ashayna spoke to her mind to mind.
“He can capture
us. And then he’ll shape us into his tools, like he did to Summer Flame.
Itharann was weakening even before he changed Summer Flame. If we’re lucky, he
can’t have much magic left.”

“Human, you
make no sense.”

“Never mind.
Tell me about the city’s defenses. Itharann was going to do something with
them.”

“Offensive
magic and powerful shields…”
If the mare would have
told her more, she never found out. They were almost to Grey Spires’ gates and
possible help. Another thousand paces separated the way when the land heaved
under their feet a second time. Ashayna had only a moment to curse her
bondmate, then she was falling. She slammed into the ground. Earth and bits of
rock rained down all around her as she rolled.

The world
righted itself as she eased onto her back. Looking up, Ashayna saw what had
stopped her roll. A massive crystal pillar reared up towards the sky. The
tingling of her skin warned her moments before magic rushed up the crystal’s
length from some source deep within the earth.

“Get up
human. If you stay there you will die.”
Winter’s
Frost screamed into Ashayna’s mind as she trotted out of a cloud of dust and
fine grit.
“The city’s defenses have been triggered.”

Itharann hadn’t
revoked his original order for her to ride the santhyrian, so when Winter’s
Frost was even with her, Ashayna vaulted onto her back. Muscles, bruised by the
fall, let her know of the abuse. She looked around to take inventory and to
locate where Itharann had gone. Of him, there was no sign.

More crystal
pillars, sisters to the one in front of them, were rising up all along the
city’s outer walls. Winter’s Frost leaped to the side, narrowly avoiding being
impaled by another of the pillars. The mare wheeled around and ran back the way
she had come. Ashayna clung to Winter Frost’s back and could only watch as the
second ring of crystals rose up faster than the first.

Only by the
grace of Winter’s Frost speed were they able to escape before the last pillar
completed the circle. Within, power surged forth from each ring, forming two
separate domes of energy—the outer starting to contract as the inner expanded.

“That was
too close,”
Winter’s Frost said, fear still
sharpening her mental tone.

Ashayna agreed
wholeheartedly.

* * * *

“That should
keep the Dead King busy.” The voice didn’t belong to the mare, but the
beautiful, insidious voice Ashayna dreaded.

The mare froze
in mid-stride. Ashayna feared to look at Itharann and be trapped as the mare
was trapped.

“Ashayna, look
at me.” That voice again. A shiver ran down her spine. Fear became a distant
thing, weak and insignificant. His soothing tone lulled her and she found
herself studying him in detail where he sat upon Summer Flame’s back.

His body was
harsh perfection wrapped in a cloak of midnight wings. Skin, no longer his
usual healthy bronze, was the color of newly fallen snow. His eyes were dark
black pools, chilling with their intense gaze. Intricate tattoos marked his
flesh along the insides of his arms and ran up their lengths before circling
onto his shoulders. His slow smile showed pointed teeth.

The changes
didn’t stop there. Where once his crest was indigo, it was now inky black. Upon
his brow a ridge of bone flared up to meet with his crest feathers. The effect
was not unlike a crown. His wings, too, were different. There were now a number
of sharp bone-like blades in among the longest primaries. For all his deadly
changes, he still possessed a cold beauty, as if the one who shaped him had a
care for the outcome.

“Come, beloved,”
Itharann gestured her closer. “We have somewhere to be.”