Emergence (Book 2) (8 page)

"I'll enjoy it more once we reach the Greensward."

"They've plenty of guards on the border?"

"They've no need."

"Ah." Garek chewed on that for a time. "You know, I've never had much faith in magic. I prefer cold steel and my own instincts to all that spooky stuff. They've gotten me this far and, Goddess willing, they'll get me a bit further. But something tells me, whatever's got the wind up your back has very little to do with flesh and steel."

Bolin gave his friend a sidelong look. "Why, exactly, did the Emperor tell you an escort was needed?"

"We're to aid you in escorting a girl back to Nisair. More than that--" Garek shrugged. "The Emperor keeps his own counsel."

Bolin snorted. "If we get to Galys Auld without further incidence, I'll tell you all you don't want to know."

"Ah, something to look forward to then."

***

The sun had begun its slow descent by the time they reached the rise along the northern border of the Greensward. Bolin swiveled in the saddle to glance behind him and felt Sandeen's muscles twitch a heartbeat before the stallion reared.

"Skyward!" The sound of a crossbow firing followed Garek's warning. "Form ranks."

"No." Bolin spun Sandeen, searching the sky. Whatever the threat, he didn't care to face it with one man already wounded, one dead, and the rest exhausted. "The border lies at the tree line. Go."

Another bolt whistled past his head and something screeched. Bolin caught a glimpse of white feathers and sharp talons as thick around as a tree. The creature plunged toward the earth, huge wings straining to keep it in flight. Berk rode up next to Bolin, crossbow sighted as he stood in the stirrups and loosed another bolt into the bird.

"It's down," Garek said, pushing his horse to the front. "Let's go, lads. Last one to the trees buys me all I can drink."

"Rocs," Berk said, scanning the sky as he reloaded his bow. "They never travel alone."

"Then best get that beast moving, Berk. You don't draw enough pay in three cycles to keep my tankard full."

Bolin lingered on the ridge, watching the sky as the men headed for the Greensward. When they were less than a handful of horse-lengths from safety three more of the huge birds appeared above them. They screamed as they shortened their wings and plummeted downward. Bolin cued Sandeen. The stallion ran flat out, easily gaining ground on the other horses. A rush of air pushed over them, and Bolin flattened against Sandeen's neck as they darted under cover of the trees.

He reined in beside Berk, Sandeen's hooves plowing furrows in the ground as the stallion skidded to a halt. Bolin turned to watch the rocs circle the ridge, riding the air currents on their enormous wings. One of them veered off and dropped down beside its fallen comrade. It crooned softly, nudging the lifeless form with a wickedly hooked beak, easily as large as a supply cart. It craned its neck around, golden eyes narrowing as it swept the shadows for its prey. When it spied them it leveled its head, partly extended its wings and charged. Sandeen threw his weight back and struck out with his front hooves, but Bolin held him steady. The wards around the Greensward flared upwards, a hazy wall of faint green the creature couldn't cross. It screamed in fury, the clack of its beak sounding like a huge tree snapping in half.

"Unholy mothers." Garek eased his mount up beside Bolin. "You're familiar with these things, Berk?"

"Yes, sir. Hunted them in the Reaches with my father. They had a taste for Lord Verrun's cattle."

"Well, we're a long way from the Reaches, and I don't see any cattle."

The bird made another bounce forward. One of the other horses whinnied in panic and its rider cursed. The roc paced the edge of the tree line, feathers puffed, beak half open.

"Are they known to hunt men?" Garek asked.

"Only when their aeries are threatened."

Sandeen pranced beneath Bolin, muscles quivering, turning to keep the huge bird in his sight. Bolin stroked his neck to calm him. "What about being this far south?"

Berk shrugged, the crossbow still rested in his lap, loaded and cocked. "They prefer mountains. There was an aerie once in the highlands, I think, but it was destroyed. I've never heard of any outside of the Reaches since then."

With a final hissing clack of its beak, the roc turned away. It took several lumbering strides, spread its wings and launched skyward, buffeting them with a whirlwind of twigs and leaves. Bolin watched as it rejoined the other two. They circled the ridge once, their screams echoing from on high before they headed north. He kept his eyes on them until they were no more than specs.

"Can they be tamed?" he asked.

Garek snorted but Berk shook his head. "I wouldn't dismiss it so quickly, Commander. My father often spoke of an old man who claimed rocs were once ridden through the air just as we ride horses on the ground."

"And the reason they no longer are," Garek said, "is because their riders kept falling off."

Someone chuckled at that and the tension surrounding the group eased. Bolin turned Sandeen toward Galys Auld. He stopped alongside the rider supporting the wounded man. "Can he go on without a break?"

The rider bobbed his head. "He's out cold. I think he needs a healer more than a rest right now."

"Let's move out, then. We've got a bit of ground to cover yet."

***

Bolin kept up a steady pace despite the exhaustion creeping through his bones. The natural power of the Greensward served to refresh both man and beast, but he and Sandeen had been on the go for a night and a day with little rest. With the wards once more announcing his arrival, there would be little chance of him finding his bed as soon as they returned.

The moon, late in rising, had just cleared the horizon when they rode into the torch-lit yard of Galys Auld. Bolin pointedly ignored the group of Galysian elders waiting in the square with Maurar at their front. Instead he signaled for the soldier carrying the wounded man to follow, and turned Sandeen toward the healer's hut.

A stable boy rushed over to take their horses but Bolin waved him off. "Fetch Mistress Konly."

"Already here." The master healer held up a lantern as she rounded the corner and peered at the wounded man. Her face puckered, and she glared at Bolin. "Is this one like the messenger?"

"Possibly, though I hope not."

She swiveled to the stable boy. "Fetch Danyala Ciara."

"No," Bolin snapped. Goddess's blood, they didn't need her losing control of her power a second time.

The boy froze, staring wide-eyed at him. Konly scowled and waved a hand in the air. "As you will. This lad has no time for me to waste arguing with you. Get him inside."

Bolin helped carry him into the hut and laid him on the table. He would have lingered, but the healer shooed him out and closed the door behind her. Nialyne met him on the porch.

"Are his wounds the same as the messenger?" she asked.

"That seems to be the question of the night." Bolin looked past her and
blew out a sigh. "Can we not put off the obligatory censure until the morning?"

Nialyne glanced back at the other elders who were, for the most part, directing the stable boys and seeing to the escort. All except Danya Maurar, who stood with his arms folded, hands tucked in his sleeves, and a dark scowl directed at Bolin.

"I'll not deal with him tonight," Bolin said, his temper coloring his tone. "Warn him off me, or by the Goddess--"

Nialyne laid a hand on his arm. "I will see to Danya Maurar, but there will be
much to discuss come morning."

"Undoubtedly."

Nialyne rubbed his arm as though he were a child in need of comforting. It would have rankled him coming from anyone else. "You need sleep. We'll see to getting the escort settled."

"Thank you."

He kissed Nialyne on the forehead and took his leave, skirting the far side of the yard. In the tail of his eye he saw Maurar turn his way, but Nialyne called the elder to her. Bolin allowed himself a grin at the tone in her voice, one even Maurar wouldn't argue with.

The moonlight flickered through the leaves, the only thing lighting his way as he crossed through the gardens to his rooms in the back wing of the manor house. His skin warmed beneath Ciara's pendant as he passed her door, and Bolin hesitated. The surge of power when she'd summoned Andrakaos to save the messenger had sent his heart racing, and he'd damn near called it to himself before he came to his senses. Never had any power enticed him the way Ciara's did. Even now he could feel the pulse of it from beneath Nialyne's wards. The thought of it in the hands of the
Imperial Mages left a sour taste in his mouth.

Bolin made a noise in his throat, and kept walking. He'd only need worry about the
Imperial Mages if they actually made it to Nisair, and that prospect seemed to be growing more unlikely by the day.

He heard the door latch click a moment before Ciara called his name. He sucked in a deep breath as he turned. Ciara stood in the doorway of her room, a robe over her light shift, a lantern's glow silhouetting her figure.

"Is everything all right?" she asked. "I thought I felt the wards again."

Of course. "Seems they've an issue with me of late."

"Danya Maurar won't be pleased."

"He rarely is."

Shadows hid her face but her eyes were bright with reflected moonlight. "Where did you go? I thought maybe you left without saying goodbye."

"Can we discuss it tomorrow?"

Ciara stepped out into the gardens but thankfully not toward him. "You're avoiding my question."

Bolin rubbed his neck. "With reason."

"I don't want to be kept in the dark," she said, a certainty to her voice. None of the anger or irritation he expected. "I shouldn't be. It's my life. Not yours. Not Donovan's. Though both of you think you should be able to control it. I've had a lot of time to think, even though I really didn't want to. Not at first anyhow."

Her eyes closed and her shoulders rose and fell in a deep breath. She turned towards him. "You told me I need to learn to deal with what I am. You're right. That doesn't mean I'm not terrified, because I am. I know I can't run away from it, so I won't try again, I promise. But then you need to make me a promise as well."

"And that would be?"

"Stop keeping things from me."

"Ciara--"

"No." She crossed the space between them, stopping an arm's length away. The breeze played with the strands of her hair, hanging loose down her back. Orange light filtering from her room accented half her face, the cool light of the moon, the other half. "I'm not a child. Even if you like to think I am. I won't just blindly do as you say because you think it's best for me."

"And what of the Emperor?" Bolin regretted the question as soon as he asked it. He'd intended to save this discussion for the morning, with Nialyne present.

He could feel Ciara's stillness. "The Emperor?"

He shook his head. "I'm exhausted, Ciara. This conversation is best left for a time when I'm less so."

"Or never at all?"

Bolin clenched his jaw. It would have been wiser to walk away. Ciara would have seethed over it and gone to bed. Come the morning, Nialyne could have explained things in a more delicate fashion. But Ciara's prodding struck a nerve. She wanted answers? Then by the Goddess, he would give them to her.

"You want nothing kept from you?
" he said. "So be it. We no longer have the luxury of keeping you safely tucked away until Donovan can be dealt with. That messenger lying in the healer's hut came from the Emperor. He has demanded I bring you to Nisair. The guard sent to escort us was attacked twice on the road. Once by neerwolves. Once by rocs. Neither of which, I am certain, acted of their own accord. One Imperial soldier lies in the grieving house, and another may not live to see the dawn. And let's not forget that Donovan may have a new ally. One which scares Nialyne, the very fact of which should serve to terrify the rest of us. And you--"

He stopped himself with effort, and scrubbed a hand across his face. Ciara hadn't moved. Bolin couldn't be sure if she waited for him to finish, or stood rooted in fear or anger. The gentle songs of night insects and the swish of leaves on the trees surrounding them were all that broke the silence for a very long time.

"I should see if Konly needs help," Ciara finally said, her voice calm and level. She turned back to her room, pausing in the doorway to look at him over her shoulder. "Thank you."

Bolin
blinked at the closed door. Ciara had taken that better than he would have guessed. Better, by far, than he had handled it. That worried him. She had changed since the encounter with the crone. For better or worse, Bolin couldn't yet be sure.

Goddess's blood. He spun on his heel and finished the walk to his quarters. There would be much to accomplish over the next several days. Ciara's quiet acceptance worked under his skin and along his nerves like the first whispers of a storm on a sunny day. That storm would either dissipate, or break with all the fury of the hells unleashed.