Edge of Darkness ~ A Darkness & Light Novel Book Three (30 page)

"Great Lord," he said, his croaked out greeting followed by a startled squeak when he found the general's sword tip pressed against his throat.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

"Where's your mistress?" Bolin asked, trying to ignore the fact he couldn't see the magic that should have been shimmering all around Grumnlin.

He wanted to believe the brief taste of having his abilities robbed from him during the wraith's attack had been a fluke. Some effect of the terror they inflicted on their victims. Once free of the reach of Dain's wards, however, the condition returned in full force. The reality of what that meant threatened to render him immobile, and so he concentrated on the superficial. Delving any deeper would destroy him.

Grumnlin sniffled. Tears brimmed at the edges of his eyes, and his chin quivered beneath its tangled mass of wiry, matted hair. "Lady dead. Lor-del-ing kill Lady."

"Your new mistress," Bolin said.

He cocked his head. "Pretty Witch?"

"Aye."

A smile curved Grumnlin's mouth. "Pretty Witch eat you heart, Great Lord."

At the moment, Bolin might have considered that a blessing. "Where is she?"

"I take you."

Her voice whispered through Bolin's mind,
"You see, I have sent you a guide. He will bring you to me. Only I can help you now."

Bolin raised a hand to his forehead. As soon as the tip of his sword wavered, Grumnlin scampered off to the side. Bolin had to trust that, just like earlier, his inability to sense the power surrounding him was temporary, an illusion, like the witch's voice. In a few moments, a few more labored breaths, the world would right itself.

"Do you wish to see again? To taste the magic around you and feel it caress your skin? I have taken your gift, only I can return it. Or perhaps you prefer to remain bereft?"

"Show yourself." Bolin's demand came through clenched teeth, on the very edge of panic. He whirled, searching for her.

"General?" Berk angled a look his way, his expression guarded.

Voices rose in the distance. It wouldn't be long before Dain sent more men out to find them.

"He cannot help you. Even the great emperor does not know the secrets I hold. Come to me and I will release you."

Another shout carried on the wind and Berk called out in reply. Bolin threw himself forward, not entirely certain why. He tackled Berk, drove him to the ground and pinned him, knees forcing the man's arms into the soft moss, fingers closing around his throat.

"Not another word." Bolin lifted his head in the direction of the road, listening. No answering hail came back.

"Kill him," Grumnlin said. "Pretty Witch say bring you. Not… blue man."

"I'm on your side, General," Berk said, the words forced out on haggard breaths. "You don't want to do this."

Bolin tightened his grip. "I said quiet."

Where he should have been able to sense Dain's power, even from this distance, he felt nothing. Letting his thoughts go in that direction served only to mire him in horror, but when he tried to reclaim them, they scattered on the wind.

"Did she send you?" he asked without looking down.

"Who? Ciara?"

Bolin clenched his jaw and leaned down, his face close to Berk's. "The witch. You bore her touch. Dain told me as much. Did she send you to finish it? "

Berk gave his head a small shake, as much as he could against Bolin's hold. He wet his lips, struggling for breath until Bolin released the pressure enough for him to speak. He gasped before pushing out the words, "The Emperor… whatever he did… she hasn't bothered me since. I'm not… your… enemy. I swear."

"Bring him. He is strong and loyal. You will need such as him at your side."

Bolin hung his head and shut his eyes in an attempt to block out the witch's voice. Berk's muscles tensed beneath him and brought Bolin back from the swirling darkness. He stood, lifting Berk by the collar.

"Should cut his heart out," Grumnlin said.

"Lay a finger on this man, ever, and you'll wish I had cut your heart out," Bolin said. He peered through the leaves. Movement caught his eye. More yells cut through the forest. The Emperor's men would be on them soon.

"Go to him then if you will not believe me. Remain forever blind. Perhaps I will keep you as a curiosity when I have finished with them."

Bolin's fingers went to the pendant. He felt nothing. Not even the flush of warmth against his skin that always accompanied the touch. He couldn't stop the gasp that rose from him, but managed to swallow the dread. It would serve him no purpose.

"We go, Great Lord. Pretty Witch waits."

Damn the unholies.
Bolin pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. His thoughts fragmented, spun up and away like a dust devil. The witch couldn't have performed the blinding on him so quickly. Not from such a distance. He found it hard to believe she knew how to do it at all. She must have found a way to use the wraith to carry a spell, something in its touch, perhaps. He could break it if he could draw up even a tiny bit of Nialyne's power, but trying--

Lightning flashed behind his eyelids and tore through his skull. He needed Dain. Needed to let Berk back get them back to safety.

"No matter. Perhaps I'll take her instead."
Ciara's image trailed behind his eyes and Bolin hesitated.
"Do you think I cannot reach behind Nisair's walls and pluck her like a fruit ripe for the taking? You know she will give herself willingly to save you."

"Leave her be."

"Your choice. Come to me, or lose her. See everyone turn against you and then watch them fall to me one by one. Do you think your emperor can stand against me with nothing but a handful of mages? They cannot defeat me. Not without you. You are their greatest weapon, and you will be shattered. You watched your brothers succumb to the madness. The wraiths have shown me the memory buried deep within. You watched them fall, their life's blood soaking into the ground at your feet. Will yours stain the land red? Will your pious mother mourn your passing? Where is she now? What aid does she offer her most precious son?"

"I will destroy you," Bolin said between gritted teeth. He swiveled back toward Grumnlin. "Where is she?"

"I take you."

Bolin cast a look Berk's way.

"Your time grows short. Each moment you waste will make it harder to undo the blinding."

"You'll lead him to me, won't you?"

Berk's brow furrowed. "Sir?"

You will need to trust the strength of others…
The Goddess had told Bolin that when she appeared to give him her warning. Had she foreseen this?

"And where are you now?"
he thought.

The witch's laughter trickled down his spine, fainter than it had been.
"She has deserted you. It is what she does to those who would hold her most dear."

The last bit of sunlight winked through the dancing leaves. Even a tracker as good as Sully wouldn't be able to find and follow a trail in the dark. He could be leagues away by morning.

"Where is she?" he asked Grumnlin.

He sniffed. "North. We go north."

"North is a big wide place." Bolin lowered his voice, not bothering to disguise the malice beneath the words. "Where?"

When Grumnlin didn't answer, Bolin crossed the distance between them and grabbed him by the lapels, lifting him off his feet. Grumnlin squealed, his eyes rounding, and Berk took half a step forward.

"Where are you to take me?"

"North."

Bolin gave him a rough shake.

"Near dead place," Grumnlin said and his voice cracked. "All dust and bones and rubble. By the giant's finger. North. I take you there."

"Kensing Tor?"

Grumnlin squirmed in Bolin's grip. "Don't know fancy name. Only know dead place by bony finger pointing at sky."

Bolin lowered him back to the ground, and Grumnlin scampered off a few paces, straightening his coat and glowering. The orange flicker of torches appeared in the direction of the road and faint voices drifted on the light breeze. By now the battle had to be over. They would be seeing to the wounded, taking stock of the situation, getting ready to move on or set up camp. Bolin should be back there. He had a duty to those men.

He had a duty to the man watching him as though he had gone mad before his very eyes. A very distinct possibility. Dain wouldn't let Bolin go so lightly. He'd send at least a scouting party out, would probably try casting for them.

"He cannot sense you any more than you can sense him. You are hidden from the world. Go to him. By the time you return to Nisair, you will have lost your most precious possession."

"General?"

Bolin pulled his focus back to Berk. "It's not the head injury."

"What's that?"

"The reason for my behavior. It's not this." Bolin reached up to gingerly touch the side of his skull, wincing as he did so. "I wish it was. Donovan's witch…" He stared at the ground between them, trying to decide how to best explain it, and finding every comparison he came up with to be inadequate. He couldn't force the words out. Couldn't admit what she had managed to do, because he still didn't believe it himself. "I guess you could say she's disarmed me. The longer this goes on, the worse it will get."

"The witch? Is that the same woman who came to me?"

Bolin nodded.

"Then can't the Emperor help?"

"If I don't heed her demands, she'll go after Ciara."

"No disrespect, sir, but, given your current condition, can you be sure it's not--"

"All in my head?" Bolin's mouth twisted. "Not entirely. But I'm not willing to take that chance."

Berk glanced toward the road.

"Go." Grumnlin said, folding his arms across his barrel-like chest. "Go tell great man. Pretty Witch eat all men's hearts then."

"I won't gamble with Ciara's life," Bolin said, ignoring Grumnlin. 

Grumnlin stomped his foot, glaring up at first one and then the other of them. "We go now."

"I don't take my orders from you," Berk said, an edge of temper to his voice.

"Apparently, you don't take them from me either," Bolin said. "Or you would have left when I told you to."

"I'll be quite honest, sir, I'm going to be a bit selective in that regard." Berk tipped his head toward his sword still lying in the grass between them. "Can I have that back? I'll be of more use to you if we come across marauders."

"Berk--"

"We can go, or you can kill me. That right is still yours after what I did on the wall. You mentioned Kensing Tor? How far is it?"

"Two or three days."

"We've no supplies beyond a water skin." He reached back to touch the one hanging from his belt as though ensuring himself of its presence. "I'm a fair hunter with a crossbow, not so much with blades. This time of year there isn't going to be much to scavenge."

"I'm sure between the two of us we'll come up with something," Bolin said, though in all honesty, the very thought of eating seemed the most trivial of concerns. Clinging to what remained of his sanity took all the energy he could spare. "We've both had to make due for short stretches."

Bolin could see just enough of Berk's expression in the waning light to get a glimpse at the thoughts passing through the man's mind. A great deal of skepticism travelled there, right alongside concentration, as he no doubt calculated the odds surrounding several different courses of action.

Bolin retrieved Berk's weapon and held it out, keeping a hand on it when Berk reached to take it.

"We're going to need to exercise a bit of trust here," Bolin said. "I'm going to trust you not to do anything rash, if not for my sake or your own, then for Ciara's. I'm not a fool in that regard. I know you hold a fondness for her. I don't believe you want to see her harmed any more than I do."

Berk wet his lips. "If I've given you the impression--"

"You, in return, are going to trust that how I'm handling this is the only way it can be done. I'd rather not kill you but, honestly, if you think to run back to the Emperor, or you undermine me in any way, that's a very real possibility. Am I clear?"

"Aye," Berk said, no hesitation, though the acknowledgement came grudgingly.

Bolin nodded and released his sword. "Then let's move out. We need to be well away by morning."

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Whether the general was in his right mind or not, Berk couldn't deny the man knew how to sour a trail. They doubled back more than once, waded a narrow creek for at least half a league, leaving it several times only to backtrack to it again. When they finally left it behind altogether, they kept to the rocks along the shore. They kept the creature between them, the general in the lead, leaving Berk to bring up the rear. Though the two men remained silent, Grumnlin kept up a near constant stream of grumbling and muttering that Berk prayed wouldn't draw any marauders still lurking about.

A bit before dawn, the general called a halt. They took shelter in a natural lean-to caused by a large, fallen tree laid across several boulders. Small for the three of them, but invisible until you were right on top of it. They'd only found it because Grumnlin had nearly fallen into it when he tried to scamper across the tree.

"I'll take first watch," the general said. "We'll stay here until mid-day, then find some water before going on."

Berk nodded agreement, though he didn't plan on sleeping. He hated to admit it, but he didn't trust the general not to take off and leave him there. Berk had gotten so turned around during the night, he wouldn't be sure of which direction they were heading in until the sun came up.

"We'll need food as well," Berk said, settling against a rock. "I've got some dried meat, but it won't get us far."

"No like dried old meat," Grumnlin said, throwing himself to the ground and curling into a ball. He mumbled something else and followed it up with a soft snore.

"You shouldn't have come after me." The general sat at the opening of their shelter, turned slightly so Berk could see the side of his face. He'd washed the blood off when they first found the creek during the night, but it still matted his hair to his head, and he refused to let Berk take a look at the wound. "There won't be anything you can do to help me."

"I can make sure you get where you need to be," Berk said.
And if the Goddess smiles on us, Sully will see the signs I left and find us before the witch does.
Bringing up the rear had proven advantageous in that regard. Though, more than once, Berk feared the general would spot his handiwork when he led them back across their own trail.

"And then what?" Bolin asked.

"I don't know, because, honestly, I have no clear idea what in the Goddess's name is going on."

The general's chuckle sounded dark and bitter. "And she's no intention of telling anyone."

"How about you tell me then?" Berk didn't mean to give voice to the request at all, let alone do so in such a heated tone, as though the general was some new recruit that had gotten on Berk's nerves as opposed to being one of the most powerful men in the empire. "I'm sorry, sir."

The general waved off the apology. "Don't be. You deserve to have a better understanding of what you've gotten yourself into. How much do you know of magic?"

"Nothing really," Berk said. "Not beyond what I've had to deal with recently, that is, and I don't claim to understand one bit of that. No one in my family has any, and I've only been tended by gifted healers a time or two. Quite honestly, I have a newfound appreciation for why Commander Garek refers to it the way he does."

Surprisingly, the comment brought a grin to the general's face. "He is a bit opinionated on the subject." He shifted, his eyes softened, and a frown creased his face. "This witch of Donovan's has threatened the empire. She's far more than any of us knew. Far more than Donovan suspected. She means to use me to see her plans brought to fruition. I won't allow that to happen." He lifted his gaze to Berk's. "There may come a time when killing me is your only option. You won't want to hesitate."

"General--"

He held up a hand to still Berk's protest. "This isn't the raving of a madman. Not yet, anyhow, though I can't say how long that will remain true. It's becoming more and more difficult for me to fight off. The witch, what she's done--" His breath hitched and he looked away. The first faint light of dawn showing the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

"There is magic everywhere, visible to anyone gifted, if they care to see it." His words came hoarse and rough and he cleared his throat before going on. "But even those of great power see only a small fraction of what's actually there, and generally only if they're looking for it. I see it all. Always. I need to, as desperately as I need breath itself. Somehow, the witch has robbed me of that ability. If I keep my focus elsewhere, I can fool myself into thinking it's not as dire as it is. The longer I remain without it, however, the worse it will become."

Berk knew he risked the general's temper, but he asked anyhow, "And you still insist the Emperor can't help?"

"Perhaps he could," Bolin replied, with a weary sigh and no hint of anger. "But I've already told you, if I go to him, the witch will go for Ciara. Are you suggesting I sacrifice her?"

"Of course not, but, if you don't mind my asking, what exactly is it you intend to do? Once we get to the witch, that is?"

"Destroy her," he said bluntly. "And before we go any further, I'll have your oath that you'll kill me should I fail, because what I'll become in her hands is something no one will be able to stand against. Not the Emperor. Not the mages. Likely not even the Goddess herself."

"General--"

"You had the opportunity to turn aside. You didn't take it. Now, I want your oath."

"How am I supposed to stop you if no one else can?"

"There'll be a small space of time. You'll know it when you see it. If you don't strike then, the empire could very well be lost."

Berk shook his head. "There has to be another way."

Bolin turned and gestured toward the Imperial crest on Berk's tabard. "When you took the colors, you swore to protect this land and its people, as well as the Emperor. If you aren't going to uphold that pledge, you're not the man I thought you were."

Berk's chin lifted, a spark of indignation heating his cheeks. "I'll do what I have to."

The general blew out a sigh and turned his back. "I suppose that's all I can hope for, then."

Berk swallowed his retort and instead sent up a fervent prayer he would never have to make that decision. Right or wrong, such an act would destroy him, right along with any semblance of peace he had finally found. Thinking how the general's death would affect Ciara, especially at his hands, only made the matter worse. She claimed not to hold anything against Berk for anything he'd done, but even if she believed the necessity of the general's death, Berk knew she would never look at him the same afterwards. The general spoke true. If it came down to the safety of the empire, Berk would have to take action, regardless of jeopardizing any affection Ciara might hold for him. That was a dream, anyhow. One he needed to set aside because, no matter the outcome, Ciara would never be his.