Edge of Darkness ~ A Darkness & Light Novel Book Three (28 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Bolin carried out his duties at Nialyne's ceremony, before the gathered populace of the Greensward, and under the blanket of Dain's wards, with solemn reverence. He had no doubt it shocked one and all when he asked Maurar to assist him. A look of momentary skepticism crossed the elder's face, as though he suspected some trickery on Bolin's part.

"I believe it is what Nialyne would have wanted," Bolin said.

Maurar studied him for a long moment before the contempt washed from his face to be replaced by sorrow.

At high night, in a glade encircled by rustling trees, they laid the Greensward's most precious treasure upon a deep green slab of stone that resonated with power. A lay of passing lifted into the night from the tongues of hundreds. Maurar stood at Nialyne's head, Bolin at her feet, heads bowed. As the song came to a close, Bolin and Maurar drew in the power of the Greensward and folded it carefully over Nialyne's shrouded form. Here, in this one instance, they worked in complete harmony, shaping the glowing strands of the Greensward's magic into a detailed effigy of Nialyne that would endure as long as the land itself.

Bolin lost himself to the working, unaware of the night crawling slowly toward dawn, until they finished with the first lightening of the sky. Exhaustion crept up on him, but he stayed until each citizen of the Greensward passed by to pay their respects. Even after the last of them filed past and the elders took their leave, Bolin remained. When the sun broke through the trees to bathe the effigy in dappled gold, he went, first in search of Blyth to ask her to assemble the elders once again, then to find Dain.

"We're ready to move out as soon as you are," Dain said, when Bolin finally tracked him down in the dining hall. The Emperor's gaze swept over Bolin in silent appraisal. "Unless you'd rather wait a day or so?"

Bolin shook his head and handed Dain a rolled parchment. "I need you to sign this first. Without argument."

Dain scanned the carefully penned contents of the document, glancing up every now and again with a disapproving frown playing across his face. "I don't support this."

Bolin expected as much, but said nothing, only handed Dain the quill and jar of ink he'd brought with him.

"Why don't you hold off on this until we get back to Nisair and you've had some time to clear your head? If you still think it wise, I won't stand in your way."

"My head is clear." Bolin gestured impatiently at the scroll. "The elders are waiting on me."

Dain's disapproval morphed into a full-blown scowl. He shook his head as he spread the scroll open on the table and scrawled his signature next to the already affixed seal.

The elders turned from their hushed conversations when Bolin and Dain entered the Grand Hall. Maurar looked bleary-eyed and rumpled, his gaze carefully guarded. Bolin experienced a single moment of hesitation before crossing the room to stand before him.

He cleared his throat, and pushed the words out before they stuck behind his teeth. "With the Emperor's blessing, I cede to you the office and title of Steward of Galys Auld, with all rights and privileges afforded."

Bolin held the scroll and chain of office out to Maurar. The man actually looked shocked. For a moment, it even appeared as though he might actually refuse, but then he took the proffered items and bowed stiffly. Dain stepped forward, only a hint of disapproval lingering in his expression, and Maurar knelt before him as the Emperor took his oath. Blyth caught Bolin's eye and gave a small nod in approval.

Finished with his oath, Maurar stood, bowed once more to Bolin, and strode away. With the elder went another piece of Bolin, lost forever.

***

They reached the northern border of the Greensward by late afternoon. Bolin chose the quickest route, and held them to a steady canter for most of it. The Emperor gave Bolin his peace, either through kindness or anger, which, in turn, gave Bolin time to think.

He expected handing stewardship of Galys Auld over to Maurar, and leaving the Greensward for what may well have been the last time, would have caused him more grief. It had. At first. The further they rode, however, the more the finality of events seemed to loosen the iron bands clenched tightly around his chest until, with the border drawing near, they fell away altogether, leaving behind a strange sense of release.

Initially, that bothered Bolin, because letting go felt too much like a betrayal of Nialyne's memory. He wrestled with that for a bit, before he could convince his thoughts to wander elsewhere.

The shock of the Goddess's visit, combined with the depths of his anger at her, had blinded Bolin to the enormity of the incident. He'd been so deeply mired in his own misery, he couldn't see beyond it. That little sliver of the witch's magic the Goddess, Thadeus, and Dain saw as a problem, Bolin saw as a tool. Or, more accurately, as a weapon. Granted, using it tended to bring mixed results. No doubt it aided him in locating the witch, but it had also come very close to killing him. No, worse. It came very close to shredding him, and remaking him into something completely different.

Over the course of his years, Bolin had found himself tempted by power, wavering on the edge of grasping it. He couldn't deny that. Never did that temptation originate from within, however. Then again, he rarely held power for any length of time and, when he did, he always had control of it. The witch's power defied his efforts to find it, and seemed to delight in rising up without warning. When Bolin thought about that last fact, something very close to panic threatened to overwhelm him.

If the Goddess was right, Bolin saw only one course of action. He needed to find a way to control the witch's magic, and use it to put an end to her once and for all. He risked losing himself, but the alternative meant putting everyone he cared for, everyone he swore his life to protect, in danger.

Their arrival at the Eastern Road pulled Bolin out of his thoughts. He held Sandeen back to fall in alongside Dain.

"We'll need to talk when we make camp," Dain said.

Bolin nodded. "Aye. And, as we're on our way back, perhaps you'll share with me what Ari's message contained? Or had you hoped I'd forgotten?"

"As a matter of fact, I'd forgotten. It's a small issue, in the face of all else."

"But you're concerned I won't agree with that assessment?"

Dain glanced his way. "I'm quite certain you won't. Don't give me that look. It's well in hand at the moment, and we're a long way from Nisair. There's little you could do save brood, and you do enough of that during the normal course of the day."

"If something's happened to Ciara, I've a right to know."

"What makes you think it has anything to do with Ciara?"

When Bolin merely tipped his head and gave Dain a pointed glare, the Emperor blew out an exasperated sigh.

"As far as I know, Ciara is fine," he said. "The Council, on the other hand, is having difficulty dealing with recent events, and Ari has her hands full dealing with them. She is, however, more than capable of doing so. In any case, given the leagues between us and Nisair, we'll have to trust to her tact and diplomacy to keep order until our return. A more pressing concern, is getting you back so Thadeus can find a way to rid you of that stray magic."

Bolin scratched his jaw. "As you said, we need to talk."

A rain-scented breeze swept in from the east as dusk set in. Sandeen pranced restlessly, ears flicking, and Bolin reached out to stroke the stallion's neck. He tossed his head, sidling sideways. It brought a frown from Dain as he edged his own horse out of the way. Bolin swiveled in the saddle to look down the line of men riding two abreast behind them. He caught Captain Everyn's eye and tipped his head to signal him forward.

"How many scouts are out?" Bolin asked.

"Two to the fore and flank. One to the rear." Everyn quirked a brow. "You want me to send a few more?"

"No." Bolin scanned the sky and a chill raced up his spine.

Everyn followed his gaze. "Something on the wind, General?"

Time to play.

Dain called Bolin's name sharply, a warning in the tone of it. Bolin turned, following the Emperor's upward gesture toward what looked like a dark cloud scuttling beneath the others. Somewhere down the line, a horse whickered.

"Have the men form up," Bolin said to Everyn, not taking his eyes from the dark shape. "They won't be able to do much besides stand firm and keep their horses from panicking. It looks like we've more than one wraith to deal with this time."

"Aye." The captain spun his mount and cantered back down the line, shouting orders as he went.

The singular shape streaked suddenly downward, fragmenting into first two, then six, then a dozen or more wraiths that streamed toward the column of riders, a high-pitched wail preceding them. Horses screamed in panic, and Bolin prayed the men would hold as Dain's power snapped around them, an opalescent shimmer no wraith could penetrate. As long as the men stayed within its confines they'd be safe. Wraiths relied on chaos as much as fear, and one tended to breed the other.

The first one to hit the Emperor's wards shrieked in pain and fury, veering off before rejoining the others. Sandeen reared as one darted Bolin's way, and the Emperor cursed when his horse lurched forward. Ciara's pendant blazed against Bolin's breast as he pulled magic from it to send hurtling toward the wraith. The specter twisted in mid-air, fluttering like a wounded bird as it crashed to the ground.

"Hold!" Everyn called out, managing to roll command, concern, and warning into the one word. "Stay in ranks."

"To the rear!" Someone yelled, and Bolin spun Sandeen in time to see several soldiers forced beyond the reach of Dain's wards, fighting to bring their terror-stricken horses under control.

They were swarmed as soon as they broke clear of the ward, their horrified screams adding to the confusion. Bolin galloped toward them at the same time as Everyn, but he was better prepared than the captain. He caught a bit of Dain's power, twisted it to suit his purpose, and caught the wraiths unaware. They disintegrated, and a horse that had been enfolded in one of their grasps dropped to the ground with a sickening thud. Sandeen's hooves threw up clods of turf as he sank back on his haunches at Bolin's command.

"Get them back inside the wards," he yelled to Everyn.

Another group of wraiths dove in from the opposite side, streaking low between the trees, twisting and screeching. They seemed far too insubstantial a being to wreak such havoc, but the fear they sowed in the horses traveled through the men like fire through kindling. 

Dain's ward flared outward, eliminating another handful, but for each one that fell, it seemed two more appeared to take its place, until the sky became thick with them. More soldiers were forced down the road, herded away from the main force. The men had the good sense to dismount and fall into formation, but their unified front stood little chance of holding against the swift terror haranguing them.

Bolin gave pursuit. The touch of the wraiths' innate magic chilled him to the bone, but he pulled it in regardless, wrapped a bit of the darker power of the pendant around it, and sent it tearing into the group.

He never saw it hit. The moment Bolin released the bolt, Sandeen screamed, his muscles bunched, and he wheeled to strike out in a move that would have unseated a lesser rider. Bolin twisted, trying desperately to keep the wraiths in sight. Motion to his left caught his eye, but before he could face it, a wraith caught him hard across the chest and ripped him from Sandeen's back. The breath exploded from his lungs, the creature making it impossible to reclaim any of it by sprawling across him. Sandeen's deadly hooves slammed into the ground a scant finger's width from Bolin's head, peppering him with dirt as the horse whirled and danced in a blend of fury and fear.

Bolin bucked upwards, trying to dislodge the wraith before the stallion inadvertently pummeled them into the earth. Needle-like fingernails tore at him, drove through leather and mail, and sent the cold of death seeping through him. With it came every fear, every nightmare, a bombardment of suppressed horror choking him with its potency.

Bolin reached for the power of the Greensward and forced a sizeable jolt of it up into the wraith straddling him. The creature vanished in a flash of brilliance a moment before the side of Bolin's skull erupted in pain and everything went momentarily black.

Instinct sent him rolling until he couldn't any more. He shoved to his elbows, ears ringing, blinking in an attempt to clear his vision. He managed to get to his hands and knees, fighting back a wave of nausea and dizziness. The world around him had gone suddenly quiet. He would have thought it was only the buzzing in his head overriding all other sound, until he heard voices. Or, in actuality, one voice. One voice uttering words of power that slid across his flesh, chilling him worse than any wraith. They slithered beneath his skin to wrap him in a slick embrace and the witch's magic answered like a hound to its master's call.

He gasped, reaching out, frantically seeking any power nearby and finding none. A cold dread filled him. Then the pendant flared once at his breast, as though in defiance, before it, too, became swallowed in waves of black.

"No."

The word fell like a plea from Bolin's lips. Every bit of power, down to the tiniest speck of magic that used to color his world, disappeared from his sight. Though his eyes cleared, showing him the chaos still surging around him, and Sandeen standing quivering, reins tangled in a low shrub, the radiance of Bolin's world had vanished. Horror constricted his throat and stole the moisture from his mouth as his breath shook from his body in stuttering, ragged gulps.