Blood Bond (The Stones of Terrene Chronicles Book 4), page 29
Whatever that red light meant, it wasn’t good. Not good at all.
Master Videl stalked forward and grabbed Jade’s chin, his fingers curling into her skin. He stared down at her, his black eyes alight with a mixture of emotions. Anger. Fear. Sorrow. Hatred.
“When you see Zak Monomi,” his voice was low, raw. “Do not hesitate. You will fight him and take him to where his life hangs on a string. I will be the one to kill him. But you will be the one to destroy him.”
A thrill ran through Jade at his words. She would take that Void-cursed Monomi down to his knees and make him beg to be killed by her hand— and then she’d give her master her blade to end the man.
Jade bowed. “I won’t let you down, Master.”
“See that you don’t.” Videl pointed at Serena, his hand trembling in the throes of his impassioned state. “You will fight Geist and Ben. And while I want them alive and dying at my feet, I will accept their deaths just as readily.”
Serena exhaled loudly, her eyes wide, and almost pleading.
He turned away. “Now follow me.”
Jade tossed her last bit of orange in her mouth, savoring the tangy sweetness as she went after Videl. She was going to earn her keep. Finally.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Christopher
Christopher ran for his life.
The courtyard was like he’d remembered: training grounds on one side, the lush garden on the other, and the towering face of Magus Heights in the center. Stone pillars framed tall arched doorways, hints of light within peeking through the stained glass.
Zaborah loped alongside Christopher, her bloodied sword waving forward and back as she pumped her arms. She gave a scant nod to the door they ran toward.
“How many,” she sucked in a lungful of air, “do you think will be there now?”
A shout rang out behind them, and Christopher shot a quick look over his shoulder. Fresh guards poured out of the center palace doors. They split, a portion chasing after Raine, a portion pursuing them.
Christopher’s body tingled. It was just the two of them against however many were behind them, let alone inside the dais room.
They were going to die.
A glance at Zaborah’s stony expression told him that she knew it too.
What chance they’d had at sneaking in and out with subtlety was long gone. Now they just had to complete the mission.
A slight whooshing sound passed his ear, and an arrow rebounded off the courtyard wall ahead of them. Panic lent a new burst of speed to his breakneck sprinting.
Five hundred paces.
The clatter of pursuit blended with the crackle of fire and screams from the other end of the courtyard.
Four hundred paces.
He and Zaborah wordlessly started zigging and zagging as arrows peppered the air.
Three hundred paces.
Two––blinding pain tore through Christopher’s calf. He collapsed, hand flailing for the source of agony. An arrow pierced his leg.
Zaborah swore and grabbed his arm, hauling him up. She started dragging him to the doorway, the tendons in her neck pulsing with each ragged breath.
He hobbled, trying desperately to reach the doorway, to put whatever barrier possible between them and their pursuers. Even if for only a second. Anything to get him closer to the dais. The guards were likely a mix of Elph and bonded humans, but if he, Raine, and Ben succeeded, the bonded would be free.
The teammates he left behind stood a chance if half their pursuers left them alone.
Emotional exhaustion hit Christopher like an arrow to the heart. Zaborah was an excellent fighter, but even with half the guards out, she didn’t stand a chance.
He was tired of those under his watch dying.
But there was no escape. Not for her, not for him. Her breath mingled with his as she took on most of his weight, pulling them closer to the outer doorway tucked in the wall. Would there be guards in the hall, beyond? Or just the ones by the dais?
She shoved him, and he stumbled into the door, pushing it open while keeping most of his weight on his right leg. She spun around, presumably checking their pursuers while he staggered into the dark hall.
He flailed a hand out and grabbed the deep blue wall covering he remembered was there, hoping the fabric was strong enough to keep him upright. His pant leg stuck to his skin, and blood squelched in his boot. Zaborah nearly ran into him, slamming the door behind her, her eyes wide. She dropped the bar on the door. “We have minutes.”
“Seconds,” he corrected, hissing the last syllable.
She slung his arm over her shoulder, and they moved in tandem to the dais room, the glossy black bricks the same as he’d remembered.
“You ready?” she whispered.
“Are you?”
In response, she yanked open the door.
The lustrous white dais took up the corner point of the triangular room. Shelves and books to their right, and guards rising from the table on their left.
“Go!” Zaborah moved between him and the guards, sword raised.
Christopher limped toward the dais, every step sending lancing anguish through his nerves. It felt wrong, leaving her to them. But she had her role. He had his.
Nearly there.
Zaborah screamed his name, her voice raw, guttural.
Something impacted his back, flinging him forward. It hurt to breathe.
He didn’t need to look to know. A dagger had hit his lung.
He fell. Vision blurred, it almost looked like the white dais was rising up to meet him.
His hand skidded on the white marble, leaving bloody streaks that he saw just before everything winked away, replacing the crimson and ivory of the dais for the wavering lights of emerald and purple on charcoal. The Void.
Then blinding white light.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Raine
Raine wavered in the doorway to the inner chamber, watching Papa obliterate the new guards with his fire. She wasn’t going to leave him behind. Not like this.
“Papa! Come on!”
He glanced back at her, then took steady step after steady step backwards. Too slow. They had to hurry.
She reached out, grabbed the collar of his shirt, and yanked him back in with her. The fire stuttered off his fingers, and she slammed the heavy wood door shut, enclosing them in a short, dark hallway. Curtains covered the wall, providing a small semblance of protection from the frigid outside, and helping to muffle their noise.
“We have moments,” Papa gasped out.
She nodded, already making her way to what had to be the door to the dais room. Glossy black bricks framed the door. Just like Christopher said.
Doubts assailed her even as her fingers wrapped around the golden handle.
What would Papa do without her? What would she do without him by her side? How would she get through the sleepless nights? How would he remember to not match his brown socks with his blue vest? He was the one constant in her life, and she in his. Yes, she had Ben now, but Papa …
Papa was her family, too. All she’d had her whole life. He was the one who’d raised her. Protected her. Defended her. Encouraged her to learn how to fight. Played along with her dry humor.
Helped her not to wallow in her darkness.
A sob hitched in her throat, and she struggled to breathe around it. This was what would save him. Protect him from the armies of bonded. Protect him from the possibility of being bonded. Give him a future of not being on the run. Let him retire in some town as a healer and enjoy the rest of his years.
Papa’s hand slipped onto her shoulder, silently squeezing, silently filling her with strength.
If Christopher was right, there’d be a guard or two in there. They could handle that.
She blew out her breath and held her blade ready. She looked at Papa and raised an eyebrow.
His grin crinkled his eyes, and he looked back at one of the sconces on the wall. He held out his hand and a ribbon of fire arced through the air to dance on his fingertips.
His smile sobered. “I’m proud of you, you know.”
A lump wedged itself in her throat. “Tell me after we get past the guards.”
Papa must’ve had a wall of fire in the courtyard to buy them this many seconds, as it was.
He nodded and dropped her hand so he could put his hand on the door handle. “On two. You first. One, two!” He yanked open the door.
Adrenaline surged, and she rushed past him, taking in the details of the room as she entered.
Large, square, white dais in the back, a table with chairs in the corner, high ceiling, five guards.
Five to two. Difficult, but not impossible.
Then the guards started moving. The closest drew a curved sword and charged at her. She easily blocked his strike, but the force of his blow had her backpedaling. She pushed against the wall and struck at the first Elph, catching his wrist, then his head. Fire flared behind her, followed by the now-familiar stench of burnt flesh.
The burst of light threw a shadow against the wall, and she whirled, her boot sliding on the bloodied floor. She caught her balance in time to back closer to the dais and give herself a moment more of space.
Papa had one down already, and was currently fighting both of the guards at the same time. Blood seeped from his shirt.
“Papa!” But then she had to focus on her own enemy, a long-haired man with perfect teeth bared in a snarl. She ducked as she blocked a blow, backing up, giving ground. Were all Elph this strong? The ones in the courtyard weren’t like this. Maybe these were elite? She couldn’t afford to look away from him, but how close to the dais was she? She couldn’t risk going over yet, she needed to say goodbye, needed one final hug.
“Spook, go!” Papa clenched his fist, and fire incinerated the man closest to him. Ropes of fire curled around the waist of the next, and his screams curdled Raine’s blood.
Her opponent didn’t look away from her. She struck out, giving herself over to the battle, the sword, her defense, her offense. Red flashed in her vision, and she stumbled, stomach heaving. Simon. She’d murdered him in cold blood, and now she was giving herself over to the cold-blooded instinct again? What was she—
A wall of flames showered over her like a glowing shield of pure heat. She dropped her sword and fell to her knees, shaking. Papa’s defense curved upward, swallowing her opponent. She blocked his screams from her ears. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t let it take her down. Not now.
Strong arms gripped her shoulders and pulled her up into a tight hug. “I’m so sorry, Spook.” Papa clutched her close, his heartbeat hammering against hers. He brushed a kiss against her forehead. Eased back. Smoothed a strand of hair behind her ear. Tears filled his eyes. “Now will you let me say it?”
The door burst open. Singed guards poured in.
Papa swept down to grab her sword and pressed it into her hand. “I love you, Spook. Be happy with him. He’s a good lad.” Then he pushed her.
She screamed as she fell, knowing, just knowing, what he’d done. She gripped her sword, tears flowing freely as the new Elph flowed in, surrounding him. His back to her, fire blazing into a wall, blocking out their immediate sight.
Her body met smooth, white stone, the impact jarring her teeth.
And everything shattered into a million rainbow-black shards.
Chapter Sixty
Ben
A stitch flared in Ben’s side, but he merely pressed the flat of his hand into it, still running. He gripped his sword, his steam pistol tucked back in its holster, the water tank nearly empty. No time to refill. There was enough for one last shot, and he wasn’t going to use it unless he needed to.
Right now, he had to reach that dais.
Time seemed to stretch and blur, these final minutes.
Narrow hall with too-bright sconces. A wide room with a long, dark dining table, vibrant tapestries hanging on the walls. Closed door after closed door. Thick woven rugs underfoot, a vase of some sort of blood-red berries.
Snippets of the palace.
A black-and-red clothed servitor, left in a crumpled heap. A young woman also in black-and-red, running away, her screech still ringing in Ben’s ears.
Snippets of the people.
Zak’s Monomi blacks a living, breathing smudge of darkness. Geist’s muttered swearing.
Snippets of his friends.
Then they were there, the hallway narrowing, the angles clearly marking their closeness to the corner of the palace. Black bricks glimmering in the light. A single door, with a glistening handle.
The dais room.
They didn’t slow down. They didn’t hesitate. They lived on borrowed time.
Geist skidded up to the door, then flung it open, letting Zak and Ben enter before him.
Two guards on either side of the door, and three guards in a triangle around the shimmering white dais.
That was all that Ben could tell before the room exploded into chaotic battle.
He used the hilt of his sword to punch the nearest Elph in the stomach, but the Elph had on leather armor that weakened his strike. The Elph staggered back a half step, but then he was already moving, his shortsword swinging at Ben’s face.
Ben drew his sword out of its sheath just enough to parry the attack, the force of which pushed him into Geist’s back. Ben pushed away from Geist with a gasped apology. The dais. He needed to get to the dais. If Christopher and Raine had already made it to theirs, and if he made it to his, and if these ones were bonded, then maybe Zak and Geist stood a chance to survive and get Jade.
His opponent yelled something indistinct as he attacked. A slash to Ben’s cheek was answered by a lunge to the Elph’s side. Parry. Slice. Parry. Score.
Zak shouted something, and it distracted the Elph for a fraction of a second. Ben didn’t hesitate. He stabbed, his blade catching on rib bones briefly before shuddering through flesh.
Ben turned from the dropped body to check on his friends, his feet automatically moving toward the dais. He grabbed at his steam pistol and swore at the leather strap keeping it in place. Geist and Zak had already dispatched two guards, leaving one still battling Geist. There had been another. Where was he?
Ben’s heart stopped at the sight of the open door.
Three entered.
Victor, Serena, and Jade.
Was it the ground that trembled, or Ben? He couldn’t tell.
Chapter Sixty-One
Jade
Jade surveyed the room with cold detachment. Only two dais guards remained, both actively fighting with the intruders. The inky depths of her mind gave names to the men she recognized, but couldn’t fully remember. Ben. Geist. A blur of black pulled her attention, and she snarled as her bond sizzled. Zak Monomi.
Fury gifted her with a surge of energy as she leapt forward, leading with her ebony dagger.
She could feel Serena bounding into action behind her, angling toward Geist.
Ben and Geist meant nothing to Jade.
They were unimportant.
Jade slashed at Zak, vicious hatred searing through her veins like steam powering an engine. Zak spun at the last second, barely blocking her. Despair and grief flashed across his face as he fought to avoid her blade.
She flicked her wrist in the new move Serena had taught her yesterday. Coal-colored fabric ripped, and blood oozed on Zak’s arm.
Beyond, Videl laughed.
Jade would make him proud this day. She swore it.
Anguish shone in Zak’s eyes, and Jade had no problem using that to press her advantage. He had superior strength, but he wasn’t using it. Step by step, he gave ground. Instead, he wasted energy, trying to plead with her. “Jade, snap out of it. Jade, please.” His voice broke at the end.
Pitiful.
“Don’t call me by my name, scum.” Jade scowled. How dare he use her name with such familiarity?
Geist yelled as he fought Serena. “Serena! Stop! It’s me!”
Jade spared a brief glance from the corner of her eye.
Serena fought with tears streaming down her face. No words left her lips, though a thousand apologies shone in her eyes. She lunged with her short sword, the sharp edge slashing through Geist’s coat. He bellowed.
Beyond, the remaining one of Lord Avery’s guards swooped in toward Ben.
Jade grinned mirthlessly.
Master Videl was going to win this round.
Chapter Sixty-Two
Ben
Ben’s vision turned red. All he saw was Victor.
Everything else he was doing could wait.
He had to take out this traitor first. He took a step toward Victor. Another.
The latch on his steam pistol loosened. He tugged it free of its holster.
White pain lanced in Ben’s side, and he fell to his knees with a choked yell, sword and steam pistol clattering to the floor as he grasped at the blood spilling from him. He looked up.
The forgotten guard stood above him, sword dropping faster than Ben could block.
“No!” The cry ripped through the air, taking all the oxygen with it.
Then Geist was there, his body covering Ben, taking the brunt of the swing.
Blood splurted over Ben’s face. Ben gaped at Geist. At the sword half-embedded in his friend’s back.
Torment pinched Geist’s eyes, and he pressed bloodied fingers into Ben’s chest. “Go.”
The guard pulled on his sword to free it, and Geist screamed. Then Serena was there, kicking at the guard. He fell away and she replaced him, squaring off with Geist. Geist collapsed on the floor. Vulnerable. A sheen of sweat glistened on Serena’s forehead, and she jerked in place, lifting her short sword, hesitating. The guard stumbled to his feet, swearing at her.
Ben groped blindly for his steam pistol, grabbed it, and lifted it in one smooth motion. He aimed at the guard and pulled the trigger. The Elph blew backwards in a spray of blood.
His water tank was empty.
That was his last shot.
Serena stumbled forward, lifting her sword again. Geist pushed himself back, his hands leaving crimson streaks on the floor. He didn’t look away from Serena, but his fingers twitched to point to the dais.
