Lord of the Abyss & Desert Warrior (20 page)

Not taking her eyes off the salamander, she said, “My father burned me with a salamander once. I’m so afraid of them.” She’d never before shared her fear with anyone, never before had anyone whom she’d trusted not to use that fear to torment her.

Micah’s wings made batlike flapping sounds as he
flew faster over the lava pools. “I will kill your father, and then you won’t be afraid anymore.”

The order—and it was that—made her want to laugh, even as fear lingered in her veins. Then they were leaving the bubbling pools behind to traverse a barren stretch of desert, the sand appearing to glitter with shards of precious gems. “Micah,” she said some time later, frowning at what she saw, “your wings.”

“I know.” Descending on hot gusts of air, he landed on the brilliant desert sands flecked with red and blue and aquamarine.

She put down the small supply pack she’d been holding and asked him to spread his wings, checking the places where the leathery material had gone translucent. A fine webbing continued to hold muscle and tendon together, but it was fragile, easily damaged. “It must be because you’re carrying me,” she said, frowning. “The strain—”

“No.” Dropping his sword to the sands, he angled his head into the blistering desert winds. “There is a subtle poison in the air. It’s been weakened by entry to this realm and won’t harm our bodies, but my wings, it appears, are vulnerable.”

“Me,” she whispered, knowing the poison spell was anchored to her blood. “This poison attacks us because of me.”

“S
TOP THINKING ABOUT HIM
,
Lily.” Micah scowled at his wings. “Focus on how we will thwart the poison, because without my wings to carry us to the Great Divide, we won’t make it in time.”

Shaking off the cold inside her, she touched one of the translucent patches. “Does it hurt?”

“Yes.”

Her head jerked up, hand dropping.
“Micah.”

“It’s all right.” Reaching back, he poked a hole through the damaged patch. “It’s no use. They’re disintegrating.”

As Liliana watched, the edges of his wings began to curl inward. Horror roiled into her stomach. “You mustn’t take the wings back into your body.”

“I don’t know where they come from, but yes, if they do return to my body, then the poison may succeed in attacking me from the inside. I shouldn’t die while in this realm, but your father’s magic is twisted.” Reaching into his boot, he pulled out a large hunting knife. “You must cut them off, Lily. I can’t reach.”

Her stomach threatened to revolt at the idea of it, but she didn’t hesitate, because if she knew her father, the poison would cause Micah excruciating pain before it killed him. Taking the blade, she shut out everything else, and then, for the first time in her life, took a knife to a living being by choice.

The material of his wings was tough, and she nearly sobbed in grateful joy when the first cut didn’t bleed. But she knew it was hurting Micah, though he didn’t make a single sound. “Almost there,” she whispered, throat raw. “Just a little longer, darling.”

The second curled-up wing fell to the glimmering sand so hot it was starting to sear the bottom of her boots. “There.” Checking the two thin ridges of tissue that remained on his back, she couldn’t see any sign of the poison, but biting down on her lower lip, she used a smidgen of blood magic to make certain. “You can retract those pieces.”

He collapsed to his knees even as the stubs of his wings disappeared into his flesh, black armor closing over the slits. Dropping the knife, she knelt before him, uncaring of the sands burning through her tights. “I’m sorry, Micah. I’m so sorry.” Wrapping her arms around him, she kissed and petted and stroked until he stopped shivering and stood, taking her with him.

“Without my wings,” he said, once more the Lord of the Black Castle, “we’ll need another way to reach the border between realms.”

Now that she could think again, she became aware of the blazing heat once more. “I could use my blood,” she said, beads of sweat trickling down her spine, the valley between her breasts.

Micah shook his head. “No, we need to conserve as much of our strength as possible. Your father is a powerful adversary.”

“Is there another way to use the magic of the Abyss to get us to the border?” Putting her hand up to shade her eyes, she looked around, saw nothing but endless sand in every direction, shimmering and rolling with waves of incandescent heat.

“Yes.” Micah gave her a solemn look. “I can call one of the giant salamanders to carry us the rest of the way.”

Bile rose up in her throat. “It’ll burn us alive.” The creature’s very skin was fire.

“I will protect us,” he said with a gentle caress on her cheek. “You must trust me, Lily.”

The child inside of her, the one who had smelled her flesh sear to the sound of her father’s cruel laughter, scrabbled in panic, but she nodded. “Do it.”

He was already covered by the black armor, but now it swallowed him until only his face remained exposed. Throwing up his arms, he roared to the heavens. A responding roar sounded an instant later. All too soon, the sands began to ripple in a strange wind. When she looked up, it was to meet the hungry gaze of a salamander as it flew on wings of fire to land beside Micah.

Flicking out its forked tongue, it licked at the air, its multifaceted eyes locked on her as if on a particularly tasty snack. It took every ounce of courage she had to allow Micah to lead her to the beast, the heat of which was a burn against her senses. Dropping her hand, Micah jumped onto the back of the creature, sword once more on his back but angled now. “Touch only me, Lily,” he said, reaching down for her.

It wasn’t easy, but he was strong, and he got her—and the supplies she carried—onto his lap without allowing any part of her to come into contact with the salamander. Curling up against him, she held on tight as he used one of his gauntleted and gloved hands to grip several of the thin, flexible spines that grew from the creature’s scaly head. “Rise!”

With a bellow that belched flame, yellow and lethal, the salamander leaped into the air, its wings created by pure fire and thus unaffected by her father’s curse of
poison. Terror chilled the blood in her veins, made her teeth chatter, her chest twist to painful tightness.

The salamander continued to bellow with fiery breaths. “It’s not happy,” she managed to get out past the fear.

“It is an elemental creature. As with the wind, you cannot tame it.” Angling his body to the left as the salamander banked away from a roiling spurt of sand that punched up from the ground, he tucked her impossibly closer. “It flies faster than I do. We’ll reach the border in plenty of time.”

It was, Lily knew, from that point on that their journey would become more difficult. Once they crossed the boundary between the realms, they would be in the kingdoms, but far from Elden. Covering the remaining distance on foot would take too long, so they’d have to find some other way, but that was a problem for another time. Right now, she had to focus on keeping her sanity.

Later, she would remember the hellish heat, the noxious scent of sulfur, but most of all, she would remember Micah’s arm holding her, implacable and strong as steel, his body her haven. They flew for hours, over the glimmering sands, over the eerie marshlands filled with flickering lights and six-legged animals that loped and cackled, over the waving red grasses that hid the cunning predators with the sharp teeth, over the mountains of ice so cold a man without magic would freeze before taking a breath, until finally, they came to the rolling plains of verdant green.

The Great Divide lay on the other side.

Sweeping down, the salamander bellowed again, scorching the grasses to nothingness and burning the earth to black on landing. Alighting as quickly as possible, Liliana somehow managed to stay on her feet,
though her legs were cramped, her muscles stiff. Heart in her throat, she fought not to scream for him to get away as Micah walked around to face the beast, so near that mouth that could easily belch flame. “I thank you, friend,” he said, rubbing that huge scaly head with a gloved hand.

To Liliana’s shock, the salamander dipped its head to the side, as if shy. Suddenly unable to bear her own cowardice, she forced her legs to move forward until she was close enough to look into one of those multifaceted eyes. “My thanks,” she whispered, her voice hoarse.

Coming around to stand beside her, Micah said, “Fly home.”

Wings of flame shot out on either side of the salamander and then it was ascending with a roar of yellow flame against the darkening sky. Tracking its blazing progress, she was forced to admit that it was a magnificent being—one that would forever scare her, that much she knew, but at least now the terror wouldn’t debilitate.

“Come, Lily.” Taking her hand in his, Micah led them to the very edge of the Great Divide.

A crossing such as this, she thought, must only exist in the Abyss and the Always. It offered passage to all of the realms, but the shimmering wall of magic could not be passed by most mortals. However, Micah, as the Guardian of the Abyss, had the right to cross it at will. “The ability is, I think,” he’d said when she’d brought up the point, “a fail-safe lest one of the condemned manages to slip into another realm.” Now, he touched his fingers to the rippling sparks of color, and it was as if the magic sighed in welcome. “Yes, this part of the crossing will take us to the kingdoms.”

She came into the protection of his arms and he stepped through the barrier. The experience was… Like
being kissed with magic, if such a thing was possible. Yet there was a subtle menace to the sensation—if she hadn’t been held in Micah’s arms, the shield would’ve repudiated her with wrenching violence.

“It’s done.”

Liliana saw that they were in a night-dark wood. “What is this place?”

“The path to a borderland village.”

“Micah.” She touched his left cheekbone—where he was now marked by the symbol of a sickle and a sword crossed. “The sign of the Abyss.”

“To ensure no one forgets who it is who walks among them.” He took her little pack. “Come—the screaming pines mark the village boundaries.”

The trees lived up to their name as they approached, keening and wailing, their arms waving in agitation. As a result, the villagers beyond were waiting for them armed with scythes and pitchforks. A single look at Micah and they dropped their weapons, turning as pale as ghosts. A few ran. However, a sturdy man with a peg leg and a tremor along one side of his face walked forward. “My lord. Do you come for us?”

Micah put one gauntleted hand on the brave man’s shoulder. “Your soul is not black. I seek the services of Esme.”

A whispering sounded from the gathered villagers, but the shoulders of the man who’d spoken were suddenly set with pride. “She be my wife, then—I’m her George.” A beaming smile. “Come with me, honored lord.”

Liliana heard the words
ugly
and
hook-nosed creature
as she passed, and though it hurt, it was a hurt she could shrug off. Because Micah didn’t think she was ugly even though he knew about beauty, had seen the stun
ning women in the village below the Black Castle. “You didn’t tell me about any Esme,” she whispered.

He angled his head to stare curiously at a fat tabby cat that watched them from beyond the bubbled windowpane of some prosperous tradesman’s house. “I didn’t know if the wind mage lived here still. Bard has been gone from this realm for many moons.”

“A wind mage.”
Bard, I think I adore you.

“Here we are,” their guide said at that moment, leading them to a small cottage surrounded by cheery blossoms closed up for the night. “Esme! We have guests! Put on the stew!”

Suddenly realizing how hungry she was, Liliana said nothing to counteract the man’s order as they followed him inside—to come face-to-face with a round dumpling of a woman with red cheeks that turned white as soon as she glimpsed Micah. “Now look here,” she said, though her voice shivered with terror, “I don’t do no evil.”

“Bard sent us,” Micah said before Liliana could attempt to assuage the woman’s fear.

Esme’s mouth fell open. “Bard?” Collapsing into a chair, though the Lord of the Black Castle stood in front of her, she gaped. “I did save his life once and he promised to repay me, but to send the Guardian…”

Micah retrieved a velvet pouch from their pack of supplies. “Payment.”

Esme watched as her husband opened the pouch to pour a tumble of rubies, emeralds and diamonds onto his palm. He, too, collapsed into a chair. Not waiting for an invitation, Micah took a seat, and so did Liliana.

“For this much wealth, my lord,” Esme said in a quiet, worried voice while her husband ignored what was a king’s ransom to close his hand over her own, “ye either want my soul or my life.”

“Neither. Lily.”

Aware of the couple looking at her with stark curiosity, this odd creature who walked with the dread lord, she said, “We need to reach the heart of the kingdom of Elden before midnight tomorrow. You speak to the winds?”

Esme swallowed. “I’m no powerful mage, milady. I can only whisper.”

Her husband shook his head, pride in every sinew and tendon. “My Esme can get you halfway to that godforsaken kingdom—pardon my words, my lord, but that’s the way it is—and from there, ye ask for two night-horses from her sister Emmy’s husband.” He paused. “Night-horses be temperamental.”

“I’m sure we’ll be fine.” She knew the powerful animals would serve Micah, for he was as pure of heart as any creature of the land. As for her, oddly enough, most animals seemed to accept her, in spite of her tainted blood.

“Right, then.” George rubbed his thumb over Esme’s knuckles. “With the night-horses, you’ll be in Elden proper by tomorrow eve, well before midnight.”

Liliana nodded. “Thank you.” Perhaps her actions in going to Micah had changed the future so events wouldn’t come to pass as she’d foreseen, but she could not—would not—take that chance. Nothing would be certain—Micah’s land, his siblings not safe—until her father was dead.

N
OT LONG AFTERWARD, HAVING
eaten a simple, hearty meal, they stood in the flickering shadow of a torch held by George as his rose-cheeked wife said, “If ye would stand closer to one another.” She twisted her hands together.
“Close as ye can. Otherwise, the wind might tear ye apart.”

Micah wrapped his arms around her, strong as iron, as she slipped hers around his waist, his armor warm under her touch. Its presence confirmed her theory that the armor was created from his own innate magic. As such, it would protect him against her father—but not forever, for the Blood Sorcerer was a man malignant with the life force of innocents.

“Good journey, my lord and lady,” Esme said, and lifted her hands.

Her face and that of her husband was obliterated by a tornado of wind an instant later, a tornado that ripped them from the earth and made them fly. If she hadn’t been locked tight around Micah, she might well have been torn asunder in a spray of blood and flesh. As it was, she was aware of his body curving over her own in an effort to protect her from the punishing might of the wind.

Her Micah.

Strong.

Honorable.

Wonderful.

Liliana couldn’t have said how long they traveled trapped within the windstorm, but she would’ve crumpled to her knees in the empty courtyard of what looked to be a small inn when the journey ended, had Micah not been standing solid as a stone wall beside her.

“Now maybe,” he said, a touch of wickedness to him, “the salamander doesn’t look so bad.”

“I wouldn’t go that—” She broke off as a couple, their nightclothes flapping at their ankles, clattered out of the inn, torches held aloft. “Micah, if they do indeed have night-horses, I think we should rest here,” she said to
him before Esme’s sister—and with those cheeks, it was surely her—and her husband came within earshot. “It’ll be the only chance we have before Elden.”