Time Dancer (25 page)

Nothing shone from her face now. It was blank, slack with death and empty of all life. Needlelike pain traced his bondmark. A flame settled there, scalding him. His bondmark was changing. Kya was gone.

“No.” The whisper quivered then slid off his tongue.

“I didn’t mean for her to fall. I swear to you, Your Highness, it was an accident,” the guard at her feet pleaded.

Warric clutched her and wept in loss. His tears fell to her skin, slipping into death with her. He was supposed to protect her. She was supposed to save him. Now there was nothing left.

Insanity crashed into him with a feral strength. His mind split wide and the chaos swarmed in. He didn’t fight it, didn’t care to fight it. If he’d lost Kya, he didn’t want to live, didn’t care where he ended up. The chaos took possession of his mind and his magic.

The guard wept with regret, his hands pressed to his face. Hatred pumped to every inch of Warric’s body, the hunger for revenge baring his teeth and making his mouth salivate. This peon, this nothing who wasn’t fit to fall in her shadow, had killed her.

Warric laid Kya on the ground, his touch lingering on her nose, the button nose that would never wrinkle in impishness again. His hand stretched toward the bright sky and a chant filled his mouth—foreign and fierce, evil and enveloping.

“
Power
,
power
,
all
to
me
.

Earth
,
fire
,
wind
and
sea
.

Give
me
strength
.
Give
me
might
.

To
my
hand
,
power
light
.”

The darker gray clouds from the north swirled in a rush. They converged above him, rumbling with an unnatural storm. The temperature plummeted from cold to freezing and the landscape turned from a winter wonderland to a desolate wasteland. A loud thunderclap crashed.

Pink lightning cracked, splitting the now-dreary sky and hitting his open palm. Warric curled his fingers and trapped the lightning, giving form to the burning light. It crackled and snapped in his grip but took a physical shape like a whip—a deadly whip never conceived by any warlord.

Sparks shot from the pink-lit flogger as he snapped it, learning the feel, feeling the hate take control. The fiery tip licked at the air. He struck the guard who’d killed her in the neck. Flames consumed him.

“Burn, you bastard.” What-had-been-Warric laughed, but inside, behind a steel door of his own making, the lost lover wept.

The channeling took full possession, flicking the magic whip with murderous rage. The air filled with cries for mercy. He had no mercy left. It had died with Kya. Bodies fell around him in smoldering lumps of charred flesh wearing his family colors. Two men ran. Vengeance fired from the lightning whip and they collapsed, flames chewing at flesh and skin.

No one but him remained standing. Smoke drifted in dark plumes. His chest heaved with labored breath, his blood roared with maniacal power and his heart broke in bitter loss.
Not
enough
.

Agony ravaged through him. Every drop of heartache converged with abhorrence and he screamed at the spitting sky. The cottage exploded. Rock and wood shot up, fire and ash rained down. Heat blistered his skin but he kept shouting curses to the empty clouds. The barn detonated. A giant fireball scorched the sleeping garden. His violence destroyed everything in his sight. Everything but a lone rosebush heavy with supernatural color. That he left as a living memorial to Kya.

Insanity brought a strange clarity. He should never have fought the channeling, shouldn’t have denied what he was. Before, the concept of rigid morality had bound his true power, shackled him inside a shell that wasn’t man enough to accept his lot. He was more than a mere channeler. He was the mightiest channeler who ever lived. He was a god.

The periods of blackness he now remembered. The needle-painting on his ass to keep his bitch mother from knowing his path. Slipping powdered poison into a small round cake. Raining arrows down while he watched from the hillside. Sending conjured mountain lions in search of his shared blood. Each magic act had left him drained and weak, near collapse. Battling within himself had been torturous. Now he’d cast off those manacles of
right
and
decent
.

More had to die, had to pay for what had been taken from him. His eyes turned toward Thistlemount. He’d level the castle until nothing but dust was left, dust and charred bones. Let them all taste the pain he’d been force-fed.

Enough heart remained in him that he scooped Kya from the packed snow, cradling her with the most gentle care. She was his never-to-be-crowned princess. She deserved to be laid to rest next to his kin, kin that he would bury as he claimed what was his—all of the Land of Eldwyn.

* * *

The sun was but a crimson sliver over the mountaintops, spilling an unnatural hue across the land. A shiver trickled down Jana’s spine. Thistlemount’s bailey walls filled her not with relief but dread. She sat in complete stillness, staring at her home.

“Something’s not right.”

Darach shook the snow from his pelt then shifted, standing upright as a man. The blood-moon glow on his hair burnished it to mahogany. His face turned up. “I’m being summoned.”

“Home?”

“No.” He turned and faced the closed portcullis. A growl rumbled from his throat. “Evil calls me by name.”

“By name?”

“Yes.” Guardedness turned his muscles to stone. “Wait here.”

“Oh, no.” Jana slithered off the mare’s back. “You’re not going anywhere without me.”

“Come then, and do as I say. This evil is... It doesn’t smell right.”

Darach led her away from the main entry. They crept around the massive wall, into the shadows of the mountains, to the rear gate. A smaller entryway used for goods and livestock, it nonetheless had ironclad defenses. Or should have. The gate stood unbarred, cracked open an inch as if left for them to find. Fright danced on Jana’s nape.

Three guards inside the doorway had been set afire. No smoke wafted from their bodies and each bore a light dusting of snow but the stench was overwhelming. Darach covered his nose while Jana pressed a palm to her mouth. Her gaze scoured the empty backfield. An approaching storm kept all inside. If the attack had been quiet, it could have gone unnoticed.

A hum in her belly chimed like a bell. Where Darach heard a call, she felt the silent summons of blood magic. Like the king’s blood dripping onto the white cloth had stirred something in her, this new call drew her to the east.

She laced her gloved hand with Darach’s. “Come on, I know where we need to go.”

The call grew stronger with each footfall until it took them past the smokehouse, beyond the mews, around the henhouse. Up a slight knoll, the royal family’s cemetery lay like a half-buried skeleton, bonelike tombstones jutting toward the darkening sky. A solitary figure knelt alongside a grave.

Snow crunched under their boots but the figure didn’t look up from the dark bundle before him. Jana gasped as she recognized the swirled gold edging on Warric’s cloak. She dropped Darach’s hand, running toward the grave. Warric couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t be—

Darach jerked her to a halt. “Careful,
nayeli
.”

Warric knelt beside a woman wrapped in his mantle, the edges folded around her like a baby blanket. His tunic was unlaced at the neck and the black rim of a bonded Segur mark, colored by death, peeked through. The lifeless woman had been young and pretty. A cut along her temple had crusted to a blood-black smudge. Long dark hair spilled out as if he’d been stroking it. Yellow roses were tucked in the cloak and Jana wondered where he’d gotten such lovely flowers at this time of year.

“Oh, Warric, I’m so sorry.”

“She didn’t have her shawl.”

The emptiness in his voice frightened her. Madness came with a bondmate’s death. Determination stiffened Jana’s spine. No. She was destined to change this, to prevent this fate. It wasn’t Batu they had to save, it was Warric.

Weather had chapped his face. His cheeks were bright red and his nose shiny. Snow clung to his dark hair and crusted along his goatee. He didn’t shiver. Either the madness kept him warm or he was slipping into a frostbitten death.

Jana pried herself loose from Darach and held out her hand, keeping her voice low and gentle. “It’s cold out here, Warric. Let’s go inside.”

“I can’t leave her.” Something flashed in his gaze. His voice deepened, echoing into the cemetery. “Go away, Jana. I called Darach, not you.”

The tremor in her fingers shifted from cold to fear. Darach said evil had called. Was Warric evil in his broken-bond insanity? Could she reach him, save him from the madness?

“Tell me about her,” Jana whispered. She ignored the bite of ice into her knees as she knelt beside him. “What’s her name?”

Warric’s lips twitched with a sad smile. “Kya. She is...she
was
everything right in my life. I can’t live without her.”

“You can.” Jana gripped his hand. “You can live, Warric. Stay strong.”

“She
was
my strength!” He thrust off her hand. Frenzy shaded his eyes scouring the tall stones. “My grandmother isn’t here. They took her body back to her childhood home. Why? Why isn’t she here with her husband?”

“It doesn’t matter where the shell lies. Her spirit is with his on the other side of life.”

“Other side...” His voice trailed off and his lids closed. “I can’t even hold her there.”

“Jana.” A protective growl underscored Darach’s warning. “Come away.”

“Smell it, do you, bear?” Warric’s eyes snapped to him. A strange glow illuminated his gaze, unlike the light of his normal magic. The malicious lift to his mouth frightened her.

Something more than bonded lunacy endued Warric’s body as he leaped to his feet. A fluid grace enveloped him, a quiet menace that stood each tiny hair on her nape on end. His eyes fluctuated from normal green to searing brilliance. Sweat beaded along his brow despite the winter chill, and his hands clenched over and over.

“I’m fighting to stay in control. Listen to me.”

He sounded so lost. A desperateness echoed in him. Jana stood and stepped forward. Darach blocked her.

The prince pleaded, “You don’t understand. Mama and Grandmother—it’s too much magic. I’m a channeler. I can’t control it. I tried. Kya was helping me but she... I sent the mountain lions. The arrows that killed Argot? That was me. I kept blacking out and...”

Shock knocked into her chest. “Are you sure?”

Sardonic misery twisted his mouth. “I called my grandmother across the veil.”

“Queen Tarsha?” Jana gaped. “You called the dead from the other side?”

“That’s it.” Darach palmed his forehead. “We knew the ancient heartmate spell was the reason behind the threat but not how. The king, when he mated with a spell of pure magic, he tipped the balance of power between the worlds. His son, his bloodline, has the potential to destroy the line not out of malice but because no human mind can contain that much power and not crack.”

“But Batu doesn’t have any magic,” Jana said.

“Not all gifts are passed to every descendant. Warric inherited the gift from both sides.” Darach looked to him with pity. “And only his father’s honor has kept the madness contained.”

It seemed so simple. She believed every word he spoke. Only inhumanly enhanced channeling could give Warric that much magical might. Something inside her wept for the gentle, joking boy she’d known all her life.

Warric threaded his hands through his hair. “There are no channelers at peace. Please, Jana. I know I’ve done some bad things, some terrible, deadly evil things, but I’m not evil. Not completely. Not yet anyway. Help me before it’s too late.”

A sob tore from his throat. He looked heavenward then dropped his chin.

“Part of me wants to flatten Thistlemount to the ground. I could do it easily. I don’t want to. I don’t want anyone else to die. Just me. I just want this to end—the pain, the hurt. But if I die, I don’t go to the other side. I go to the Abyss.”

Fear stole her breath. She couldn’t let that be his final fate.

Clearer than ever before, her destiny spread before her. She and Darach had to save this royal son from an eternity of anguish. Helping Warric ended the threats to Batu. It preserved her homeland. He was the key to everything.

“How can we help?”

Warric fixed his eyes with hers. “Kill me.”

Chapter Fifteen

The flat deliverance sent Jana reeling and she stumbled back into Darach. His arms came around her, cocooning her in a warmth she could barely feel. “No.”

Pity softened Darach’s brow as he stared at the still woman wrapped at Warric’s feet. “The die has been cast but we’re not too late to save the crown and all Eldwyn. Warric must die, Jana.”

“There has to be another way.”

“There is no other way.” The prince sniffed then held out his arms. His tunic sleeves were bloody, healed cuts marring almost every inch of his forearms. “I can’t kill myself. The channeling won’t let me, heals me almost immediately. It has to be you. You break the curse, remember? I’m Eldwyn’s curse.”

“But the Abyss...”

“Once you kill me, the threat is gone. Darach will be called home. I want to go with him, to his realm. That’s the only place I can find peace.”

Denial surged through her and at her back, Darach stiffened. She spun to him, searching for answers she was terrified she already knew. “Can you take us both with you?”

His face was a stony slab. “No. I have but one soul. I can carry with me only one other.”

“Can I call you back? Can I get the queen to call for you again?”

He never blinked as his head shook. “We may answer but one call. I wouldn’t be able to return for you.”

Pain tore her heart to shreds. This wasn’t fair. She was no soldier, had taken no vow to sacrifice for her country. Why should she give up her love and her future?

Acceptance sank into her with a heavy weight. She’d been born for this and had felt that so solidly in her bones, she’d asked for a spell to guide her. She’d gotten her wish and had a duty to fulfill. Destiny was cruel but it knew no master, not even love.

Choice. It held a power few realized. Freedom of choice had empowered two summoned spells to stay with their loves. It also robbed Jana of hers.

“I choose to stay here. You have to save him.” Her whisper closed Darach’s eyes.

“I hate this world.” His voice cracked and he firmed his jaw. “I found one good thing in it and I have to leave you behind. I wish I’d never come here. I feel like my soul is dying.”

Jana laughed, hollow and without humor. “Love never dies. I’ll never stop loving you.”

“My love will last far beyond this world.”

A solitary tear fell from his lashes. It nearly broke her. It seemed so fitting. They had been forged with tears, with heartache, from the very beginning. She stripped her gloves away, needing to feel his skin. She cupped his face and brought his mouth to hers. The tender kiss tasted of mint and memories, things forever branded into her soul. She refused to let tears spoil the flavor.

He took her mouth fiercely, bruising her. Jana did nothing but cling tight, drowning in his kiss. It had to last her a lifetime. She pressed into her mind every line of his body—the strength in his arms, the silk of his hair, the cut-rock of his jaw. Her jagged breath forced her mouth from his. He dipped back once, twice, tasting her again before raising his head.

“It can’t end like this.” The vow grated from him with a granite determination. “If you’ve shown me anything of being human, it’s that they don’t give up. I won’t. Somehow. Somewhere. I’ll return to you, I swear it.”

The bite of his fingers into her arms shored her, giving her the strength to suck back her tears. Not yet. A warrior’s woman never cried in front of him. She just couldn’t stop her chin from quivering.

“Believe, Jana. Time couldn’t part us. I won’t let magic do it.”

“I believe you. I’ll wait, forever if I must.”

His embrace threatened to break her ribs but she didn’t care. A near-hysterical laugh warmed her tongue. He gave her a bear hug.

Long moments passed and they just held on. Melodic words in his native tongue whispered into her ear. She didn’t understand a word but knew exactly what he said. She pressed her lips to his jaw. “Return to me, Darach, my guide, my eternal love. Return to me.”

Darach released her suddenly. He stalked to Warric, his spine straight, shoulders pulled back. He didn’t turn to look at her and Jana was glad. If she gazed into his eyes, she’d crumble. She wiped her nose on her sleeve and looked to Warric instead.

Snow dusted his hair, his shoulders, softening the harsh bleakness on his face. He knelt and pulled a jeweled blade from his boot then extended it to her, hilt first. Her hands shook taking the dagger. The polished silver handle was ice cold and the emeralds dug into her palm. She choked back her fear, her nausea, and looked straight into his face. The sudden realization that not only was she losing her lover, but she also had to kill her friend staggered her. “Warric, I’ve never... How?”

“Between my ribs, fast and hard. One hit, okay? Don’t worry, I won’t feel much.” His lips quivered in a bittersweet smile. “Thank you.”

She had no words to give him.

“No!”

The shriek chilled down Jana’s spine. Queen Myla ran, snow kicking from her feet, skirt bunched high above her knees, dark hair streaming down her back. She slid to a standstill a few paces from them, her eyes on the knife in Jana’s hand. Her gaze shifted to the mantle-wrapped body behind them. A noise broke from her chest and she looked up at her son. “No, Warric.”

“Yes, Mama.” His throat worked hard but he never dropped her stare. “You know, don’t you? What I am, what I’ve done?”

The queen didn’t blink. “There has to be another way.”

“Kya was my only hope.” His eyes flashed green then gold, muscles bunching in his arms. “Don’t test me, bitch.”

A jolt worked Warric’s body, a convulsion rippling his frame and buckling his knees. He barely caught himself before crashing into the snow.

“Don’t let me kill my brother. Don’t let me become my country’s destroyer. You told me once you had me to save Eldwyn. Let me do it.”

“This is my fault,” the queen whispered. “Had I not begged to stay with your father, then—”

“Mama.” Warric shook his head. “You love him like I loved Kya. My life, the life you gave me, it’s been... Thank you. But let me go so no one else gets hurt. You made your choice. Let me make mine.”

Biting her lips, Jana watched all hope bleed from the queen. Her eyes rounded and filled with silver. Her arms lost the stiffened determination that had clenched her hands. Color drained from her face until her skin was as white as the snow.

“You were born on a Tuesday morning.” Her words echoed in the wind. “You came so quickly the midwife couldn’t be summoned and Salome caught you. You never cried. You looked around the room, looked at me and laughed.”

Warric sobbed. “Tell Papa...tell him...”

“He knows,” his mother whispered. “He knows, Warric, and we both love you.”

The borrowed blade felt too heavy, too foreign in Jana’s grip. She extended it to the queen. “You were a warrior. Maybe you should do it.”

Queen Myla shook her head. “I gave him life. I’ll not take it away.”

The lump in Jana’s throat would not be swallowed. She had to do this. Her shoulders bowed beneath the strain.

“You are one who comes but once in a millennium, Jana Haruk.” Darach’s voice carried on the frigid air. “I came because of a summons, but remained for you, drawn by your power, your heart, your love. You can do this. You alone can deliver your people, deliver your prince, deliver to your friends the serenity they deserve.”

The quivering fled her bones and resolve rushed in. Decades of destiny had built to this moment, to her. She was the child of a warrior and a spellsinger. She was Eldwyn’s salvation, Warric’s freedom and the blood curse’s vanquisher. She was a time dancer. She was loved by a spell called from stone and forged with salt. She could do this.

The dagger hilt sat firm in her palm. She looked not to Warric, not to the queen, but to Darach. The wind stirred his hair, billowing it around him like a cape. She stepped close, close enough to see the dark spikes of lashes around his earth-rich eyes.

“I will return to you.”

The unspoken lurked, casting a shadow: he might fail.

“I love you,” she whispered.

His nod gave her courage, gave her might. She didn’t spare a second thinking. Her blade sank deep, biting through muscle and sinew, tearing into a beating heart beneath a blackened mark. Warric grunted with the impact but Darach’s grip held him up. A sob finally broke from her mouth as she pulled the dagger free. Hot blood sprayed her fingers.

Warric’s choking gurgle was buried beneath a resonate drumming from Jana’s magic core. She scrambled backward toward the queen, keeping her eyes locked on Darach.

A beam of glittering lilac streamed from above. It surrounded Darach and Warric, tinting their skin and shimmering off their hair, casting a supernatural glaze across the icy landscape. All pain left Warric’s face and he slumped. A white vapor floated from his body. Darach gathered it, wrapping his fingers in the mist and cradling it to his chest. With a reverent grace, he lowered Warric’s remains to the ground then looked up.

Gold sparked until his gaze glowed. His free hand lifted high in the air, reaching toward the light. His rolling baritone thundered.

“
Ancient
magic
,
timeless
and
old
,
come
now
in
this
hour
foretold
.

Take
me
home
,
my
vows
fulfilled
,
right
prevailed
and
evil
stilled
.

Take
me
home
yet
bring
with
me
,
one
who
begs
sanctuary
.

I
freely
came
.
I
freely
go
.
Hear
my
call
and
make
it
so
.”

She dared not blink. Magic radiated from him. His hair spread out, swirling in the purple glow. Tiny pulses of light darted around him like fireflies in the summer grass. The wispy strands of Warric’s soul streamed upward, into a realm that offered him refuge.

Jana’s heart skipped then raced. Darach started melting with magic. His feet left the ground as he rose into the air, transported by hands she couldn’t see. He angled his head, looking down at her. His voice sang with a lullaby.

“I’ll find a way,
nayeli
. I
will
return.”

She never blinked, never took her eyes from that column of lilac light. One heartbeat he was here. The next he was gone. The purple glow faded, leaving an empty stretch of nothing. Silence rushed in, filling the void.

Queen Myla screamed. Head tossed back, hands spread wide, her cry sliced through the stillness. She ran to Warric, cradled his lifeless body, rocked him like a baby. Jana stood in surreal numbness. Her bones started to shake, spreading to her muscles and out until even her lips and hair trembled. The violent shudders knocked her to her behind.

The queen rocked her son, tears dripping to his hair as she sang to him. Salt rose in her throat as Jana recognized the lullaby she’d sung in the nursery long ago. The foreign words were the key and they unlocked Jana’s heart. She buried her face in her hands and wept.