Dance of the Gods
Page 82
“Of the east, of the south, of the west, of the north, we call your fire to cast here this circle.”
At Hoyt’s words the yellow candles Glenna had chosen to represent the sun sprang to light.
“Morrigan the mighty, join with us now,” he continued. “We are your servants, we are your soldiers.”
Casting her eyes to the sky, Glenna pulled everything she had inside her, and pushed. “Blessed are you and blessed are we who seek to fight this infamy. Magic against magic, white and pure against the black, here springs our power against this attack. Might and right push back the night. With our power joined we raise our cry, break this dark spell in the eastern sky. Hear our love and loyalty. As we will, so mote it be.”
Her hand trembled in Hoyt’s as the power spun round the circle. With her eyes still cast up, she saw the battle rage. Flashing lights, gushing black clashing together like swords to raise a thunder that sent the ground to quiver.
“We refute the dark magicks!” Hoyt shouted. “We cast them back, we cast them out. We call the sun to flame through the false night.”
Overhead the war between the black and the white raged on.
B lair swam dizzily toward consciousness, and into the pain. She felt the wind rush by her, and thought she saw the blur of land below.
Flying? She was flying? Is this what happened after you were dead? But if she was dead, why the hell did she hurt so much?
She tried to move, but she was tied down, strapped in. Or maybe her body simply refused to work any longer. Then she managed to turn her head, and she was looking up at a golden throat.
She thought: Larkin. Then floated away once more.
He felt her stir, gently tightened his grip in hopes it would reassure her, make her feel more secure. He angled his head to look down at her, but her eyes were already closing again.
She looked so pale. She felt so fragile.
He’d left her alone.
He would live, all of his life, he would live with the image of her bleeding, left with nothing more than a tree branch for defense while monsters circled her like vultures.
If he’d been even seconds later, she would be dead. Because he hadn’t been with her. He’d seen to the safety of others, and he’d tarried just a little longer so a young girl could pet his wings.
When the darkness had come, he hadn’t been with her.
The fear ate through him that no matter how fast he’d flown to reach her, no matter if he’d stopped the three demons who’d stalked her from feeding, he’d still been too late to save her life.
Even when he saw the castle, the fear gnawed. He saw Moira rush out, and Hoyt, Glenna, his father and others. But still he knew nothing but that fear.
He’d barely touched the ground when he changed, and held Blair in his arms. “She’s hurt. She’s hurt.”
“Bring her in, quickly.” Sprinting alongside him, Glenna reached over to check the pulse in Blair’s throat. “Up to her room. I’ll get what I need. Moira, go with him, do what you can for her. I’ll be quick.”
“How bad?” Cian swung around to rush up the stairs beside Glenna.
“I don’t know. Pulse is weak, thready. Her face…she took a beating.”
“Bites?”
“I didn’t see any.” She grabbed her healing kit from her room, dashed out again.
Larkin had laid Blair on the bed, and stood as Moira laid hands on Blair’s face, her shoulders, her heart.
“How long has she been unconscious?” Glenna snapped as she swept in.
“I…I don’t know. She fainted,” Larkin managed. “I had to…her shoulder, it was out of the joint. I had to…she fainted when I snapped it back. I think she came around once on the way back, but I can’t be sure. The dark, it came. I wasn’t with her, and they set on her, and she was alone.”
“You brought her back. Moira, help me get her coat off, her clothes. I have to see where she’s hurt.”
Cian stepped up himself to take off her boots.
“The men should go,” Moira began.
“She isn’t the first I’ve seen naked, and I don’t think she’d be worried about it. How many were there?” Cian asked Larkin.
“She said ten. Ten and the French one as well. There were only three when I got to her.”
“She made them pay.” Cian gently tugged down her pants.
Glenna bit back a sound of distress as she saw the bruising, the cuts. “Ribs.” She made her voice brisk. “Probably kidney. Bruised. Shoulder’s bad, too. The gash on her leg is fairly shallow. But God, her knee. Not broken, at least. Nothing broken.”
“She…” Larkin reached down, took one of Blair’s limp hands. “She said her vision was going double. Concussion, she said.”
Now Glenna spoke gently. “Why don’t you step out? Let Moira and me take care of her.”
“No, I won’t leave her again. She had pain. A lot of pain. You need to give her something that will take away the pain.”
“I will, I promise I’ll give her what I can for it. Why don’t you build up the fire then? I want it warm for her.”
Blair could hear them, the voices. She couldn’t quite separate one from the other or pick out words, but the sounds were enough to assure her she was alive.
The pain spoke to her as well and that told her she’d gotten her ass thoroughly kicked.
She caught scents as well now. Peat smoke, Glenna, and something strong and floral. But when she tried to open her eyes, they wouldn’t cooperate. That had panic trickling into her chest like nasty little drops of acid.
Coma? She didn’t want to be in a coma. People fell into comas and sometimes they never climbed out. She’d rather be dead than trapped inside the dark, hearing, feeling, but not being able to see or speak.
Then she felt something slide over her, like silk. Just a flutter over her skin, under it, then deeper, deeper still to where the pain was clenched in fists.
Then the silk heated, then it burned. Oh God. And the fire of it forced those fists open until the pain spread and broke into a thousand jagged pieces.
Her eyes flew open in blinding light that had her flailing out.
“Son of a bitch!” In her mind she screamed it, but it came out as a hoarse croak.
She sucked in breath to curse again, but the worst of it ebbed and became a slow, steady throbbing.
At Hoyt’s words the yellow candles Glenna had chosen to represent the sun sprang to light.
“Morrigan the mighty, join with us now,” he continued. “We are your servants, we are your soldiers.”
Casting her eyes to the sky, Glenna pulled everything she had inside her, and pushed. “Blessed are you and blessed are we who seek to fight this infamy. Magic against magic, white and pure against the black, here springs our power against this attack. Might and right push back the night. With our power joined we raise our cry, break this dark spell in the eastern sky. Hear our love and loyalty. As we will, so mote it be.”
Her hand trembled in Hoyt’s as the power spun round the circle. With her eyes still cast up, she saw the battle rage. Flashing lights, gushing black clashing together like swords to raise a thunder that sent the ground to quiver.
“We refute the dark magicks!” Hoyt shouted. “We cast them back, we cast them out. We call the sun to flame through the false night.”
Overhead the war between the black and the white raged on.
B lair swam dizzily toward consciousness, and into the pain. She felt the wind rush by her, and thought she saw the blur of land below.
Flying? She was flying? Is this what happened after you were dead? But if she was dead, why the hell did she hurt so much?
She tried to move, but she was tied down, strapped in. Or maybe her body simply refused to work any longer. Then she managed to turn her head, and she was looking up at a golden throat.
She thought: Larkin. Then floated away once more.
He felt her stir, gently tightened his grip in hopes it would reassure her, make her feel more secure. He angled his head to look down at her, but her eyes were already closing again.
She looked so pale. She felt so fragile.
He’d left her alone.
He would live, all of his life, he would live with the image of her bleeding, left with nothing more than a tree branch for defense while monsters circled her like vultures.
If he’d been even seconds later, she would be dead. Because he hadn’t been with her. He’d seen to the safety of others, and he’d tarried just a little longer so a young girl could pet his wings.
When the darkness had come, he hadn’t been with her.
The fear ate through him that no matter how fast he’d flown to reach her, no matter if he’d stopped the three demons who’d stalked her from feeding, he’d still been too late to save her life.
Even when he saw the castle, the fear gnawed. He saw Moira rush out, and Hoyt, Glenna, his father and others. But still he knew nothing but that fear.
He’d barely touched the ground when he changed, and held Blair in his arms. “She’s hurt. She’s hurt.”
“Bring her in, quickly.” Sprinting alongside him, Glenna reached over to check the pulse in Blair’s throat. “Up to her room. I’ll get what I need. Moira, go with him, do what you can for her. I’ll be quick.”
“How bad?” Cian swung around to rush up the stairs beside Glenna.
“I don’t know. Pulse is weak, thready. Her face…she took a beating.”
“Bites?”
“I didn’t see any.” She grabbed her healing kit from her room, dashed out again.
Larkin had laid Blair on the bed, and stood as Moira laid hands on Blair’s face, her shoulders, her heart.
“How long has she been unconscious?” Glenna snapped as she swept in.
“I…I don’t know. She fainted,” Larkin managed. “I had to…her shoulder, it was out of the joint. I had to…she fainted when I snapped it back. I think she came around once on the way back, but I can’t be sure. The dark, it came. I wasn’t with her, and they set on her, and she was alone.”
“You brought her back. Moira, help me get her coat off, her clothes. I have to see where she’s hurt.”
Cian stepped up himself to take off her boots.
“The men should go,” Moira began.
“She isn’t the first I’ve seen naked, and I don’t think she’d be worried about it. How many were there?” Cian asked Larkin.
“She said ten. Ten and the French one as well. There were only three when I got to her.”
“She made them pay.” Cian gently tugged down her pants.
Glenna bit back a sound of distress as she saw the bruising, the cuts. “Ribs.” She made her voice brisk. “Probably kidney. Bruised. Shoulder’s bad, too. The gash on her leg is fairly shallow. But God, her knee. Not broken, at least. Nothing broken.”
“She…” Larkin reached down, took one of Blair’s limp hands. “She said her vision was going double. Concussion, she said.”
Now Glenna spoke gently. “Why don’t you step out? Let Moira and me take care of her.”
“No, I won’t leave her again. She had pain. A lot of pain. You need to give her something that will take away the pain.”
“I will, I promise I’ll give her what I can for it. Why don’t you build up the fire then? I want it warm for her.”
Blair could hear them, the voices. She couldn’t quite separate one from the other or pick out words, but the sounds were enough to assure her she was alive.
The pain spoke to her as well and that told her she’d gotten her ass thoroughly kicked.
She caught scents as well now. Peat smoke, Glenna, and something strong and floral. But when she tried to open her eyes, they wouldn’t cooperate. That had panic trickling into her chest like nasty little drops of acid.
Coma? She didn’t want to be in a coma. People fell into comas and sometimes they never climbed out. She’d rather be dead than trapped inside the dark, hearing, feeling, but not being able to see or speak.
Then she felt something slide over her, like silk. Just a flutter over her skin, under it, then deeper, deeper still to where the pain was clenched in fists.
Then the silk heated, then it burned. Oh God. And the fire of it forced those fists open until the pain spread and broke into a thousand jagged pieces.
Her eyes flew open in blinding light that had her flailing out.
“Son of a bitch!” In her mind she screamed it, but it came out as a hoarse croak.
She sucked in breath to curse again, but the worst of it ebbed and became a slow, steady throbbing.
