Chapter Fifty-One

  At first, he felt nothing beyond an odd sort of tension beneath the right side of his chest. His breath hitched, lungs stalling, as he realized what it was Vesryn had done. Then, the blade was like a shard of ice in his gut.

  Rhydian! Tanuzet gasped, just as her roar broke the night.

  Vesryn flinched, but didn’t draw away.

  “If I wanted you dead, you would be,” he whispered, “I'm sorry. I can’t have you standing in my way. Call her off and I’ll mend you when this is over.”

  Rhydian took the man by his forearm, “It’ll never work,” he managed between wheezing breaths, “The others–”

  “Will stand down and do as I say if they want their firstrider and his bondmate to survive.”

  Vesryn stepped back and when he did, his hand and sleeve came away as wet as the blade he held. Rhydian pressed a hand to the wound, though the hot, slick blood oozed through his fingers. Nausea welled, though whether it was a result of the sudden burn along his abdomen or the onset of adrenaline, he couldn’t say. The latter, at least, offered him a certain amount of clarity.

  He lunged, seizing the sage by the wrist of his blade hand. He gained control of the arm and twisted, but not before Vesryn’s rysk flared. Sloppy as the technique was, it was effective. Vital essence slammed into him, turning his own body against him and tearing his wound wide. The pain in his side amplified tenfold and his knees buckled. Rhydian fell forward onto all fours, gasping before he had the wherewithal to try and staunch the bleeding.

  Black crept in along the edges of his vision and though Tanuzet’s sympathetic shriek was distant to his ears, he knew she was close. He forced himself to focus on their bond, on blocking his pain before it could cascade into her any more than it already had. He needed to separate himself, fully separate himself, lest their entanglement cost them and the members of their flight a second time.

  The impact of her landing shook the ground, yet before Rhydian could find his feet, his head was yanked back by the roots of his flight braid. Cool steel, still slick with his blood, angled along the pulse of his exposed throat. He grit his teeth, nostrils flaring as he fought to keep both his mind and bond clear.

  “Stand down,” Vesryn warned.

  Tanuzet’s lips slowly pulled back over her teeth, yellow eyes alight in her fury. Her finned tail lashed the air, rysk poised on the offensive. Rhydian knew the sage could sense it too, for the edge of his dagger bit into his skin.

  You will release him or you will die where you stand, she growled.

  Vaelor descended to her right with a rattling hiss. Sorisanna slid down from his back, eyes wide while Ayduin remained crouched in the saddle with her bow drawn. Threatening as his secondrider was, Rhydian knew she wouldn’t take the shot, nor risk touching Vesryn with a technique while his blade was close enough to open his throat if he so much as twitched.

  Sorisanna raised her hands as she approached, her eyes wide, “Vesryn, what are you doing?”

  “What I have to,” he insisted, “I’ve tried warning you, but none of you would listen. This– This was the only way. Give me the girl and I’ll let him free.”

  “You want Inerys?” She asked, the confusion evident on her face.

  “Don’t,” Rhydian grunted, “He was on the ship, he’ll–”

  Vesryn’s rysk wrapped around his heart and squeezed. Rhydian’s own rose in response, but without the clear guidance of his will, there was little his fire could do. His body locked up, head growing frighteningly light. It was hard enough to think, let alone maintain his focus on keeping his end of the bond in check.

  Blood and rysk pounded in his ears in equal measure, nearly drowning out the shouts that had arisen around him entirely. The vice along his heart eased, but only just. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t find words. He was starved for breath, teetering along an edge he couldn’t afford to cross. He had to fight, had to think.

  With their ascensions matched, there was little separating he and Vesryn’s physical strength. In a straight fight, wrestling himself out of the man’s hold would have been difficult enough in this position without his wounds placing him at a greater disadvantage, but there was his rysk to consider too. It had slipped past Rhydian’s defenses and claimed authority over his flesh. A single command would have his heart collapsing in on itself.

  Any move on his part would have to be quick.

  He weighed the risk, for his was not the only life on the line. Tanuzet was strong, yet he couldn’t bear to put her through the pain of his loss if he failed. Sorisanna was skilled, but he wasn’t sure she would be able to repair a severed artery in time to make a difference.

  Another presence brushed his mind and for a moment, he feared he’d finally lost his hold on his own pain. However, it wasn’t Tanuzet he sensed, but someone else. Vesryn stiffened and when Rhydian opened his eyes, he found Inerys making her cautious approach. Ephaxus’ growl bordered on feral, his head poised at her back. She held her hands out in front of her as if the sage were some frightened horse who might bolt if pressed too far and while her eyes remained fixed on her target, Rhydian sensed her attention on him.

  A subtle assurance travelled through the tenuous tether they shared and he found himself leaning into it.

  If you can hear me, blink your eyes twice, she said in his mind.

  When he did, some small measure of relief passed between them.

  We’re going to get you out of this. I have a plan, but I can’t promise it will work. If I can get him to drop his guard, do you think you can break his hold?

  He blinked once, twice.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  A split second was all he needed. Then, he could subdue Vesryn and find a way to undo whatever damage had been done to him. And if he could not find a way, he’d see to it that the Wardeness did. She had the resources, the expertise, all he had to do was deliver the man into her care.

  If he had to be restrained the entire flight to Cyllicia, so be it.

  “That’s close enough,” Vesryn said when Inerys drew within a half dozen feet of them.

  The leather along the hilt of his dagger squeaked in protest as his knuckles turned white around the grip. One of her ears twitched at the sound and her nostrils subtly flared. She stopped, jaw flexing in what might have been deliberation. She and Ayduin exchanged glances, the latter of whom offered a nod so subtle, Rhydian may have imagined it.

  “You wanted me here, Vesryn,” Inerys said, “So here I am.”

  “Good. Good. Someone bind her. Now!” He barked.

  Ephaxus bounded several steps closer, snarling, though her hand brought him up short.

  No one else moved.

  “They answer to me, Vesryn,” she said, voice light. Sympathetic, almost, “Not you.”

  There was a melodic sort of lilt to her tone, a soft edge that drew one’s attention as well as their ear. Admittedly, Rhydian found himself wanting to listen to it even as he wondered what this plan of hers entailed. There was something different about her eyes too, he noticed. Not the color, but something else.

  “What have you done to them?” Vesryn demanded.

  “Nothing more than endear myself to them,” she said, “but that’s not important right now. After all, this is between you and I, isn’t it? Let him go and we can talk.”

  “Talk? A creature like you should be bound and gagged.”

  “And executed, I imagine?”

  “It would be no less than you deserve.”

  She sighed, “This doesn’t have to end poorly for either of us, Vesryn. What if I sent the others back to camp along with my wyvern?”

  “So you can kill me all on your own?” He asked.

  “So we can speak without the pressure of an audience. If you release my favorite pet before he bleeds out, I’ll even cut you a deal.”

  The sage scoffed, “A deal? For what?”

  Inerys’ lips edged into an eerie sort of smile, “Your life.”

  He felt Vesryn go rigid at his back and the predatory edge along Inerys’ eyes sharpened.

  “You can’t possibly believe there’s a way out of this for you?” She said, voice pleasant despite her matter of factness, “If you attack me, the others kill you. If you harm Rhydian, I’ll kill you. You’re outnumbered and outclassed, Vesryn. Negotiating with me is your only option.”

  Skies, Rhydian knew this was likely an act, but he’d never thought her capable of such callousness. Gooseflesh prickled along his skin, yet he managed to smother the shiver seeding in his spine before it could take root. Her eyes may have changed, but not her heart. He was certain of it.

  Vesryn shifted his weight from one foot to the other, though neither his grip nor his will wavered.

  “You’ll let me go? Just like that?” He asked, hesitant.

  “Let him go and you walk free. You have my word.”

  Vesryn’s eyes narrowed as he glanced down at Rhydian, “I don’t believe you.”

  “Look at me, Vesryn, not him,” Inerys said, her urgency and impatience mounting on her end of the bond.

  “You’re not going to ensnare me the way you–”

  “Look at me!”

  For the span of a heartbeat, Rhydian felt the man’s will wink out like a candle flame. His hold went slack and he wasted no time in capitalizing on the lapse. Rallying what strength he had left, he took the sage by the forearm and let his rysk burn.

  Vesryn shouted and dropped the dagger, but Rhydian was already moving. He found his feet, rounded on the man and shoved the full force of his will against his before he could wield his own body against him a second time.

  His authority over Rhydian snapped.

  However, Vesryn was far from finished.

  His fist connected with the side of his head, the blow hard enough to make his teeth rattle and his vision blur, but not relinquish his hold. Clothing and skin smoldered and the man shrieked. Vital rysk danced along Rhydian’s skin and while it was not able to gain a proper hold now that he had wrestled back control of his body, it could still tear flesh that was already broken.

  The split he’d earned along his brow from Vesryn’s strike lanced open, sparing his eye, but little else. His skin burst from his hairline to his chin as if it had been sliced open by a blade. Blood welled, blinding his left eye, but he took the sage to the ground. The pain didn’t matter, the damage to himself didn’t matter, so long as he kept his focus away from the others.

  Vesryn may have been a sage, but he was still a trained member of the Talhavar and immediately sought an advantage. They twisted and grunted as they vied for control, all while Rhydian was quickly bleeding out. His opponent may have been older, less practiced, but with one good eye and a gut wound that bordered on a disembowelment, Rhydian’s edge didn’t matter. Adrenaline would only get him so far and when it ran out, he would lose this fight.

  He knew that.

  Vesryn knew that.

  In the sparring ring, there was a mutual respect between opponents and a knowledge that aside from a few bruises, the worst injury one could incur was their own wounded pride. This, however, was different. There was no grace, no calculation, no sense of accomplishment on the horizon for a battle well-fought. One way or another, one of them wasn’t walking away from this.

  When Rhydian finally recognized that fact, what he saw wasn’t a man or a former comrade at all, but a threat. One determined to slaughter Inerys and harm anyone in his path in order to do so. His motives didn’t matter. His past didn’t matter. Not anymore.

  A steady pressure began to build within Rhydian’s cores, hot and unyielding and bent on neutralizing the liability before it had the chance to erupt into something more. Vesryn’s eyes widened as his rage turned to sudden panic. His spiritual core rallied for another series of attacks as he struggled to maintain the upper hand, but there was no rhyme or reason to his half mustered techniques, only a wild desperation.

  Someone was shouting Rhydian’s name, but he didn’t care. His essences surged, building in pressure and intensity until it felt as though his soul might tear under the strain. Then, his pain dissolved, focus sharpened and when he realized Vesryn had managed to regain his dagger during their struggle, he acted without thought and without mercy.

  He hooked one leg around Vesryn’s, caught the blade plunging toward his face as he rolled and redirected it into the man’s eye. Bone crunched. The sharp, involuntary jerk of the sage’s body cost Rhydian his hold on the weapon, but he managed to maintain his position above his opponent, pinning him to the ground.

  Vesryn stopped struggling.

  His body twitched for several seconds, head rooted to the spot, then went limp in its entirety. Still straddling the man, Rhydian sat back, panting. Had he just? No. No, he couldn’t have. Vesryn wasn’t– There wasn’t so much as a final, wheezing breath.

  He stared, dazed.

  At first, it didn’t seem real. It was never meant to end like this. It couldn’t end like this. However, the truth was irrefutable, the corpse confirming what his mind refused to accept.

  He’d driven the dagger clear through the man’s skull and into the damp earth beneath. Blood pooled within the ruined socket and spilled over the edges of his face. It was sunken in, Rhydian realized, the left side having caved to the force of the blow. The other eye remained open and glassy, the vacancy behind it set with a permanence that could never be undone.