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GOE 08 - Bound By Darkness [calibre 0.9.30]
- Автор: Рэли Дебора
- Год: 2011
- Язык: французский
- Год: Kensington Publishing Corp.
- Жанр: Ужасы
Электронная книга - «GOE 08 - Bound By Darkness [calibre 0.9.30]». Краткое содержание книги:
Then, as if some kindly deity had decided to have mercy on his black soul, the sound of voices at last drifted through the air.
“Why aren’t you working?” a male voice roughly demanded.
“I’m a soldier not a damned mole,” another male responded, his tone edged with disgust. “If the wizard wants to clear out the tunnel then why doesn’t he do it himself ?”
Ariyal easily recognized the two Sylvermyst as Elwin and Toras. Not surprising. Both had lost their females to Morgana’s jealousy. They had never hidden their bitterness, or the fact they held Ariyal to blame for the death of their mates.
“Keep your voice down,” Elwin rasped.
“Or what?”
Ariyal could sense the man’s shudder. “I don’t think either of us wants to find out.”
Toras gave a growl of frustration. “When Tearloch promised the return of the Dark Lord he didn’t mention the fact we would have to dig out an altar that was buried beneath a ton of rocks. Or that we’d have to take our orders from a specter who should have been left to rot in hell.”
Ariyal’s lips twisted.
There was a mutiny brewing.
Did Tearloch know how close he was to losing his few tribesmen?
“The sooner we uncover the altar the sooner the wizard can complete the resurrection and the sooner he can be banished,” Elwin muttered.
“Always assuming that Tearloch hasn’t lost complete control,” Toras pointed out with a bleak resignation.
“Shit. Just get back to work.”
The voices faded and Ariyal sat back on his heels.
Altar?
It made sense.
Those who worshiped the Dark Lord often used altars to make their sacrifices. The blood was a conduit that allowed them to thin the walls that separated them from their evil master.
Obviously Rafael needed his altar to complete the ceremony.
That was all the information Ariyal needed.
Tossing aside his bow, he shoved his fingers into the crack. The rock scraped off his skin, but he ignored the blood that threatened to make his grip slippery and yanked with all his strength.
He wasn’t a troll who could tunnel through rock with his brute strength, but the floor was already unstable and the exact pressure in the weakest spot was enough to make the stone buckle beneath his feet.
Snatching up his bow, Ariyal darted toward the outer tunnel, leaping across the gaping chasm that abruptly appeared as the collapse picked up speed at an alarming rate. Bloody hell. He had expected a minor cave-in, not a landslide.
He sent up a brief prayer that his brothers would manage to find safety. Whatever their sins, he hoped that they could eventually put the past behind them and be reunited as a tribe. There were too few of them to allow petty resentments to separate them.
Then all thoughts of his brothers were forgotten as he at last reached solid ground and sought a passageway that would lead him up and out of the caverns.
Following the faint scent of fresh air, he was desperate to leave behind the choking cloud of dust that billowed through the tunnels. Obviously too desperate, since he was unprepared when Tearloch abruptly darted from a side tunnel to block his path.
“Tearloch,” he growled, skidding to a reluctant halt at the sight of his tribesman.
Good ... gods.
The younger Sylvermyst looked like shit.
His hair was tangled and hung limply down his back, his skin was a strange, grayish hue, and there were bruises beneath his eyes that revealed he hadn’t slept in far too long.
Obviously the effort to keep control of Rafael was taking its toll on him.
Or was it the damned spirit draining Tearloch’s power?
Either way, it was a dangerous situation that might very well kill the Sylvermyst if something wasn’t done.
Soon.
A pity he wasn’t about to let Ariyal help him.
Not if the hectic glow in the silver of his eyes and the big-ass sword he was currently pointing at Ariyal’s heart were any indication.
“I should have suspected that you would manage to cause trouble no matter how clever our plans,” Tearloch growled.
Ariyal forced a stiff smile to his lips. He had wanted to be a distraction, hadn’t he?
It looked as if he was roaring success.
Yippee ki yay.
“You know me, I can’t resist crashing a party.” He glanced down at the dust covering him from head to toe. “Sometimes literally.”
Tearloch’s jaw locked even as he tried to look as if he was indifferent to the considerable damage.
“It’s annoying, but nothing that can’t be repaired.”
Ariyal smiled. “In time.”
The silver eyes narrowed. “So you sacrificed yourself just to delay the inevitable?”
“But it isn’t inevitable, Tearloch.” Ariyal held his companion’s gaze. “Your mind has been twisted by those who only want to use you for their own glory.”
“No.” Tearloch shook his head with more force than necessary. “It’s your mind that has been twisted. That vampire has seduced you and stolen you from those who have always offered you their loyalty.”
Ariyal grimly refused to allow his thoughts to stray to Jaelyn. This wasn’t the time for distractions.
“But your loyalty wasn’t unwavering, was it?” he reminded his one-time friend. “You betrayed me.”
The bastard managed to look offended. “I didn’t betray you. I was only trying to protect our tribe.”
“Were you?” Ariyal gave a lift of his shoulder, knowing that he couldn’t force the man to accept blame for his treachery. “A pity then that they no longer trust you.”
Tearloch’s fingers tightened on the sword. “That’s a lie.”
“I heard them complaining only a few minutes ago. They fear you’re now the slave of your spirit instead of the master. And who could blame them? You obviously take your orders from the creature.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?” Ariyal folded his arms over his chest. “Then banish him.”
“I ...” Tearloch licked his lips, his eyes nervously darting over Ariyal’s shoulder as if fearing the spirit might be hovering just out of sight. “I can’t.”
Ariyal swallowed a curse.
It was revolting to witness one of his people in thrall of a spirit.
“You see?”
“I need him to cast the spell to resurrect the Dark Lord.”
“There are other magic-users who could do the task just as well, if not better.”
“No.” Tearloch pressed a hand to his forehead. “We’re too close.”
Ariyal took a stealthy step forward. Tearloch was weary. Unfocused.
If he could just get close enough, he could strike.
“What happened to Sergei?” he asked, hoping to keep Tearloch off balance.
“I don’t know.”
“You could no doubt track him down and let him perform the ceremony.”
“Haven’t you heard me?” Tearloch lowered his hand, his face flushed. “It’s too late.”
“No, it’s not.” Ariyal took another step forward. “Let me help you.”
“You should really listen to your brother,” a voice mocked from behind him.
“Wizard,” Ariyal hissed, spinning around to fire two arrows directly in the center of Rafael’s chest. Predictably, the arrows passed directly through the bastard, but Ariyal noticed that the spirit briefly flickered, as if he’d been injured.
Something to remember.
“Don’t be hasty, Sylvermyst,” Rafael drawled.
“Hasty?” Ariyal curled his lips in disgust. “I should have destroyed you the moment I realized your power over Tearloch.”
Flames smoldered in his sunken eyes. “Ah, but I have something you want.”
Ariyal snorted. “You have nothing ...”
His words died on his lips as the wizard gave a wave of his skeleton hand and pointed toward the wall of the tunnel. There was an odd glow; then a strange mist formed on the rock, revealing the image of a beautiful vampire in black spandex trapped in a small cave.