GOE 08 - Bound By Darkness [calibre 0.9.30]

“A wise choice,” Sergei murmured.

The wise choice would have been to remain loyal to Ariyal as all his instincts had urged, he silently told himself. A damned shame he was only realizing the truth when it was too late.

“Get the child,” he commanded the mage.

“Of course.”

Sergei warily moved forward, his gaze on the wizard, who was frowning at Tearloch in disbelief. Clearly he couldn’t believe that his sway over Tearloch wasn’t as great as he’d thought.

“Do not be hasty, my friend.”

“Hasty?” Tearloch’s laughter held an edge of hysteria. “Like an idiot I’ve allowed both of you to manipulate and use me to gain the best advantage for your own glory. But no more. I’m done with this game.”

“I have promised to perform the ceremony,” the wizard reminded him in that captivating voice.

Tearloch pressed his hands to the wall behind him, concentrating on the smooth stone beneath his palm in an effort to block out the wizard’s voice.

“And yet, you always have an excuse why it must be delayed.”

Rafael glanced toward Sergei, who continued his tentative approach toward the babe before he was smiling with malevolent anticipation.

“Very well.”

With a dramatic lift of his hands, Rafael shook back the sleeves of his robe and began to weave his fingers in a complicated pattern. It couldn’t have looked more clichéd. The scary-ass-looking wizard in satin robes. A dark, spooky cavern. A horde of vampires about to attack.

Tearloch might have laughed if it hadn’t been so achingly sad.

Then those waggling fingers began to glow with an eerie light that spread through the air, shimmering like a portal.

“What are you doing?”

“Thinning the veils between our world and the Dark Lord.”

He might have thought it was just another trick if it weren’t for the distinct change in air pressure as the shimmer widened until it was the size of a typical doorway.

“That’s the ceremony?” he asked, a strange dread pooling in the pit of his gut. “A wiggle of your fingers?”

“It is the beginning.” Moving with a startling speed, he was standing at the base of the flat rock, blocking the child from Sergei. “We will use this as a temporary altar. Of course it must be sanctified.”

Tearloch stepped forward, reaching over his shoulder to pull his sword from its leather scabbard.

“I told you I will not sacrifice my brothers.”

Rafael merely smiled, his hands shifting toward the mage. “Then it is fortunate that we have Sergei’s blood to offer.”

“No.” Sergei tried to back away, only to discover that he’d been caught in the wizard’s spell.

Rafael chuckled as he made a sharp gesture with his hand. “Come to me, mage.”

The mage gave a strangled groan, his hands clawing at his throat, as if he was being choked by an unseen force.

“Tearloch, help me,” he pleaded.

Rafael moved to stand directly before the mage. “Do you refuse to be of service to our beloved master, Sergei?”

Tearloch licked his lips, watching the two magic-users with a swelling sense of regret.

This was what he had so desperately wanted, and yet now that the moment was here, he would have done everything in his power to turn back the clock.

“That’s all you need to resurrect the Dark Lord?”

“Of course it isn’t,” Sergei managed to spit out, falling to his knees as his face turned a peculiar shade of puce. “He merely needs my blood to part the shroud between worlds enough that the Dark Lord can slaughter you and your brothers. Only then will the master share his spirit with the chosen child.”

“Shut up,” Rafael snarled, moving to knock the mage to the ground before shifting his attention to Tearloch. “He seeks to betray you, Master.”

“No.” Tearloch shook his head, his thinking clear for the first time in weeks. He pointed the sword at the creature he had so foolishly called from the grave. “You’re the one who has betrayed me. Now I’m going to banish you back to the hell you crawled out of.”

“You leave me no choice, Sylvermyst,” the wizard growled, releasing his magical hold on Sergei to point his hand toward Tearloch.

In the process of severing his connection to the spirit that kept Rafael anchored in this world, Tearloch was unaware of just how dangerously exposed he left himself.

Not until a blinding light filled his mind, scouring away all thought and bringing a brutal end to his brief taste of independence.

Tearloch was lost.

Crushed beneath the will of the wizard.