emerging. He was roped with muscle and had thick dark hair. Faint dark rosettes appeared in his skin. He regarded them suspiciously. She waved her hand to dismiss him; the jaguar hesitated and then the shadows pulled him apart.
Isai’s attention was on the approaching army of creatures coming toward them. They were so close he could feel the heat from the mass. The ground trembled, not liking the unnatural beasts treading over the miles of meadow. He sent a wave through the earth, so that the floor rippled violently, sending anyone in its path to the ground. A roar of rage went up, and then Isai’s army of shadow soldiers were clashing with the horrific beasts. It would delay them, but not stop them.
The last guardian of the book was clearly Carpathian. Isai winced inwardly when he saw a boyhood friend. This was a powerful Carpathian and yet he’d been trapped by the mage. That gave Isai warning that he couldn’t get arrogant or smug. He thought mages tricksters, using illusion to get their way. Seeing an ancient warrior trapped on the cover of a book was not only shocking but alerted him to the real danger they were facing—two high mages—both from the most powerful bloodline the mages had.
The Carpathian warrior looked Isai over for what seemed forever, those eyes piercing through him, judging him. Then he turned his attention to Julija. She bore his scrutiny, not bowing her head under that intense inspection. Lastly, he looked at the mark on her arm, the vicious stinging and biting taking place. Julija’s arm had blood trickling down it and droplets hitting the open grave.
Without warning the warrior leaned down and tasted the blood leaking from her arm. He pulled his head back before the scorpion and snake could attack him. Once more his gaze shifted, so that he was looking out into the night, into the blinding snow. He looked at Isai. I would help if you have need.
Julija shook her head. We cannot accept his offer. That would be selfish. He needs and deserves rest.
They needed and deserved help, but Isai wasn’t going to tell her that. He looked the warrior in the eye. “Ainaakfél. Old friend”—Isai’s voice was filled with admiration and respect—“you fought a long battle and held on to your honor against all odds. You deserve to rest. Joηesz arwa-arvoval. Return with honor.”
The Carpathian warrior inclined his head and then was gone. The moment the last of his shadow had been swallowed up by the night, Julija caught Isai’s wrist and mingled the stream of his blood with her own once more, sending it over the entire top of the book, using a grid pattern to make certain she dripped their blood from corner to corner.
The scorpion on her arm went into a frenzy, plunging its stinger into her viciously. The snake tried to slide down her arm in an effort to get to her heart, but it was caught by the coils wrapped around the belly of the scorpion and couldn’t get loose. It had to be content with feverishly striking at her with its fangs.
In the midst of the hordes coming at them, shrieks of protest, wild wails of rage rose into the air, the sound so ugly it hurt their ears.
Julija ignored all of it. She lifted her hands and once again sketched patterns in the air. She invoked the spell of protection for the two of them, asking for aid to accomplish this difficult task.
I call to light, surround us.
Bring forth your shield, encircle us with your light.
Keeping us safe from that which would do harm.
Provide us with your strength and ability to accomplish our task.
As is above, is below, so mote it be.
She continued, her blood dripping steadily over the book, mingling with Isai’s. It’s now or never, Isai. I love you. No matter what, know that you were loved. Before he could answer, she began her spell.
That which is aged. Old.
Bearing the burden of power untold.
Bound by years of destruction.
I now undo you. May your bindings rot.
May your pages crumble.
May you become dust in the wind.
Forever gone.
Holes began to appear in the cover of the book. At first the cover was dotted with tiny pinpricks, but little by little they began to enlarge. It seemed the process was too slow. The army had nearly reached them. The book shrieked, adding hideous voices of protest to those rushing to stop them from their task.