The Whitefire Crossing - By Courtney Schafer Page 0,90

two days delay to dig the route out, not including interference from a pissed off blood mage, or his gods-damned snowstorm. I’d say the convoy’s a week out. Maybe more.”

Gerran raised his brows, and nodded to me. By knowing the rough arrival date of the convoy and the news of Horavin’s loss, he’d gain a certain advantage over the other brokers.

If the convoy arrived at all. I still carried the dark fear that Ruslan wouldn’t limit himself to killing a few to fuel his spells. Though even a few was too many. I sent up yet another prayer to Suliyya for Cara’s safety.

Gerran’s muscle man showed me out, still without speaking. Only the brightest stars glimmered through the smoky murk overhead. Ugh. Though no doubt Kiran would’ve happily traded clear mountain air for the safety from blood magic I currently enjoyed.

I pictured him huddled in the cabin with his hands clamped white-knuckled on his knees—and banished the image with a muttered curse, as guilt pricked me. Damn it, Melly’s fate was what mattered, not Kiran’s. I’d warned him he was on his own after the border. Better to heed Gerran’s warning and stay clear of his game. I faced enough risks already.

***

(Kiran)

Kiran had never endured a more endless night. Once darkness fell, the cabin’s interior was black as onyx, even without the blindfold. Scuttlings and scratchings emanated from the cabin walls, sounding far too loud to be produced by innocuous rodents, and he kept imagining he heard the crunch of stealthy footsteps outside amidst the moan of wind through the pines.

But far worse were the occasions when the black void dissolved into the cool glow of magelight, and he glimpsed shadowed forest under a starlit sky. The sneaking, questing tug in his mind grew stronger with each vision, to the point where he felt a constant, shadowy itch even when his sight was his own. He wove layer upon layer of frustratingly gossamer defenses from his own ikilhia, praying all the while Dev would return in time.

Once, he saw more than night-darkened forest. Beside a tree, a gray form turned, and a wash of silver magelight revealed Mikail’s stolid face. Mikail’s mouth moved in silent words Kiran couldn’t read, and he gestured with fingers that glimmered an eldritch green. The image vanished as suddenly and completely as all the rest, leaving Kiran to stare into blackness with his heart pounding.

Ruslan must have directed Mikail to speed their travel, while he focused all his attention on exploiting the flaw in Kiran’s protection. Mikail, always so reliable, so obedient...Kiran buried his face in his hands. Why had he been so blind as to believe Mikail his ally? Dark memories rose to gnaw at him.

“Brother,” Mikail whispered. “Are you awake?”

Kiran raised his head from the cold flagstones, slowly. His eyes felt hot and sticky, his throat raw. Mikail stood just beyond the sullen red glow of the wards spiraling around him.

Mikail’s breath hissed through his teeth. “You look terrible.” He bent and slid a silk-wrapped packet across the ward lines on the floor. The lines flared, then settled. “I brought you some food.”

The warm, buttery scent of kallas bread made his empty stomach cramp. “I don’t want it,” Kiran said, in a hoarse croak.

Mikail sighed. “I should have brought water, I see. But you should eat—you’ll need your strength. Especially if you keep fighting Ruslan this way. Why do you do it? You know you can’t win.”

“You know why.” Anger drove Kiran to his feet. “You were there. You helped him! How could you channel for him, knowing what he meant to cast?”

“Do you imagine I could have refused?” Mikail said evenly. “I was marked and bound years before you.”

Kiran slumped back to the ground. “Every time I close my eyes, I see Alisa screaming, begging me to help her...” He pressed his hands against his face. “I can’t bear this. I can’t. I keep thinking, if only I make him angry enough—”

“You little fool!” Mikail’s voice was sharp as a slap. “Even in his worst rage, Ruslan would never kill you. But if you keep provoking him, you’ll drive him to destroy your will—is that what you want?”

“Better that, than living every moment with the knowledge Alisa died in agony because of me!” Kiran pounded a fist against a flagstone. Ward lines flared crimson with warning, and he snatched his hand back with a hiss of frustrated anger. “I’d thought I was so careful. But I must have slipped somehow, made a