Adept (The Essence Gate War, Book 1) - By Michael Arnquist Page 0,193

in the end. They were trying to hide you.”

Xenoth rocked back on his heels, stroking his short-cropped beard in thought.

“The question at hand, then, is what to do with you,” he mused. “Wildings are executed at birth by edict of law, and yet the opportunity to study one who has managed to survive to adulthood could have considerable value to an interested few. You are sentenced to die twice over, however, as both an affront against nature and as the offspring of traitors. I am forced to anticipate the Council’s wishes on the matter, in the face of this unexpected development. Would they wish the long-delayed sentence carried out immediately, or would they wish you brought back as a unique specimen?”

He leaned down toward Amric and spoke in a lower, conspiratorial tone. “It seems you compel some measure of loyalty among these lesser creatures with which you surround yourself. Even now they approach again, skulking about in the darkness like rats circling a lion with all the ferocity they can manage.” The Adept chuckled, a harsh sound devoid of warmth, but his dark eyes glittered with satisfaction. “Fear not, boy, I have a surprise in store for them. I only hope that I am not forced to slay them all, one by one, before it is ready.”

Amric went cold inside, and in his mind’s eye he bore witness once more to hungry flames devouring the lean figure of his friend, Innikar. Xenoth was correct; his companions stood little chance against this powerful monster. Amric tried to lift his head in a dizzying effort, tried to force a shout of warning from his throat, tried to tell them all to stay back, but the result was scarcely more than a bestial growl even to his own ears. He made another attempt, twisting his head to either side and giving it a frantic and vehement shake of negation. He almost lost consciousness; only by laying his head back against the ground again and pulling in deep breaths did he manage to stave off its departure. He had seen no motion in the darkness beyond the silvery pool of light from the globe overhead, but he had to hope that the others had seen him and recognized the warning.

“No, I cannot bring you back alive,” Xenoth said at last. There was a forced conviction to his tone that punctuated whatever internal conflict had been playing out in his head. “Your existence would become known to the public eventually, and the Council can ill afford a rekindling of past insurrections.” The Adept leaned closer still to him, and the hesitation in his voice vanished, burned away in a forge of bitter anger. “I have to admit some personal preference in the matter, wilding. Ever since that day, all those years ago, when I returned from this world empty-handed and unable to prove your death, I have suffered in the Council’s esteem. You have cost me much, boy. I am an instrument of the Council above all, and though I took no pleasure in the execution of your parents, you can rest assured that I will take great pleasure in yours.”

Amric panted and glared up at the man. His head whirled as much from trying to piece together the information he was hearing as from any physical ailment. His foe was close enough to strike, if only he could move. If his limbs would obey him, they would know in the blink of an eye if an Adept could survive the loss of his head, or if he would perish like any other man. The invisible weight pinning him to the ground was unrelenting, however, and so Amric could only grind his teeth in helpless frustration as Xenoth stepped away from him, and the opportunity was lost.

“Time to die, wilding.”

The Adept’s clenched fists began to glow once more.

Thalya raised her head and risked peering over the low ridge that sheltered her from the Adept’s sight. At her side, Syth did the same.

“His hands are glowing again,” Syth reported in a tight voice.

“I can see that,” the huntress said.

Syth leapt to his feet, his jointed gauntlets flaring open with a metallic rasping sound. “We have to do something! He will finish Amric for certain this time.”

“I am doing something,” she snapped.

She rose, placing a foot upon the ridge, and lifted her bow. Her hand snaked over one shoulder and found an arrow in the quiver slung across her back. From the instant her fingertips brushed its