Adept (The Essence Gate War, Book 1) - By Michael Arnquist Page 0,199
of shadow until only his eyes were visible as scarlet pinpoints burning with feverish intensity. “Fear not, Adept, I will never forget what your forebears did to me. Still, they demonstrated might on a scale to dwarf your own. Perhaps the Nar’ath queen was correct, and the Adepts have grown weak and complacent over the centuries. Perhaps you are indeed but echoes of your former glory. Perhaps the time of the Adepts is nearly past.”
Xenoth’s expression darkened further yet. “You wish to test my strength and judge for yourself?”
A low, silken chuckle rumbled out of the darkness. “Are those the ancient ruins of Queln I see behind you?”
“Where I travel next is of no import to you,” Xenoth snapped in response.
“Ah, but there, I am afraid, we must disagree.” The core of shadow seemed to fold in upon itself and vanish, drawing the tendrils of darkness along with it. Thalya froze, glancing around, and Xenoth stiffened as well. Bellimar reappeared in a black cloud, this time on the other side of the ring of light, closer still to the Adept and this time nearly between him and the huntress.
“You see,” he continued as if uninterrupted, “you have given much back to me, much that I thought never to experience again. Now you speak of depriving me of it all once more, and this time forever. I am not certain I can abide it.”
“It is not your choice to make, creature,” Xenoth stated in a flat tone. “You cannot affect what will come, and if you cross me now I will burn you to ash. Embrace the gift I have given you, and the time remaining to you. I have even gone so far as to provide the means to slake your thirst.” With a sweeping gesture and a sardonic smile, the man indicated Thalya, Syth and the Sil’ath warriors. One of the Sil’ath hissed in anger, and Syth uttered a quiet oath under his breath.
Bellimar glanced at them all over one shoulder. Thalya felt the weight of his burning gaze press upon her, saw him take in her upraised arm and the black arrow in her hand. They locked eyes for a split second, and her stomach plummeted as the corner of his mouth quirked upward in a knowing smirk. Then, with a deliberate gliding motion, he crossed between the huntress and the Adept, turning his back fully to her.
“Yes,” he murmured to Xenoth. “So you have.”
Thalya’s mouth fell open. He was all but inviting her to strike at his exposed back! Was it a trick? Bellimar was within the argent ring of light, but the shadows moved with him like a shroud, and the light itself seemed to recoil from his presence like waves from a darkened shore. Still, she could discern the outline of his figure with enough clarity to place the shaft between his shoulder blades. Was he taunting her to take the shot, intending to foil it with inhuman speed as he had before? Perhaps he was confident that the missile would not prove powerful enough to do him lasting harm, now that he had been transformed. That seemed foolish, however; the other two arrows had slain one of the Nar’ath soldiers and gravely wounded the massive queen, and all this despite the queen’s boastful words to Xenoth of her kind’s resistance to magical assaults. Why, then? Was Bellimar truly courting his own destruction?
“Come, wilding,” Xenoth said. “It is time we left your friend to his appetites.”
The man backed toward the rift, which had begun to shimmer and pulse at the edges. Was it her imagination, or was it slightly smaller and less bright than when it had first appeared? Amric grunted as he began to float after the Adept once more, and then his motion faltered and stopped.
“No,” he said through clenched teeth.
Xenoth looked up at him, raising one dark eyebrow. “Impossible,” he breathed.
“I am not going with you.” Amric’s voice was low and growling with strain.
The Adept’s short beard bristled as he thrust out his chin, and his eyes narrowed in concentration. Amric quivered, still hanging in the air, but did not move any closer. The heels of his boots settled a few inches closer to the ground. This time the grunt of effort belonged to Xenoth, and Amric’s slow descent was halted. Thalya felt the hairs on her arms and the nape of her neck rise as the air began to hum and crackle with energy.