Adept (The Essence Gate War, Book 1) - By Michael Arnquist Page 0,205

over them in a wake of bitter cold. More than once, the wilding presence within Amric roared to the surface in response to something out there that he could not see. Each time it would gibber and bristle at the unseen threat, making his entire body tingle with tension, and then it would slowly subside. More than once, he caught Bellimar’s penetrating red eyes, out in the darkness, following their progress with an inhuman hunger.

In the earlier ride from the crown of rock to the hive, they had taken a circuitous route to conceal their approach from the Nar’ath exodus. As they trudged the reverse route, they made no such effort. As a result, the return trip took almost the same time, despite being on foot. When the rocky crag finally reared up before them, stark against the subdued luminance of the clouded sky, Bellimar was already crouched at its base.

“I cannot go up there,” he called as they approached. “Blood has been spilled.”

Amric pulled up short, facing him. The hair rose at the back of his neck as he caught the rough, throaty character to the old man’s voice. “What have you done, Bellimar?” he demanded.

Bellimar laughed, and there was little humanity in the cold sound. His chin was tucked low, and beneath eyes that blazed with hunger was a mouthful of fangs gaping wide enough to engulf a man’s head. “I? I have done nothing, warrior.” He spat the last with a note of contempt, eyes narrowing to slits. “You can be assured that if I had done it, I would not have wasted their precious fluids like that. It is cooling, spent, the life in it already departed. Useless to me. It fans my hunger, but it is the blood of the living that truly calls to me like a siren’s song.”

The black mass roiled and seethed and seemed to lean toward him by some small degree. Amric tensed. His wilding magic screamed a warning, but it was unnecessary; he recognized a predator about to rush when he saw it. With an effort, he kept his hands from twitching toward his swords.

“Is this to be it, then?” he asked in a low voice. “Is Bellimar the man lost entirely?”

Bellimar froze, then the glowing eyes dimmed a bit and he pulled back into his mantle of shadow. “Not yet, warrior,” he said, and some of the guttural growl was gone. “Not yet, but all too soon.”

Valkarr drew abreast of Amric, with gleaming steel bared in both fists. He did not remove his gaze from Bellimar as he spoke to Amric, “Perhaps the men fought amongst themselves.”

“Or were set upon by some other horror out here,” Halthak put in, glancing about.

“Perhaps,” Amric agreed. “I see only the tracks of the men at the base of the path, over our own and those of the horses. Whatever violence occurred up there, they either brought it with them, or it found another way up.”

“Or it leaves no tracks,” Thalya offered, casting a pointed look at Bellimar.

“Whatever the case, it is time we found out,” Amric said.

Bellimar retreated into the darkness and agreed to remain below until called. Amric went first, swords drawn. He felt the weight of the vampire’s gaze pressing at his back until the curve of the path took him out of sight. He reached the peak and stepped into the broad crown of rock, dropping into a low crouch. Valkarr and Sariel joined him an instant later.

All was quiet. Too quiet, he decided. The pool of water was undisturbed, an unbroken mirror nestled at one end. The thin copse of trees stood untouched by any breeze, and six of the seven men were sheltered there in various states of repose. Two sat with their backs to the boles of trees, heads bowed, and the other four were lying on their sides with their heads resting on their arms. Of the seventh, there was no sign. Amric studied the scene for a long moment. They were too still. No rustle of breath, no twitch to discourage a persistent insect, no slight stirring to find a more comfortable position on the ground. Not a single chest rose and fell to indicate life. These men were all dead.

Amric signaled to the others and started forward. Valkarr followed on his heels. Sariel dove into the underbrush and Thalya leapt up to the lip of rock and began to walk the perimeter in a half-crouch with bow drawn. Halthak put his back to