Adept (The Essence Gate War, Book 1) - By Michael Arnquist Page 0,206

the rock, clutching his staff before him, and Syth remained there with him, his jointed metal gauntlets curled into fists as he swept his gaze over the area.

The two warriors crept near the motionless bodies of the men. Valkarr stretched out one arm, and with the flat of his blade, lifted the bearded chin of one of the men sitting upright against a tree. Half-lidded eyes stared forward, unseeing, and blood seeped from a slit throat.

“No talon did this,” Valkarr commented in a whisper in the Sil’ath language. “Only a keen steel edge cuts so clean.”

Amric nodded, glancing around. Each of the other men bore similar marks, a single stab to the heart or a single slice to the jugular, and each was sitting or lying in a congealing pool of blood. “Efficient,” he remarked in the same tongue. “Each death by a single stroke, no bruising or defensive wounds. Even their expressions are serene. There is no indication these men had any time to fight back.”

Valkarr peered at the slack features of one of the men, then turned to study another. “Do these men look familiar to you?”

“Morland’s men,” Amric said with a frown. “I thought I recognized them earlier tonight in the hive, from our visit to that bastard’s estate. They are––or were––members of his personal guard.”

“Something is not right,” Valkarr said, lifting his head to scan around. “Where is the seventh? Could one man have done all this? A trained assassin, perhaps, who took them all in their sleep?”

Amric shook his head; he had no answer. An uneasy sensation was crawling between his shoulder blades. His friend was correct, something was not right here. He had the persistent feeling that they were being watched. The wilding magic stirred within him.

Thalya gave a low whistle, and the warriors rose to their feet. The huntress was standing at the far edge of the crag, across the shallow pool from them. She motioned downward. “I found the last one,” she called. “He is draped over the rock here. I think he is dead.”

She began to kneel, and sudden instinct screamed a warning to Amric. He shouted, “Thalya, no!”

The attacks were swift as lightning, their timing without flaw. Amric had taken half a step when a cloud of smoke erupted behind him. A slight gust of warmth caressed at his skin, and a sulfurous smell burned at his nostrils. Steel sang in the crisp night air, and Amric twisted with the reflexive speed only a Sil’ath warrior could manage. A talon of fire raked along his ribs, parting the links of his mail shirt like so much paper. Amric caught a fleeting glimpse of pale skin, an unruly white shock of hair, and delicate features twisted in a primal mixture of murder and ecstasy. He continued his spin, lashing out with his sword, and Valkarr stepped into a lunge of his own from a few paces away. There was a soft thump in the air as the assassin vanished in another swirl of smoke, and the warriors’ blades crossed in the space he had been.

Thalya started to straighten at Amric’s shout and then went rigid, her back arching as she was lifted to her toes. Blood burst from her chest, and she looked down, eyes wide with disbelief. A thorn of steel sprouted there, glistening red. The blade was withdrawn with a jerk, eliciting a strangled gasp from her, and she collapsed to the rock. The second Elvar assassin stood behind her amid a veil of smoke. He watched her fall, a feral grin alight on his narrow face.

“Brother, I am most displeased,” he purred. “Its vulgar bellow spoiled my clean kill.”

His twin appeared next to him in a dark cloud. He cocked his head at the crumpled form of Thalya. “No matter, brother. It is a long way back to the city. We can claim them all one by one, at our leisure.” He raised his voice, calling to Amric. “Our lord Morland sends his regards. He wishes it to know that it dies tonight by his decree. By now the city has fallen, but it must understand that our lord is most thorough and cannot permit word of his arrangement with the Nar’ath to spread.”

“Our lord is wise,” the other agreed. “Witness his justified caution in that it has not only survived the Nar’ath, but sought to steal away his gift to them.”

“Morland, that snake!” Amric snarled. “So he is the traitor the Nar’ath queen mentioned. He betrayed the