Adept (The Essence Gate War, Book 1) - By Michael Arnquist Page 0,207

city and his own men, his own kind, to those monsters!”

Just then, a strangled sound resolved into an incoherent scream of loss and rage. Syth rushed toward the assassins with a wild-eyed look of madness, and the violent winds whirling around him flattened the foliage and propelled him along in great bounds.

“Syth, wait!” Amric cried, starting forward. “We must attack together, or they will kill us all, one at a time!”

Syth gave no indication he had heard the warrior. He leapt to the ridge of rock and raced along it at a breakneck pace, heedless of any danger to himself. The Elvaren roared with laughter, their faces alight with their own madness.

“Come ahead to your death, fool,” one said, beckoning with a long, slender blade. “Now or later, it is all the same. You cannot hide from us, for we will be waiting in the next shadow you fail to check. We are creatures of the night––”

A wave of blackness rose over the edge. It flowed like ink over the rock and sent sinuous tendrils into the basin. The night air thickened with sudden, biting cold. A figure coalesced there, spreading a cloak of writhing shadows. Its eyes burned scarlet and fierce, furious and vengeful. Every living creature present knew it at once on some instinctual level; this was death incarnate, merciless and ravenous beyond measure. The Lord of the Night turned the full weight of his gaze upon the assassins, and the rumbling hiss that issued forth bore not the slightest trace of humanity.

The Elvaren gaped, their eyes bulging, and they both vanished in a flash of smoke.

Syth rushed to Thalya’s side and cradled her in his arms. Halthak splashed through the shallows of the small pool at a run, and threw his staff aside as he reached her. The Sil’ath warriors arrived an instant later, watching every direction for the return of the assassins.

“She lives,” Halthak moaned as he placed his hands on her. “But there is so much damage, and she is so weak….” He squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating, and Amric’s senses tingled as the healer’s magic came into play. Syth cast frantic looks from Thalya to Halthak. Her breathing was quick and shallow, coming in tiny, bubbling gasps. The flow of blood from her chest slowed as the healer worked, but did not stop, and the wound shrank somewhat but remained open.

The warrior ground his teeth in helpless fury. On sudden impulse, he closed his eyes and focused on sending energy to the healer, offering it gently for his own use. The wilding magic flared in response, and he heard Halthak gasp. The hum of the healing magic against Amric’s senses intensified.

A minute went by, then two. At long last the Half-Ork sagged back with a groan, and Amric’s eyes snapped open. When Halthak looked up, his expression was tormented.

“No,” Syth whispered.

“I am so sorry,” Halthak said. “The strike was true, she is too far gone. There is not enough of her own spark left in her to fan back into a flame. I can die with her, but I cannot save her. I have given her a few more moments, but it is all I can do.”

Syth swallowed and nodded, and Halthak fell back against the rock, putting his head in his hands. Valkarr and Sariel each gripped him on the shoulders, their faces stony as they stared down at the huntress.

Syth continued to hold her, rocking slowly in place. Thalya drew in a ragged breath, and her eyes fluttered open. They glistened like emeralds as she looked up at him. “Syth,” she breathed.

He opened his mouth to reply, but his voice cracked and the words were lost. Thalya gave a wan smile.

“I wish we had more time, love,” she murmured. “I wish we had met sooner. Much… could have been different.”

“I would change nothing, but for the end,” Syth replied.

She smiled again, this time wider. Blood seeped between her teeth. “You see? You are better with people than you are aware, Syth.”

He made a choking sound and nodded.

“I need to speak with Bellimar now, love. Something… left unfinished.”

Bellimar, cloaked in shadow a short distance away, lifted his head at the words. Syth threw a scathing look at the vampire, but Thalya whispered something to him, and he gave a reluctant nod. He kissed her forehead and stepped back. Bellimar hesitated, looking at the others, and then glided forward. As he did so, the darkness writhing about him seemed to retract, to diminish somewhat,