Adept (The Essence Gate War, Book 1) - By Michael Arnquist Page 0,232

burned, and still he did not avert his gaze. His shining black hair withered and fell from his head. Searing flame blossomed in his chest. His flesh began to fall away in flakes of black ash, and his robes sank inward as his tall form became wasted and skeletal.

There was less pain than he had expected, he noted with detached interest; a small mercy, that. Falling ash obscured his vision for a moment, and he waited patiently for it to clear. His sight continued to darken, however, and the golden light contracted as if the sun drew back from him. No matter.

Rest well, Thalya, thought Bellimar. Your mission is complete at last.

Then awareness faded, and the cavernous hall stood empty but for drifting black ash and the fading resonance of death.

Amric lay stretched out on the cool marble of the platform, gazing upward at the calming sky. He knew he had been dozing by the fitful, uneven leaps of the sun as it climbed to its mid-morning height.

The immense shadow of the Essence Gate fell across him. He did not glance at it. He did not need to. The Gate had not ceased its low murmurings to him since those first moments of contact, and he did not need to look upon it to sense its steady, quiescent thrumming. It was a marked transformation from the raging nexus of power it had been, but still it radiated deep, eternal patience that bespoke a readiness––an expectation––to awaken once more when called upon. Amric’s jaw clenched at the thought.

A less distinct change, but no less real, was evident all around the Gate. The storm had vanished; the clouds above continued to thin, and they had lost much of their sullen glower. The white mist, insolent in the face of the rising sun, still clung to the ruins of Queln below, but the eerie cries of its tortured inhabitants had subsided. An idle breeze wound its way through the forest that encircled the ruins, like a rustling sigh of relief.

It had been only a few short hours since the Essence Gate had been shut down, but the land was already breathing easier. Perhaps it marked the beginning of recovery. Even the pulsing rivers of energy far beneath him had begun to ebb somewhat. Several major ley lines converged here, and so Queln would always be a place of power, but it was no longer the crashing maelstrom of before.

Amric sighed. He was stalling.

He rolled to his feet and stood. The others were resting a short distance away on the platform, farther from the Gate. Valkarr and Sariel were on their feet an instant after him, their expressions expectant. Halthak lifted his head and blinked large, owlish eyes. Syth was sprawled out with his head on one folded arm, and his chest rose and fell to a light snoring sound. Amric smiled as he looked upon each of them, but he sobered as he met Valkarr’s gaze.

“We should have that conversation now, my friends,” Amric said.

Valkarr started on a good-natured retort. Then he paused, studying his friend’s expression, and merely nodded instead. Amric joined them, and they sat in a circle at the platform’s edge. The warrior considered his words for a long moment, and then began speaking in a soft tone.

“When Bellimar was… inside my head, he unearthed memories of mine, truths that I either never really knew, or somehow managed to bury and forget. My earliest memories, of where I came from and how I came to be among the Sil’ath.”

Amric took a breath, frowning. The others watched him, saying nothing.

“What Xenoth said was true,” he said. “I was not born on this world. I was left alone as an infant, presumably when my parents were slain as Xenoth claimed, and I would have died as well if my wilding magic had not acted of its own will to save me.” He held Valkarr’s gaze. “It saved me by reaching out and touching the minds of the Sil’ath hunters it found nearby.”

Valkarr’s brow ridge rose slightly, but otherwise he betrayed no emotion whatsoever.

Amric continued, “In particular, the magic concentrated its efforts on the leader of the hunting party. It soothed his distrust of other races, and it pulled at him to investigate the concealed dwelling that held me. Once it had persuaded the Sil’ath leader to take me from there, it buried itself so deeply within my mind that even I was unaware of its presence thereafter. I think it somehow sensed