Destiny's Blood by Marie Bilodeau (best authors to read .TXT) 📗

the wild ether from killing others ignited him beyond death. He could feel it tingle and come alight around him as the heir charmed it safely back to her planet.

But it wasn’t fully reborn yet, and he still had time.

He would stop her.

CHAPTER 44

Layela!”

Layela smiled and turned at the familiar voice, tearing her eyes away from her changed reflection.

“Ardin!” she screamed back. He emerged into the altar room, his steps faltering by Dunkat’s body for an instant. He looked at her eyes, a question in his, as though unsure who she truly was.

She was about to reassure him when a movement caught his eyes and he jumped sideways. Layela felt her blood freeze in her veins.

Dunkat’s body shifted and twitched and then, without effort, he stood. Blood clung to him like a second layer of clothing. His face was grey and ashen, his eyes deep pools of twilight.

His mouth moved for an instant, as though he wished to say something but his tongue no longer remembered how to form words. Beside him, Ardin hesitated barely a moment before throwing himself towards Zortan’s discarded blade. Even from where she stood, Layela could see that Ardin’s movements were slower than they should have been. A bad wound on his right arm forced him to favour his left, which slowed him further.

Ardin screamed and sliced down with the blade. Dunkat kept his place, intent on Layela who stood frozen by the ghastly sight of him. The sword struck the dead man’s shoulder but barely pierced him. Black mists escaped his wounds and Ardin quickly backed away.

“It’s like the black tar!” he called to her.

Dark ether. Tainted ether that needed to be cleansed by Mirial. She could do it. She had to. But as she stared into his black eyes, watched his peeling skin turning dark purple, her limbs refused to move.

Ardin! She wanted to scream, but fear crushed the words in her throat. As though hearing her anyway, Ardin struck again. The sword failed to break skin this time. Ardin threw himself back out of range and Dunkat’s flailing arm missed him by a hair. Ardin fell hard on his wounded right arm. He was already weakening, Layela knew, and adrenaline was draining from him.

Dunkat moved now, not towards Ardin who struggled to rise again, but towards Layela. His mouth twisted into a repugnant smile and two rotted teeth fell to the ground.

Layela entire body seemed to ache with the desire to move, but her breath was short and her mind blank. She closed her eyes to force the sight of him out of her mind, calling to Mirial instead. Mirial would save her.

“Layela!” Ardin screamed and her eyes snapped open. Dunkat was barely two metres from her. How had he moved so fast? She took a step back and raised her arms defensively, all thoughts of ether forgotten. Dunkat was intent on her, ignoring Ardin as he neared him, screaming.

“Ardin,” Layela whispered. She took another step back, wondering if she had a gun. She did, she remembered, and her right hand slowly lowered towards the holster. So slowly…

Dunkat reached out and Ardin was on him, a howl breaking free of his throat as he sliced down. The ancient sword of the Royal Guards heeded his plea for help and came to life, ether dancing wildly on the blade as Ardin struck, hard. Layela felt the warmth of the ether radiating from the sword, as though it tried to soothe her.

The sword cut deep into Dunkat’s torso. Ardin fell forward with the unexpected strength of his own blow. He tried to catch his footing and swerve back in front of Layela, but Dunkat moved too fast for him.

Dunkat’s right arm came up, knocked the blade out of Ardin’s hand with a sickening snap of shattering bone. Dark ether rippled into Ardin’s chest.

“Ardin!” Layela screamed. She took a step toward him, but Dunkat tossed him to the side as though he were nothing more than bag of feathers. Ardin rolled a few times, a trail of blood glistening in the sunlight filtering through the roof. When he came to a stop, he did not move, his left arm jutting from under his body at an unnatural angle.

Layela fought the urge to run to him, and planted her feet firmly on the ground instead. Dunkat stared at her, his advance starting again as though nothing had happened. Black mists flowed from his severed shoulder and the wounds in his torso.

She couldn’t run. She knew she had nowhere to go, and running now meant abandoning Ardin. She could heal him, as she had healed Avienne with ether.

Ether.

To soothe. To heal. To purify.

To fight.

She could use the ether. She knew she could, and she needed to. Yoma, Josmere, Ardin, Zortan, even Mirial herself had all protected and supported her. But now it was her turn to stand alone and protect them.

She felt the weight of her own destiny clothe her shoulders like a mantle, and did not try to shrug it off.

Mirial’s breath was all around her. She captured it with her mind, feeling its power penetrate her body.

Dunkat was close, his dark mists licking her exposed skin. She did not back away, but looked up again and focused on his eyes; eyes of twilight.

This time, fear did not clutch her soul or paralyze her. He took another step, reached out with his arm and grabbed her throat. His grasp constricted her airway and his fingernails extended, growing long and piercing the side of her neck.

She wanted to cough, but no breath could escape her or enter her. The reek of his flesh was trapped inside her, and she could taste her own blood at the back of her throat. She could feel tears running down her cheeks and her arms came up, but instead of trying to pull his hand free, she reached for his head.

The time has come to let go, Dunkat Groosh. Warmth invaded her body. Layela let the ether flow through her