“Where are the captives?” Amric asked.
“Marching back toward that outcropping of rock we camped on last night,” Thalya responded. “They are weak, and the desert may be no friendly place, but the men seemed to find it preferable to remaining near the hive.”
Amric nodded. “Nice shot, by the way. You have my thanks.”
“You are welcome,” she said. “And you owe me for that arrow.”
But she flashed a smirk as she said it, and he grinned back. Then her gaze strayed to Bellimar, taking in his bedraggled state, and her smile faded. Bellimar met her emerald eyes with an unblinking, unreadable expression. Amric tensed. The huntress had expended two of her powerful ensorcelled arrows, but she had a third remaining. It might look to her as if Bellimar was evincing a moment of vulnerability worth exploiting, but Amric had seen the vampire’s unnatural speed and strength firsthand below. In addition, the Nar’ath queen would reach the top of the dome in short order, and the battle would be resumed. They might need every weapon in their arsenal to stop her, if it was even possible to do so. A confrontation between the two of them here and now would prove disastrous for them all.
Before he could step between them, however, Thalya took a deliberate look up and down Bellimar, her cold expression promising a future reckoning, and then she turned her back on the old man. She stepped into the saddle of her black mare.
Amric let out a slow breath and swung atop his bay gelding. Sariel vaulted up to sit behind him. The others mounted their own horses, with Valkarr and Innikar riding together again, and the group began to pick their way around and down the dome as rapidly as its steep slope allowed. The horses seemed to be having an easier time on the descent than they had when climbing the structure, and Amric realized that the slope was less severe. The hive was slowly sinking, settling as it shook, almost deflating. The riders picked up speed, coaxing the horses to a sliding trot over the crumbling surface.
With a shriek like tearing metal, the Nar’ath queen burst from the hive. Her baleful gaze fell upon the riders, and long black claws tore into the stone as she surged forward after them.
“I hope you have a plan to stop that thing, swordsman,” Syth called as he cast worried looks over his shoulder. “That arrow only seems to have made it mad.”
Amric turned in the saddle to find Valkarr.
“We cannot face her directly again,” the Sil’ath said. “Our blades were little more than annoyances to her. We need to wear her down.”
“Agreed,” Amric replied. “Ride on to the ground and lure her away from the hive. I think she draws power from this location, somehow. Spread out so that she can only chase one at a time, while the others dart in and out quickly. She’s too big for a single killing stroke. Try to bleed her with smaller wounds instead. Weaken her slowly, and then finish her.”
Valkarr’s eyes narrowed, but he nodded in response as he rode. Behind him, Innikar gave Amric a questioning look.
“You talk as if you will not be there,” Sariel hissed into his ear, giving voice to their puzzlement.
“I am hoping it will not come to that,” Amric said with a tight smile. “But those are my orders-my suggestions-in case this does not work.” He handed her the reins.
“In case what does not-” she began.
Amric whipped a leg over the saddle and dropped from the horse.
Sariel shifted forward into the saddle and pulled back on the reins, slowing the big bay, but Amric waved them all on.
“Go!” he shouted. “I think I know how to stop her, but follow Valkarr’s lead if I am wrong.”
The riders exchanged glances, hesitating precious seconds more before spurring their horses onward down the outer surface of the hive. Syth lingered last, clearly torn as mad admiration shone in his eyes. Finally, he threw a long look toward the retreating form of Thalya on her mare, and he turned his horse after the others. Amric smiled; he wondered if Thalya knew.
“You are going to need a bigger weapon!” Syth called back as he rode away, and then Amric was alone.
I know, Amric thought. I am hoping I have brought one.
He turned to face the charging Nar’ath queen.
The riders had made good time, aided in large part by the gradual sinking of the dome. Amric now stood significantly closer to the wasteland below than to the top of the hive. The queen had gained ground on them, certainly, but her own mass and the decaying surface was hampering her progress. The fringe of small appendages skirting her huge form dug into the stone beneath her, keeping her from sliding out of control. She released and grabbed anew in a rippling, insect-like crawl. It brought her toward Amric at an alarming pace, but he was grateful to find it was nowhere near the blinding speed she had exhibited below.
He would need the time, if this was even going to work. If he was not insane after all.
Amric reached inside, searching for the presence he knew was there.
I need you now, he thought. You wanted to fight together. This is our chance.
For long, sickening seconds there was nothing. Amric watched the Nar’ath queen, radiating power and rage, clawing her way toward him. Then the familiar presence filled his mind, drowning his senses. Feelings of fear and urgency hammered at him, wrapping his own emotions and amplifying them until he was all but crushed beneath their weight. He staggered and almost went to one knee as a wave of dizziness struck him.
No! he commanded, gritting his teeth. If we fight for control, we will both die. This time we work together.
The pressure receded and the presence became hesitant, confused. It seemed to Amric like a wild animal, uncertain whether to attack or flee. He needed it to do neither of those, and instead accept a third alternative. His alternative.
I have done my best to deny your existence, he thought. Well, no longer.
The hive shook beneath his feet, and the Nar’ath queen came on.
You have hidden from me within my own mind, and sought to overwhelm me by acting on my behalf, he continued fiercely. No longer.
The Nar’ath queen drew near, glaring her hatred from a ruined face. She crouched low with her torso, squatting with forelimbs outstretched like a massive spider, while the serpentine rear part of her form gathered and tensed for the final pounce.
This time we work together, Amric repeated, lifting his arms.
Power roared within him, filling him like an ocean of white fire.
The Nar’ath queen’s glowing green eyes widened in sudden fear and outrage. “Adept!” she screamed. “Deceiver!”
With thunderous force that shook the dome anew, she catapulted into the air toward him. Amric raised his hands, palms outward, and made a sharp pushing motion. The monstrosity struck an invisible force in midair and careened backward to slam into the stone. Fine cracks snaked in every direction from the point of impact. She twisted back into an upright position in an instant, but he was not done. Operating on pure instinct-his or the other’s, he was not certain which-he reached out with hands flared open to send tendrils of power threading through the disintegrating stone of the hive. The dome began to rumble even more violently than before. The Nar’ath queen scrabbled with her talons over the bucking surface, seeking enough purchase for another charge.
“We will destroy your kind, Adept!” she spat. “My minions will-”
“Let us see if you can command your minions from hell, fiend!” Amric snarled back.
He clenched both hands into fists. A deafening roar shook the hive, and the top half of the massive dome fell away before him in an avalanche of stone. The Nar’ath queen vanished from sight, clawing and shrieking, sucked into a growing vortex of rock and sand. The hive continued to fracture and tumble in after her, and her screeching was lost in the thunder.