With his voice swelling in her ears, she felt unusually drowsy. Before she could see what Marcellus thought, her head touched her blankets, and she drifted…
She ran in an iridescent forest, among trees that glowed white as though they harnessed lightning. She skipped along as Aelon danced around her, graceful as gazelles with their whirling movements. She stared wide-eyed at their beauty and grace, in their flowing robes of shimmering patterns…
"Nyori."
A shadowy figure caught her eye. The cloaked stranger stood in the deep thicket, his face indecipherable. But his voice was instantly familiar. Teranse the Theurgist thrust out a hand toward her as if in warning.
"Wake up, Nyori. You are taken by the akhkharu."
Nyori awoke slowly as the dream scattered like startled rats. Her head was an anvil on her neck, but she managed to sit up groggily. Her senses immediately picked up the menace, so thick it nearly smothered her. She heard scuffing sounds and muffled grunts. In the dying embers of the fire, she beheld a sight out of her nightmares.
Murdon was killing Marcellus.
Or what looked like Murdon. The man wore the same tattered clothes, but his hair was dark and slick, the aged lines vanished. His eyes glittered; his face distorted in a feral snarl. One hand easily pinned Marcellus by the throat.
Marcellus managed to draw a dagger from his boot. Murdon easily caught his arm and twisted savagely. Nyori screamed as the arm bent the opposite direction with a sharp crack. Marcellus gave a strangled moan.
Murdon's face wrinkled in a horrific grin when he saw her. His voice was the sound of razors rubbed together. "My companions returned in failure. But I was patient. I knew if I waited, you would come to me." His fingers twirled; a black dagger appeared in his hand. "First I will slay your protector. Then I will feed on your sweet essence."
The dagger plunged. Marcellus and Nyori cried out together.
Something pulsated at her side. The patterned Glyphs on her hands glowed in response as she snatched Eymunder from the satchel on her belt. It instantly waned and lengthened into a staff with a thought.
Marcellus' struggles weakened by the second.
Nyori approached on Murdon's blind side, closing her eyes as she struck. The impact jolted her arms; sizzling heat washed over her. When her eyes opened Murdon was impossibly tall as he writhed like an injured bear. His wounded roars battered her ears as he clutched his ruined side. The stench of burned flesh almost made her gag.
Marcellus rolled sideways and snatched his sword with his good hand.
Murdon swung blindly and grazed Nyori with a clumsy backhand. As she staggered backward, Marcellus charged with a roar. Murdon was shadowy death as he seized him by the wrist.
Before Marcellus could lose his second arm, Nyori swung Eymunder at Murdon's legs. He bellowed as he stumbled.
She tried to strike again, but Murdon snarled and hoisted her by the neck. She gagged and kicked wildly at his chest and face.
Marcellus gave a wild yell and plunged the blade in Murdon's heart.
The shriek that ripped from Murdon's throat was that of a thousand ravens pouring from a nightmare as he dropped Nyori and fell to one knee. Yet he still refused to die. Blood trickled from his lips as he slowly raised his head, the grin on his face almost stopped Nyori's heart.
Marcellus shook his head dizzily as he pulled the blade free. He roared again and hacked with horrific force, severing Murdon's head from his body.
Though it seemed nothing else could shock them, they watched in fascinated horror as sparks flared from Murdon's wounds. The body ignited in bluish flames that devoured the clothes and flesh until only glowing ash remained.
Marcellus took a faltering step, then fell heavily to the earth. Nyori dropped to her knees beside him.
"You are indeed a warrior princess, milady." Marcellus' smile was weak. "Truly I am honored to have been in your company."
Nyori looked in alarm at the dagger handle protruding from his side. She pulled it out carefully, gasping as blood spurted on her hands. "Lie still. I shall try to heal you again."
"It is…too late. Poison laced that dark blade. Even now I feel it taking me away. My time has come. Do not be afraid, and do not cry, young Shama. I longed to return home, but perhaps it is only fitting I die as I lived…"
His head lolled to the side, his eyes closed and he exhaled heavily. He said no more as his body sagged and his stubborn will finally depleted, leaving behind the broken and battered body of a mere man.
Nyori desperately stripped him to the waist, trying to focus and probe him as before, but she touched only emptiness, as though reaching into a void.
There was nothing to heal.
Eymunder flared brightly, a signal fire that bathed them in golden light. She knew for certain that the staff could aid her in healing even his deadly wounds; the borrowed memories in her head assured her of that. Yet it could destroy him just as quickly. Healing took strength from the wounded as well, and his strength was all but gone.
She looked at Marcellus' face; so noble in its departure from life as the last breaths left his body. There was no voice from above to tell her what decision was best, no sudden wisdom to be imparted to guide her to the right decision. The winds blew in mists from the mountains, shapeless ghosts that cried as though they grieved the fallen knight already. She knew there was little time to make a choice.
The knowledge was in the remnants that the Theurgist had burrowed in her mind. Fortunately, the borrowed memories knew precisely how to form the sequence correctly. There had never been a complete master of Apokrypy until Teranse accepted the mantle. What was basic in his mind was more complex than many others could even conceive.
And he had given that knowledge to her.
With a simple focus the staff became a wand again, more suitable for intricate Glyph binding. The orb pulsated as she traced the sequence of Glyphs across his bare skin with the narrow light that beamed from the end of the wand. It was like writing without ink, trying to keep the form of each Glyph perfect at the same time. The characters lingered for mere seconds before fading into his skin.
She finished the sequence and stood. Marcellus lay completely still with his eyes closed.
"Elu annu etlu ina baraqu anna," Nyori said.
Nothing happened. Marcellus did not move or make a sound.
Nyori waited. The starlight was smothered by heavy clouds, the surrounding terrain hushed as though waiting with her.
Nothing.
Finally, Nyori sighed. Her shoulders sagged as she squeezed her eyes shut. Somehow, the words were not right. Whether it was the form of the Glyphs or the pronunciation, she didn't know. But once again, she had failed.
Misty rain fell, dampening her hair.
Thunder murmured.
The storm broke with sudden violence. Lightning flickered unceasingly, all around so that Nyori's nostrils stung from the scent of smoke, char, and sizzling ozone. Thunder rumbled so powerfully that the ground quaked with reverent submission. Nyori staggered but managed to keep her footing as she stared at the display in silent awe and more than a little fear.
Tiny fingers of electricity separated from the unceasing flashes and latched to Marcellus' body. The sizzling threads encircled, raising him until his entire body hovered just above the trembling earth.
Eymunder's orb flared golden, and though lightning struck in their vicinity, it was as though an invisible dome protected them. Nyori's hands and arms glimmered as though charged by the electricity. Her scalp tingled and her hair hovered around her face. Debris from damaged brush and turf floated in the air, and the rain fell in sheets that did not touch her. She closed her eyes and held up her arms, surrendering to the embrace of the storm.