Her gaze sharpened. "Warding is only the first step to becoming an Elious. I can complete the process. No weapon of this earth will harm you. The Crafts of the akhkharu will be useless, and all those less powerful will be at your command. One thing you must do. Strike down their king, Alaric Aelfvalder, and the rest shall fall easily. He is the architect of the plot against Kaerleon, and against you. Only then will your vengeance be complete. Only then will you ever know peace."
Vengeance. Marcellus bent to retrieve his sword. The blade shone brightly, as though in anticipation of being used again.
Leilavin nodded, the smile still on her face. "That is why you cannot slay yourself, Marcellus. Deep inside you know your task is not yet complete. Quit now, and your true Companions will have died in vain. Your king will have died in vain. Your family — all in vain. Is that what you wish?"
Marcellus heard his own words repeated in his ears. Anyone involved, anyone that benefited, anyone that even dreamed of harming what was mine. His heart pounded. "You can do this? You can give me the power to destroy them?"
The black rosebuds curved. "More than you believe possible if you will kneel and serve. What you need will be drawn to you, Marcellus, I swear it. You will be able to fulfill this task. Accept my offer. Become my Reaver."
For an instant, he wavered. The bargain was against everything he had learned, everything he had fought for. Death was not an ally. She was the enemy. The enemy of man, the enemy of Deis.
And what has Deis done for you? What have your lofty beliefs gotten you? All you love lies cold at your feet!
Marcellus raised his head and met her scarlet stare. "Very well, Mistress. I accept your terms."
Movement caught his eye. He turned, already knowing what he would see.
She pressed against the invisible barrier, shouting indistinguishable words as she vainly pounded the transparent surface. Her eyes were wide in fear and concern. The staff in her hand shone like a golden lamp.
I'm sorry, Nyori. I don't have your strength. I told you before what I had sworn to do.
Leilavin's eyes never wavered from Marcellus' face. "The Shama can do nothing more for you. The decision is final. You belong to me now."
Marcellus looked into her eyes and gasped. The unseen barrier dropped, and the storm surged inward, roaring as though furious at being held back.
Leilavin took his head in her hands. Her touch made the snow seem warm, her grip unbreakable, her scent of freshly overturned earth. Her fingers traced across his forehead, his brow felt aflame. Her raven stole enveloped him like great black wings and wrapped him in their embrace. In that darkness, her face and eyes glowed as she drew him close and kissed him deeply.
Cold.
Marcellus tried to jerk back, but he was frozen; hoarfrost coated him and seeped inward until it coated his bones, his marrow splintered and shattered in a million icy pieces. From that tundra came a bloom of heat, a single blue flame that flared and bubbled through his veins.
He heard his voice wailing in agony as though it were someone else. The feeling of falling overwhelmed him, of floating into eternal darkness. Emotion, pain, and suffering — they did not exist there.
Only fire.
So this is what it feels like to die…
A terrible scream rent through his consciousness. His last sight was of a gargantuan horse hurtling through the flames toward him with eyes of darkness and hooves flickering with silver lightning.
Chapter 25: Nyori
Nyori stumbled forward into the roaring snow when the transparent barrier suddenly vanished. Gusts of freezing powder whirled, angry winds buffeted her to her knees. She leaned on Eymunder to support herself, battling the flailing white flurries that sought to blind her.
What she saw almost made her prefer sightlessness.
Leilavin watched placidly as blue-white flames engulfed the flailing figure in front of her. Nyori still had no idea who Leilavin was. Another Aelon, perhaps? Whoever she was, she thought herself the living embodiment of death, and surely death was what Nyori witnessed.
The scent of burning flesh nauseated her. She cried out, but the strom muffled her voice as the flames sizzled into the charred remnants of what had been Marcellus only seconds before. The ghastly figure still stood, a macabre puppet held up by invisible strings as a black, pulsating cloud enveloped it.
The cloud was born of the ground, as though the earth gave up its inner parts; dark stone and glittering obsidian chips swirled around, attaching to the blackened figure in its center. Rebuilding it.
Something emerged from the dark cloud, something with glowing embers for eyes. Hunched and snarling, it slowly coalesced as the unearthly cloud swirled around it. Glyphs of fire blazed across its chest and smoldered on its brow. A roar not made from a human throat ripped from its throat, echoing from the massive horned helm that completely enveloped its head. It emerged from the darkness and stepped forward to tower over Leilavin.
Nyori knew what it was only from the whispers in her mind.
A Reaver.
Wicked spikes studded dull black armor covered by a tattered tabard and cape embroidered with ravens. Fiery eyes flared from the visor slit, eyes that radiated all of the fury and hatred that Marcellus fought to control. Against the snowy backdrop with vapor streaming from the tiny holes in the helm, the Reaver looked blasphemous, an irremovable stain standing out against an untouched canvas.
Leilavin wore a satisfied smile as she circled him, her black-lacquered fingers tracing his armor. Snow melted upon impact against the still-smoldering metal, streams of water hissed to the ground.
"What have you done?" Nyori could not believe she dared to break the silence, could not believe she brought the attention of the baleful woman upon her. Had she thought Leilavin benign?
I made a terrible mistake.
Leilavin's ruby-eyed stare was inhuman; her pupils animalistic. And her presence…it dwarfed everything, a force as old as nature, as malevolent as hatred lying raw in the open.
"Nyori." The word was a crystal dagger. "I thank you for supplying me with a warded host. Without that, I could never have accomplished this. A Reaver is an invaluable tool. You are fast becoming a worthy apprentice."
Nyori flinched. "Why did you do this? What is it that you want?"
Leilavin looked puzzled. "What do I want? Revenge, child. You were there when Alaric attacked my realm. I was tied to it and my Reavers by powerful binds. His attack left me terribly weakened. He freed himself and the akhkharu from my control, but could not free them from their curse. You took care of that when you stole Eymunder from his grasp."
Nyori stepped forward. Eymunder flashed, clear and shimmering as though she held a spear of ice in her hand. The golden orb blazed like a desert sun.
"You cannot have him!"
Leilavin shielded her eyes. "You have learned some things, it seems. Not enough. Without a Tome, Eymunder will be practically useless to you. Just as trying to save Marcellus is useless to you. I have transferred a portion of my essence into him. My will is his will. If you believe that the man you knew is still within my new servant, then speak. I will not bar your way."
Nyori took a step forward. "Marcellus?"
The ebon specter said nothing. It did not even look her direction. Nyori stifled a sob as she lifted a hand helplessly.
Leilavin laughed as she turned to it. "Do you know who you are?"
"I am your Reaver." Its voice boomed as though from the depths of a deep cave.
"And whom do you serve?"