Maria Snyder V.

Taste Of Darkness


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bush was him. Stretched across the forest, he felt every intruder, every animal, and each breeze. Pain from broken limbs and trampled grass pulsed inside him.

      At times, he was nowhere. He existed in a void of light and sound. But he struggled against the nothingness and returned to the living green.

      At times, he was everywhere and nowhere, teetering on the edge.

      The voice of the living green spoke to him. Told him to rest. Told him to stop fighting.

      Kerrick never liked being told what to do.

      I’m not.

      Going to.

      Rest.

      I promised.

      Avry.

      He resisted the pull. Fought the fever.

      CHAPTER 5

      Ryne’s hard expression and threat to prevent me from joining Flea failed to affect me. “Uh-huh. And who’s going to help Flea when he pukes up his guts after awaking Estrid and still needs to awaken her staff of about twenty people? He won’t have the strength to do them all.”

      His shoulders drooped. “Why didn’t you tell me about that?”

      “You were too busy being all ‘no, you’re not going and I’ve spoken’ about it.”

      “And you were too busy being all defiant. You could have explained.”

      “I could have.”

      He studied me for a moment. “Except I was too busy putting my foot down instead of asking you why.”

      “That’s what I just said.”

      “Yes, but without the sarcasm.” He rubbed both hands over his face. “Now I understand what Kerrick had to deal with all those months. You’re exasperating.”

      “Thank you.” Kerrick’s name sent a jab of pain deep into my chest, but I kept it from showing on my face.

      Dropping his arms, Ryne just shook his head. “Okay, you can accompany the offensive. I’ll make it work.”

      “Good. And just so you know, if Flea and I go, then—”

      “The monkeys will insist on going, too. Got it.”

      Another thought occurred to me. “What happens if word gets back to Cellina that Estrid and her staff have been reanimated? Do we want to tip our hand now or wait?”

      “Excellent question. I debated the very same thing. In the end, I need Estrid. Her acolytes have been effective in recruiting soldiers for her army, and there are a number of her companies that have refused to join my forces. Hundreds of fighters have fled back to Ozero Realm and we need them.”

      Unpleasant memories of my encounter with High Priest Chane in Mengels played in my mind. His men had tried to ambush me. “The acolytes use strong-arm methods and outright kidnapping to recruit people. Do you really want to resort to that?”

      “Of course not. Which is why we need the High Priestess. Only an order from Estrid will change their methods. Plus she amassed a rather large army and could again. If Tohon hadn’t used his dead soldiers to trap them, he would have had a hard time defeating them.”

      “But they fight in the name of the creator.”

      “I don’t care if they fight in the name of broccoli. The goal remains the same.”

      True. I considered. “What happens if our combined forces conquer Cellina and High Priestess Estrid decides she wants to be in charge?”

      “You mean you don’t want to become an acolyte?” Ryne faked horror.

      “It’s those garish red robes. The color clashes with my hair.” I flicked an auburn strand from my face.

      “Now, now. The creator frowns on vanity.”

      “And on laughter, joy, music, dancing... Basically all forms of fun. Oh, and on sex, too. The creator’s a dour deity. However, you’re evading the question.”

      “I am?”

      “Ryne, talk or I’ll zap you.”

      All humor dropped as he gaped at me for a moment. “Will you?”

      “Are you crazy? I was just kidding.”

      “I know, but I’ve been curious about your healing powers. There’s no record of that defensive move you’ve used in my book on magic. I’d like to feel it for myself.”

      Remembering the attack at the infirmary, I hugged my chest. “Unfortunately, it’s not a secret any longer.” I explained about the head-to-toe covering they wore. My magic only worked if I touched skin.

      “Still it would be useful to know the extent of the pain.”

      “You are crazy.”

      “Please.”

      Low blow. “All right, but answer my question first or I won’t zap you.” Did I really just say that? The situation had turned unreal.

      Ryne smiled, acknowledging the twisted logic. “If Estrid desires power beyond her Realm of Ozero, then I will stop her. I promised Kerrick that I would return our world to its preplague state—with all Fifteen Realms thriving and prospering. Once that’s accomplished, I’ll retreat to Ivdel and assume my place as its king.”

      A heck of a to-do list. And it explained why he hadn’t assumed the title. Impressed, I studied Ryne. Intensity burned from his hazel eyes. Kerrick had utter faith in this man, which meant I did, too.

      Ryne stuck out his arm. “Okay, now zap me.”

      I gestured toward his bed. “It would be better if you lie down. Some people have a low pain tolerance and collapse right away.”

      He huffed in amusement, but followed my advice. Before I took his hand he said, “Low pain tolerance? Do you judge people based on their pain thresholds?”

      “Don’t worry—your manhood isn’t at stake. Well...unless you break down and bawl like a baby,” I teased. “Then I have no choice but to tell the monkeys and Flea.”

      “I’d expect nothing less. Uh...have people bawled?”

      “Yes. It can be very overwhelming. Just squeeze my hand twice if it gets too severe.”

      “You once told me you zapped Kerrick so you could escape. How long did he last?”

      Bittersweet memories surged. I’d blasted him with every ounce of strength, depleting all my energy. “I didn’t escape.” The stubborn, infuriating man wouldn’t let go. And I hoped that exasperating quality helped him now.

      “Oh.”

      “Yeah, I would have been impressed except I hated his guts at the time.” I patted Ryne on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, I don’t hate you. Well, not at the moment. But if we keep reminiscing...”

      “All right.” He laced his fingers in mine.

      Magic flowed from my core, but instead of healing, I channeled it to cause pain. Starting out with a tiny spark, I gradually increased the power. Ryne’s expression tightened and he fisted his other hand. Color leaked from his face as sweat beaded on his forehead. All his muscles tensed.

      He pumped my hand a few minutes after I’d reached the level most people collapse at. I stopped. Ryne lay there panting. He wiped his sleeve over his face, mopping up the sweat before it reached his eyes.

      Pushing up to his elbow, he said, “Wow. That’s a significant weapon you have. And as soon as you stopped, all the pain disappeared.”

      “That’s because the magic affects your nerves, but doesn’t damage them.”

      “Handy.”

      “As