Chapter
Eight
Selyn sat outside by the front door in a chair that was made entirely out of little branches all tied together. It fit perfectly with the style of Dawson’s house, and was surprisingly comfortable, considering it was nothing more than bundles of twigs. Willow said it was made of willow branches, which might have made more sense if Selyn had the vaguest idea what a willow branch was.
They obviously had nothing to do with
a fairy stuck inside a dog. So many unfamiliar things to
understand! Selyn knew willow branches had to come from some kind
of plant, but she couldn’t see anything like these bundled sticks
growing around Dawson’s house. This land was dry and rocky, with
strange, spiky plants and huge, weathered rock formations all
about.
It was beautiful and desolate all at
the same time, and so big. Big and open and bright, and filled with
unusual sounds. She smiled, listening to the cactus wren chattering
and chirping nearby. So far, it was the only bird she knew how to
identify, which made her feel as if the silly creature sang for her
alone. She occasionally heard other birds, but she’d have to ask
Daws what they were.
The sky was a brilliant blue—so bright
it reminded her of Dawson’s eyes—and the sunlight made her squint.
Already Selyn loved the feel of the warmth on her skin. She’d never
again be happy without it, not now, and it was almost impossible to
believe she’d lived her entire life without sunlight. Knowing her
people had consciously accepted artificial light over sunlight when
they’d chosen exile inside the mountain to save themselves made her
unaccountably angry.
How could intelligent Lemurians,
people known for their ability to think things through, have
allowed themselves to be trapped within a separate dimension inside
that dark and foreboding mountain? What were they thinking when
they made the move to Mount Shasta, rather than to another part of
the planet Earth where they could still live outside in the light
of day?
Unless what she’d been told was
actually true—that the move was somehow forced on her people by
leaders who were controlled by demonkind. Demons needed darkness.
They thrived away from sunlight, which would explain the Lemurians’
exodus to a world beneath ground. It made terrifying sense, if
demons truly ruled them.
Even so, she’d still think it was all
a foolish lie, if she hadn’t witnessed Artigos when he’d been
trapped in the beams of the two crystal swords.
Not that she hadn’t already accepted
the fact that demons were real. She knew they were, but she
honestly hadn’t accepted the power they had, not really. Not the
fact they could get inside a person and actually control their
actions.
Well, she was a believer now.
Something about the strange light from the crystal blades—a thing
she’d never before witnessed—had revealed more than the eye
actually saw. She’d sensed another entity, somehow intertwined with
the man she’d learned to hate. She hadn’t actually seen a demon—not
with her eyes—but she’d recognized its existence with some other
sense she’d never used before. She’d known the demon was
there.
No one could deny the sense of evil
about Artigos. That had been obvious from the first moment she saw
him. Nor could anyone deny the fact he was somehow possessed. But
what she’d witnessed this morning went beyond any prior concept of
possession she’d ever had.
It was an unusual evil, a presence
separate from the man himself and yet very much a part of him. It
felt horribly wrong, and yet exactly the way she now imagined a
demon’s possession of a person would manifest itself.
The implications were terrifying and
sad. If Artigos were really an innocent victim, then that made all
of them victims. It meant that the DemonWars had never ended, that
Lemurians had not won that war. Either it meant they were still
fighting the same war today, so many thousands of years after
everyone believed the terrible scourge had ended, or it meant
they’d already lost.
Had they lost? Was it too late even to
try anymore? She wasn’t ready to accept that. Wasn’t prepared to
admit her mother and the other women warriors had fought in vain,
that they’d died in vain. Selyn wasn’t prepared to admit defeat.
Not while there was still breath in her body. Not while she had it
within her to fight demonkind.
Not that she’d ever experienced
demons. At least not that she knew of.
But what of
Birk? What of the other guards?
Were they possessed as well? Was
demonkind that thoroughly entrenched within Lemurian society that
even those who were supposed to guard and protect the people had
somehow become compromised?
Not
Roland. No, Roland of Kronus was one of the good
guys. Knowing men like him existed—men of free will— gave her hope.
He’d risked much to find her, to discover the truth behind the
rumors of the existence of the Forgotten Ones. He’d risked his
standing as a member of the Lemurian Guard to meet with Selyn, and
he’d risked his life to come into the mines and save
her.
She could only hope there were more
like him.
Now Alton wanted Selyn to return. He
wanted her to go back to the mines with a human man and a sword she
couldn’t wield, to risk her life once again to help a society that
had enslaved her for millennia.
A society responsible for the death of
her mother.
Except, if they were controlled by
demonkind, they were victims as much as she was, as much as her
mother had been.
Nine
hells, but thinking this through was making her head
hurt! She wished Dawson would come home. She missed him. But how
could that be? She hardly knew the man, yet she wanted to talk to
him about everything that had happened over the past couple of
days. She wanted a better feel for the mission they were being
asked to accomplish.
She wanted Dawson.
Now where the nine hells did that
thought come from? What could she possibly want with him? He was
human. He wasn’t a warrior; he was a healer. He couldn’t protect
her, and there was no way he could go up against a brute like Birk.
Dawson wasn’t much taller than she was, and he certainly wasn’t as
big and muscular or as strong as Dax, or even Alton. He was just an
average human male with eyes the color of a desert sky and gentle
hands that made her want.
Want
what?
BumperWillow whined and rested her
chin on Selyn’s knee. Once again the little spirit must be
eavesdropping.
Selyn idly scratched the dog’s curly
head. She stretched her legs out, arched her back, and sighed.
Though she was completely healed, her muscles felt tight. Probably
from not working her regular shift in the mines. She’d never in her
life spent so many hours without hard labor.
She’d changed back into the
comfortable cotton clothing Dawson had given to her. The baggy
pants and loose top were cooler and more comfortable than Ginny’s
jeans. It was going to take a while to get used to such tight,
restrictive clothing after a lifetime in formless robes. The jeans
might attract Dawson’s eye, but the fabric wasn’t as forgiving as
this outfit he called “scrubs.”
What a silly name for clothing. She
smoothed the soft fabric over her thighs and then once again ran
her fingers through the dog’s curly hair. She half expected Willow
to pop into her mind and tell her she was thinking unfair thoughts
about the citizens of Lemuria.
Why would I
do that? Everything you’ve wondered about is
true.
Selyn laughed and scratched under the
dog’s chin. “I wondered if you were eavesdropping on me again. Is
it all really as confusing as I keep thinking it is?”
It’s
worse. The dog sighed and laid her ears back against
her broad skull, but it was Willow’s mental voice that Selyn
heard.
I don’t
know what to do about Artigos, she said.
He has a very persistent demon that’s
almost entirely melded to his soul, but he is Alton’s father. I
don’t want to harm him, but we must remove the demon, even though
it’s a terrible risk we take. I don’t know what we can do, or who
can help.
“Maybe the one we’re taking the ruby
sword to will be able to help him.”
If he
doesn’t want to kill him. If that is truly Artigos the Just who has
been held prisoner all these years, he’s only there because his son
ordered it. He might not be feeling too kindly toward Artigos
number two.
“I hadn’t thought of
that.”
I
have. BumperWillow sighed. It’s all I can think of.
Dawson sat back in the wooden chair at
his big kitchen table. Gaia was in the back, sitting with Artigos,
and Alton still slept. Selyn had been terribly quiet since he and
Ginny had returned with Alton’s mom, but he couldn’t worry about
her right now.
He couldn’t let himself think about
her at all, or thoughts of her would consume him. Instead, he
focused on Ginny. “So you and Alton will take his mom and dad to
the portal in Mount Shasta, and Eddy and Dax will take over from
there?” Dawson shook his head, wondering over the confused
logistics. “How will they get him to Evergreen?”
Ginny folded her hands in front of her
on the kitchen table. “We’ll have to take him through the portal
that opens to the flank of Mount Shasta and hike down the mountain
to the end of the road. If Eddy and Dax can meet us there with
Eddy’s dad’s Jeep, and if we put a strong enough trance on Artigos,
they should be able to get him to town without too much
trouble.”
“He has promised to behave as long as
I’m with him.” Gaia stepped into the room. She managed to look
absolutely regal in spite of the trauma of the past hours—her life
had been totally upended in such a short span of time. “We’re ready
to go whenever you are.”
Ginny pulled out the chair next to
her. “As soon as Alton awakens . . .”
“Alton’s awake.” The big Lemurian
stepped into the kitchen. His eyes looked sleepy, and he yawned,
but he threw his arm around his mother’s shoulders, leaned close,
and kissed her cheek. “It’s good to have you here, Mother. I just
checked on Father. He seems somewhat calmer, now that you’re with
him.”
Gaia leaned into her son’s embrace.
Her smile was for Alton, not the situation. “That’s because he
expects me to help him escape your evil clutches, my son. He
doesn’t realize I’m on your side.”
Alton shook his head. “No, Mother.
There are no sides here. There is only the right thing to do, and
in this case, that’s removing the demon that has corrupted a good
man.”
“Thank you.” Gaia’s soft reply was
followed by an even softer sigh. “Then we need to go, and go
quickly. You, my son, must return to Lemuria as soon as possible
and take up your position as chancellor before anyone has time to
mount a serious challenge to your claim.”
Alton nodded. “I fear that’s already
begun. I’m still concerned about the unfamiliar guardsmen we saw.
Where they come from, who they are.” He kneaded the back of his
neck. Ginny grabbed his hand, stuck him in a chair, and began to
rub at the stiff muscles.
Alton sighed, but he tilted his head
and focused on Daws. “Dawson, you and Selyn should be ready to
leave immediately for Lemuria as soon as Ginny and I return from
delivering my parents to Eddy and Dax. We’ll go straight to my
father’s office through the small portal, then you can connect with
Roland for your journey into the mines.” He paused for a moment,
and focused his gaze on Selyn. “Are you sure you’re up to this,
Selyn? We’re asking a lot of you.”
She glanced toward Dawson. He winked
at her, and she smiled. “No more than the Forgotten Ones will soon
be asking of you,” she said. “I’m ready.”
Dawson stood in the doorway long after
the SUV carrying Ginny, Alton, Gaia, Artigos, and even the dog and
Artigos’s carefully wrapped crystal sword had gone, and thought of
all the changes in his life since the day he’d treated a whole
clinic filled with demon-possessed pets.
He wouldn’t trade these past few days
for anything, unless he could have kept Selyn from being hurt. He
sensed her behind him. Slowly, almost with a sense of disbelief, he
turned away from the bright afternoon sun.
His eyes took a moment to adjust to
the shadows inside the house. She stood just a few feet away, with
her hands clasped in front of her and that long black braid hanging
over her shoulder. Her beautiful blue eyes were as dark and deep as
an ocean, and every bit as filled with mystery.
Would he ever get past the feeling of
awe, of clumsy, inept reverence that swept over him whenever he saw
her? The hopeless, helpless awkwardness she inspired? He’d never
been all that much of a player, though he’d had comfortable
relationships with women over the years. Friendships, a few light
romances.
There was nothing comfortable about
Selyn.
None of the women he’d known had ever
affected him this way, but then he’d never known a woman who was
anything remotely like Selyn.
He blinked, but she was still there.
He kept expecting her to disappear. Such perfection couldn’t be
real, could it? He cleared his throat to make sure his voice would
work, and realized he had no idea what to say.
She left him speechless. He decided to
stick with the mundane, though he figured that would just convince
her—if she needed more convincing—that he was an
idiot.
“Do you want something to eat before
we have to leave?”
She smiled, every bit as unaffected by
him as he was driven nuts around her. “Alton said they might be
gone a couple of hours. Later, maybe. I’m not really hungry
yet.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“I thought maybe we could go outside,
now that I have these.” Smiling, she lifted one foot and showed off
a sandal.
He nodded. Okay. Outside worked. Then,
without thinking, he took her hand, and he was absolutely shocked
when she not only slipped hers into his grasp, but clasped his
tightly. The connection, the feel of her warm but callused palm was
almost his undoing.
He’d never wanted to touch a woman so
desperately, never reacted to one on so many levels, but Selyn had
him tied in knots. She had his heart speeding up and then slowing
down, his chest feeling almost too tight to draw breath, his
muscles locked with a tension he couldn’t describe.
All from holding her hand. He almost
laughed. No doubt, the woman was going to be the death of him. He
gently squeezed her fingers and opened the screen door. Selyn
followed him outside. The sunlight, even this late in the fall, was
almost blinding.
“Just a minute.” He stepped back
inside and grabbed a floppy straw hat off the rack by the door.
Carried it outside and gently placed it on Selyn’s head. She
touched the brim and smiled. “Thank you. I’m not used to the
sunlight.”
Now there was an understatement if
ever he’d heard one. He smiled at her, adjusted the angle of the
hat to better protect her eyes. Then he took her hand in his once
more.
They walked across the yard to the
small fish pond. The javalinas were gone, but the pond was home to
frogs and turtles and hundreds of tiny gray mosquito fish. A couple
of tired water lilies still bloomed, but they were well off their
peak.
“What is that?” She pointed at a
turtle sunning itself on a flat rock.
“A painted turtle,” he said, pointing
to another one floating at the surface with just its nostrils
showing. “There’s another. They live in the pond, along with some
frogs and, on occasion, a small water snake or two.”
They watched the turtles for a moment,
and then continued walking around the house to a point where the
Verde Valley spread out below them and the red rocks around Sedona
shimmered in the distance.
“So many wonders.” She sighed. “So
many things we who live below never imagined even existed. How
could my people choose to give this up?”
“Maybe they didn’t choose. Maybe
demonkind chose for them.”
Selyn turned and looked at him through
eyes filled with tears. Frustration and anger seemed almost a part
of her, but there was more he sensed. Sadness. Soul-deep and
heartfelt sadness. Despair and a terrible sense of grief, of
loss.
Dawson wasn’t sure how it happened,
what gave him the courage to act. Empathy, a desire to take away
her pain? For whatever reason, before he had time to think this
through, he had his arms around her and she was close, so damned
close he breathed in her scent and felt the warmth of sunlight on
her long, black hair.
Her arms wrapped tightly around his
back, and she leaned into his embrace. It seemed perfectly natural
to lift her chin with his fingertips and kiss her. The floppy straw
hat tilted away and dropped to the sand at her heels, but Dawson
didn’t care. Not when he was doing something he’d barely dreamed
of.
And, surprise of surprises, it wasn’t
nearly as frightening as it should have been for a man who felt
woefully inept around women. Dogs and cats were so much easier to
figure out, but Selyn didn’t seem to mind that he lacked the
finesse of most men when he tasted the full curve of her lips, when
his tongue traced the seam between them and gently begged
entrance.
She parted for him, tilting her head
just right in order to make their mouths fit even more perfectly.
Dawson fought the powerful urge to press his body closer, to kiss
harder, to slip his hands beneath her loose shirt and explore the
woman under the soft, cotton scrubs.
Her breasts were soft against his
chest, her fingers digging into his back as she clung to him,
holding on as if he were somehow anchoring her, holding her in
safety.
She had no idea what his body was
driving him to do. No idea how difficult it was to fight his baser
instincts. He didn’t want to frighten her, and he forced himself to
move slowly, to proceed carefully, but the thought of never taking
this beyond a kiss terrified him. Somehow, before too long, he
needed to know what her body felt like, how well it would align to
his. How perfectly he could fill her, make love to her, make her
his own.
Her tongue slipped into his mouth in a
timid exploration that sent Dawson’s heart stuttering in his chest.
Her taste was unique, the soft pressure of her lips against his—of
her tongue exploring the edges of his teeth and the sensitive curve
of his mouth—an almost uncontrollable aphrodisiac.
He clasped her head in his palms,
holding her so that he could taste and nibble and make love to her
mouth. He wanted more, so damned much more, but this was neither
the time nor the place, and it was all much too soon.
He felt the soft wind on his face and
the tentative touch of her warm fingers sliding beneath his shirt.
He groaned against her mouth. His body surged to readiness, and the
desire racing through him practically drove him to his
knees.
She had no idea what her innocent
touch did to him, no concept of a man’s reaction to a woman he
wanted. It meant that, no matter how much Dawson wanted to take
this to its perfect conclusion, he had to end this kiss now, before
he was totally incapable of ending anything without finishing it
first.
Slowly, gently, and very reluctantly,
he pulled away from her lips. Sucking in one, slow, deep breath
after another, he rested his forehead against Selyn’s and did his
best to drag in enough air to keep himself conscious.
Long moments later, when he felt as if
he’d gained control over his wayward body, he lifted his head and
gazed into Selyn’s sapphire blue eyes. They sparkled with more than
mischief. In fact, they practically glowed with the same arousal
rocketing through his veins, with the same powerful sense of need
that still tightened his body. He hardened even more, knowing she
shared the same desire to take this amazing kiss, this budding yet
impossible relationship, to its natural conclusion.
She ran the tip of her tongue over her
top lip and then across the bottom, staring at a point on his
throat instead of into his eyes. Finally she glanced up, smiling,
and touched his beard with her fingertips. “It tickles when you
kiss me.”
“I’ll shave it off.”
She laughed. “Don’t you dare.” She
stood on her toes and kissed his chin. “I like it. Just as I like
your kisses, though they leave me feeling . . .” She paused and
shook her head. “They leave me feeling very
unsettled.”
“Should I stop kissing
you?”
This time she kissed his lips, too
quickly for him to kiss her back. “Never. Well, for now, maybe, but
I want to do it again. When we have more time. I want to know what
comes next.”
He sighed and stepped back. “So do I,
Selyn. But not until you’re very, very sure.”
She raised her chin, and there was an
unspoken question in her eyes. Maybe she didn’t even know what to
ask.
He answered her anyway. “There are
some things, once done, that can never be undone. Some things too
important to rush. This. You and me? This is one of those
things.”
She worried her bottom lip with her
teeth, and then she nodded. He grabbed her hand and tugged. She
followed, and they headed back to the house. There were sandwiches
to make to take with them into Lemuria, and a few things to pack. A
new chancellor to seat on the Lemurian Council of Nine, a sword to
return to its rightful owner, and a hundred new crystal swords to
deliver to women too long forgotten.
That was all. Nothing more than a war
against demonkind to be won before Dawson figured they’d have time
to find out what came next.
It was only a couple of hours later
when Roland met all of them in the chancellor’s office deep within
Lemuria. Dawson figured that by now, Artigos and Gaia should be at
Eddy’s house in Evergreen. Darius and Mari, the Lemurian guardsman
and the human witch, were planning to meet with them
tonight.
Alton had gone immediately to his
father’s desk, where he was now checking schedules and preparing to
call a meeting of the Council of Nine. Ginny would stand beside him
as the chancellor’s consort, which left it entirely up to Dawson
and Selyn to return the ruby sword to its rightful
owner.
If the man Selyn had heard of really
was Artigos the Just.
Dawson tucked the carefully wrapped
sword and scabbard under his arm and clapped Alton on the shoulder.
“Good luck, Alton. Don’t worry if you don’t hear from us until
tomorrow. It may take us a while to actually reach the
prisoner.”
“I know. Plus, you’ll need to remain,
at least long enough to help Taron get the swords to their rightful
owners. So damned much to do.” Alton stood close beside Ginny. The
strain of the past few days was beginning to show on his face, but
the two of them looked more than ready to face the council. “Be
safe. Try not to take any chances, and listen to
Roland.”
Roland chuckled. “That’ll be a first.
I don’t think anyone listens to me. C’mon.”
Dawson and Selyn followed him through
the portal as soon as the sergeant was certain the way was clear.
Selyn had donned the white robe Gaia had given her so that she’d
blend in better, should they be discovered. She looked like an
exotic princess with her long hair unbound and flowing in soft,
ebony waves down her back. Gaia had also given her a gold circlet
to hold the hair back from her eyes. It glowed against her bronze
skin and only emphasized her beauty. This woman most definitely was
not a slave.
Never again. And how anyone as
gorgeous as Selyn expected to blend into anything was beyond
him.
Roland unsheathed his sword and
marched Dawson and Selyn along the tunnel as if he were taking them
to the cells below the main level. He glanced over his shoulder and
grinned at Dawson as they descended to the next level. “I still
think you should have worn one of those blue guardsmen’s robes.
Then you wouldn’t have to act the part of a prisoner.”
Dawson shook his head and glanced at
Selyn walking beside him. “Sorry, Roland, but all I could think of
was that if things got ugly, I didn’t want to try running for cover
in a dress.”
“Dress? This is not a dress. It’s my
uniform.”
Dawson laughed at his indignant reply.
“On Earth it’s a dress. Maybe a gown. Not what a real man would
wear.”
Roland raised his eyebrows in mock
outrage. “A real man, eh? Watch what you say to a real man carrying
a crystal sword, human.”
Dawson grabbed Selyn’s hand and shot
her a quick grin. He squeezed her fingers. “I’ll remember that when
your crystal sword gets tangled in your girly skirt. Seriously,
Roland. How do you fight wearing a robe? Doesn’t it get in the
way?”
Roland paused beside a portal that led
to an even lower level. “It does,” he said. “Guardsmen of old
dressed in pants and boots, similar to what you wear. The robe
became our official uniform when someone on the council decided we
needed to appear as philosophers, not warriors. Alton has already
said we can change the uniform as soon as things settle a
bit.”
“For women, as well.” Selyn pulled the
full skirt of her robe to one side. “It looks very pretty, but the
pants I wore at Dawson’s house are much more practical. I think I
shall bring that design to the women once we are
armed.”
Laughing, Dawson followed Roland
through the portal with Selyn beside him. Just what Lemuria needed.
An entire army of women warriors, all dressed in surgical
scrubs.
Neither Roland nor Selyn had a clue
what Dawson thought was so funny. Probably just as
well.
They passed through more portals and
walked down stairs cut into solid stone. Quietly, they followed the
secret and well-hidden tunnels Roland had discovered, where dim
lighting barely showed the way. Selyn kept listening for the sounds
of the Forgotten Ones laboring, but all she heard was the steady
breathing from the three of them, and the echoes of their
footsteps. It was almost an hour later and many levels down before
they reached the mines where the Forgotten Ones were
enslaved.
At this point, Selyn took the lead.
She had, after all, lived here for her entire life. How could she
have forgotten the stench? The air was musty and reeked of sour
sweat and something rotten. It was warm in some places, frigid in
others, and the sound of heavy machinery rumbled in the
background.
She’d forgotten how noisy it could be
at all times of the day or night, though there really was no
difference here. Day or night—it didn’t matter. Not here where
their work and sleep schedules followed the deep tone of a bell and
the shouts of the wardens telling them to move faster, work
harder.
It was hard to stomach—even harder to
believe—that they were barely an hour’s walk beneath the levels
where civilized Lemurians lived in quiet comfort, entirely ignorant
of slaves toiling below. Free folk, living lives of ease and total
luxury a short hour away.
“Caution,” she said, touching Roland’s
shoulder. “We can’t afford to be seen. They will have missed me by
now, which means my life is forfeit should I be
caught.”
She didn’t mention that theirs would
be forfeit as well. How could she have allowed Dawson to accompany
her into this hell? He was an innocent bystander, caught up in this
battle through no fault of his own. Involved merely because he was
a good man with a desire to see wrong made right.
He leaned close and kissed her quickly
on the lips before she realized what he was up to. “Then I guess
that means we don’t get caught, because no one is going to hurt you
again. Not on my watch.” He smiled at her. “Where is this prisoner
held? Can we get to him now, or should we wait for a better time?
Do the guards ever go off duty?”
She glanced at Roland. “What time is
it, Roland? Is there a shift change due?”
He shook his head. “I can’t say for
sure. I’ve never figured out how they schedule things down here.
Your wardens aren’t like the regular guard.” He tapped his
forehead. “We can’t even communicate telepathically. It’s like
they’re a different species from the rest of us.”
Selyn frowned. He wasn’t kidding when
he’d made such an absurd comment. Different species? They were men.
Big, ugly, mean men. Then she glanced at Dawson, and once again at
Roland.
They were men as well, one human, one
Lemurian, and both of them were really terrific guys. Maybe Roland
knew what he was talking about. Maybe the guards were not true
Lemurians.
“Follow me.” She edged toward a narrow
passage. “This leads us behind the sleeping quarters where the
women are kept when we’re not working. The prisoner is housed in
another chamber beyond. I’ve never seen him, but I know how to find
his cell.”
They’d covered only a short distance
when the scrape of sandals warned them someone drew near. Dawson
grabbed Selyn and pulled her into a shallow alcove on one side of
the tunnel. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight,
shielding her with his body. Roland slipped out of sight, hiding in
the shadows just across from them.
A huge man was coming their way. Selyn
strained to see over Dawson’s shoulder, but the man’s face was lost
in shadow. Even so, Selyn would have recognized his form and his
walk anywhere. “That’s Birk,” she whispered. “The guard who beat
me. He’s a vicious fighter. Very powerful. We can’t let him catch
us.”
She felt Dawson stiffen beside her.
Heard his muffled curse against the bastard who had harmed her.
Suddenly, a red glow seeped through the blanket wrapped around the
ruby sword. Without considering what drove her, Selyn quietly
reached for the hilt protruding from one end of the covering. She
wrapped her fingers around the gold pommel and slipped the sword
free of the scabbard and surrounding cloth.
“What are you doing?” Dawson’s whisper
tickled the side of her neck.
“I’m not sure, but I know the sword
wants me to hold it.” Grasping the golden pommel in both hands, she
raised the ruby blade high. Though they were still partially hidden
from the oncoming guard, Selyn knew the red glow would give them
away the minute he chanced to look in their direction.
The scarlet crystal pulsed red, then
redder still. Suddenly a brilliant flash of fire spun from the tip
of the blade and lit up the entire tunnel in shimmering red
lights.
Before the oncoming guard had time to
react, the voice in the sword shouted a single word,
“Demonkind!”
Roland leapt from his hiding place
with his crystal blade drawn. Birk immediately drew his steel
sword, but before he could call for help, Selyn pulled out of
Dawson’s grasp and planted herself in front of Birk with the ruby
sword held high.
The blade was long and when she’d
lifted it earlier, the sword had been almost too heavy to raise,
but now it fit her grasp as if it had been made for her—perfect
balance, the perfect weight—not heavy at all.
Dawson stood beside her with nothing
more than a small can in one hand. Roland covered her other side,
and his clear crystal blade glowed with a brilliant blue
fire.
Birk’s eyes flashed as he looked from
Dawson to Selyn and then at Roland. His gaze settled on Selyn, and
with his massive sword flashing, he shouted a curse, and
charged.