Anne Bishop - The Invisible Ring

Too late, Jared thought as he walked to the tavern, where he would remain hidden until the very end. He should have told Lia while he had the chance, should have let her know how much she meant to him. The regret he felt about not being able to talk to Reyna should have taught him not to wait to say what was in his heart. But shame for the way he’d lived for the past nine years had prevented him from saying three important words to Lia.

And now it was too late.

Krelis slid his knife in and out of its sheath. He liked the rhythm.

Almost time to teach that Shalador bastard what happens to anyone foolish enough to defy Hayll.

The knife slipped in and out, faster and faster.

Maybe he’d have the Black Widow bitch’s legs tied apart and let her compare the rhythm of both of his knives.

She’d scream. Oh, how she’d scream.

Maybe he’d make the little bitch-Queen watch.

What did it matter that no one, including the Priestess he served, thought he was an honorable man anymore? He had something better than honor now.

He had power.

From his position at the tavern window, Jared saw Thera slip out of the Coach and dash for the nearest building.

What was she doing? he wondered as he watched her dart from building to building, moving up the street. If she had further instructions for Talon, why didn’t she send them on a psychic thread?

He shifted position to keep her in sight. Why was she heading east? The only things in that direction were the dance ring and the Sanctuary. She couldn’t reach either of those without trying to slip past the Hayllians. Even Thera wouldn’t be that foolish.

And why had she left Lia alone?

He looked in the other direction. He could just see the closed door of the Coach Thera and Lia had been using.

Jared hesitated a moment, then stepped outside. He looked east.

Thera had vanished.

He looked at the Coach.

He shouldn’t be out here. But surely they had a minute left, didn’t they? A minute to check on Lia, make sure she was all right. A minute to silently tell her what he wouldn’t say out loud now because he didn’t want to distract her.

He took a step toward the Coach.

“Warlord!” Krelis’s Craft-enhanced voice thundered. “Your time’s up, Warlord!”

Jared looked longingly at the Coach before retreating into the tavern. He took a deep breath, let it out slowly. Took another. Following Thera’s terse, final instructions, he began to fill the psychic web with his Red strength. Slow and steady. No pulses of power that could overwhelm the non-Jeweled Blood in the web. Slow and steady.

Randolf. Blaed. Talon.

He used them as touchstones because they had been the last three added to the web and he could still recognize them. He used them because feeling Talon strongly through the web let him know the web was fully engaged.

They were as ready as they could be.

Any Hayllians coming up from the landing place would have to pass the Coaches, would have to pass by him.

Jared bared his teeth. “Come on, bastard. Let the battle begin.”

Hearing Lord Krelis’s voice thunder over the village, one of the Hayllian guards who was watching the east end of the village rubbed his hands in anticipation.

Now Hayll would teach another of these inferior races what it meant to be Blood. Now he’d have a chance to bring himself to Lord Krelis’s—and the High Priestess’s— notice.

Maybe he’d even have a chance to show one or two of these Shalador bitches what it was like to be mounted by areal man.

He glanced over his shoulder at the slope that led down into that dirt circle. His grin faded. He shuddered.

What had they used that circle for? Some kind of witches’ celebration? Some bestial rite that the males feared?

He’d thought of exploring that circle, maybe even dropping his pants and taking a squat to defile it. But when he’d reached the top of the slope, he’d hit a wall of cold air that made him certain that any male who walked through it would end up with shriveled balls and a permanently limp cock.

So he was here, at the bottom of the slope, waiting for the signal to move forward. The bloodletting would have to wait. The commanders had been very firm about that. Full psychic shields to protect themselves and controlled strikes to wear down the Jeweled Blood and drive them all to the center of the village.

However, once the little bitch-Queen was caught . . .

Something passed by him, a few yards to his left, and headed up the slope.

Immediately, he extended his psychic probe and started searching.

The answer that came back from that probe was more subtle than a thought: Nothing there .

Uncertain, he sharpened his probe. If any of the villagers managed to slip past the Hayllians surrounding this privy hole, it wasn’t going to be near him .

For just a second, he thought he felt something, touched something.

Something female. Something fiercely violent and powerful.

A cold fist settled against his lower back.

Then: Nothing there .

Shaking his head, he turned back to face the village.

When the order finally came, he moved forward eagerly.

That damn circle was making him jump at shadows, was making him feel odd things, hear odd things.

Because, for just a moment, he could have sworn he heard drums.

Jared clenched his teeth, squeezed his eyes shut, and concentrated on feeding his Red strength to the web.

Damn you , he thought when he felt Randolf take a hard strike. Tap the strength that’s offered. Use it.

They wouldn’t use it. He’d realized that after the first couple of minutes. The males who had decided to be the main diversion would sip the strength he was providing to maintain their protective shields, but they were draining their own Jewels to strike at the Hayllians and keep the bastards from closing in too quickly.

With his inner vision, he could see the web, its spidersilk threads now colored a strong red from his Jewel. He could see the Jewel stars flare with each strike. They were all winking, constantly flaring and dimming as the fighting continued.

Another strike.

Another.

Talon’s Sapphire Jewel star flared wildly for a moment.

Jared held his breath until it steadied.

How long could they hold out? What were Thera and Lia waiting for?

He wanted to be out there, fighting with his friends, his people.

The Silver Ring kept him chained inside the tavern.

A cold gust of wind rushed over his skin, the kind of wind that made the changing leaves sound like rattles. The kind that was always a prelude to a violent autumn storm.

Jared opened his eyes.

He was inside the tavern. He shouldn’t be able to feel the wind. He was dressed. He certainly shouldn’t be able to feel it on his skin.

Then he heard the drums.

The sound singed his blood and froze it at the same time.

These drums weren’t calling the males to the dance. These drums were calling the witches to war.

And they answered.

Through the web, he felt the temper of the fight change, felt it grow colder, more savage. Merciless.

He looked out the window, trying to focus on the point where the Hayllians at the landing place—and Krelis— would enter the village.

But he didn’t see any of those things. As the wind swept over his skin again, as his blood pounded to the rhythm of the drums, he saw the web with its bright beads. He saw a dark circle surrounding it, slowly constricting as the Hayllians advanced.