Lisa Shearin - Armed & Magical

“Talon!” I yelled.

The kid turned. He was gagged and tied; I was chained to a hook. We were quite a pair.

“Swing me!”

The kid looked baffled for a split second; then he grinned.

I narrowed my eyes. “Not that kind of swing. Get behind me and push.”

He did, and I got the intense satisfaction of kicking a Khrynsani in the back of the head.

I was on the backswing when I saw Rudra Muralin coming for me, curved dagger held low.

He wanted control of the Saghred—and if he killed me, he had it. I could not believe this. My life’s goal was to get rid of the Saghred. Now to keep my life, I had to fight for the rock. Irony sucked.

Rudra Muralin ran straight at me and I used the only weapons I had. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pinned his arms to his side, and squeezed my thighs together. I felt his power building, so I twisted sharply, squeezed harder, and screamed right in his face.

Tam’s blackjack came down on the back of his head. Rudra Muralin went limp between my legs and I let him go before his weight dislocated my shoulders.

“No spells?” I gasped.

“No need.” Tam grinned and tucked the blackjack back in his belt.

He bent and wrapped his arms around my hips and lifted me straight up. I unhooked the chain and lowered my arms, my shoulders screaming in protest.

I grimaced. “I am going to be so sore in the morning.”

Tam loosened his hold enough that I slowly slid down the length of him until my feet were on the floor. Tam didn’t let go. I’d kind of thought and hoped he wouldn’t.

“Nice work,” he murmured.

I shrugged as much as my aching shoulders would let me. “If you can’t fight, distract.”

I looked around the room and swallowed. Tam’s black-magic hit squad didn’t believe in taking prisoners. If it was Khrynsani, it was dead.

Piaras was on his feet and mostly conscious. Talon was untied and ungagged.

“Garai?” Tam never took his dark eyes from mine.

One of the goblins approached. “Your will, my primaru?”

“Find the keys.”

“At once.”

I stopped and my eyes went wide. With all the black magic flying around the room, the Saghred should have been trying to burn a hole in my chest. It wasn’t.

Oh yeah. The manacles.

Tam knew. He grinned slowly, then bent his head and kissed me even slower. One arm pulled me tight against him; his free hand cradled my face and one finger lightly traced the tip of my ear.

I told myself that my legs were still weak from hanging; Tam’s kiss and nibbling fangs had nothing to do with it.

Tam raised his head and looked down at me; his dark eyes had gotten even darker.

“See, no Saghred kickback,” he murmured.

“Not a peep,” I managed.

His smile turned seven ways wicked. “Maybe we should keep the manacles.”

I met his smile and raised him a grin. “They could come in handy. And you’re very bad.”

His smile faded. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

Garai brought the keys and Tam unlocked the manacles. He pocketed the key, then held out the manacles to Talon.

“Would you care to do the honors?” Tam asked his son, indicating the still-unconscious Rudra Muralin.

Talon bared his fangs in a ferocious smile. “I’d love to.”

Tam’s expression went solemn. “We should talk later.”

The kid snorted. “Damned right we should.” He stopped and thought. “Sir,” he added.

I took a couple of quick steps back from Tam. The second those manacles came off, the burn was back. With the room full of black magic—and especially Tam’s proximity—the Saghred was looking for a piece of the action. It felt like it was going to take the first piece out of me.

“Raine, are you—” Tam took a concerned step toward me.

I held out my hand to stop him. He understood and didn’t come any closer.

I took slow, measured breaths. “Maybe we should have left the manacles on me.” I tried a grin; it didn’t quite make it.

Rudra Muralin chuckled dryly. He was on the floor, he was manacled—and he was smiling. That didn’t bode well.

He looked around at his dead Khrynsani guards. “Bravo, Tamnais. You’ve always been the thorough type. Very neat, very meticulous work. My temple guards were here with me.” His black eyes were shining. “My shamans are with the spellsingers. And if I didn’t return within the half hour… Well, let’s just say they had their orders.” He smiled, slow and horrible. “Time’s up, Tamnais. The harvest has begun.”

Just because punching the goblin’s fangs out wouldn’t do those kids any good didn’t mean I didn’t want to do it. Really bad.

Tam grabbed the front of Rudra Muralin’s doublet and jerked him to his feet.

“Talk,” Tam growled.

Muralin’s laugh came out as a strangled rasp. “Why? Or you’ll kill me?”

“I’ll make you wish I had.”

“Hollow threats, Tamnais. You’ll never find what’s left of those spellsingers without me.”

“Want to bet?” I asked.

“My shamans have put up shields, distortions, and illusions, seeker,” Muralin sneered. “Even with the Saghred, your abilities are pathetic. Do you truly think what you call skill got you this far? I brought you here, exactly where I wanted you. You weren’t following spellsingers, elf. You were answering my call.”

Piaras was beside me. “Raine, he’s lying. You saw the spellsingers in their cell. You were tracking them, and he knows it. You can pick up their trail again.” His confidence was absolute. So was his desperation. Katelyn Valerian was down here somewhere.

The desperation part I agreed with. I had to find Ronan and those kids now. But what I’d been following all this time—had it been the real thing or a Khrynsani shaman phantom? There was no time for doubt, no second-guessing. Tam could torture information out of Rudra Muralin, but anything he told us would be a lie.

I knew it. So did Tam. He was looking at me. There was no question reflected in those eyes; he just needed an answer. I’d backed away from him and stayed there. The Saghred was coiling and twisting at the stench of black magic in the air—and at Tam’s nearness. I couldn’t trust anything Rudra Muralin said. Could I trust the power boost of a starving, vindictive, and fickle rock?

No.

I was a Benares. I knew one person whose wits I could trust here and now.

Me.

I didn’t need the Saghred. I’d had dark mages, crafty bastards, try to throw me off the scent in the past. It hadn’t worked then, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to work now.

I exhaled and let a slow smile spread across my face. “I can do it.”

I had to. Ronan and those kids had no other choice. Tam’s eyes were still on me. “Raine, when Rudra said harvest, he meant Magh’Sceadu.”

Oh shit.

Piaras’s expression was identical to mine, and I’m sure he’d just thought the same two words.

“Magh’Sceadu are the most convenient way to store souls when living bodies become inconvenient,” Muralin agreed smugly. “And they can flow through solid rock. These tunnels run under the entire island—including the citadel.” Those black eyes were on mine. “As enjoyable as it would be to watch the souls flow through you, my Magh’Sceadu can flow into the Saghred’s containment room and feed the stone directly. I just need you to die. I always have a backup plan, Raine. Or I believe the more modern term is ‘Plan B.’ ” Rudra Muralin grinned until his fangs showed. “What’s your Plan B?”

My stomach twisted. Plan B? Hell, my Plan As were rarely anything to write home about. Sneak in, charge out, hope not to die. That pretty much covered it. I tried to keep my plans simple. I’d discovered through near-fatal experience that the only thing fancy tactics gave you was more things that could go wrong.