A Sea of Broken Glass Page 17

  My senses honed in on him, on the demon inside. I ignored the sweet strains of water and built my fire into a crescendo of blaring trumpets. I wrapped the song around the creature crouched deep within Merrick and pulled, but the demon resisted. It fought, bucking against my hold. I refused to let it go. Refused to let it poison another person or take another life. It thrashed frantically in my grip, its powerful magic whipping me with thorny vines of shadow. They shriveled and burned as they touched me.

  My song built. Higher and higher. The crescendo hit as I ripped the demon from Merrick and turned it to ash.

  The man let out a long wail and fell to his side, his hands pulling at his hair. He wasn’t the only paladin with a demon squatting inside. Blood misted in the air as the demons tore apart their hosts when they clawed their way to the surface. I didn’t let them get far before I burned them.

  Horses screamed and lunged, bucking any remaining riders to the ground as they fled. Only three paladins remained human. They drew their weapons and advanced on the house. Michel let out a string of curses and started shooting.

  Chaos. Gunfire and screams. Seconds bled together into action. Shoot and duck for cover. Reload and shoot again.

  The last of the paladins fell, blood pouring from the hole in his chest. Magic coursed through me, pulsing in time with my anger. I needed to burn something. Anything. Needed to release the rage that crouched in my chest.

  “It’s okay. You’re okay.” Michel knelt next to me, cupping my cheek in his warm hand. I felt frozen to the core. He pulled me close and held me. Slowly, the red-tinged fury ebbed and my magic dissipated.

  “Light, that was….” My voice shook. Michel held me tighter. I took comfort from his touch, gripping the front of his waistcoat in a tight fist as the last of the magic bled from me.

  “We should check Aeron,” Michel murmured.

  How could I have forgotten?

  I stumbled from the house toward his body. He lay on his side, facing away from me.

  Memories flooded my mind as tears clogged my throat. The way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed. The mischievous smile that said he was planning something reckless. His steadfast support as he talked me through my fears.

  My hands shook as I turned him over and I blinked in confusion.

  No blood. No bullet wound.

  Aeron’s eyelids fluttered open. The shot had left a garish bruise and bump on his forehead. “Demon’s balls, that hurts.”

  My chest unlocked. “How?”

  “I put a barrier up.” Aeron grimaced as he sat up. “Still hurts though.”

  Tears filled my eyes, and I threw myself into his arms. “I thought you were dead.”

  “Easy, imp,” he groaned. “It’s okay. I’ll be all right. Besides, you’d know if I’d died because of the bond.”

  I pressed a hand to my heart. He was right, but when he’d been shot, anger and magic had overtaken my senses, overwhelmed my thoughts.

  “Don’t ever do anything like that again.” I punched his shoulder, and then wrapped my arms around him.

  He held me close, stroking my hair. “What are we going to do about Merrick?”

  The man in question lay with his arms covering his head as he whimpered.

  “There’s nothing to do.” Michel squatted next to Merrick. “It’d be a miracle if his mind is still intact.”

  “What exactly did you do to him, Ris?” Aeron’s voice held a note of concern.

  “I ripped the demon out of him.”

  “You shouldn’t have been able to do that.” Michel’s forehead knotted up. “Only Lords of Light possess that skill.”

  “Maybe it has to do with her heritage,” Aeron suggested.

  Michel offered a reluctant nod. “However she came by it, it means she can better protect herself.” He gave me a pointed look. “I’m just glad you controlled it this time.”

  I looked away. I hadn’t controlled it. Not really. I might not have attacked Michel, but I had let my emotions rule me.

  Merrick gave another low moan.

  “I’ll find something to tie him up with.” Michel stood. “When we leave, we’ll untie him and give him a few supplies.”

  “Good plan.” Aeron pressed a hand to his forehead. “The paladins at Restin won’t send out a search party for a couple of days. Let’s get some sleep while we can and move out in the morning

  I wove a small bit of magic and healed the garish bump on his head. “I’ll keep watch.” I still had a lot to think about.

  With that decided, we settled in. Rest seemed like a distant thing, but riding through the night plus another fight had taken its toll on all of us. Thoughts about the future, about my magic, and about what I was becoming plagued me as the darkness descended and the shadows pressed in.

  17

  Three days passed without any attacks. Michel wasn’t sure if he should be relieved at the break, or worried that their enemies were planning something on a larger scale. He studied the terrain, looking for a good place to stop for the night, but nothing looked promising.

  Ris rode next to him, one hand outstretched with a bead of water hovering just over her palm. “Grr, this isn’t working.”

  “Be patient,” Michel murmured, his attention focused on the terrain rather than the woman at his side.

  “I don’t have time,” she grumbled. “Who knows when we’ll be attacked? I refuse to be a liability.”

  While Michel agreed that her learning control was of the essence, it wasn’t something that happened by rushing. It had only taken her a moment to draw the bead of water from the air. There wasn’t much moisture to begin with which made the feat all the more impressive. Her training as a healer provided a good foundation to build on. She wasn’t starting from nothing like most paladin initiates. It wouldn’t be long before she managed the basics.

  Heat beat down on Michel’s back. The closer they got to the Bonelands, the hotter it grew. It was becoming unbearable.

  Ris glared at the bead of water. “Why can’t I get this?”

  “Relax.” He resisted the urge to reach over and touch her, to give her comfort. “The only time you’ve used the water magic was in the heat of battle, but you need to consciously control it, or you’ll end up—”

  “I know,” she said through gritted teeth.

  Michel sighed. The further they went, the longer they were together, the harder it was to resist her pull. He hated it. His magic had forced him to bond with her, and while he didn’t regret that, he had no intention of letting it control his emotions. At the same time, when he touched her, when he was near her, everything felt right.

  Aeron trotted into view, his bushy red tail waving. Michel looked away, wishing his other form were as useful. An otter on dry land was worthless. He pulled his horse to a stop and waited for Aeron to shift back.

  “The path ahead is clear for the moment.” Aeron stretched his arms overhead with a sigh.

  “Any promising places to make camp?” Michel asked.

  “Maybe.” Aeron rubbed at the scruff on his face. “There’s a mining settlement, but they’ve had their share of trouble.”

  Michel pressed his lips together. “Is it safe?”

  Aeron took the reins of his horse from Michel and mounted. “As safe as it can be considering where we are.”

  “What sort of trouble?” Ris asked.

  “An outbreak of demon poison.” Aeron nudged his horse forward. “The mine supervisor agreed to give us supplies in exchange for healing his crew.”

  “Then let’s go.” Michel motioned for Aeron to lead the way.

  The hills grew lower, the land more open, but it still lacked greenery. Shale crunched under the horses’ hooves, a steady sound in the strained silence.

  Michel searched for signs of taint with his magic. Faint blips on the far edge of his senses, but nothing nearby. Not that he expected much. Somehow the demons were able to get close without him noticin
g.

  It was a problem that had been worrying Michel since the first attack on the train. Not only were the demons attracted to Ris, but they were able to disguise their presence until they were practically on top of them.

  Aeron pulled his horse to a stop. “We’re here.”

  A metal sign hung between two poles declaring the settlement ‘Bedford Mines.’ Rust peeked through the chipped paint in places. Stacked stone buildings were laid out haphazardly around a large, open mine pit. Conveyor belts ran up from the pit to an area with huge stone furnaces that sat unlit, their smokestacks blackened from years of belching vapors. Copper ingots were piled next to a rail car, ready to be shipped to their destination, and the scent of rotten eggs permeated the air.

  It stood quiet and abandoned, an eerie sight for what should have been a busy workplace. Michel imagined the racket and exhaust would be unbearable when the mine was operational.

  “Where is everyone?” Ris asked.

  “There aren’t many left.” Aeron’s soft reply sounded loud in the silence. “Most are in the mess hall, recovering from their wounds after a ghoul attack.”

  “Light,” Ris whispered. “We’d better hurry.”

  Aeron nodded and rode around the west side of the settlement before stopping in front of a single-story building. It had a peaked roof covered in tiles, twice as long as the other buildings, with no frills or embellishments, and only a handful of windows.

  “There’s only about sixty miners left.” Aeron tied his horse to a post. “Most are infected with poison from the ghouls.”

  “Then I’d better get started before they lose any more.” Ris pushed her sleeves back and walked purposefully into the building. Aeron pulled a bag from Ris’s horse and followed her inside.

  Aside from supplying Ris with extra magic, Michel would be useless in the makeshift infirmary. It’d be better for him to suss out what had happened and see if there was anything else that needed to be done. From the looks of things, everyone was inside the mess hall.

  Michel walked up the steps, lingering outside as long as possible. He’d always hated the stench of a sickroom. Once he was through the door, he paused to get his bearings. The trestle tables and benches had been stacked to the sides and pallets set up on the floor for the wounded. Most lay on the makeshift beds, twisting and moaning through the pain of their wounds. The acidic scent of vinegar mixed with the tang of blood. Underneath that, the sickly-sweet smell of corruption tickled his nose.

  A squat man barred the way, arms crossed and a scowl on his bulldog face. “You’re the healer?”

  Ris didn’t bother with an answer, just pushed past and knelt by the nearest pallet.

  “Stupid magic users,” the man grumbled. “Always thinking they can barge in willy-nilly.”

  “In this case,” Michel grabbed the man’s arm to stop him from interfering, “you might express your gratitude. She can save your men before you have to kill them.”

  “None of this would have happened if the Void-cursed paladins had sent help when we requested it.” The scowl on the man’s face deepened. “Name’s Bevin Whitlock. Who are you?”

  “Michel Durant,” he replied warily.

  Bevin looked him over head to toe, his eyes stopping at the rapier and pistols. “What are you doing out here?”

  “Our train was attacked. We ran. Not much more to tell.”

  “Doubt that.” Bevin gave Michel a hard look. “You can stay as long as you don’t cause us more trouble than we’ve already had.”

  Michel recalled the layout of the settlement and the distinct lack of walls. “Where are your defenses?”

  Bevin snorted. “Hasn’t been a demon attack in thirty years. Sure, we get a stray ghoul wandering in from time to time, but nothing like this.”

  “What happened?”

  “One minute everything was running like normal and the next it was chaos.” Bevin’s eyes took on a haunted look. “Thought something had happened in the pit. Figured one of the newbies got caught in the equipment from the sound of the screams. Then a pack of them ugly things was in front of me, tearing through anyone that got close. I grabbed a pickaxe and started swinging.”

  “You’re lucky to be alive.”

  “Don’t feel so lucky. This here’s my family.”

  Michel knew the feeling of helplessness and sorrow well. “Ris is an experienced healer. She’ll have your people back on their feet in no time.”

  “Then what? Can’t leave and the Bastion won’t send us help.”

  “You’ve sent word?”

  Bevin nodded. “They said to evacuate. Said there’s too many demons and not enough paladins. But where would we go? This is our home.”

  Michel leaned against the wall, his eyes following Ris as she moved from one patient to the next. “The Copper Hills aren’t safe. Light, I don’t know if anywhere is safe anymore.”

  “You’re one of them, ain’t ya?”

  Michel nodded hesitantly.

  Bevin grunted and returned to his sullen silence, his arms crossed and his eyes tracking Ris’s every movement. Michel might have commented on the behavior if he didn’t already understand Bevin’s distrust.

  There had to be something Michel could do. Some way to get help. Most towns and mining settlements had a seerstone, larger and with more reach than the small ones all paladins carried. Magic users that didn’t have enough ability to be paladins staffed the communication offices, allowing messages to be sent quickly and easily.

  “Is your seerstone still intact?” Michel asked.

  “Don’t know. The lad that was stationed here died. No one else can operate it.”

  “Then let’s go take a look. Maybe I can get you some help.”

  Bevin’s eyes traveled over the injured men and woman. “Can’t do much here, anyway. Follow me.”

  He led Michel out of the building and down the wooden walkway. The thump of their boots echoed in the sullen stillness of the settlement. Michel scanned the area with his magic. Nothing. How were so many of the tainted creatures keeping themselves hidden?

  Bevin opened the door to a small building near the train tracks. A painted wooden shingle hung by the window and read ‘Mail & Message Service.’ Glass glittered on the walkway beneath it.

  “Here ya go.” Bevin stepped aside to let Michel past.

  A crystal orb the size of Michel’s head sat on a pedestal behind the counter, its center pulsing with magic. Shelves lined the wall, envelopes and parcels tucked into the slots. A large dark brown stain covered the floor, and smaller spots dotted the walls and surfaces of the room.

  Michel skirted the dried blood. He hadn’t had any luck contacting the Bastion with the small seerstone that hung around his neck. He hoped that the greater power of the larger seerstone would break through whatever barrier was blocking communication.

  Bevin folded his arms and leaned against the wall. It was obvious he didn’t trust Michel enough to leave him alone. It could prove troublesome, though, if Michel was able to contact someone. There were too many sensitive topics to discuss in front of a stranger.

  He placed his hands on either side of the seerstone and embraced his magic. The deep groan of cello notes pulled him Between. The barrier still stood, cutting him off from communicating with other paladins. He pushed against it, focusing his thoughts on Bran. The barrier stretched and thinned. Not enough to break, but enough for him to connect.

  “Bran?”

  “—chel?” Bran’s voice broke in and out.

  “Can you hear me, Bran?” Michel pressed against the barrier, but it refused to give any further. Afraid of breaking the connection, he held his ground.

  “—ere are yo—?”

  “We’re at Bedford Mines.”

  Bran’s image wavered in the stone, and there was a frantic edge to his voice. “—shot … tainted… don’t trust—” The last word cut off as Bran’s face faded from view.

  “Demon’s bal
ls.” Michel slapped the seerstone. He pondered Bran’s final words. Who had been shot? Who was tainted and who couldn’t they trust?

  He took a deep breath and focused, this time trying to contact Llyr. His breath came in pants as he struggled to connect with the Lord of Light. He hammered at the obstacle, his mind straining under the pressure, his magic screeching like a violin being played by a novice. Just a little further. A bit more.

  The barrier rebounded, slapping Michel’s mind and sending him staggering back from the seerstone.

  He clutched his head, the spiky throb echoing his heartbeat.

  Void take it, that hurt.

  He braced himself against the counter, his knees weak and shaking.

  “You okay?” Bevin asked.

  “Not sure.” Pain radiated through every part of Michel.

  “Is it broke?”

  Michel shook his head and was surprised when it didn’t rattle. It felt like his brain had been knocked loose. He slid to the floor, head in his hands.

  “You don’t look so good. Maybe I should get the healer.” Bevin’s footsteps clumped away, quickly fading from earshot.

  Michel didn’t respond. His body shook with the aftereffects of magic gone wrong. His vision blurred and dark spots danced around the edges. He shouldn’t have tried to so hard to push through the barrier.

  An eternity seemed to pass before footsteps thundered closer. The lightest of them brought familiar, warm, brassy notes of magic. Michel’s breath caught in his throat when Ris’s song wrapped around him. It sounded like moonlight and balmy summer nights with the hint of lemon trees on a soft breeze.

  Void take it. Every time their magic touched he nearly lost himself in the ecstasy. He curled his fingers into fists, resisting the urge to touch her. To add his magic to hers and deepen the connection. He became a hundred suns, burning so brightly that nothing could stop him.

  Slowly, he pulled back from her. Untangled their magic. His head no longer kept time with his heart.

  “What happened?” Ris heaved breaths in.

  Michel knew how she felt. He explained how he’d been able to contact Bran, but it had gone wrong when he tried to push further and connect with Llyr. He sat up, using the counter as a backrest.