King's Artesan: Artesans of Albia trilogy (Artesans Series Book 3) by Peace Cas

Author:Peace, Cas [Peace, Cas]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Fantasy
Publisher: Albia Publishing
Published: 2013-11-16T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Sullyan watched quietly as Vanyr’s mind replayed the scene. She saw him and the pirates battling with Sonten’s men, watched as Commander Heron was given the Staff and ordered to open the tunnel. She heard Robin’s shout and Vanyr’s reply as he pushed toward Sonten. Grimacing, she saw Sonten thrust first his men and then Heron into the unstable tunnel. Cal’s scream, both vocal and metaphysical, made her wince as it reverberated through the tunnel, rampant metaforce overbalancing its precarious existence. And she felt Vanyr’s agony as he valiantly tried to hold the tunnel together by channeling his own power through the Staff.

She shared his urgency as he sent Ky-shan and the seamen scuttling for safety, but she couldn’t tell if the pirates got out or not. Of Robin there was no further sign. Frowning, she saw both Sonten and Heron go down, Heron’s mind instantly obliterated by raging forces he couldn’t control. Sullyan gasped as she felt the power’s backlash rip through Vanyr’s body, destroying his face even as he doggedly clung to his lifeline. Large, bitter tears rolled down her cheeks as she realized that his feelings for her had enabled him to hold on, even through such unimaginable torture. Thoughts of her had caused him to reach out, trying desperately to grab the Staff as he hurtled past the lifeless Heron, pain wracking him as the tunnel imploded.

She was amazed he had found the strength to open the tunnel and release that final blast, but that strength had enabled him to shield a tiny portion of his mind as the soil of Andaryan exploded, sending the contents of the crater skyward and flattening the poor village. And then he had somehow found the will to call her, fulfilling his final self-imposed task, the one he had given his life for.

Feeling him stir, she looked down, her sight blurred by tears. She saw him unclench his arms, revealing the object he had been holding so tightly.

It lay gleaming, totally untouched by the ruin it had caused. Shimmering blue and green along its length, it was innocuous, quiescent, beautiful, and strange. She was loath to touch its deadly beauty, but he had wrecked himself for this, striven for it, endured agony for it, and she must not show her revulsion at touching something that was still such an intimate part of Rykan. Accepting the artifact from Vanyr’s nerveless fingers, she could almost feel Rykan’s hands upon her naked body, experienced the sick helplessness she had felt as he forced himself inside her time and time again. Biting back a sob, she accepted that the consequences of Rykan’s brutality were far from over.

She managed to hide this from the dying man she cradled so tenderly. Suffusing him with her love, she let him see how proud she was, how highly she valued him. She told him how they would revere him back at the Citadel, and how carefully they would tend him once she got him home.

He stirred again.

“No, Brynne.

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