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A new figure rose above the red wind, however, high into the air, cresting the tops of the trees. He felt Finn reach for him along his telepathic frequency and he opened up.
Are you seeing this? Finn’s voice slid into his mind.
Ry. That bastard.
What the f**k does this mean? He can’t have gone over to the Invictus?
Ethan had a hard time believing it as well. And yet, I’m not surprised. I wonder how long this has been going on? Has he been betraying Bergisson all these years?
I wouldn’t put it past him.
Since the Invictus advanced, there was nothing more to be said and Ethan closed down the communication. He prepared himself for battle as the wraiths came into view.
Wraiths wore loose clothing, often made up of simple strips of fabric sewn together, to allow for movement in flight. They rarely walked on solid ground, but rather flew, levitated, or floated. They were almost always barefoot with spindly legs not meant for supporting their weight on land.
Ry didn’t come down from the treetops, however, but remained levitating and smirking, arms over his chest. He wore leather pants and a black tee, his Guard uniform clearly a thing of the past. The Invictus pairs would do his bidding tonight, that much Ethan sensed, but why? What power did he have over them and how had he gained that level of command?
The Invictus advanced, a fierce line of wraith-pairs, a hundred strong tonight, which meant two hundred in number. Their mates came from all species but transformed so that even trolls held a fierce look and reddened eyes that indicated a bonding with a wraith. Steel weapons of all kinds appeared in ready hands.
Ethan gathered his remaining power, but even as he prepared to do battle, the spots at the edges of his vision increased and his dizziness swelled. When his stomach twisted into a knot, something he’d never felt before, he knew he was in real trouble.
He opened his telepathy and pathed Finn once more. Finn!
I’m here, mastyr.
I’ve got a situation.
We’ve got a battle.
Close my gap, now. You’re in charge.
Finn glanced at him. Shit. Okay. No problem. Don’t worry; I’ve got this.
Ethan was falling backward at the same moment Finn closed up the battle shield. He heard Finn’s voice as he started calling out orders.
But once more, his voice intruded. Fuck, Ethan. We’re in trouble. We’ve got at least a hundred pairs coming out of the forest and Ry is smiling. This was a planned attack and he knew the majority of your force would be out on their patrols.
Ethan’s consciousness wavered but he felt the decision come together in his mind like a powerful magnet pulling the pieces to each other. He hadn’t wanted to do this, but he knew now that without Samantha’s help, his force would perish tonight, the Guildhall would be overrun, and hundreds of innocents would die.
He opened his telepathic frequency again, only this time he focused on Samantha. Can you hear me?
A pause, then, I hear you, Ethan.
I need you. I need you to serve me. I didn’t want to infringe on your freedom, but can you come to me? It’ll be dangerous, but can you come?
Already heading in your direction.
Thank the Goddess. The spots grew larger and he closed his eyes. He couldn’t even hear the battle anymore.
*** *** ***
The moment Samantha had seen Ethan fall, she’d started running. She hadn’t joined Vojalie and the others in the shelter, not when she was watching the vision from the prave play out in front of her eyes, not when she knew what would happen, not when she saw Ethan fall.
Vojalie, to her credit, had left Samantha alone to follow her own path.
The field felt like an unlimited distance, however, that kept increasing as the battle raged. Blue and red streams of light flashed everywhere and she kept hearing the wraiths shriek, a sound that sent chills through her.
One of the end Guardsmen suddenly broke away from the battle and headed in her direction. She understood and shifted course to meet him, her arms pumping hard. Her heart had never felt so weighed down, so ready to burst.
When the Guardsman drew close, she lifted her arms while still running. He caught her easily, flew her the distance to Ethan in a matter of seconds, then dropped her to the grass beside him. He took off almost in the same moment, heading back to his position in the ranks.
But the Bergisson mastyr was as pale as death.
“Ethan,” she called out, kneeling next to him.
His head moved slightly, but he wouldn’t open his eyes, wouldn’t wake up. She couldn’t feed him by herself; he’d need to participate. She struck him across the face with her hand once then twice.
When his eyes opened and he saw her, she lay down beside him and placed her wrist over his mouth. He met and held her gaze as his fangs struck.
A sting then heavy pulls on her arm. He groaned at the same time.
The battle raged beyond so that she didn’t think about what Ethan was doing, but watched in horror as wraiths screamed high-pitched battle sounds and threw weapons in precise patterns at each of the Guardsmen. But when caught by an answering stream of Guard battle-energy, chests smoked and imploded, blood flew in horrifying arcs and their mates cried out as if in terrible pain, maybe dying with the wraiths.
She’d never seen so much violence or gore in her life.
Look at me.
Ethan’s voice cut through the agony around her. She turned her head and met his gaze.
He continued, Look only at me. Don’t think about what’s happening out there. Close your eyes if you need to.
She blocked the sounds of the battle, then closed her eyes. She pictured the cottage by the lake, the one she’d envisioned since childhood although in those visions she always saw her mother waving to her, beckoning her to come to her. How pretty her mother looked in this fantasy, with a blue dress that went clear to the ground, an old-fashioned gown from a hundred years ago, almost peasant-like.
No, more like Vojalie’s tunic. More fae-like.
How much she missed her.
The cottage had smooth river-rock all around the base, then dark beams and plaster above, and wood-shingle roof. A garden gate with a climbing rose over a trellis heralded the vegetable garden at the side of the house. Weeping willows graced a vast lawn on both sides of the property. A dock went out several yards into the lake.
She’d love to live there someday.
Arms suddenly scooped her up, but not Ethan’s. The same Guardsman who’d brought her to him, now carried her away.
She twisted in his arms, to glance back at Ethan. He stood tall and clear-eyed; strong. He waved to her with a short lift of his hand then turned back once more to engage the enemy. He’d been completely restored.
