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“No,” he said. “Summoners are an accepted resource in engagements.”
Resource. Hmmf. My palms were sweating, and I wiped them on my stupid flimsy robe. This was not at all how I envisioned eventually facing Rhyzkahl again—barefoot and dressed in a goddamn bikini.
Mzatal stopped about ten yards away from the entrance of the tree tunnel. He called the pygah and began laying the sigils of the first ring of the shikvihr.
I stood out of the way then did my own stupid pygah and extended to the grove, drawing energy to shield and trying to get a sense of what I could do to help.
Mzatal moved fluidly within the circles. “Once I have the shikvihr set, stay behind me. It will give you additional protection.”
My stomach tightened as I nodded. “Mzatal, if this goes bad, don’t let him take me.”
He paused in his movement, looked over to me. “I will not.” He shook his head. “Kara, I will not.”
“You do what you have to do,” I said with no compromise in my tone despite the knot of cold in my gut. “If it looks like he’ll win, you fucking kill me. I mean it.”
“I will do what I must,” he replied quietly, then resumed his flowing dance of the rings. “He will not have you.”
Exhaling, I returned my focus to the grove and delved into the power, expanding my awareness and exploring the energies as I got a feel for its properties. I cursed under my breath as I felt the grove activate. There was no mistaking who was coming through.
“He’s coming!” I said. “But I think I can seal the tunnel to stall him.”
“If the grove will respond to you thus, do it,” he said, words clipped by his intense focus on the dance. “With my reserves tapped and my blade inaccessible, I need the augmentation of the shikvihr, and any time you gain for me will be invaluable.”
I concentrated on the grove, asked it to guide me even as I guided it to shape its power into a means to slow or stop Rhyzkahl. I felt the grove’s assent, its desire to assist, yet even with its touch my efforts felt clumsy and fumbling, like playing on a cathedral organ after barely learning “Chopsticks” on a piano.
Movement near the grove caught my attention. Vahl edged his way to the treeline then crouched, facing us, about ten paces from the tunnel. Crap. I sure as hell hoped Mzatal was right about him not interfering.
Through the grove sense, I felt Rhyzkahl’s full arrival. My heart gave a sick double-beat. Not just Rhyzkahl. “Mzatal!” I called out. “Amkir’s here too!”
Without pausing in his tracings, Mzatal gave me a nod as he began the tenth of the eleven rings. “He will not engage,” he said with a surety I didn’t feel.
Shit. We sure as hell needed every bit of time I could buy. With a blend of intuition and the arcane principles I’d learned so far, I awkwardly shaped an energy barricade over the exit of the tree tunnel. It sparkled there, a convex film of transparent purple and green iridescence reminiscent of a soap bubble but far more capable of stopping Rhyzkahl. At least I sure as hell hoped so.
Rhyzkahl stalked down the tunnel, a glowing mass of azure potency already prepared in his right hand. He stopped a pace beyond my barrier, his eyes first on Mzatal, then on me.
Shit shit shit. My heart pounded as I saw him, felt him again. Terrible memory whispered to me, the icy mask of his expression as he touched the blade to my flesh. I forced the images down, gritted my teeth, and called upon the grove for more energy to reinforce the seal.
Amkir stopped a few feet behind Rhyzkahl and folded his arms across his chest, looking as hard and angry as ever. Just stay there, asshole.
Rhyzkahl lifted his left hand to the barrier and began to work at unweaving it. For all its flimsy appearance, I knew the damn thing held a lot of power, and, to my relief, he wasn’t able to push straight through it. Yet I also knew it wouldn’t stop him for long. Sweat dripped down my sides with the struggle to maintain hold as he picked away at it. I continued to assess and reinforce my construct, but I realized my inexperience left inherent weaknesses in the shield, like a steel door hinged with duct tape.
Rhyzkahl lowered his head, gaze penetrating me. “You are mine,” he said, his voice clear and resonant.
“The fuck I am!” I called out as I braced myself to hold the seal. “I belong to myself, asshole.”
“This is a new trick for a summoner,” he said, working his hand into the barrier, his aura radiating angry, focused confidence. “Mzatal has trained you well for me.” His eyes narrowed as he sneered. “Do you spread your legs as readily for him as you did for me, chikdah?”
“Name-calling and slut-shaming?” I asked. “Is that the best you can do?” I struggled to keep the power flowing despite the growing fatigue from the effort. “Would it bother you if I’d slept with him?” I knew that it would, and right then anything that might distract him from unweaving my barrier seemed like a good idea. “Would it piss you off if I told you he sucked on my tits then bent me over the table in his chamber and fucked me?”
Rhyzkahl’s aura flared, striking me like wind off the desert. Oh, shit. Baiting him had refocused rather than distracted him. Bad move.>“What are you doing?” I asked, voice unsteady.
He finally looked up into my face, fingers still on the sigil. “Do you feel them?”
My eyes narrowed in a frown. “No. They’re scars. That’s all they are to me.”
He shifted to trace a sigil that twined around my nipple, eyes on my face. Revulsion and fascination coiled together in his expression. “Rhyzkahl did this,” he said, as though really taking it in for the first time.
Goosebumps rose on my skin. “Yes. Carved them with an essence blade, then tortured me to fire each one,” I said, amazed that I could speak without my voice shaking. Eyes still on his, I lowered my head and called up the memory of the torture. He wanted to know? I was more than happy to give him the gory details.
