Emergence (Book 2) Read Online Free
Author: K.L. Schwengel
arms to the sides and surveyed him coolly with eyes of deep lavender. Grumnlin shifted on his rock, but thought better of it when Bolin's dagger reclaimed its position against his throat.
"And you would be?" Bolin asked, not even glancing at Grumnlin.
"A friend of Grumnlin's," she said. "Tell me, what has he done to deserve threats of death from one such as you?"
"That is no business of yours."
"Hmm." The woman studied him, her head tilted. "It may be."
She lowered her arms , and Bolin brought the point of his sword up a fraction. The elusive magic he'd felt belonged to her, but even this close he couldn't get a true sense of it. It had a foulness that made his skin crawl. Most magic began neutral in its conception and turned whichever way the possessor guided it. Bolin curled a lip. This magic had never been anything other than evil.
"Where is she, witch?" he asked.
The woman smiled. "Safely away from you, bastard son of a motherless whore."
"Pleasant."
Bolin lowered the dagger and Grumnlin bolted to hide behind the woman's skirts. She gazed lovingly at him, and reached down a hand to stroke his head as though he were some wayward pup.
"Do you have them both, then?" Bolin said.
"Are you going to try and take them from me?" She slid her gaze back to Bolin, challenge glittering in her eyes. "It should be fun. I've never met one of your kind."
She spread the fingers of her left hand, outstretched at her side. A black blob rested in her open palm as she raised it up. Slime oozed between her fingers, hissing when it hit the ground.
Bolin sheathed both his weapons. They'd do him little good against this one. His skin warmed where Ciara's pendant rested at his throat. The woman raised her hand and pinched off some of the blob, rolling it between her fingertips. With a sudden flick she sent it spinning toward Bolin. He twisted out of the way a breath too late, hissing at the searing pain that lashed across his arm. Before he could retaliate, the woman tossed the remainder of the blob straight up in the air. As it streamed down over her and Grumnlin they literally disappeared. Bolin made a desperate grab for the magic before it totally dissipated. He shuddered, immediately regretting his decision. The magic had a slick, oily feel and burned where it nestled inside him. He'd never felt anything like it, and he'd channeled more magic than he could name. He closed his eyes, and concentrated on isolating the sticky, black glob , but did not attempt to alter it. He needed to keep it only until he reached Galys Auld. There, the elders would hopefully be able to determine its origin and nature.
He looked down at his arm, lifting the tatters of his sleeve to reveal a jagged red welt just below his shoulder. The wound stung like something much worse. There'd be nothing in this place he'd trust to make into a poultice, so he tied the ends of the fabric around it and returned to where Sandeen stood, dozing.
He roused the horse and swung into the saddle. No sense lingering. His foray into the swamp hadn't been totally for naught. He hadn't found his quarry, but it seemed they had found themselves a new ally. Bad news all the way around.
Bolin turned Sandeen south, toward the Greensward, the bit of black magic roiling inside him like something he had eaten that wanted, instead, to eat him.
CHAPTER THREE
Bolin felt the Greensward's wards tremble as he approached, and Sandeen balked and tossed his head. The witch's black magic he carried hissed as the wards slid over it, and Bolin winced at the sharp stinging sensation it sent through him. He urged Sandeen forward, the wards crackling around them. They allowed him to pass but their presence followed. Bolin got the distinct impression had he not immediately made for Nialyne's chambers in the sprawling manor, they would have forced him there.
She met him in the doorway, the wind playing with the loose strands of her golden hair, her smooth
"And you would be?" Bolin asked, not even glancing at Grumnlin.
"A friend of Grumnlin's," she said. "Tell me, what has he done to deserve threats of death from one such as you?"
"That is no business of yours."
"Hmm." The woman studied him, her head tilted. "It may be."
She lowered her arms , and Bolin brought the point of his sword up a fraction. The elusive magic he'd felt belonged to her, but even this close he couldn't get a true sense of it. It had a foulness that made his skin crawl. Most magic began neutral in its conception and turned whichever way the possessor guided it. Bolin curled a lip. This magic had never been anything other than evil.
"Where is she, witch?" he asked.
The woman smiled. "Safely away from you, bastard son of a motherless whore."
"Pleasant."
Bolin lowered the dagger and Grumnlin bolted to hide behind the woman's skirts. She gazed lovingly at him, and reached down a hand to stroke his head as though he were some wayward pup.
"Do you have them both, then?" Bolin said.
"Are you going to try and take them from me?" She slid her gaze back to Bolin, challenge glittering in her eyes. "It should be fun. I've never met one of your kind."
She spread the fingers of her left hand, outstretched at her side. A black blob rested in her open palm as she raised it up. Slime oozed between her fingers, hissing when it hit the ground.
Bolin sheathed both his weapons. They'd do him little good against this one. His skin warmed where Ciara's pendant rested at his throat. The woman raised her hand and pinched off some of the blob, rolling it between her fingertips. With a sudden flick she sent it spinning toward Bolin. He twisted out of the way a breath too late, hissing at the searing pain that lashed across his arm. Before he could retaliate, the woman tossed the remainder of the blob straight up in the air. As it streamed down over her and Grumnlin they literally disappeared. Bolin made a desperate grab for the magic before it totally dissipated. He shuddered, immediately regretting his decision. The magic had a slick, oily feel and burned where it nestled inside him. He'd never felt anything like it, and he'd channeled more magic than he could name. He closed his eyes, and concentrated on isolating the sticky, black glob , but did not attempt to alter it. He needed to keep it only until he reached Galys Auld. There, the elders would hopefully be able to determine its origin and nature.
He looked down at his arm, lifting the tatters of his sleeve to reveal a jagged red welt just below his shoulder. The wound stung like something much worse. There'd be nothing in this place he'd trust to make into a poultice, so he tied the ends of the fabric around it and returned to where Sandeen stood, dozing.
He roused the horse and swung into the saddle. No sense lingering. His foray into the swamp hadn't been totally for naught. He hadn't found his quarry, but it seemed they had found themselves a new ally. Bad news all the way around.
Bolin turned Sandeen south, toward the Greensward, the bit of black magic roiling inside him like something he had eaten that wanted, instead, to eat him.
CHAPTER THREE
Bolin felt the Greensward's wards tremble as he approached, and Sandeen balked and tossed his head. The witch's black magic he carried hissed as the wards slid over it, and Bolin winced at the sharp stinging sensation it sent through him. He urged Sandeen forward, the wards crackling around them. They allowed him to pass but their presence followed. Bolin got the distinct impression had he not immediately made for Nialyne's chambers in the sprawling manor, they would have forced him there.
She met him in the doorway, the wind playing with the loose strands of her golden hair, her smooth
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