Emergence (Book 2) Read Online Free Page B

flinched, almost dropping it when the witch's magic flared as though recognizing the trap. Nialyne cupped his hand with hers to steady him. Bolin sucked in a ragged breath. He could take magic into himself--any magic--alter it, strengthen it, use it, or hold it for use at some later time. Rarely did he hold it without changing its original essence. He had never given the reasoning behind that much thought. He did so now. Altering the magic made it his and gave him control over it. Not altering it was like bringing an unchained and armed enemy into your camp .
    He took anther breath, and turned his focus inward toward the oily, black blob. The weight of the crystal in his hand, and Nialyne's soft touch, were his anchors. The witch's magic resonated with violence and hatred, and though there were four people in the room with the natural magic of the Greensward strong in their veins, Bolin had no desire to find out what would happen should he fail to entrap it within the crystal.
    His awareness narrowed to the magic and the crystal. For the moment, nothing else existed. Pain ripped through him, and he cursed. Loudly. Searing hot knives tore through flesh and bone as he pulled the magic out. It fought him with all it had; substantial even in such a small bit. Ciara's pendant blazed in response to the threat, but Bolin couldn't spare even a thought to quiet it. He became aware of Nialyne speaking in ancient Galysian, opening the crystal so he didn't need to. The closer to the crystal the magic got, the more it fought him, and for a moment he doubted he would succeed.
    It gave a last, pain laden surge and Bolin's vision went black. Then the crystal snapped shut.
    Bolin huffed out a breath, blinking sweat from his eyes. Nialyne took the crystal from his hand and someone else replaced it with a glass of herb wine, which he nearly spilled on the way to his mouth. Unholy mothers, he never wanted to go through that again. He wiped a shaking hand across his face. Nialyne set the crystal in the center of the table and the four elders gathered around it. Maurar opened his mouth to say something when the door flew inward and Ciara blew into the room.
    Her eyes skimmed over the elders, landed on Bolin and went wide with surprise before flooding with relief, followed just as quickly with concern. She offered no deference to Nialyne or the others; they could have just as easily been pieces of furniture. She went directly to Bolin and dropped to her knees next to the chair, resting her hand on his arm.
    "Are you all right?"
    He directed his gaze pointedly at Nialyne. Ciara's brow furrowed. She gave a quick glance over her shoulder and scrambled to her feet.
    "I'm sorry, Danya Nialyne," she said, and bobbed a quick curtsy. "I didn't mean to barge in. I just--"
    "There is little excuse for rudeness," Maurar interjected, and his dark eyes slid past Ciara as Bolin shoved unsteadily to his feet. "No matter the source."
    Bolin dipped his head respectfully. "My apologies, Danya Maurar."
    It didn't suffice. Maurar's expression remained pinched, his shoulders back. The crystal probably didn't help his mood any. It had gone from milky white to sludge colored, and every now and again it vibrated against the table top, the witch's magic roiling in its once pure center.
    "What," Maurar spoke in Galysian, and gestured at the crystal, "do you intend to do with that?"
    "I had hoped you could discover its nature," Bolin replied evenly, also in Galysian. Ciara scowled, her gaze flicking between the speakers in a conversation she couldn't understand.
    "You cannot leave that here. Even encased in the crystal it is making the wards chatter." Maurar rolled his shoulders back and folded his arms across his chest. "I will not allow it."
    "Would you rather the source of this magic be allowed free rein in the lands at your border?"
    The elder's chin rose. "We can protect our own borders, Sciath."
    "And to the unholies with the rest of the empire?"
    "Danyas," Nialyne