Chapter 11 #4
“Fuck you, shadowy bastard,” Cirian swore.
Bastien pulled against our hold on him, but neither Cirian nor I relinquished our grip on him, holding him in place as the spark faded from his golden eyes, replaced with that same dull lifelessness from before.
“What happened?” I asked, straining to keep a grip on the thrashing man.
“The Umbral stepped back in,” Cirian explained. “Just when he was starting to listen. He snapped our connection like it was nothing. I can’t—fuck! Stop squirming!”
“Can you tether him again?”
Cirian shook his head, positioning himself a step back, then thrusting his foot into Bastien’s chest, pinning him against the wall, where he continued to struggle.
“The connection isn’t strong enough,” Cirian managed through gritted teeth. “He’ll just break it again.”
“What if we tried together?” I suggested. “Like we did with Tobias.”
“Can you conjure a tether?” Cirian questioned, fighting to maintain his balance on one foot.
“I can try.”
Taking a deep breath, I reached for the magic that brimmed beneath my flesh, thinking back on that fated day in the cemetery when we joined together to pull Tobias back to us.
My tether had been tied to the memories we shared—to afternoons of hide and seek and tea in the garden—so I drew on the moments that Bastien and I shared since we’d come into one another’s lives.
One moment drew to the forefront of my mind, shining like a beacon amongst the dark.
Bastien, a few years younger, was standing outside my tent at the rebellion camp.
Kaine had intercepted him as he tried to enter the encampment, though it seemed he wanted nothing of the violence we’d come to expect from other Magi.
When he spoke, I knew at once that he harbored no ill will toward the Unseen.
He was a man adrift, lost in the waves of his own uncertainty, and our struggle was a lifeline he could cling to.
I welcomed him in without hesitation, not knowing the history we already shared through Tobias.
Emerging from my chest, a tether the color of soft lavender coiled through the air, joining with Cirian’s own and twisting around it till they formed a spiraling cord.
Willing it forward, the cord made contact with Bastien, wrapping around his torso before finding purchase on his chest. His struggling ceased at once, the pain spread across his features, fading into placid stillness.
For a moment, everything was quiet. Then, I heard it. The whisper of Bastien’s consciousness caresses my mind, small and gentle as a spring breeze. He was afraid. The fear sat heavy across my tongue like acrid bile.
Slowly, Cirian brought his foot down to the floor, allowing Bastien to slump against the wall. Our cord held fast over his chest, the melded colors of our tethers pulsing with each pump of my heartbeat.
“Bastien,” he said, still maintaining a distance from the man. “Can you hear me?”
His arms twitched at his side, muscles clenching then releasing just as quickly. His head swiveled around, neck stretching in an unnatural way as a low growl emanated from his chest.
“Careful,” I warned as Cirian edged his way closer.
“Bast,” he said again, his voice pleading. “Please, we’re right here.”
Bastien’s entire body tensed, his head lolling to one side before it snapped into place, his eyes wide and staring at Cirian, his teeth bared.
Cirian leaped back to my side, and we both reached out for our tethers, pulling them tight.
Bastien let out a howl, the spot on his chest where the tethers anchored swelling.
“What is that?” Cirian breathed.
A small mass of shadow protruded from Bastien’s chest, attached to our braided cord, bubbling with movement.
“The Umbral?” I guessed, pulling tighter on my cord as Bastien bellowed in pain.
Cirian seemed to pick up what I was testing and pulled on his own tether, the shadowy mass growing in size as we yanked it further from Bastien’s body.
Digging my heels into the smooth stone floor, I leaned back, urging aching muscles to strain.
The shadowy mass continued to grow, Bastien’s cries increasing in volume alongside it.
Teeming, horrid shapes swirled around our braided tether, the shadows attempting to swallow the light that shone from the cord.
Gone was the gentle caress of Bastien’s consciousness.
In its place was a presence so cold it leeched any warmth from my veins.
I quickly layered protection around my mind—like I’d grown accustomed to around the Adored—trying to block that horrifying presence.
“Keep at it!” Cirian shouted, his own features twisted with effort. “We’ll tear the bastard from him ourselves!”
I redoubled my efforts, pulling what magic I had left and suffusing it into my trembling arms. I had almost reached my limit, and still Bastien screamed as more of the shadow poured from his chest. The tether grew white hot against my flesh, but I clung to it still, even as the shadow itself began to coil around the braided cord, moving closer to the two of us on the other end.
With a final shout from Cirian, something gave on the other end, sending us both reeling backward against the hallway wall. Pain exploded across my back, sending fragmented stars across my vision.
“Bastien!”
Cirian’s voice rose over the ringing in my head as I staggered to my feet, the blurry shapes of the redhead moving towards a second figure slumped on the floor a few feet away.
My hands still clenched around the tether, now detached from Bastien altogether, dangling aimlessly in the space above our heads. Stumbling forward, I made it over to the others, my head pounding, but my vision clearing with each step.
Cerulean light filled the space around me as Cirian’s hands lit up and he ran them over Bastien’s crumpled form.
“Speak to me, Bast,” he pleaded, pausing at different sites of his body to reset a fractured bone or seal a gash.
How did he still have the strength to carry on like that? I was ready to fall over at a breeze.
Bastien let out a groan as Cirian snapped his wrist back into place, his golden eyes rolling in his head. That was a good sign. At least he was still with us.
“Could you be gentler?” he croaked, eyelids fluttering.
Cirian huffed a breath, his lips trembling. “If you asked nicely, I might consider it.”
Bastien reached his other hand out, latching onto Cirian’s vestments and pulling him down on top of him. Arms wrapped around one another, Cirian began to weep.
` “I’m sorry,” Bastien muttered into Cirian’s ear, then repeated it over and over as if it were a balm, working over a wound. Cirian didn’t reply. He simply wept harder, obviously in no rush to untangle himself from the other man.
“Does it hurt, Azrael?”
I turned, expecting to find someone watching us, but the hallway was empty besides the two on the floor.
“Does it sting, knowing that no one would mourn you?”
“Who’s there?” I called into the tunnel, conjuring the orb of light into my hand once more.
“Azrael?”
Bastien looked at me with a puzzled expression. Cirian braced himself against the wall with one hand, wiping at his face with the other.
“Look at you, half-dead on your feet and not a soul around to hold you. I could fix that.”
Above my head, the braided cord of Cirian and my tether unraveled, the lavender colored string dimming in brilliance as a coil of shadow twisted its way around it. I tried to pull the tether from my chest—to sever the connection—but it held fast and the shadow quickly spread across my flesh—
“Come on, Azrael! Dinner will get cold!”
The crackling fire burned warm against the dark night sky. Two forms sat in the fire’s glow, the taller of the two resting his leg on top of the other’s lap. Above the fire bubbled a gleaming pot, and the air was rich with the smell of spices.
We’d been on the chase for three days now, and our target had vanished without a trace. Rudderkin would have my head if we returned to camp without a confirmed kill, so we pressed on into the Expanse’s wilderness, hoping that we’d get lucky.
I cast one last glance across the rolling hills, then let the magic drop from around me, the shimmer of my cloak rendering me visible once again as I turned back to the warmth of the fire.
“We should keep going through the night,” I said, lowering myself to the ground across from the pair. I kept my eyes trained on the fire, ignoring the shrinking proximity between the others. “The target can’t have gone far.”
The taller one reached over to the pot, lifting the lid and releasing a burst of delicious steam that curled in the air. “You can carry on if you like, Azrael. But Rem and I won’t be joining you. No matter what Rudderkin threatens, we’re not going to run ourselves to death.”
Rem nodded in agreement, the sharp feathers that framed his face bristling with the evening breeze.
I didn’t bother with a reply, instead reaching for a bowl and filling it with soup. If they wanted to risk the wrath of Rudderkin, it would be on them.
The others follow my lead, serving themselves and carrying on their hushed conversation as if I weren’t there.
It was all the same. Besides Kaine, I had no one amongst Rudderkin’s crew who gave a damn about me. Some were too far gone to the bloodlust that came with our line of work to make connections anymore. Others chose to move in tight-knit groups. But most were partnered, like Rem and Marcus.
I hated being paired with partners.
Once our bowls were empty and the fire had worn down to a single log, I caught Marcus staring at me.
“What is it?”
“What do you plan on doing after all of this is over, Azrael?”
“Over?” I repeated. “The Rebellion won’t end in my lifetime.”
“But what if it did,” Marcus continued, leaning back on his hands. Rem snored softly in his lap, and he gently stroked the feathers along his face. “If you woke up tomorrow and Rudderkin cut you loose, what would you do?”