Chapter 31 #2
Syla continued toward the cave entrance, a stiff wind blowing briny air against her face as she drew closer. It was hard to ignore the battle as the combatants fought back and forth, their speed amazing as they danced and darted, using all the ground between the cave and the cliff.
She almost wished it were daylight so she could see them better, but she needed to tear her gaze away and make use of her opportunity. She had to find Fel and Tibby and fulfill her duty.
After exiting, she crept away from the cave and the battle, but the wind made it difficult. It whipped at her robe and weary, battered body. She willed power into her veins to carry healing magic to her beleaguered nerves and sweep away the lingering pain from Lesva’s torment.
When she glanced back, she caught Vorik looking her way as he deflected a rain of blows from Lesva. Even though Syla couldn’t see his features in the dark, she sensed determination in him, and he turned to the offensive.
He must have decided that he had to finish the fight before Syla could escape. He, too, was prioritizing his mission.
When he fully committed, Vorik turned the tide quickly, putting Lesva on her heels.
Though she managed to parry all the blows that whistled toward her head, she had to give ground.
Her back was to the cliff, to the hundred-foot drop, and with every step of retreat, she drew closer and closer to the edge.
Syla couldn’t keep from stopping to stare. Would Vorik drive her over? Despite their past? Despite his feelings for her?
When she was only a foot away from the edge, Lesva glanced back. Aware of how close she was to falling—to being pushed off—she dug in, holding her ground. Her movements had been precise before, exuding controlled power, but they now grew frenzied. Desperate.
Lightning flashed, revealing her face, her mouth open as she panted. Sweat gleamed on her forehead.
Vorik didn’t relent. The light revealed the cold anger on his own face. He was pissed at Lesva. Pissed about the torture?
Though the thought touched her, Syla made herself continue away from the battle. As soon as one of them was victorious, she would once again be in danger. The shielder would be in danger.
“Vorik!” Lesva’s shout sounded more like a plea.
Syla couldn’t keep from pausing and looking back again. She was in time to see Vorik knock Lesva’s blade out of her hand and sweep the tip of his own weapon to her throat.
They paused in that tableau. Syla didn’t know if Vorik would finish Lesva off. Her gaze darted about as she attempted to read his face. She didn’t seem to know either.
Thunder boomed right above them, and lightning streaked toward the cliff. It struck something on the rock face, and a great crack sounded. Abruptly, the edge of the cliff gave way with Lesva and Vorik on it.
Syla gaped as rocks crumbled, and they both fell from view. Vorik twisted as he plummeted, trying to lunge in the air to find purchase.
Wind whipped at Syla’s robe again, and she stared at the black sky. Had that lightning strike been natural? Or… were the gods still about, not as departed from the world as mankind believed?
Movement at the crumbled section of the cliff drew her gaze back to earth. Vorik, his sword still in hand, climbed over the edge and stood. He turned to look down at the churning sea. Had Lesva fallen all the way down? Did her body lie mangled upon rocks?
Whatever had happened, Vorik must not have been worried about her returning because he turned away from the cliff. Sword lowering, rain spattering his bare muscled chest, he looked at Syla.
She’d moved thirty or forty yards during the battle, but she could feel the power emanating from him even across that distance.
Lightning flashed again, showing his heated eyes boring into her, and a tremble went through her.
She hadn’t gotten nearly far enough away to escape him.
If she ran, with a few long strides, he could catch her.
And, in her heart, Syla didn’t want to run. She was drawn to the powerful dragon rider, the man who’d defeated the horrible woman who’d been torturing her. Even if Vorik was an enemy, and she had no doubt that he was, she wanted to embrace him and thank him for coming for her.
Before she’d made a conscious decision to do so, she found herself walking back toward him.
Yes, drawn was the right word. As he watched her, sword still in hand but lowered, his eyes intense, she remembered the night before, thrashing as he brought her more exquisite pleasure than she’d ever known.
She had to be careful. She needed to find the shielder and finish her mission, not throw herself upon Vorik. She would only thank him.
He waited for her to come to him, as if certain she would. And he wasn’t wrong.
Only when she was a few feet away did he step forward and meet her, wrapping his strong arms around her, pulling her against him.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered as she said, “Thank you.”
He kissed the side of her neck as she gripped his shoulders, ensuring he wouldn’t release her.
“I’m sorry you had to endure that,” Vorik said. “I’ve been looking for you since I escaped the enforcers at the temple.”
“My route here was… circuitous.”
To say the least. Her body melted against his, feeling safe, even if she wasn’t. Being in his arms was amazing, and she wanted so badly for him to be… not an enemy. Someone she could trust.
The fact that he wasn’t brought tears to her eyes, and she removed her spectacles. All through Lesva’s torture, she hadn’t wept, but now… now her emotions got the best of her. She was on the verge of sobbing. She didn’t want to, but so much had happened. So much horribleness. She needed a release.
Vorik drew back enough to see her face and brushed his thumb over her wet cheeks. “Are you in pain?”
Syla shook her head and drew a breath, trying to steady herself, resolving not to collapse in front of him.
“Not… now that you’re here.” What a smitten thing to say, but she couldn’t retract it.
“Not now that she’s stopped, I mean. She’s gone.
” Syla glanced toward the cliff, the edge a blur with her spectacles off. “She is gone, right?”
“She won’t trouble us again tonight.”
She stared at him. Did that mean Lesva hadn’t died? That he’d seen her injured and swimming out toward her dragon? If so, that woman had a hundred lives.
Vorik lifted Syla and carried her to the mouth of the cave. He sat with his back to the stone wall, pulled her down into his lap, and wrapped his arms around her.
“Cry, if you wish,” he murmured into her ear. “I’ll watch the sky for you.”
The gentle words broke down Syla’s resolve, and she buried her face in Vorik’s shoulder and wept.