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grappling with you."
He poured the garlic water all over her arms, shoulders, and back. She found
his foresight impressive, but said nothing until he finished.
"Ready?" she asked.
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He nodded.
One by one, they crawled through the open space over the cave-in and again
began their trek down the tunnel. Perhaps it was her imagination, but Magiere
believed Leesil picked up the pace, and although he did check for traps, his
examinations were brief.
"I can see an opening," he said.
A second wave of relief passed through Magiere as they stepped from the
tunnel into an underground cavern and once again could stand side by side.
"Over there," Leesil said, pointing across the cavern.
"What?" Brenden asked.
Leesil moved forward, holding the torch out. He glanced back.
"Coffins."
Edwan hovered invisibly over Rashed's coffin, torn between joy and
frustration. He'd failed in his one chance to make the hunters kill
themselves, and now he believed that appearing to them again would only
decrease his chance at future shock tactics.
But they had seen the warrior and Ratboy's coffins first, not Teesha's. Let
the two of them fight these hunters; he cared nothing for them. For the
moment, his Teesha was safe.
He focused on his own form again and transported to his beloved's tiny
cavern.
"Wake up, my sweet," he whispered. "Please."
This time, she stirred.
Chapter Thirteen
Some vampires rest more deeply than others in their dormant state. Rashed
never admitted it to anyone, even Teesha, but he always struggled not to
collapse immediately after sunrise, and he remembered little until dusk.
Perhaps it was a condition singular to him, having nothing to do with all
undeads. He considered this tendency a weakness, but as yet had discovered no
remedy.
This time, still lost in sleep, something not unlike a mortal dream touched
the edge of his awareness. He felt as if something unseen watched him in the
dark. He could see at night better than a mortal, but sight still required
some form of light. This was blackness even his gaze couldn't pierce. But he
felt that presence in the dark just the same, always moving and shifting,
trying to catch him from behind.
So many years had passed since he had thought of dreams. Such visions and
concerns were for the living, not the undead. What pulled at him? With a
sudden rush of anxiety, the presence in the dark moved inward toward him, and
his eyes opened.
Before he could act, his coffin's lid was jerked open from the outside.
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Torchlight illuminated the chamber behind a shadowed figure above him, but he
could see easily in such light. The hunter stood over him holding a sharpened
stake. Her eyes widened slightly. Both of them froze in surprise, and then she
thrust downward with the stake.
Snarling more in rage than fear, he grabbed her wrist, the stake's point
halting above his chest. Her sleeve and arm were wet, and his hand began to
smoke.
Half shouting in pain, Rashed released his grip as he kicked out. His foot
struck her lower chest, and she stumbled back. He instantly rolled over the
coffin's side to his feet. What had she done?
A pungent smell reached his nose and stung his eyes. Garlic.
He remembered Ratboy's whining about what the old woman in the tavern had
done to him. The hunter had doused herself in garlic water.
He could move his left arm a bit, but not enough to use it in fighting, and
now his right hand was badly burned as well. The hunter flipped the stake to
her left hand and drew her falchion with her right. Rashed reacted
immediately, teeth clenching as he pulled his own sword with his burned hand.
She was dusty and grimy, with strands of loose hair sticking to her pale face
as if she'd been crawling through dirt, but her expression was hard and angry.
She was a hunter, indeed cold and pitiless, an invader who'd entered his home
to kill him and those he cared for. He had not felt true and full hatred since
the night he'd taken Corische's head, but it filled him now.
A silver-furred dog howled and snarled wildly from across the cavern, where a
red-bearded man held it at bay. Beside them knelt the light-haired half-elf,
loading a crossbow.
"Ratboy," Rashed called. "Get up!"
The hunter rushed him, swinging the falchion. To his own surprise, he dodged
instead of parrying, instinct acting for him. He could not allow that blade to
touch him. If he were seriously injured again, he was finished, and there
would be no one to protect Teesha. Disarming the hunter was his first and only
real priority. He needed to back her into the tunnel where she couldn't swing
and his strength might give him an advantage. But the wound in his shoulder
from their last battle still burned. Feeling slightly off-balance by his near
useless left arm, he gained good footing and charged back at her.
"Yes, my dear," Edwan said, peering down at Teesha's fluttering eyelids, his
head merged through the coffin lid. "Wake up. We have to flee."
She wore her velvet gown of deepest red, like rich wine, and her thick curls
of chocolate brown spread about the coffin's bed, framing her lovely oval
face. He still remembered the first time she had smiled at him. It was one of
the few old memories that stayed with him after death.
Like Rashed, Teesha refused to sleep in dirt and spread a white satin
comforter over the earth of her homeland. As she sat up and pushed open the
coffin's lid, Edwan pulled back out of her way. She blinked at him, and he
noted how the pale quilt lining of her resting place made the color of her
dress more vivid.
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"We have to flee," he repeated.
"Why?" she asked. "What is wrong?"
He started to tell her about the stranger at The Velvet Rose, then realized
that telling her of that was foolish. He must tell her about the hunter first,
so that she would escape with him. Rashed was fighting the hunter. If fortune
was kind, the warrior would be killed and Edwan would have Teesha to himself
again.
"The hunter has entered the tunnels," he said. "She brought the dog and other
mortals and many weapons. We must go."
Alarm altered Teesha's pretty features. "Where's Rashed? Didn't you wake
him?" [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] - zanotowane.pl
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