Four

A Dark Battle

Victoria slammed into Sebastian when they hit the ground, then tumbled onto the rough, cold floor. The wind whipped above her, but the roaring in her ears had eased.

She staggered to her feet, hand on her sword, trying to make out details in the furious, dark world. For a moment, she had an impression of dim illumination, and perhaps the outline of shapes near the floor. Something warm touched her-an oasis in the fury-and she grabbed Sebastian’s hand. His grip closed around her hand, strong and solid, anchoring her, as someone-Max?-crashed to the ground behind them.

And then suddenly, the horrible fog seemed to scream in rising desperation, whipping and buffeting even stronger and harder, filling her ears and nose and needling her skin… and then all at once, it stopped.

Everything became still.

The door was closed. Had Max done it?

Victoria released her grip on Sebastian and looked around, still mistrustful of the sudden peace. The faint gleam of illumination she’d discerned became a small blue-tinged glow in the far corner of the small chamber. It cast a pearl gray frost over the bare stone walls, blackened by mold and age. A large ash-colored crypt rose low in the center of the room.

“Max?” she said, more to try out her voice in the sudden silence than anything else.

“Brim and Michalas are still out there,” he said by way of reply. His voice was low and taut in the quiet.

She wondered if the closing of the door had subdued the curdling fog, or if it merely waited outside, battling harder against Brim and Michalas.

“Victoria.” Sebastian had moved away from her, and now crouched near the corner where the dull bluish light shone.

The urgency in his voice had her hurrying past the waist-high crypt to join him, hand on her sword. He stood as she drew closer, revealing that the glow seeped from beneath the wall, and appeared to be curling into the darkness of the chamber. Tendrils of the eerie bluish light coiled up, snaking around Sebastian’s boots and legs, writhing up against the wall… then dissipated as if losing strength.

Victoria’s and Sebastian’s eyes met, that odd glow giving his tanned skin a peculiar pallor. She read the worry in his gaze, and knew it echoed her own.

“A door,” she said. But what was behind it? Another hurricane of fury? Wayren?

Max moved up to join them, his face stark and taut. “Let’s get it open.”

Without further discussion, the two men turned to the wall, feeling along with their hands in search of a crevice or gap in the doorframe, while Victoria moved farther away, searching for some other opening.

A hiss of satisfaction in the silence drew her back over to Max. “Here-Vioget, push… there.”

And then a portion of the wall moved slightly, one side canting inward, and the one nearest Victoria edging out. She braced herself, waiting for an angry burst of foggy blue light. The hair on the back of her neck rose as more coils slipped through the crack, draining into the room through the narrow aperture. Silent, like insidious smoke.

She looked at Max, nodded for him to continue, and the door moved again, levering out of position until it left a gap wide enough for someone to pass through.

Now the chamber glowed with blue and gray smoky light, and the air began to whip up. Victoria heard the roar as it gathered its strength, filling the room, seeming to swell and writhe with fury. A dusty, musty evil smell filled her nose, and an ice-cold sting again pummeled her face and skin through her clothing. The wind swirled against her, pounding and deafening.

She ducked, dodging into the gap, and heard a vague shout behind her. Past the door, she found herself stumbling into another chamber filled with the thrashing blue smoke. It glowed as if possessed.

The illumination was enough to reveal the walls, etched with dark shadows. In the center, dark blue flames roared toward the low ceiling. The smell of death and malevolence was stronger here, the snarling rush of wind louder.

Victoria stayed near the ground where she had more stability, and inched toward the twisting blue flames. The ferocity around her charged and buffeted onto her back and the top of her head, but it was marginally quieter near the ground. Her sword dragged next to her as she moved along, the other accoutrements in her pockets sagging toward the floor.

She’d seen sapphire-colored fire like this once before, when Max had destroyed Akvan’s Obelisk-a demonic shard of obsidian imbued with malevolence. Whether this pyre of flame protected another such evil item, or something else, she didn’t know.

But she would find out, for she believed it had to be related to Wayren’s disappearance. And it was imperative that they save Wayren, for she was the Venators’ mentor. There were other Venators to replace Brim and Sebastian and even Victoria, Illa Gardella… but there was only one Wayren.

The stone floor burned beneath her fingers, but it was an odd sensation. Icy heat seared her fingers and crept through the trousers into her knees. It burned hot, then immediately blazed cold on her flesh.

Despite the pain, she kept moving toward the flames as the faint thread of shouts reached her ears. There was no sense in trying to call back to them… They wouldn’t hear her.

And so far, though the snaking, twisting fog and cloud was loud and malicious, it hadn’t attacked or seemed able to injure her. She kept crawling.

Finally, the flames roared next to her, and she could see that the fire burned in a ring.

And in the center of the ring was a pale, lifeless body.

Wayren.

Her long blond hair lay spread over her torso and on the ground, and her face was turned toward Victoria. Her eyes were closed, and she was not moving.

Rearing back onto her knees, Victoria glanced behind her and could see nothing but faint shapes moving amid the blasting smoke. The blaze reached the ceiling, and when she looked up, she saw more shapes flitting and skittering through the tips of the flames like large bats or birds. The shapes were amorphous, yet more solid than the smoke and fog that continued to envelop her.

The fire was too tall for her to try to jump over, or come down from the ceiling, even if she were able to get high enough amid those ugly black shadows. The only way to get to Wayren was through the blaze.

Victoria pulled to her feet, unsheathing her sword. The wind continued to batter, tearing her hair from its braid and sending long locks flying into her face, and around her shoulders and torso. It flicked into the blue flames, caught, and sparked, sending Victoria stumbling back, struggling to stuff her loose hair down inside her shirt. The last thing she needed was for it to catch fire.

When she’d subdued her curls as much as possible in the ferocious vortex, she stepped forward again and swung the sword, slicing it through the evil blaze to see if it would allow the metal to pass. As it swished through, cutting into the flames, something stunned the metal blade, and it vibrated in her hands.

The trembling was so strong that she felt it all the way up her arms and into her torso. She swung again, and again the vibration caught hold, and this time a hot sizzle followed it, slamming into her body.

Victoria stumbled back and stared at the flames, breathing heavily, wondering briefly if Max and Sebastian had followed her into the room, or if something had stopped them.

She looked at Wayren again. The woman hadn’t moved, but Victoria didn’t think she was dead. If she’d been killed, why protect the body with this prison of fire? There’d be no need. She had to be alive and able to be saved.

But how? How?

In frustration, Victoria swiped her blade again, and this time, it was even harder to drive it through the fire. The wind nearly knocked her off her feet, and it blared in her ears, drowning out everything, even the crackle of flame. Her hair swirled again, coming loose from the collar of her shirt.

The strength of the flames was increasing, incensed by her attempts to battle it. She had to make a choice. She had to get to Wayren, even if it meant going through the fire.

And then she remembered that deep pocket of her trousers in which she carried a bottle of holy water. Pulling it out, she removed the cork and, still huddled near the floor, splashed a bit of the water up and into the flames.

They hissed and leapt back, turning sunny yellow and cowering for the briefest of moments… then roaring back with a vengeance, angrier and louder and hotter.

That was it.

Victoria gathered herself up, holding the sword in front of her, and backed up several steps. She bumped into someone behind her, and his hands grabbed at her. She heard her name carried away on the wind, though it was shouted into her ear.

“Wayren!” she yelled back, trying to make him-it was Sebastian-understand. She lifted up the bottle of water and shoved it into his face so he could see it, then turned away, knowing that the blaze was growing stronger with every moment of delay.

Tearing away from him, she dashed through the thick, churning smoke and hurricane-force wind, splashing the entire contents of the bottle just as she leapt into the flames.

The yellow lull allowed her to clear the flames and tumble onto the ground near Wayren, and the force of her jump sent her lurching into the woman’s legs. But the flames remained in their circle around them, and it was eerily quiet within the enclosure.

Victoria scrambled over next to Wayren’s face and touched her cheek. It was warm, and she moved her hand along the woman’s neck to feel for a pulse. She felt nothing. Nothing .

No.

She smoothed a hand over the prone woman’s torso, praying to feel the shift of breath. Just as she did so, Wayren moved beneath her. A slight movement, not even a breath, but a little shift. Almost a shudder.

“Wayren,” Victoria said urgently. She felt again for a pulse, but could feel no sign of life at Wayren’s neck or wrist. Yet her body was warm and felt… alive.

Victoria heard a distant shout and looked over to see Max and Sebastian on the other side of the flames. Their faces were muted by the swirl of angry blue fog, and whatever Max was shouting at her was lost in the whirlwind.

He gestured sharply and she looked up, then immediately dove to the ground, covering Wayren.

The heavy black shapes had become solid ones, with burning eyes of red and orange, and they swooped and skulked. She saw the flash of a claw and the gleam of a long, curved fang, and Victoria reached for her sword.