Inferno of Darkness (Order of the Blade #8) Page 11

  There was nothing left for either of them. Utterly spent, they lay there, together, saying nothing as they held onto each other. Dante knew that the future would come. It would bring choices he did not want to make. It would bring the final stand of the Order, of the queen’s darkness, and of the man who had finally capitulated to a woman. All that would come, but in this moment, he didn’t care.

  In this moment, all that mattered was the woman in his arms.

  Chapter Nine

  The explosion woke them up.

  Untangling himself from her with lightning-fast speed, Dante lunged to his feet, his weapons exploding out of his arms in a crack and a flash of black light. Elisha scrambled up, gaping at the top of the mountain. Purple and black plumes were billowing from the top, and red-hot liquid lava was cascading down the side, ripping aside rocks and boulders as it tore across the earth. Towering orange flames yawned toward the sky, tearing apart the fabric of the atmosphere.

  Dante moved in front of her, shielding her body with his as he gazed at the mountain. “That’s where I have to take the sword, isn’t it?”

  She sighed. “Yes.”

  “Into the flames?”

  She nodded, watching the flames grow higher. How was he supposed to survive that? She’d had no idea the mountain would erupt like that. She knew her mother was becoming restless, sensing that the sword was closing in on the warrior who would wield it. “Imagine what will happen if the veil is completely severed? That’s just the first hint of it.”

  He looked over at her. “So, I’m supposed to dive into the fire with the sword and sever the veil, then continue onward, and destroy it in the inferno at the base of it?”

  She held up her dagger, dangling it from her fingertips as she watched the cascade of color filling the sky. “Want this instead?”

  He laughed, sheathing his weapons. “Thanks, but I’ll pass. I think we better get Rohan here fast.” Dante turned away and quickly gathered their clothes. They both dressed swiftly, neither of them mentioning what had happened when they’d made love, or what it meant. There was no time for discussions about relationships or sex. The end was coming, and it was coming too soon.

  Dante gave her hand a quick squeeze that seemed to halt time, and then he turned away, heading back to the rocks he’d arranged in the shape of a pentagram. The symbol stretched across the clearing, the space in the middle large enough to accommodate a grown man. He re-opened the wound on his palm and let a drop of blood land in the very center.

  “Do you need mine?”

  “No.” He glanced at her. “Our blood is mingled now.”

  At his words, a slow shiver shook her body, and she looked down at her forearm. There was no sheva brand visible, but she could still feel Dante’s energy swirling through her. Heat cascaded through her body at the memory of what they’d done, how she’d come apart in his arms, and how ruthlessly the orgasm had taken them. She’d said she loved him. Loved him. Had she really meant that? A cold chill rippled down her arms as she watched Dante hoist a massive rock and carry it to the center of the pentagram. His muscles were flexed, his shoulders still raw from her fingernails, his jaw grim with determination.

  Behind him, the water bubbled and churned in the pool. The water was a seething orange now, flames licking away at the surface of it, and yet Dante did not reach for the sword. Somehow, someway, he was resisting the call, despite the fact it was becoming so strong and compelling. What kind of man could do that? What kind of warrior?

  One of honor.

  One of conviction.

  One of strength beyond comprehension.

  He set the boulder down on top of their mingled drop of blood, then braced his palms on it, shifting it to the side a tiny amount, almost infinitesimal. He was so meticulous in his details, a master. No wonder the sword had called him.

  She could tell Dante was young, not much more than a hundred years old, and yet there was such a depth to his soul, strength of his character.

  He glanced over at her, his palms braced on the rock. “Elisha.”

  “Yes?”

  “Before this shit goes down, I want you to know that I meant what I said.” He stood up and walked over to her, his bare feet silent on the arid earth. He brushed her hair back from her face. “I don’t know what’s going on between us, except that it’s dangerous as hell, but I accept that there is an extraordinary connection between us. I will not walk away. We’ll figure this sword situation out, and I’ll free you from it before it can destroy you. Got it? You’re not alone. Never, ever alone again.”

  At his words, the most incredible warmth flowed through her, and she knew the answer was yes, she’d meant it when she’d told him she loved him. There was so much about him that she didn’t know, and yet, he was a part of her soul, a part that had always been there, always waiting to find him. He was why she’d come out of the nether-realm. Somehow, someway, their fate was linked. “Thank you, Dante,” she said.

  “I’m sorry about what happened. I’m sorry I lost control back there.” His eyes were dark, haunted. “I won’t touch you again until we figure this out.”

  “No.” She shook her head and took his hand, denying him the right not to touch her. “Don’t apologize.” She saw the torment in his eyes, and she knew he blamed himself for not being able to control what had happened when they’d made love. She didn’t want him to suffer, not when he’d given her so much. “When we made love, it was my choice. The orgasm was driving us, yes, but I still wanted you. And yes, the orgasm was a little over the top, but the physical side was beautiful, the first time it’s ever not hurt to be with a man. It’s the first time it’s ever been my choice. You gave me that gift—”

  “What?” His fingers tightened around hers. “You’ve never had a choice before? It’s never been without pain? How many times?”

  She didn’t want to think about that, not when Dante was with her. She didn’t want those memories to intrude. “It doesn’t matter—”

  “How many times, Elisha? How many times have you had sex without it being your choice?” His voice was low, dark, undulating with rage.

  “I don’t know. A hundred times? Two hundred?”

  Dante’s eyes closed. Dark waves of fury rolled off him, so thick that her skin hurt. “Sweet Jesus.” He opened his eyes, and went down on one knee before her, taking her hand. “I swear on my Order oath that you will never be without that choice again—”

  Before she could answer, the pentagram on the ground began to hum, a violent, lethal sound with an edge that made her skin crawl. Dante spun around, and he went down on one knee again, this time bowing his head as the earth began to churn and spew, dirt and rocks disappearing into the earth as the ground shifted from solid to a seething mass of black smoke.

  As she watched, a dark shape began to erupt from the seething smoke. Slowly, it began to rise, as if emerging from the earth itself. A dark hood appeared, a man’s head bowed beneath it as the shadowy figure rose further, revealing broad shoulders covered in a cloak that shielded his body from view. His arms were folded across his chest, revealing well-muscled forearms with brands of ancient swords burned onto his flesh. His skin was dark, the color of the earth that had birthed him, and his massive thighs were couched in the thick fur of a dreisen tiger, a legendary creature she’d heard of, but never knew actually existed. But she recognized the patterns in the black fur, and knew that it was.

  His calves were bare, his feet almost obscured by the swirling smoke. She could not see his face, hidden beneath the hood, but she felt his eyes burning through her. He was bleeding with raw power, but it was a dark energy, like that of a dangerous predator. It was the power of the nether-realm.

  “Elisha,” he said, his voice elegant, as if he were a king masquerading as a warrior. “You have come.”

  She started at his comment. “You know me?”

  “You called to me with your blood. There are no secrets now.” He turned his head toward Dante, and said nothing, simply wai
ting.

  Dante was still down on one knee, his head bowed.

  After a long moment, the warrior she assumed was Rohan swept his cloak to the side and bowed low to Dante. The two warriors held form for a full minute, and then they both rose to their feet again. Rohan stepped out of the smoke and onto the earth. The moment he did so, the earth reformed beneath him, becoming solid again, but the stench of the nether-realm grew heavier.

  Instinctively, Elisha slipped her hand into the hidden pocket of her dress, locking her fingers across the Blade of Cormoranth. Rohan was dangerous. While Dante exuded honor and bravery, Rohan carried the taint of death, destruction, and merciless conviction. She knew he was a man never to be trusted. Behind him, the mountain exploded again, spraying lava into the sky that was now burning orange. The pool was boiling fiercely, and she saw that the sword was half out of the water, its handle above the surface now.

  They were almost out of time. “Dante,” she said fiercely. “It has to be now.”

  ***

  It was almost impossible to stop himself from taking the sword now. He knew he had only minutes until he succumbed to its power.

  Dante fisted his hands as he faced Rohan, every muscle in his body braced against the call of the sword. Images flashed through his mind of the death and destruction he could wreak with it. He could feel the hilt in his palm. He could feel the call of the mountain behind him. “We need your help,” he said to Rohan.

  Rohan said nothing, but the cold, ruthless touch of his mind was immediate. Show me.

  Dante opened his mind, and replayed all the events that had transpired, and the future as Elisha had explained it. When he finished, Rohan walked away, turning to face the mountain. “She grows restless,” he said. “I can feel her anger. She has become far more powerful than she once was.”

  “You know her?” Elisha moved up beside Dante, and he instinctively took her hand, urging her to stay behind him. He did not trust Rohan yet, not with her.

  “I do.” Rohan ran his left hand down his arm, as if caressing his brand. Streaks of blue light crackled along his skin, like lightning bolts leaping from his flesh to his cloak. “Her energy runs strong in you, princess. You carry much darkness, perhaps even more than she.”

  Elisha glanced at Dante, and her face was pale. “I don’t—”

  “You are her successor, are you not?” Rohan turned toward her. “You are the future. You are her key to all.”

  A cold fear settled in Elisha as he spoke words she had long suspected. “I won’t let her free,” she said.

  “It is, my princess, simply a matter of when she is freed. Not if.” He lowered his head, as if studying her beneath his hood, and she felt the intensity of his gaze. “You are already in the earth-realm,” he said. “You have already begun to free her.”

  “No.” Dante moved in front of her, shielding her with his body. “Elisha is not the enemy, Rohan. It’s about the sword. How do we destroy it? Or how do I control it?”

  “The child,” Rohan said.

  “Child?” Elisha repeated. “What child?”

  “Your child, princess. Dante’s child. The child of the ultimate darkness and the ultimate power.”

  Elisha stared at him in shock as Dante sucked in his breath. “I can’t get pregnant,” she said. “Not in the earth-realm. I don’t exist here—”

  “You will carry his spirit only, guiding him until it is time for him to be born.” A faint blue glow emanated from beneath Rohan’s hood, illuminating the shadowed outline of a face. She could see a nose, a jaw, black shadows where his eyes were supposed to be. “When it is time, many centuries from now, he will be born to a human woman who will give her life to bring him into this world, to bring your mother’s darkest weapon to fruition. He will go by the name Drew, but that is not his true self or his real being.”

  Elisha was so shocked she didn’t know what to say, and Dante’s sudden grip on her arm was so tight it almost hurt. “We created a child?” he asked, his voice raw and rough.

  “A child destined to destroy all,” Rohan answered, “unless we stop him.”

  “Stop him?” Dante repeated, a low, dangerous tone in his voice, Thick dark violence began to roll off him, cascading through the air. “You mean kill him? Our child? That’s what you mean?”

  “No!” Elisha was already backing up, covering her belly instinctively, even though he’d said she wasn’t carrying the baby physically. “You can’t kill him!”

  Rohan didn’t take his gaze off Elisha. “You have a mission, Dante Sinclair, to protect the world against rogue Calydons. That is not my mission. Mine,” he said softly, “is different. Mine is more. Mine can have no mercy.” Then there was a boom that shook the earth, and a flash of blue light so bright that she screamed and covered her eyes.

  Almost simultaneously, she heard the crack of Dante’s weapons and then a piercing pain tore through her. She gasped, clutching her chest as Rohan’s sword plunged right into her heart. She stumbled, gasping as her chest glowed with blue light. Vaguely, she heard Dante’s outraged bellow, and the roar of weapons clashing, but she couldn’t hear anything but the wail of her body as the sword bled its poison into her.

  Her legs gave out and she crashed to the ground, gasping as she tried to breathe. She couldn’t die. Not yet. It was too soon. She had to stop her mother. And her child. Her child. She put her hand to her belly and closed her eyes, fighting to stop the blue from taking her, fighting to hold onto her form. She began to shimmer, her skin sparkled with rainbows, and she knew she was fading, losing her grip on her form.

  Instinct screamed at her to hold on, to stay corporeal. Somehow, she knew, knew, that if she lost form, the baby would die. She opened her eyes, her gaze foggy as she tried to focus on Dante. He was her anchor. He was her chance. She had to, somehow, connect to his life force. “Dante,” she whispered, reaching out for him. Dante.

  He turned sharply at her call, his dark eyes blazing. Elisha! He lunged for her, his hands touching her flesh like the great gift of life. She clutched his hand, fighting to concentrate on his touch, on the sensations that he awakened in her. He made her feel alive, like a woman, like she really existed. Her body responded, flooding back into her physical form, needing to be with him.

  Relief rushed through her…and then a yawning emptiness stretched through her as the blue light began to steal her life from the physical body that she’d just anchored herself in. No longer able to fade, she had no escape from the sword that was killing her.

  There was no escape. There was no way out. She’d failed on every level, including stopping her mother, and protecting her son. She had failed herself.

  ***

  Anguished outrage exploded through Dante, a tearing of his very soul as he watched Rohan’s sword bury itself in Elisha’s heart. “No!” He leapt to his feet and charged Rohan as he unleashed his spears in a quick one-two strike at the man who was his mentor. Rohan blocked the first one, but the second one slammed right into his chest.

  Enemy neutralized, Dante sprinted back over to Elisha as Rohan fell to his knees. He scooped her up as she gasped in pain. “Elisha—”

  A dark shadow loomed overhead, and Dante looked up as Rohan rose to his feet again, blue light crackling all around him, like lightning unleashed. His hood was still over his face, blocking it, but Dante felt his gaze bearing down on them. His ruthless intent coated the night like a blanket of death.

  His spear could not seriously harm Rohan any more than Rohan’s sword could have harmed Dante. They were both too immortal, too powerful, and too strong.

  Rohan swung toward him, his cloak sweeping out as he raised his sword. Blue light crackled down the blade, as if it were alive. “No!” Dante set Elisha aside and lunged to his feet. “Come to me,” he shouted into the night, at the sword he’d been denying for so long. “Come to me now!”

  It exploded from the pool and hurtled through the air at him, water streaming off the blade. It slammed into his palm. The power that surged
through him was instant, explosive, and he screamed with the intensity of it. This time, he didn’t try to contain it or shield himself from it. He embraced it, drinking it into himself as he whirled toward Rohan, who had frozen, his sword pointing at Elisha’s throat.

  “Back off,” Dante growled, his voice lower and darker than it had ever been. “Don’t touch her.”

  Rohan went still, turning his sword to Dante. “Drop the sword, Dante,” he said in a low voice. “Drop it while you can.”

  “It’s too late.” Fierce dark anger swirled through him, power so intense it seemed to bleed from his pores as he circled toward Elisha, who was still gasping on the ground. “Save her life, you bastard.”

  “No.” Rohan turned with him, his sword out and ready. But he didn’t strike, and Dante knew it was because he had no chance against the sword Dante held.

  “Yes, or you die.”

  Rohan growled. “I accept death.”

  “Do you?” Dante knelt beside Elisha, and his heart nearly stopped at the pain in her eyes. Suddenly, it didn’t matter about the child that he didn’t even know. He just wanted her. Her skin was glowing blue, poisoned by Rohan’s sword. Only Rohan could save her from what he’d done to her. “If you die, Rohan, you get to save no one, ever again. If you let her live, then you can try to kill our child another day.”

  Rohan swore, his blade still out. “I accept death,” he said again.

  Keeping his sword free, Dante picked up Elisha again, cradling her against his chest. “Do you? What if you die? Who will fulfill your mission? No one. You’re the last one of your kind, and I will kill you to save her.” He let his intention fill his mind, opening his thoughts to the other Calydon, letting Rohan see what he meant.

  “Your protective runes still glow, but you hold her as if she is your sheva,” Rohan said, still moving slowly around them, his sword still out, no doubt looking for an opening. “You do not think clearly.”