The clearing itself was fairly large—a couple of acres surrounded by trees and thick undergrowth on three sides, backed by a steep, rocky hill. On the left side of the clearing was a corral and a small stone building built into the hill. It was large enough to shelter half a dozen animals in bad weather, or at least keep feed and gear dry. Also built into the hill was a one-story stone building. Between the building and the corral was a small wooden structure that probably contained the privy hole.
Jared couldn’t summon up enough interest for whatever else the clearing might contain. As soon as he figured out how to rekey the illusion spell on the gate, he was going to spend his thoughts and energy on nothing but getting dry, getting fed, and going to sleep.
The wagon passed him, its wheels almost scraping the stone posts that marked the clearing boundary. The other slaves followed behind the saddle horses.
As he passed Jared, Blaed said, “I put the pole back in place,” then pointed a thumb over his shoulder.
Jared’s breath huffed out in an impatient sigh as he waited for Garth who was, for the first time, trailing behind everyone instead of roaming ahead.
“Come on, Garth,” Jared said, waving the big man forward.
Garth stopped two yards away from the stone posts, and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. His head swiveled in the opposite rhythm as he kept eyeing the posts.
“Come on,” Jared snapped.
Garth raised his hands, then let them slap against his thighs. He seemed to want to say something, but he made no sound. Finally, he let out a low, distressed cry and bolted past the posts.
“Hell’s fire,” Jared muttered, watching Garth trot toward the others. The big man stumbled a little every time he looked anxiously over his shoulder at Jared.
Jared turned his back on the group and stared uneasily at the stone posts with their rounded tops. Were they supposed to be a rogue’s idea of a bitter joke or a blatant symbol of male strength?
He didn’t have time to decide because, seconds later, he realized Garth must have understood something about the posts that he hadn’t.
A psychic storm swiftly began to surround the clearing. Jared felt it hum along his nerves and scratch at his bones, felt the pressure of power that would build and build until its destructive release tore through anyone who wasn’t strong enough to withstand the onslaught. Hell’s fire. There must be a spell set in the posts to trigger all the defensive spells around the clearing if some key wasn’t used within a certain amount of time. Butwhat key?Where ? That rogue bastard hadn’t mentioned this. Had the omission been deliberate?
With his heart beating so hard it pounded in his temples, Jared looked at the wagon pulled up close to the stone building and the people standing near it. There wasn’t time for them to run across the clearing and down the path before the defensive spells triggered and the psychic storm hit.
He hadn’t realized he’d been descending instinctively to the level of the Red until he felt the wild stranger’s presence as keenly as if he’d stepped into its lair. And, in a sense, he had. Here he could tap his full strength. Here his power was raw, primal—and savage. Here it belonged to the part of himself he had tried to push away and deny.
Now he reached for the strength of the Red, regardless of the cost, using it to quickly probe the gathering storm.
Layer upon layer upon layer of protection spells, defensive spells, spells honed to destroy flesh but not hurt the land. White, Tiger Eye, Rose, Purple Dusk, Opal, Sapphire. Strength woven into strength.
Jared probed further, fully aware of how their time was running out. He almost withdrew, but decided to check the last couple of layers of spells just to be certain his idea would work.
Itshould work. If he formed a Red shield around everyone, and if the Gray Lady formed a Gray shield just behind it, theyshould be able to withstand the storm. They might lose the horses, but even all the spells combined shouldn’t be able to completely destroy a Gr—
As his Red probe touched the last layer, his heart stuttered. He forgot how to breathe.
They weren’t going to survive.
Forming a tight net above all the other layers of strength was the Ebon-gray, the second-darkest Jewel.
The only Ebon-gray in the Realm of Terreille was Lucivar Yaslana, a half-breed Eyrien Warlord Prince who was Daemon Sadi’s half brother.
He’d only heard stories about Yaslana. They made the Sadist sound like an amiable man. He didn’t want to imagine what had been added to that Ebon-gray spell, but he was certain it would be able to smash through Red and Gray shields—and smash through their minds as well.
A shriek of terror and an anguished cry made him focus on the physical world.
Little Cathryn was doubled over, clutching her head. So was Tomas. Thera and the Gray Lady were reaching for the children.
Savage rage flooded through him, cooled by a growing fear as all the power around the clearing began to constrict and press down on their minds. He didn’t feel anything yet except a pressure coming from beyond himself, but the weakest of them would be the first to be destroyed. And the weakest were the children and the two adults who were broken—Garth and Thera.
Hell’s fire, the rain had drowned his wits. The Warlord Prince would have told the Gray Lady! Not enough time to reach her physically, and no time to worry about breaking rules. He directed a Red communication thread at her. *Lady... *
Nothing.
She was holding on to Tomas, probably shielding the boy’s mind with her strength.
Which was no reason not to answer him!
Jared tried again. Hell’s fire, Mother Night, and may the Darkness be merciful! She wore the Gray. Of course she could hear the Red!
Painfully aware he was losing precious seconds, he tried a Sapphire thread. When he got no answer, he used a Green communication thread, putting a bit of temper in the sending. *Lady.*
The Gray Lady whipped around to face him.
*How do we quiet the protection spells?* Jared demanded.
Her fear pounded against him. *He said you’d know the key. I thought he toldyou.*
Jared’s mind blanked for a second. *Why in the name of Hell would he thinkI’d know?*
*I don’t know.*
With the words, Jared caught a whiff of memory from her.Your Warlord will know the key .
Your Warlord. The words assumed a bond a slave would never dream of, an honorable bond of service between a male and his Queen.
Damn that rogue bastard to the bowels of Hell, was this some kind oftest !
It didn’t matter. If they were going to survive, he had to stop thinking like a slave and start thinking like a Warlord.