Page 86 of His Darkest Desire
He strained for her, but he could not move, could not reach her.
“Easy,” she said as she stroked his cheek. “You’re all right. You’re not there, not anymore. We’re here, Vex.”
She sounded weary, even…afraid, her voice just a little raspier, a little thinner. A little unsteady. What was wrong? What had happened?
Vex’s heart quickened further. The barghest. He’d fought another barghest, one he’d missed. Were there more? Had Kinsley been hurt? Had she…had…
The flames lost their battle with the darkness.
In his mind, Vex clawed for purchase, fighting to remain there with Kinsley, but his awareness of her was already vanishing. No more touch, no more heat, no more sweet, soothing voice. Only nothingness.
Nothingness and agony.
Vex drifted on a churning, violent sea, at the mercy of swells of pain. The distance between his mind and body padded his suffering less and less as moments, or hours, or days went by. Memories swirled through his head and all around him, indistinguishable from what must’ve been feverish imaginings. Voices called to him from within and without, their ghostly words swirling around the maelstrom that held him prisoner.
Shade, Echo, and Flare. His people—both his clan and those who came later. The mortals and immortals with whom he’d dealt. Kinsley.
More than anyone, he heard Kinsley, and it was her voice that became the strongest, the clearest. She was his only tether to reality. But he had not the strength to draw himself closer to her, had not even the strength to part his lips and utter the slightest sound.
Nothingness swallowed him again, holding him prisoner, until finally the darkness receded. He watched the magus, clad in hooded cowl, heavy robes, and an illusory shroud, walk the camp that had been pitched in his tower’s shadow.
His anger stirred anew as he gazed upon the bedraggled goblins in the camp. He noted their tattered clothing, their weariness, their wariness. Their burns and scars, far more than any of them could ever have deserved.
And his anger collided with self-loathing as he witnessed the gleams of hope, threadbare but undeniable, in their eyes.
Return to your tower, he urged the magus. Deny them sanctuary. Let them not falsely hope for what you cannot provide!
But the magus strode on, entering the elder’s tent.
The goblin elder sat bare-chested in the dirt, pungent herbs burning in a bowl before him. His body was smeared with paint—black for the new moon, for the dark that had devoured his kin. Black for mourning.
The elder’s gray eyes were piercing as he looked at the magus.
“You trespass in my realm,” the magus said flatly.
“We seek sanctuary,” the elder replied evenly. “Tales of a dark wizard led us to this glen.”
“What need have you of a dark wizard?”
“To shield us from the light.”
Something pierced Vex’s heart, echoing what the magus felt in that moment.
“I’ve no alms to offer,” said the magus.
The elder turned his palms up and bowed his head. “We need but land upon which to make a new home. We ask for naught more.”
“What you have asked is much and more already.”
Sighing, the elder closed his eyes and lowered his hands to his knees. “Many creatures whisper in these lands. They whisper of a dark wizard, aye, and whisper of his blood. Some claim he is our kin. Goblin. Much and more I ask of you, magus, indeed. Much and more… But goblin or not, you know what I truly ask.”
No. Hearken not to his words, you damned fool. He knows not what he asks!
The elder opened his eyes, locking his gaze with the magus’s. “I beg your leave, magus, that my people might live. No more, no less. I think you know, do you not? Know what it is to have no place, no peace? Know what it is to be hunted for what you are and naught else.”
The magus tilted his head. “You assume much, elder.”
“Mayhap,” the elder replied with a nod. “Yet I can but speak my heart. My truth.”