The Gates of Winter - Mark Anthony [235]
“No more tricks,” he hissed, and pressed the cord against Travis's neck.
Sparks exploded before Travis's eyes. He clawed at the cord, but he couldn't get his fingers underneath it. A buzzing filled his head.
“Don't kill him, you idiot!” the woman said. “The Master wants this one alive.”
“Shut your trap. I'm not going to damage him. At least not permanently. I just want to try a few experiments before—”
His words ceased as his head abruptly turned to one side. The pop of bones breaking echoed off hard tiles. The man slumped to the floor next to Travis. His arms flopped against the tiles, then went still.
A shriek of outrage cut through the darkness. The hands holding Travis's legs let go. He saw the woman as she entered the circle of light. She was short and dumpy, dressed in a bag lady's shabby clothes. Her long gray hair was snarled, and her yellowed teeth were bared in an expression of hate. However, it was not Travis she was looking at.
The darkness rippled, unfolded. A lithe form clad all in black stepped through.
Vani stood with her hands on her hips, her gold eyes shining in the dimness. The ironheart curled her hands into claws and lunged, but the assassin didn't move. Fear stabbed at Travis. Wasn't Vani going to fight?
Something flashed out of the darkness. The bag lady's head tilted at an odd angle, then fell to the floor with a thud. Her body collapsed into a heap like a pile of rags. Beltan stepped into the light, an axe in his hands, its edge wet with blood.
He knelt beside Travis, concern in his green eyes. “Are you all right?”
“I think so.” Travis sat up. There was a hot line across his throat, and his side and shoulder ached. Blood trickled from a scratch on his hand, but that was all. He eyed the axe. “Where did you get that?”
“It was in a glass box in the wall.” Beltan grinned. “The sign said it was for use in an emergency. I think this qualifies.”
“Can you stand?” Vani said.
She helped Travis to his feet with strong hands. The iron box still lay where it had fallen. He retrieved it.
“Not that I'm complaining or anything, but how did you two find me?”
Vani turned her gold eyes on Beltan.
“I got lucky,” the blond man said with a shrug.
“I would hardly call it luck. You made not a single misturn.” Vani looked at Travis. “He knew right where to find you. Just as he knew you were in danger.”
Beltan looked away and said nothing, but Travis understood. It was the fairy blood with which Duratek had infused Beltan. Sometimes he knew things it seemed impossible he should know.
“There were guards at the top of the stairs,” Travis said. “She was going to hold them back. Jace.”
Vani raised an eyebrow. “You mean the female guard? We found her dead, along with the other three.”
Travis shut his eyes. He didn't know if he could believe Jace and Max were together at last, but he wanted to with his entire being.
Vani sucked in a breath, and Travis opened his eyes.
“Do you hear it?” the T'gol said.
Beltan nodded, his face grim. “They're coming. Ironhearts. And there's another with them.”
A metallic buzz drifted on the air. Silver light oozed like fog from the stairwell, into the corridor.
“A wraithling,” Travis breathed. He gripped the iron box.
Beltan laid a hand on his shoulder. “We know what you came down here to do, Travis. Deirdre told us on the speaking device. You have to go.”
Travis felt sick. “I can't leave you. I can stop them with the Stones.”
“That would only draw more of the Pale Ones to you,” Vani said, standing beside Beltan. “We can hold them back while you go to the gate. You must destroy it. From all we have seen, they have created an army of ironhearts in this place. They must never be allowed to reach Eldh.”
No, Travis couldn't leave them. How could he, if he truly loved them both?
Beltan hesitated, then touched Travis's cheek. “They want you to stay and fight, I can sense it. They want to keep you from the gate as long as possible, to give more wraithlings time to come—more than even you can stop. Don't give them what they want.” He