Page 147 of The Dryad Storm

“You aren’t alone in feeling that Fae pull,” Or’myr admits to Fyordin, hisarresting, violet features tightening with a look of frustration as he glances toward the nearby Noi Cypress grove. “I can sense the Dryad Fae in me struggling to come out of dormancy in response to this Vo connection I feel through you and Tierney, especially in response to the trees rooted in the river. And the Urisk in me... I can sense that part of me striving to break free in some new way, as well. My Urisk people... we were once known as the Fae Guardians of Erthia’s Stone. Until my people deemed those ancient ways ‘primitive thinking.’?” A shot of rebellious energy sizzles through Or’myr’s power, making Tierney shiver.

“But those ‘primitive Fae ways,’?” he continues, “they were intensely connected to the Natural World. I think they were the truer path. I’m increasingly drawn toward that Erthia-connected Fae-ness.” His gaze slides to Tierney, a warrior light flashing in his eyes. “And toward being a protector of your Waters’ entire bed and its surrounding Forest.”

Tierney holds Or’myr’s gaze for a protracted moment, another wave of feeling for him sweeping through her in a whirlpool rush. His words have the gravitas of a vow, and she’s momentarily overcome with gratitude for his alliance.

Gratitude to themall.

Fighting back the sting of tears, Tierney glances up toward Viger’s shadowy horned form. “You never lost your connection to your Fae calling, did you, Viger?” she says as she remembers Viger’s heartbreaking dream. “Even though you were reviled for it.”

A bitter expression crosses Viger’s pale face. “Death is reviled by all,” he states in a voice so low and chilling it shivers straight through her, the vulnerable friend she felt so close to last nightgone. “Keep your praise,” he hisses, every speck of light around them pulsing Dark. “If this River falls, I will become your greatest nightmare.”

Tierney narrows her eyes at him, holding his stare, refusing to be intimidated. Asrai warrior energy surges through her, infused with the strength of churning rapids. “So, we don’t let it fall,” she shoots back.

A bold idea lights, widening her eyes as her gaze swings to Or’myr’s wall of runes. She levels a finger at it. “We should runically connect our Deathkin binding to the Vo’s shielding. So we can flow even more of our power through it.” She pivots back toward Viger. “Can it be done?”

There’s a beat of hesitation, Viger’s gaze boring into hers as the ramifications of what she’s suggesting shivers through everyone’s linked power. “It can be done, Asrai,” comes Viger’s bone-shuddering reply.

They all still, a momentous tension sizzling through their bond.

Or’myr shoots Viger a cautioning look. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but if we runically bind our primordial linkage to the Vo’s shielding, and the river falls... we’re brought down with it. Yes?”

“If this River falls,” Tierney cuts in, slicing the air with her hand, “everythingis lost. There’s no ‘losing the Vo,’ Or’myr.”

“I agree,” Fyordin says. “We need to do whatever it takes to protect our Waters.”

A tidal wave of Tierney’s gratitude fair explodes out of her to storm through Fyordin, and he meets her flow of power with an embracing rush, an enamored look liquefying his gaze that has Tierney fighting the urge to throw her arms around him, fully liquefy them both, and merge with the Vo.

Viger lifts a hand and bursts into mist, drawing everyone’s attention as a portion of his Darkness takes the shape of a suspended black Deathkin linkage rune. Viger’s disembodied hiss sounds out, the rune streaming toward Or’myr until it stills, hovering before him.

“Bind this linkage rune to the Vo’s shielding, geomancer,” Viger charges as he rematerializes halfway up another tree’s trunk, defying gravity once more as he leans against it, his chilling, emotionless tone a wall.

Or’myr casts them all a grim look, then motions toward the suspended rune. “We’re all decided, then? We permanently link our binding to these Waters and stand or fall with the Vo and its supporting land and stone?”

Tierney’s pulse kicks into a faster rhythm as a palpable assent floods their connected power.

Without another word, Or’myr lifts his wand toward their shielding’s largest foundational rune and draws the suspended black rune onto the purple-glowing rune then murmurs a series of spells. Four misty ropes of Dark power flow from Viger’s rune to connect with the center of all their chests, just over their hearts.

Or’myr lowers his wand and sets his gaze on Viger.

Viger’s lower half shivers to mist, and he pushes himself off the tree and hangs suspended in the air as he murmurs a Deathkin spell, the sound of his voice coming from everywhere at once, sending vibrations through their commingled magic.

A boomingCLAPknifes through Tierney’s ears, and she flinches, the world shuddering to full Dark. A hard pull yanks on their Deathkin bond, a wheezing breath punched from all their lungs as their bond fuses to the shielding’s foundational rune then streams through the River’s shielding, their connectionamplifying.

Warmth blasts through Tierney’s blood, her attraction to all three of them surging.

All of their eyes snap toward her with raptor-focused intensity, their fused power shot through with a swell of emotion-fueled attraction stronger than the pull of the Xishlon moon.

Or even a hundred Xishlon moons.

Tension crackles in the air, and Tierney can feel all three males striving to beat down the sudden surge of bond-fueledwant.

“I doubt any trace of Shadow can get through our shielding now,” Or’myr mutters, then clears his throat as he looks at the shield, a line of his invisible lightning forking around her and sending gooseflesh breaking out over Tierney’s skin. “Everyone should get some sleep,” Or’myr suggests, glancing at her. “I’ll activate alarm runes to alert us if anyone tries to breach our defenses.”

Flustered, Tierney gets up, ready to flee from all of them. She’s not even several paces away before steps sound, close on her heels, Fyordin’s power eddying through hers, her own steps halting as she turns toward him.

“Tierney’lin,” he rasps, his power breaking loose to stream around her in a rippling caress as he takes hold of her arm and leans in close. “Come with me, Tierney’lyn,” he huskily offers, his eyes glazed with feeling. “Come rest with me at the bottom of the Vo.”

Viger’s and Or’myr’s powers flash through their bond, the intense jolts startling Tierney, all of them understanding from the flow of Fyordin’s power that he’s offering more than sleep.

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