With a grin at the man who now stood frozen in front of him, Caelan closed his fist again. Bones broke like twigs. Screams rang in a chorus to honor the Goddess of Life. She blessed those who honored her. And she destroyed any who crossed her children.
TEN
Caelan Talos
The Zastrad men and women who’d kidnapped him and his companions were all broken and lying on the cold ground. Their cries of agony were muffled by the falling snow and the steady rumble of thunder. Caelan focused Tula’s power on the leader of this little band, climbing into his mind.
The large man crumpled to his knees and didn’t move a muscle. Caelan could feel the chaos roiling through his brain and see pictures of events in his head, but his thoughts were scrambled and locked in the Zastari language.
He would unlock those secrets later. His first concerns were Drayce and Rayne.
Caelan plucked the knife from the leader’s fist, crossed to Drayce, and kneeled behind him to cut away the rope. He shifted when Drayce was free, moving so that he was in front of him.
“Caelan? What are you doing? How?” Drayce asked.
Caelan ignored him, his eyes locked on the deep cut on Drayce’s neck. He covered it with his hand, the warm blood coating his fingers and chasing about the cold he hadn’t noticed until that moment. “He hurt you. They hurt Rayne,” he replied.
“And you what? Killed all these people? How?” His friend’s tone was growing more hysterical with every question, and Caelan couldn’t understand why when it all seemed so simple.
“I ended the life of just the one so far. The others only have broken legs. I don’t want them going anywhere yet.”
Drayce shoved his hand away as Caelan started to close the wound. Caelan gasped and stared at his friend’s angry expression. “How did you do this? Kaes? Kaes is prodding you to torture these people?”
“No, Tula is helping me protect you and Rayne.”
Drayce paled and Caelan put his hand to Drayce’s throat, sealing up the wound. Drayce licked his lips and looked away from him. “Caelan, this feels bad.”
“I know. I’ve got you fixed up, and I’m going to take care of Rayne next. We’ll be fine,” Calean replied in a calm, soothing tone. No one was going to hurt Drayce. No one would hurt Rayne or Eno again. He was going to keep his family safe at all costs.
As soon as he felt the wound had completely healed, he lifted his hand and began to rise, but Drayce caught his wrist, fingers digging into flesh. “No, that’s not what I mean. The Goddess—”
A shot rang out, cutting through the rolling thunder and silencing Drayce. Pain ripped through Caelan’s upper arm, jerking him around. His gaze moved to his right bicep to see where a bullet had cut through his clothes and sliced across his upper arm. Blood flowed freely down his skin, but the pain was already receding and the wound closing up as the power of the goddess stitched his body together.
Rage poured through him, and the wind howled in response. He glanced up to see one of their kidnappers had crawled to a rifle. He lay on his belly in the swirling snow, taking aim for another shot. The power flowed hot and sharp out of his hand. In a single cutting motion, the man was dead. His neck snapped.
Enough of this nonsense. They were wasting his time, keeping him from Rayne.
Caelan stood and gazed slowly around the camp. Anyone that moved or even breathed had their neck snapped in the same quick fashion. It was like listening to the crackling of sticks burning away in the fire.
Turning his attention to the man who’d sawed into Drayce, he waved a hand over him and Tula’s power had the bastard rising to his feet. There was no point in giving verbal commands. He couldn’t understand and wouldn’t obey even if he could. But Caelan had control of his body, leaving his mind free to wallow in rage and fear for now. He’d get what he wanted later.
With another brisk gesture, the leader walked over to a large boulder and sat in the midst of the swirling snow and bitter wind. He couldn’t move a muscle without Caelan’s approval first.
As soon as he was taken care of, Caelan rushed to Rayne with Drayce only a step behind him. Very carefully, he rolled Rayne onto his back. His advisor’s Zastrian clothes were torn and bloodstained. His glasses were missing, probably lost when he fell in their camp. His skin was painfully pale, almost turning gray, while his lips were a pale shade of blue. Pressing his fingers to his throat, he found Rayne’s pulse, but it was so weak.
Closing his eyes, Caelan placed one hand against Rayne’s cheek while the other remained on his throat as he sent Tula’s gift surging into Rayne’s body. He sought out every single injury. He would heal this man from head to toe. Nothing would remain behind that marked him from this attack.