Something gave way inside Bek, a visceral rending of self that had the feel of tearing flesh. It gave way before a mix of rage and humiliation and frustration that engulfed him like a swollen river slamming up against a dam built for calmer waters. His voice exploded out of him in a primal scream of such impact that it lifted Truls Rohk off his feet and sent him flying backwards. It bent the branches of trees, flattened tall grasses, shredded bark, and tore up clots of earth for a dozen yards. It began with the shriek of a hurricane’s winds as it sapped the forest silence, then layered it anew in a darker and more suffocating blanket.
Bek dropped to his knees in shock and disbelief, coughing out the final shards of noise, the sound of his voice dropping to a startled whisper.
Truls Rohk picked himself up and brushed himself off. “Shades!” he muttered. He reached out his hand to Bek and pulled him to his feet. “Was that really necessary?”
Bek laughed in spite of himself. It felt good to hear the sound again. “You were right. I could speak all along.”
“But not until I got you mad enough to make you do so.” The shape-shifter’s impatience showed in his voice. “Don’t let yourself get fooled like that again.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t.”
“You are her match, boy.”
“I’ll find out soon enough, won’t I?”
The big shoulders shrugged within the concealing cloak. “Maybe you should leave her to me.”
A chill of recognition rippled down Bek’s neck. He reached out impulsively and gripped the other’s shoulder, feeling corded muscle and sinew tighten in response, feeling knots of gristle shift. “What do you mean?”
“What do you think I mean?”
Bek’s stomach clenched. “Don’t do it, Truls. Don’t kill her. I don’t want that. No matter what. Promise me.”
The other’s laughter was harsh and empty. “Why should I promise you that? She was quick enough to try to kill me!”
“She’s as confused about things as I was. She’s been lied to and deceived. What she believes about herself and about me isn’t even close to the truth. Doesn’t she deserve a chance to find this out? The same chance you gave me, just now?”
He kept his grip on the other’s shoulder, holding on to him as if to wring the concession he sought. But Truls Rohk didn’t try to move away. Instead, he took a step closer.
“If another were to lay hands on me the way you have, I would kill him without a thought.”
Bek did not back away even then, did not dare to move, though an inner voice was screaming at him to do so. He felt impossibly small and vulnerable. “Don’t kill her. That’s all I’m asking.”
“Huh! Shall we invite her to join us, forget her evil life, forgive the past, pretend she has no alliance with the rets? Is that your plan-to talk her into being our friend? Didn’t you try that already?”
The cowled head bent close, and Bek could hear the unpleasant rasp of the other’s breathing. “Grow up all the way, boy. This isn’t a game you can start over if you lose. If you don’t kill her, she will kill you. She’s well beyond any place where reason or truth can reach her. She’s lived a lifetime of lies and half-truths, of delusions and deceptions. Think what brought her to us. Her single, all-consuming ambition is to kill Walker. If she hasn’t succeeded in doing so already, she will try her luck soon. Even though the Druid irritates me and has brought much of this misfortune on himself, I won’t give him up to her.”
Both hands shot out suddenly and snatched hold of Bek once again. “She isn’t your sister anymore! She is the Morgawr’s tool! She is her own dark creation, as deadly as the creatures she is so fond of using, the things she makes out of nightmares! She is a monster!”
Bek went still, facing into the black void of the other’s cowl. There was no question about what would happen if Truls Rohk found Grianne. The shape-shifter would not waste a moment’s time considering the alternatives. If Bek didn’t find a way to change his mind right now, the shape-shifter would kill her-or die himself in the attempt.