Read Online Rise by Andrea Cremer - Free Book Online Page A

wasn’t as assured of his fidelity as Bosque was, but she answered, “I suppose it is.”
    Cian moved warily toward her sister. “What is this, Eira? Of what does he speak?”
    “It is the beginning,” Eira answered.
    “Wait,” Bosque told Cian and Alistair. “And watch.”
    Cian lifted her chin in irritation at Bosque’s order, but Alistair’s pulse thrummed with anticipation as Eira took Bosque’s hand and together they walked to the sacred tree.
    Taking posts like sentinels on each side of the cedar’s massive trunk, Eira faced Bosque. She kept her gaze fixed upon him as she drew a dagger from her belt. Alistair heard Cian’s sharp intake of breath when Eira calmly drew the blade across her flesh. Blood welled instantly, filling Eira’s palm like a cup.
    Without breaking her gaze from Bosque’s, Eira began to chant:
    In sanguine nostri mundi concurrunt.
    Per sanguine porta patet.
    In sanguine remane.
    Turning her hand, Eira let her blood pour over the width of the dagger. The crimson liquid flowed over the blade and dripped to the floor. Without speaking, Eira offered the dagger to Bosque.
    Accepting the blade, Bosque likewise cut into his palm and echoed Eira’s chant.
    Alistair listened closely this time, silently translating the words from Latin to fully grasp their meaning.
    In blood our worlds meet.
    By blood the gate opens.
    In blood it remains.
    When Bosque finished the chant, he bathed the dagger in his blood, drowning the sheen of the blade in rich red hues. Bosque stepped toward Eira, and she moved to meet him. They laced their wounded hands together upon the hilt of the dagger and turned to face the tree.
    Moving in unison, Eira and Bosque suddenly thrust the dagger into the base of the tree, where the trunk split into roots. A sound filled the room that set Alistair’s teeth on edge. It wasn’t the crack of splintering wood, but a strange tearing of tightly woven fabric. Along with the ripping noise came a low wail, building into a screech that drove nails into Alistair’s ears. Beside him, Cian doubled over, wrapping her arms around her head to block out the tree’s scream—if that’s what it was.
    Then suddenly, silence.
    Eira and Bosque stood beside the tree, but the sacred tree was no more. The golden bark had blanched—the surface of the cedar was white as the bone trees the Guard had come upon near Dorusduain. But more striking than the transformed skin of the tree was the wound at its base.
    From the place where Bosque and Eira had stabbed the tree, stretching up to a height just above Bosque’s head, was a gaping hole. It was wide at the base and tapered at its highest point. What had once been a living tree now appeared to be dead and hollow. Peering into the black gap in the trunk, Alistair perceived more than a simple hole. Strange lights moved within the darkness, illuminating the shadows with the dull green of an overgrown swamp.
    Eira grasped the dagger in her left hand while she offered her wounded palm to Bosque. He covered her hand with both of his, healing the cut. His own injury had already disappeared.
    “What have you done?” Cian spoke in a ragged voice that was much too quiet for anyone but Alistair to hear.
    A bit shaken himself, Alistair looked at Cian. Her face was calm, and he wondered if he’d misheard her. They waited quietly as Bosque and Eira walked back to them.
    “A task well done, my lady,” Bosque said to Eira.
    Unable to contain his curiosity, Alistair asked, “What is it? What happened?”
    With a smile, Bosque nodded at Eira. “Show them.”
    Eira lifted her hand and traced a shape in the air. Flames trailed in her fingers’ wake until a fiery symbol was suspended before her. The symbol shuddered, expanding, then contracting before a dark shape burst out of the flames, consuming the fire as it was born.
    Alistair swore, jumping back from the shadow guard.
    “How is it possible?” Cian’s hand was on her sword hilt, but she stood her ground.