Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 2

his face in his hands, ragged hair covering his face. His shoulders heaved, but his grief was silent.
    Six years ago, Arick would never have hidden his emotions.
    Tentatively, Sai reached out, his fingers brushing scars and wounds, learning the new map of his lover's body. Arick's hand moved, gripping his, squeezing hard. Sai's breathing increased 'til he was panting, his heart pounding in his chest.
    It seemed impossible to imagine that Arick had been bespelled, but the magic that channeled out through his hands didn't lie. Sai held Arick's hand in his and gripped the sword with his free hand. As the foul magic rushed between them, the sword glowed with a dull, malignant light. It hummed, and they both stared; Arick's face gleamed with tears, and his breath caught roughly. Sai held the glowing sword away from them; it had somehow channeled the spell from Arick's body.
    The light left the blade and hovered over them like a misshapen sphere.
    "Maris lives!" Arick pulled his hand from Sai's grip and scrambled for his own blades. "We cannot let that energy return to him!" He staggered to his feet and Sai followed, narrowing his eyes at the ball of light. Instinctively, he knew what to do. With the sabre in his right hand, he gripped Arick's wrist, bringing the scimitar up to the level of the humming magic. He nodded and Arick lifted the other blade; Sai lifted the sabre up as well, pointing it as the sphere.
    They fenced in the magic, standing firm as it quivered and shrieked. Every time it touched the sabre, stunning bolts of energy ran down Sai's arm. He watched Arick, relieved to see that he wasn't affected by the angry magic.
    Its attention was on Sai.
    "On my mark…" He took a deep breath and steadied himself. He had no idea if this would work. Exorcising the sorcerer's spell could very well kill him, or it could possess him. Thankfully, Arick stood facing him, eerie lights reflecting from his eyes, but he stood firm.
    Their gazes locked and Sai nodded, and they thrust their blades deep into the heart of the disembodied spell.
    The sound it made was nothing he'd ever heard before: it was the shriek of countless tortured souls, the scream of innocence betrayed. The light grew bright, burning his eyes. The heat ran up the blade, blistering his skin. In the center of it all, the three swords met, their tips weaving, dancing, and finally joining one another. Wind rose, whipping around the cave as if a storm had hunted them, had followed the men into their tiny sanctuary.
    And then it ended.
    The light faded with a whimper. Wind rushed through the cave, and as it went, Sai shivered at the sensation of disembodied spirits touching his face, his chest. He heard nothing, but the thanks of many whispered in his mind, filling him until he could hear no more, see nothing else. Overwhelmed, his legs weakened, and then folded.
    Strong hands caught him and carried him to the floor. Arick's beautiful face floated above, etched with concern. Sai reached up, fingers lightly brushing golden hair and tear-stained skin.
    "It's over, Arick. You're safe." His voice was harsh, nearly gone. He licked dry lips, trying to sit up. He couldn't rise, so he lay back, content to keep looking at the face he'd grieved for over the years. He smelled the acrid stink of charred hair, the stench of burned flesh. Lifting his hand, he looked at the imprint branded on it. The new burn would scar him deeply; he'd have to work it often and hard to keep the hand useful.
    But he didn't really care, because now Arick was kissing him, and all was well.
    CHAPTER 9
    Arick ducked a bit as he stepped out of the cave, and then lowered himself to sit next to Sai. Before them, a new world had been born. It was the old world and they both knew that, but the sun gleamed; the sky was vivid blue. The floods and rockslides had taken out wide swathes of trees, but the devastation wasn't as extreme as he expected.
    Sai whistled, a shrill, piercing sound that echoed throughout the valley.
    "Do you think that's safe?" Anxiety spiked his gut, but down below, there was no trace of the Delphine encampment. They were gone.
    Not Maris, though. The magic that had rooted itself in Arick's soul would have died with the sorcerer, and it had been alive and malevolent until Sai siphoned it away. He fought down nausea and looked at the Sword Master with a critical eye. The tips of his hair had been singed; raw, scalded spots blotched the skin of his face and chest. The worst had been