Wandfasted. Laurie Forest
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Another young, black-cloaked Mage appears, trailing the lightning-wielder. I flinch back as the unrestrained dragon roars, exposing long, sharp teeth, and lunges for him.
“Hit him at the base of the neck, Fain,” the first Mage calls back over his shoulder as he smashes blue lightning into two geosoldiers who’ve just emerged from the woods.
Fain points his wand at the dragon, his spell streaming out, translucent and flowing like a spring current, to collide with the dragon. The creature stops midlunge, its head jerking back, steam hissing from its nose, then its mouth. Its hide seems to shrink, as if the beast is growing emaciated before my eyes. I can see its ribs, then the outline of its skeleton as the beast’s entire body releases steam, its very life essence ripped away. Its scaled skin withers to the ground like a discarded coat.
“Help,” I try to cry out, but my voice is a ragged whisper, my shoulders uselessly slumped, my feverish cheek pressed hard into the dirt.
Fain turns, his eyes lighting on mine as my head lolls weakly against the ground. He runs to me and falls to his knees by my side, his hand coming up to rest gently on my head. His eyes flick toward the white wand, abandoned on the ground. He sheathes his own wand and picks up the powerful wand, rolling it in his hand, as if gauging the strength of it. He’s young and elegantly handsome, with aquiline features, a long, graceful neck and bright green eyes. A few curls of dark hair fall over his forehead as he quickly takes me in from head to toe.
He smiles and cocks his head, like the world isn’t falling apart around us. “I saw your shield work, Lower River Girl,” he says teasingly, his voice velvety smooth. “Nicely woven.”
“They’re in the barn,” I rasp out, desperate. “Please, my brother...”
“Shhh.” His hand goes to my limp wrist, holding it, brow furrowed with concentration as he checks my pulse, then slowly feels along my arm as if he’s reading a complicated book. “They’re out,” he tells me absently, his brow cinching tighter. “We pulled them out the back. They’re fine. And shielded. Can you feel my hand at all?”
I shake my head. My throat begins to close. I can only force out a constricted whisper. “I can’t feel my arms. Or my legs,” I tell him with mounting panic. “I... I can’t take a deep breath.”
“Tell me what you did.” His words are slow and carefully calm.
“I gathered the magic,” I rasp out, struggling for breath as the magic burns and pushes against my lungs. “As much of it as I could pull up.”
“Vale,” he calls out in the direction of the other Mage, his voice now serious and urgent, his hand tight around my wrist. “I found the shield Mage.”
Vale turns and spots me, then Jules, crumpled up in the flickering firelight cast by the disintegrating barn. Vale’s eyes go wide as his head whips back to me, a shock of recognition lighting his face.
Vale starts toward us just as the Icaral slides out from behind an untethered wagon. The demon stalks forward, balancing a ball of flame over each of his palms. His glowing eyes are set hard on Vale, his black wings flapping.
I open my mouth to warn him, but can’t speak above a whisper.
The demon growls and hurls the fireballs straight at Vale.
Vale whips around in a graceful arc and slashes out with his wand.
A forked tongue of blue lighting smashes into the fireballs and sends up a crackling, spitting wall of blue that hurtles toward the Icaral.
Snarling, the demon sends a line of fire out toward the lightning wall, coating the Icaral’s side of it with yellow flames.
Their heels digging into the ground, both Vale and the Icaral furiously push their magic against the wall, which is now a glowing and sparking green. It grows taller than their heads and widens, setting the ground aflame.
“Do you need assistance?” Fain calls to Vale, worry lacing his tone.
“No,” Vale grinds out, pushing the shield forward. “It’s got to be fire. I’ve got him.”
Fain sends up a watery shield-dome over us, its translucent ripples limned with glowing orange light reflected from the torches. He must have a water affinity, whereas Vale’s is clearly fire, like mine.
Though my body is still wracked with burning waves of pain, I can still see the Icaral demon through Fain’s shield, the creature’s eyes flaming white-hot. The demon grins, pushes his palms out and forces the fiery wall toward Vale. The lines of Vale’s lightning fan out in response, and a stray bolt slams into the ground beside us, just past our shield, sending up a smoking hiss.
A Keltic soldier bursts from the forest far to our left, his ax raised. Ignoring us, he runs past the livestock pen toward the distant side of the barn.
Giant icicles, like clear javelins, shoot from behind the barn and slam into the mammoth Kelt, knocking him down, instantly freezing him. Wide-eyed and rigid as stone, he lies immobilized, ice spreading out from his body in a frosty haze.
Another cloaked, black-haired Mage strides into view, his eyes set tight on the frozen Kelt. He’s tall and broad-shouldered, this ice-wielding Mage, descending like a winter storm. Flanking him is the hateful Upper River girl—the young woman who named me a race traitor.
“Over there!” she says. “Another Kelt! A staen’en whore!” She points into the shadows of the livestock pen, where a small, dark ball huddles between the feeding trough and the water pail.
Daisie!
“Please,” I hear Daisie plead as the Mage’s eyes fix tightly on her.
Without even a flicker of pity, the Mage raises his wand and sends an ice javelin straight into Daisie’s chest with a sickening thump.
My body trembles with shock and horror.
“Gods, Malkyn!” Fury flashes in Fain’s eyes. But the Icaral’s shrieking hiss and Vale’s grunting cry divert his attention back to maintaining our watery shield.
“There’s another one, there!” the girl cries.
I follow the point of her finger, which leads straight to Jules. I look to Fain and our eyes lock. I try to speak, but my lungs are still burning with the magic I gathered, and I’m unable to utter a single word to save my best friend.
Behind Fain, Vale utters a final spell, slamming his ward arm down. The whole shield, both fire and lightning, goes down with it. He gracefully flips his wand back and then straight out, sending a bolt of lightning through the Icaral’s chest.
The demon lets out an unearthly howl, his whole body arcing back into a taut bow. He falls limply to the ground, and Fain’s watery shield follows suit.
Vale runs toward us.
“That Kelt, there! He’s her Kelt,” the girl cries to Malkyn, pointing first at Jules, then at me. Her beautiful green eyes are red with tears, her mouth pulled down and trembling with disgust. She jabs her finger at Jules, her tone venomous. “He goes after our women!”
I struggle to tell them how Jules saved me, how he helped me stay strong enough to protect everyone. But my voice is gone. All I can do is gasp for air.
Vale throws the young woman a knife-sharp look of cold appraisal just as Malkyn flicks his wand toward Jules.
Fast as a cobra, Vale hurls a bolt of lightning that knocks Malkyn’s ice javelin into the rapidly disintegrating barn. The javelin explodes into a shower of ice, then instantly turns to steam.
“What are you doing?” Malkyn’s voice is calm enough, but there’s rage just beneath the surface. I shrivel at the sound of his deep, resonant voice, the image of him murdering gentle Daisie vivid in my mind.