Firestorm (The Sword of Light Trilogy Book 2) (19 page)

Eric stood behind her, fists clenched in rage. He had no weapon to fight with, but he could not just stand by and watch the cursed skeleton prevail. In desperation, he reached for his magic, for any power that might offer them salvation.

His magic rose at his touch, his fear feeding it strength. Before he could pull back he saw it changing, morphing into the wolf that still haunted his dreams. It stood before his inner mind, teeth bared, fur flickering with the blue light of his magic. It growled, towering over his feeble mind.

But Eric was stronger now, and he knew he could best this beast. He stared back, pushing down his fear, seeking to drive the wolf back into its cage.

It stepped towards him, already shrinking before his courage. Grinning, he approached it, confident in his strength.

It leapt, teeth bared, and struck his spirit form. Its teeth tore into him, sending pain lancing through his soul. The fear returned, stealing away his strength and feeding the wolf’s. He fought back, pressing out with his mind, struggling to force the beast from him.

A voice whispered in his mind then, cold and devoid of life.
Stop, you fool. This is the only chance we have.

Eric froze at the urgency in the voice, his defences slipping. The speaker seemed familiar, though he was sure he had never heard it before. Too late, he realised it came from the wolf. Its jaws ripped out, enveloping his conscious.

Eric’s eyes opened and the magic stared out, taking in the skeleton emerging from the flames. It stalked towards Enala, scimitar in one hand, the other stretched out to fend off her attack. A tremor ran through Eric’s body as energy surged into his veins

Eric smiled – or rather the magic forced a twisted grin to his lips. It knew how to handle this foe. The answers lay not in the wasteland without, devoid of any force capable of harming it, but with the power hidden within. Reaching into the pool of magic at their core, it searched for the power Eric had buried there so long ago.

Lightning flickered in Eric’s inner eye, rising from deep within. The same lightning he had pulled inside all that time ago, in the desert of Chole. The lightning Alastair had once told him might one day save his life.

With a roar of thunder, it returned to the mortal world. The hairs on Eric’s arms rose as it crept along his skin, crackling as it went, eager to finally be spent. Blue light flickered in Eric’s eyes. A surge of greed swept overtook him as he looked on the raw energy. He shivered at the raw thirst of the magic, its demand for more.

The skeleton turned to stare at him. Somehow, he could see now the fear in its empty eyes. The skulls grin faded against the lightning’s glare.

Eric laughed, the sound a dull imitation of his usual baritone. He pointed a finger. Lightning flickered along its tip, and leapt for the skeleton. The blue energy merged with the flames still streaming from Enala, and struck the skeleton. A roar echoed from the cliffs, followed by a dull boom.

The skeleton screamed, stumbling back before the combined force of their magic. It roared again, jaw hanging wide as the heat took hold. As they watched, the bones of its face started to melt, the yellowed bone blackening before their eyes. Energy crackled in the air.

Scimitar raised, the skeleton stepped towards them, but its leg gave way, snapping beneath its weight. The creature fell to the ground, blue and red flames still flickering over its body. It clawed at the stones, reaching for them.

They watched as its yellowed bones melted away to nothing.

The magic within Eric looked around in triumph, its power swelling, spreading through his body. Eric shrank before it, feeling himself being thrust back from the world. Sight and sound retreated against the roar of its might.

“Eric,” Enala croaked, “help me!”

Enala’s words pierced the fog, slicing through the magic’s spell. His conscious rose, fighting back against the power that controlled him. The pressure in his skull grew, soul and magic vying for supremacy. But its desperation shone through, feeding him strength, even as its claws dragged through his mind.

“Help…” Enala’s voice was growing weaker.

The magic’s hold snapped and Eric found himself returned to his body. Turning the hooks on the magic which bore them, he hurled it back into the depths of his mind.

He stumbled towards Enala. Her torn shirt hid the full extent of her injuries, but the pool of blood told the story for him. She needed help, and quickly. Alastair’s sword lay beside her, and he quickly slipped it into his belt. Then Eric crouched beside her and swept her into his arms.

He stumbled towards the arch, strength fading, and prayed salvation waited for them on the other side.

Gabriel’s footsteps pounded down the bricked road, fear sending strength to his limbs. Somewhere in the city a bell tolled, calling the soldiers to war. Terrified citizens leapt from their path, hurrying back into the scant shelter of their houses. He was closing on Caelin now, though Inken and Katya were only a few steps behind.

A single question tumbled through Gabriel’s mind as he chased after Caelin.

Is it the demon?

The wall loomed ahead, the pale figures of the city guard scurrying across the ramparts. Their movements seemed panicked, chaotic.

“What’s happening up there?” Gabriel shouted over the clang of bells.

“Nothing good,” Inken hissed as she drew level with him.

“If it’s the demon, we don’t stand a chance,” Gabriel whispered, half to himself.

A chill dread crept into his stomach as they reached the walls. Caelin bounded up the steps, Inken not far behind. Gabriel followed, heart pounding, waking nightmares of the demon sending terror through his very soul. Never before had he felt so helpless; to stand before the dark magic wielded by the creature, and know he could do nothing to save Enala from its wrath.

Even so, he would not bend now. As long as he lived, he would fight.

Their boots thumped on the stone stairs, tiny pebbles scattering beneath their feet. The cries from the guards grew more frantic as they approached. Gabriel struggled to stop the shaking in his legs, pushing down his fear.

At the top they did not pause, the three of them and Katya spilling out onto the battlements. Men milled about them, staring out over the dark waters of the lake. Gabriel held a hand over his eyes to shield them from the autumn sun, squinting at the distant hills. The suns warmth returned some of the feeling to his hands, frozen by the cool air.

Together they looked out over the lake, expecting at see the dark silhouette of the demon soaring towards them.

Instead, Gabriel found his fear turning to awe. Across the lake, a dozen golden specks marred the horizon, miles away still, but coming closer with each passing second. Gabriel stared, not quite believing what his eyes told him.

He had never seen the Gold Dragons before, only the vicious Red which had almost killed him. His heart soared all the same, his thoughts turning to Enala, and the sudden hope she might be with the creatures.

The specks continued to grow, until soon Gabriel could make out each beat of their golden wings, see the flick of their tails and the rows of teeth glinting in the sun. Reptilian tongues flicked out as they approached, flames licking the air before them.

Gabriel held his breath. Not one of them could believe it. They could only stand there and stare in wonder, unable to comprehend this miracle, but thankful beyond measure. The Gold Dragons could only be here to help in the fight against Archon, to fulfil their part in the ancient treaty.

Beside him, Caelin thrust his fist into the air in silent joy.

Gabriel grinned. Now, surely, they might just stand a chance.

“Men, stand too!” Gabriel felt his hopes curdling as Katya’s voice bellowed across the wall.

*************

An icy breeze swept over Eric as he stepped from the portal onto the neatly manicured lawns of the citadel. He shivered in the frigid air, turning to stare at the stone walls rising up about him. Torches burned in brackets around the courtyard, their light casting an orange glow across the snowy grass. Stars lit the sky and somewhere in the darkness an owl called.

Eric stumbled as he shifted Enala’s weight to his other shoulder. He squinted against the torchlight, searching for an exit.

Shouts came from around them and the steel doors at the end of the yard burst open. Guards appeared, spears held at the ready. They charged across the slippery grass, voices raised against the intruders. Steel armour rattled beneath their woollen cloaks.

Eric made no move to run. He would not get two steps carrying Enala’s dead weight. Even so, only their obvious distress stopped the guards from killing them on the spot. Eric stood helpless with Enala in his arms and waited as the guards surrounded them, spear points bristling.

A man barked orders and the guards closed ranks, cutting off any chance of escape. Then the man stepped towards them.

“Who are you? How did you get into the citadel?” he demanded.

“We’re friends,” Eric’s voice shook with the cold. “I can explain everything, but you have to help her. She’s been stabbed. If she doesn’t get to a healer soon, she’ll die.”

The man hesitated, his eyes taking in the blood seeping from Enala’s cloak, already staining the snow beneath them. The truth of Eric’s words was clear for all to see.

“Please,” Eric whispered. “She’s important. You cannot let her die.”

The leader took a deep breath, then nodded. He barked out a string of orders. Two men lowered their spears and approached Eric. Two others joined them, their spears aimed in his direction. Eric reluctantly allowed them to take Enala’s weight. Carrying her between them, the men retreated from the circle and disappeared through the steel doors.

“Thank you,” Eric croaked to the leader.

The man nodded. “Explain yourself.”

Rubbing his arms to ward off the cold, Eric gave a quick summary of who they were and how they had come to be there. The soldiers stared back, eyes hard and unforgiving. With their woollen cloaks, the cold did not seem to affect them. Eric could read the scepticism in their eyes, and doubted they believed a word of his tale.

When he finished he spread his hands. “Do what you want with me, just make sure Enala survives.”

The leader stared at him, eyes unreadable. At last he nodded. “The council did receive word from Jurrien some time ago about a company who would bring a girl to us. No doubt the council would like to be the ones to judge the truth of your tale. They do not convene until morning.”

Eric nodded. His teeth began to chatter and to his surprise the man laughed. “Until your story is verified, we cannot trust you. But let it not be said we Trolan’s do not know how to treat a guest.”

He retrieved a pair of iron cuffs from his cloak and tossed them to Eric. “Put those on, and we will show you to someplace warmer where you can wait out the morning.”

The cuffs must have been deep within his cloak, because the metal still felt warm. Shivering, Eric locked them about his wrists and nodded to the guard.

The man gave a short smile and waved Eric towards the doors. “Follow me.”

*************

Shame welled up in Laurel’s chest as she watched Enala’s healing. An hour had already passed, the air crackling with the magic of the three healers. Light flowed from their hands to wrap Enala in a blanket of power. It seeped into her skin, seeking out the injuries within. But healing did not come without cost; Laurel knew that from experience.

Enala had spent the last hour writhing in agony. Her shrieks would have sent grown men reeling, and only the strength of two guards had been able to hold her in place. Sweat beaded her pale face and her blond hair hung dull and limp. The copper lock burned a bright red, hinting at the power locked within. But Laurel kept a tight hold on Enala’s magic, ensuring the Magickers could work in safety.

Laurel listened, unseen, to the whispers of the healers. They were worried the magic might not take, that Enala would not survive the night. Laurel smiled at their concern; they did not know this girl like she did. If she could survive the horrors of that creature, she would survive this.

It took another hour before the worst had passed. Her skin slowly regained its colour, a healthy pink returning to her cheeks. The shrieks started to subside as Enala settled into sleep, a gentle frown replacing the scowl.

At last the healers declared her healthy. Laurel smiled, wishing she could thank them. It was clear the effort had cost them; exhaustion ringed their eyes and haggard lines were etched across their faces. Shoulders slumped but smiling in triumph, they left the room one by one.

Then Laurel was alone with Enala. Closing her eyes, she slumped into the chair beside the girls bed. The skeleton’s cackle rang in her mind. Shivering, she wrapped her arms around herself, the fear rising within her. The creature had unmanned her, her strength evaporating before its overwhelming power. When Enala fell, the last shred of her courage evaporated.

With the creature intent on Enala, Laurel had cloaked herself in magic and fled for the archway. Enala’s screams and the skeleton’s dread laughter chased after her, but she closed her ears to the girl’s plight. She sensed the surge of magic as Enala unleashed her power, but knew it would not be enough to overcome the monster.

Laurel had done what she’d always done. She had taken care of herself. She had left the girl to die.

So why do I feel so guilty?
She shivered, watching Enala sleep.
How did you survive? How did Eric survive? What the hell happened in there?

Laurel shook her head, still trying to come to grips with what had unfolded. When the portal dumped her in the citadel, she’d had no idea where she had escaped too. Remaining invisible, she slid through the courtyard, listening to the guards.

When she learned she was in Kalgan, she could not help but smile. It would take a long time for the Hawk to find her here.

Then the two Magickers had stepped from the portal, and all hell had broken loose.

Now Laurel found herself conflicted. When she had followed them into the portal, she’d thought to use Enala as leverage against the Trolan’s. No doubt they would pay a steep ransom for her life.

But here in the citadel, the height of Trolan power, she knew such a plan could only end in disaster. Even if the Trolan’s eventually recognised Enala and were willing to pay for her life, Laurel would stand little chance of escaping with her ransom. While she possessed a few unique abilities, she was not powerful. The Battle Magickers of Trola would hunt her down within hours.

Nor could Laurel ignore the shift in position between herself and Enala. They had stood together against the cursed skeleton, fought side by side to survive its relentless attack. Enala’s bravery had saved Laurel a dozen times in the short minutes of the battle.

In return, Laurel had left the girl to die.

Taking a deep breath, Laurel released her magic and reached out to touch the sleeping girl.

Enala’s eyelids fluttered and a low crackle came from her throat. Then her sapphire eyes opened and looked up at Laurel. She did not miss the suspicious glint in their murky depths.

“What are you doing here?” she croaked.

Laurel bowed her head. “I followed you from Chole. I thought it might be the best way to escape the Baronian thugs hunting me. I… I’m sorry I ran when it stabbed you.”

Enala’s mouth twisted in a frown. “You… yes, you vanished,” she shook her head. “No,
I
should be thanking
you
. You were the one who gave me a fighting chance in the first place.”

“The creature made it clear the only way either of us would survive was to work together… I should not have abandoned you.”

Enala smiled. “There was nothing more you could have done. As you say, we only stood a chance if we stood together. I was finished…” she shuddered. “If not for Eric…”

“How did Eric help you? His magic should not have worked there; there was nothing of the Sky element in that world.”

“I don’t know, but somehow he summoned lightning. Combined with my fire magic, it was enough to destroy the creature.”

Laurel stared at Enala, wondering if she had dreamt the whole thing. Eric was powerful, but he was no God. He could not have created lightning from nothing.

“So,” Enala interrupted her thoughts. “What will you do now? You aren’t thinking of kidnapping us again, are you?” she looked at Laurel with humour in her eyes.

Laurel laughed, but before she could answer a knock came from outside. She wrapped herself in magic once more, vanishing from sight.

The door opened and a man with greying hair entered. His face looked haggard, with wrinkles lining his forehead and sporting a patchy beard. He wore a plain brown doublet, long black pants and a scarf wrapped around his neck. He carried a jacket over one arm and a sprinkling of snow dotted his shoulders. A sword was strapped to his waist. He carried a small pack in one hand and a thin golden crown nestled on his temple.

His pale green eyes surveyed the room, passing over the hidden Laurel and settling on Enala.

“Ahh, awake I see, and healed too! I am so glad,” the man smiled, moving to stand at Enala’s bedside. His voice was a rich bass tone. It could have come from a man twenty years his junior.

Enala stared up at him, confusion written across her face. “Who are you?”

The man gave a booming laugh. “Why, I am the king of course. And my guards tell me that
you
are Enala.”

The girl nodded, struggling to sit up in the bed. “Yes, I’m Enala,” she stammered. “It’s ah… an honour to meet you, your majesty?” unable to do anything else, she offered her hand.