Page 38 of A Bolt of Magic

My blood goes cold, and ice creeps up my spine. I can barely breathe as fear hits me in great waves. I want to run, but I know that would be a mistake.

“Alaric.”

He turns, gasps when he sees the conjurer, and then spins his horse around to face the danger. I do the same.

The conjurer smiles; his eyes are cold and hard. It’s pure evil.

He lifts his hands and sends a blast of magic our way. I do everything in my power to fortify the shield around us, but it doesn’t work. I am nowhere near as powerful as a fae conjurer. We are thrown from our horses, who turn and run away together with the few remaining fae steeds.

Thankfully, due to the mud and moss on the ground, my landing isn’t as hard as it could have been. The air is still knocked from my lungs.

I think we could be in real trouble here. My thinking is confirmed when the downed fae start to rise, one after the other. The sleep spell I cast has been overridden by the conjurer.

“We might just be fucked.” Alaric says under his breath.

12

Kian

I jump to my feet, drawing my sword, although it is of no use against a conjurer.

A conjurer and a powerful one, at that, judging by the thickness of the black veins visible on his pale skin.

The others shake their heads to clear them, picking up their swords, hate in their eyes as they come for us.

The conjurer steps to the side, a smile toying with his lips. The fae rush at us, screaming a battle cry. McColl steps up beside me, her hands held high and glowing. At least she still has her magic, which is good since we are surrounded.

“Back-to-back,” I shout, and we step in together in a tight formation.

I hear a crack, followed by a sizzle and a cry of pain. The scent of magic is thick in the air. There is another crackle from behind me as my sword clashes with the first fae to attack.

The battle is frenzied, with fae coming at us from all sides. McColl’s magic continues to crackle in the air as she fends off attackers, her power a bright beacon in the semi-darkness at theedge of the forest. I fight with all my might, parrying blows and striking back whenever I see an opening. I wound a fae and kill another. They keep coming. There are so many of them.

The conjurer circles around us, his dark eyes gleaming as he watches the chaos unfold. He still has that evil smile plastered on his face. It’s eerie. He is using the fae to weaken us before he steps in to finish it. To finish us. Right now, it feels like his plan is going to work, which irritates the hell out of me.

I injure another fae, who falls back, clutching his arm. It won’t be long before he is back.

“Give up now!” Ondine shouts as he rushes at me.

“Never!” I snarl, sounding far more confident than I am.

I block Ondine’s strike with a swift parry, our swords clashing in a shower of sparks. The fae around us continue to press forward, their attacks relentless. McColl’s magic lashes out, knocking down several of our assailants. Only one stays down; the rest leap back to their feet.

The conjurer remains untouched, his dark energy sizzling in the air. As the battle rages on, I can feel my strength waning. The weight of my sword feels heavier with each swing. I glance over at McColl; concern is etched on her face as she fights off multiple foes at once.

She waves her hands, chanting words I don’t understand, and Ondine’s sword clashes against the magical shield. When he is struck by one of her lightning bolts, he falls back, clasping his arm, his sword falling to the churned-up ground below.

The others strike against the same shield, sparks flying as their swords clang uselessly.

“It’s weakening,” McColl says between gritted teeth. “The shield.” She’s struggling. That much is clear.

I make a decision to use my power. By now, Snow will know exactly where I am. It is said that she can see through the eyes of the fae…all of them. Not my eyes, it would seem.

I touch my chest. My mark is beneath the fabric of my tunic. There are runes hidden within an elaborate design. Perhaps they have something to do with it.

The time has come to fight fire with fire. I only hope that McColl and I together will be enough to stand against the conjurer.

I pull my magic to the fore. It feels strange. Unlike McColl, I have only used it once or twice. I have never been taught how to wield magic. I have no idea what I am doing. I will need to rely on instinct like I did before.

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