Page 137 of Rook of Ruin
“There are children here!” I snarl. “Innocents!” The power I have expands as tiny sparks kiss my skin and the terror of what I am threatens to take what energy I have. The voice laughs again, but I swing my sword down, killing the young man and falling off Sal.
More green light greets my face as I roll onto my side. A woman’s laugh sends chills up my spine, it’s harsh and maddening. She steps into my vision. The green light does not expand around her, but comes from her palm, and her eyes change from violet to blue. She is not like the men and women who were consumed by black fire; she is the one fucking creating it. This woman is a Wraith. She was consuming the life force of those people while forcing them to use her twisted magic. The light begins to burn around her beautiful body like serpents slithering, and her black dress billows as if wind is pushing it, but there is no movement in the air, only darkness unfolding below her. Everything around us is still and silent as death.
“Bright One, why do you fight us? We are the same. Don’t you remember?”
Slowly, I stand, and with all the strength I can muster, I try to bring my shortsword up. Sparks fly off my skin as she watches in fascination. Her mouth opens again, and the sickening voice speaks from her lips. “So brave, young Bright One.” The graveled voice sounds sad, mournful.
“Who are you?” I swallow my fear.
“Little half breed, little child of darkness and light. We are the same.”
“I amnothinglike you,” I shout.
Green serpents begin to slither off her body, glowing brightly, surrounding me. I stumble and fall, pulling back before one strikes me.
The woman before me laughs as she moves closer. It’s not the voice within but her own wicked one. “It was too easy to slip into the boy’s mind and cut you with the knife.” What the fuck is she talking about? She searches my face. “You didn’t save yourself?” Blood begins to pelt down my nose. “No. You didn’t, foolish child. Break yourself free.” She steps forward again, her proximity causing my skin to feel as if it’s on fire.
Her light-made serpents slither closer, and I swing out with my shortsword. It’s not my sword that stops them, but the glowing warm light from a shimmery gold dome surrounding me. The look of surprise from the Wraith’s face is probably the same one I have. Because I have no clue how I’m creating this thing. It’s like Ossian’s, only . . . pretty.
She places a hand against it and watches in fascination as it burns her skin.
Concentrating on withdrawing my power just enough to create a hole in my shield, I take the opportunity of surprise and weakly stab her with my shortsword. She looks down, black blood flowing from her artery, and her beautiful face twists inhate. “They will fail and we will rise to devour the world. You will remember and join us, daughter of Jovan.” Her body falls, and the tendrils of light from my body begin to consume her.
I begin to glow, radiating more beams of light, shattering my shield. Unable to think of what else to do with all this building up energy, I push my power down into the ground, and a bright light erupts around the whole town. Screaming out, the fear overwhelms me, and black spots come before my eyes, threatening to pull me under until calmness envelops me, and I let it. I hold on to it. I don’t know how long I sit, my eyes closed, enjoying the waves of peace pulsing through my body.
“Ruin!” Her voice seems a lifetime away. “Princess Caddel! Orlaith!” I hold on to the warm calmness until Isle kneels before me, shaking me, pulling it away as I withdraw back into myself, looking at the black blood on my hands. Isle hugs me to herself.
“Did I—did I hurt anyone?” I whisper, afraid of the answer, afraid I am turning into the Malevolent after using such power.We are the same. Daughter of Jovan. Half breed. Child of darkness and light.
Jovan. The Warrior of Old. The one who fell in love with a dragon. I have his swords.
Isle whispers in my ear, “Just our enemies, you fucking beautiful beast. You killed them. All of them.” She smooths out my hair. “You saved us all.” Her blue eyes are full of concern and pride.
“What about—” I can’t say it. I’m not ready for anyone to know.
She whispers, “They all think it was because you killed the last one. They think that’s what created the light. They don’t know. You’re safe.”
They could see. They could see the light.
I nod, mumbling my thanks. Shakily reaching out to Sal, she nuzzles my face.
“Fucking fierce.” Isle clasps my shoulder gently.
I set aside my own fears . . . for now. The people of Perrick need us. We spend hours picking through rubble, moving bodies, putting out small fires, and helping the three surviving healers with the enormous task of treating the wounded. Isle sent out requests for reinforcements, more healers. Bloody and exhausted, I hold a warrior’s hand as he silently weeps. Isle brought me into the healers’ tent to meet him. The brawny man laid out before me fought with brute strength and saved many lives today, but his lack of silver unicorn hair made his body an easy target for sharp teeth that ripped through his flesh, taking most of his arm. The healer injected him with a powerful analgesic, so thankfully, he feels no pain.
“What am I now? I’m not a warrior,” he grinds out.
“You will always be a warrior. You will bemywarrior.” The smell of blood surrounds us along with the screams and soft cries of other patients.
“I can’t fight properly.” He gives me a defeated look.
“You will fight with the same tenacity as you always have.” I gently wipe his forehead with a cloth, and he stares at me like I made the dumbest statement in the world. I give him a soft smile. “Do you still want to be a warrior?”
“Yes, it’s all I’ve ever wanted to be,” he chokes out.
“Then you will be my warrior,” I say simply, because I know I can use him. “What is your name?”
A hint of a smile hits his lips. “Stallion.”
