Page 111 of Echoes of the Raven
Calierin thrusts her hands forward, violet magic building. Her face is set in rage, her features sharper than any weapon. With a battle cry, she releases her attack. It sails directly toward the for-hire sorcerer.
With confidence, Galen marches straight into Calierin’s assault. She smirks, thinking she has won, but she has no idea who she is dealing with. Galen keeps on walking even as her magic hits him square in the chest. Calierin gapes, then starts preparing another attack.
With a nearly imperceptible flick of Galen’s fingers, a root appears behind Calierin and twines around her waist. She struggles, but as the root begins to glow—matching Galen’s shade of red—her body goesrigid—only her eyes swiveling wildly as she tries to comprehend the turn of events.
My head spins as I dangle. A trail of agony burns along my spine, and my side throbs. I fear my ribs may be broken. Below me, Galen turns and peers up at me, hands on hips.
“Well, well,” he says in that careless tone of his that always irritated me, “I thought I’d imagined you. I told myselfNah, there’s no way Korben is trapped here with the rest of the rabble. So I had to come and make sure I wasn’t crazy. And lo and behold, my eyes didn’t deceive me.” He chuckles. “Here you are. Though,” he frowns, “how come you haven’t shifted? Shouldn’t you have wings and be trying to peck my eyes out by now?”
“Fuck you, Galen,” I manage as a wave of sickness rolls over my stomach, and I vomit on the sorcerer. Or at least, I would have liked to, but he is too quick on his feet.
He looks down at the vomit with disgust. “Now, that’s not the way to welcome an old friend.”
Galen isnota friend. He was once my court’s Master of Magic and, indeed, a friend, but that was a long time ago, before he betrayed me and left Riochtach over fifty years ago.
Now, he’s just another enemy trying to keep me from the only thing that matters.
I open my mouth to curse at him, but the pain in my ribs sharpens. I groan, then vomit again, my consciousness slipping away even as I fight to hold on.
44
VALERIA
“It is worse than I feared. Saints forgive us.”
Bishop Benedicto Brasa - Bishop of Castellina - 21 AV
Blood spews from Rífíor’s mouth, spraying down as his body goes limp. He has passed out. Something must be terribly wrong with him if he’s vomiting blood. Concern fills my chest, a feeling that I’d like to deny, but that is as real as my anger at the fucking, smug sorcerer that did this to us.
Down,I think, clutching The Eldrystone tightly in my fingers. The opal flares hot against my palm.
Finally!
The pressure around my ankle vanishes. For a terrified moment, I think I’m going to crash on my head, but I clutch the amulet and wish for a smooth descent. Espiritu warms my chest, and with a sickening flip, the world spins right side up. My stomach lurches. Propelled by the amulet’s espiritu, I float down effortlessly and land gently on my feet.
The guards circling us raise their swords, but the for-hire sorcerer, Galen, gestures for them to stand down. They don’t sheath their weapons, but remain in place, watching me warily.
Galen regards me with a raised eyebrow and quickly puts both hands up in a pacifying gesture. The hood of his cloak is down, and for the first time, I take a good look at his features. He has sun-streaked, long brown hair held back from his face by braids. His brow is strong, and three-day stubble covers his face. He wears an olive-green cloak that matches his warm skin tone too perfectly to be a coincidence. He appears to be five to seven years older than me, but I doubt that’s his true age.
“Hold your fire, Princess Valeria!” he says. “Peace! Let’s not have a repeat of that whole statue situation, shall we? It wasn’t exactly… pleasant, and besides, I’m just following orders from your lovely, but slightly terrifying, sister.”
Behind Galen, Calierin’s eyes reveal an internal battle as she’s surely attempting to free herself, but it seems her opponent’s espiritu is more powerful than hers.
Ignoring the sorcerer, I run to Rífíor’s side and drop to one knee. I inspect him for wounds, but the only blood present dribbles down the corner of his mouth. He’s still and pale. With trembling fingers, I check his pulse, and I’m relieved to find it.
Galen approaches and speaks casually, “He has a punctured lung. Broken ribs.” He waves his hand in an esoteric way that is slightly comical. “I can sense them,” he adds in an outlandishly mystical voice. The male seems to be some sort of jester, one of those people who never takes anything seriously.
Furious, I straighten and glare at him. He’s a full head taller than me, but he takes a step back, gaze falling to The Eldrystone clutched in my hand.
“Then do something about it!” I growl.
“’Fraid healing isn’t part of my… repertoire.”
I have no idea if he’s telling the truth, and I—
“Butyoucan take care of it. After all, you’re the one with,” he leans close and whispers, “The Eldrystone.”
Feeling stupid for not realizing it, I glance down at the opal, then at Rífíor.
