Page 10 of Wrath of the Fae Queen
I haven’t slept since they took my mate.
I leap up as the air base disintegrates within a moment. This type of wield has always been my weakness. I climb faster with air wields bolstering me up, platforms giving me a surface to leap off or catching me when I misplace a foot. I only make the mistake once of creating my own handhold out of air, as the damned thing dissipates before I am done with it.
It is foolhardy and dangerous to move at this speed, but I have no choice as those vines chase me. When their tendrils catch my leg, wrapping around it, their mere touch through fabric is enough to scorch my flesh. I send out sharp blades of air to slice them through, but they keep slithering after me and I can only swing, climb and leap upward. Ice crystals bud along the stone in pretty patterns, only heartbeats behind my movements.
My hands loop over the top ledge and I pull myself up onto flat ground as inch-thick ice forms over my fingers, sending agonizing pain burning through them. I am forced to crack the blue ice to shards as I move. I lie on my back, panting, rubbing heat back into my hands.
That climb almost killed me. The magic of this place is primed to attack intruders by any means imaginable.
Get up.
The voice of an angel rings in my head and I can’t help smiling, even as I heed Keira’s words. I heard the rustling of the vines as they slithered over the edge of the cliff, but needed a moment. I stomp on a few, and twist my boots, because I am a fucking petty man.
My heart sinks as I approach what greets me beyond.
A gentle incline covered in a field of flowers. Never has such a sight been so damned threatening.
There are velvety black flowers as large as my hand and deep scarlet blooms with dozens of long whisker-like filaments spilling out of them, all reaching into the sky on stalks as high as my waist. The only plants I recognize are the bushes of belladonna, some with small bell-shaped violet blossoms and others with toxic berries.
I roll my shoulders, knowing I can’t take a nice stroll through this field without coming out poisoned, drugged out of my mind and probably frothing at the mouth. As much as it might be an interesting experience, one I may have experimented with for kicks as a younger man, I have work to do.
The inside of your head is a strange place.Keira’s voice is sleepy, and I almost feel the yawn that cracks her jaw.
Go back to sleep, dear heart. You need your energy for your own trials in the morning.The very thought gives me all the motivation I need to succeed here.
I crack my neck from one side to the other, then run at full speed toward the field, picking up momentum as I go. I throw up a staircase of hardened air, forming one step at a time. As soon as my foot leaves a platform, I drop the weave so it dissipates and create the next right before my boot lands on it.
Within a heartbeat, I am racing above the meadow of flowers, breathing hard and sweating as I focus on each base I need to weave. I am ten leaps in, then twenty, well past my previous record for how long I can maintain this sort of wield, and I am only halfway through the distance I need to cross.
My heart rate cranks up and my head spins ever so slightly. My vision doubles, then returns to normal. Then I spot the clouds of pollen floating up from the flowers in a heavy mist, the tail of it reaching my position. By the Soul Ripper, I’m literally leaping through the sky, and I’m still not high enough to escape their effect.
What did they say about the flowers? Hallucinations and poison.
My throat goes dry and I almost miss the next base of air, miscalculating and sending it too far away. The platform crumples a second after I form it and I have just enough momentum to spring myself to the next. I am fatiguing. Pushed to my limits. Half a dozen more leaps, and I will make it to the far side.
I have trumped worse odds.
I can do this.
I take another leap and realize I cannot.
My platform disintegrates beneath me, and before I can whip up any more hardened air, I am falling. My boots land firmly on the ground, at the edge of the meadow, and the crunch of thick stems rings in my ears, turning my blood to ice.
A sickly floral scent reaches my nose as pollen floats up to sting my eyes and burn my skin. I claw at my face while tearsstream down my cheeks, blinding me. I stagger as I try to escape the field.
More branches break under my fumbling. More toxins are thrust up into the air. And I breathe them in.
STOP.Open your eyes and look around.
I follow the command of that voice, even as a kaleidoscope of rainbows stream across the sky in an angry current, lighting up the entire world in psychedelic colors. I blink and I am in a field of green, black and purple. I blink again and the spirits are back.
There! The edge of the meadow is only a few paces away. No. Not that way. Turn around. Yes, move forward. Keep going.
The earthy scent of broken vegetation fills my nose and the floral sweetness of pollen enters my mouth as I make my way out to clear ground. Angry boils form on the exposed skin of my hands. I reach up and touch my face. They are growing there too.
Aldrin. You’re covered in pollen. Draw moisture from the air and wash yourself with a spring rain.
That angel’s voice makes sense and I do as I’m told. The iciness of the water rolling between the plates of my armor and down my back returns some of my senses. Enough for meto know I have been drugged with hallucinogens. Slowed by poison.
