Touched by Magic

by K.N. Lee

  In a panic, she stumbled backward, eyes flashing with terror as the fairy flew away. She looked down, through the lace of her gown’s sleeve, it appeared as if her veins were turning black.

  The arrow. It must have been enchanted, perhaps even laced with a curse.

  Nala fell, her arms reached out to brace herself. Sweating, and nauseous, she caught ahold of the bench, and struggled to rise up, to sit, when strong arms wrapped around her middle.

  “I have you,” King Tristan said, and Nala threw her arms around his neck as chaos befell the palace.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Fear dominated Nala’s thoughts as glowing arrows rained down from the dark, night sky. Whatever had just happened, sparked an all-out war.

  “Siege,” King Tristan yelled. He looked down at her, eyes intense with rage—so much so that she was more afraid of him than the wound she’d suffered. “Hold on, Nala. I’m going to get you out of here.”

  Soldiers clamored from all sides as cloaked figures leaped over the wall.

  Dear gods.

  The iridescent hue of colors encircling them could only mean one thing.

  Magic.

  Home no longer existed. Everyone she knew and loved was gone. All she had was a power she didn’t know how to use, and the mysterious king who seemed hellbent on rescuing her.

  Explosions boomed from every direction as the elven soldiers fought to defend the palace and give her and the king an opportunity to flee.

  This could not be real. Her home had been destroyed. She’d been ripped away from the village with Ciaran, Magnus, and Sunniva. Now, just as she began to relax in the Cedonian Palace, it once again plummeted into utter destruction.

  “Not again,” Nala mumbled through the bone-searing pain. Her blood dripped all over the king whose silver eyes made her dare to hope they could survive.

  Nala gripped his hand and stifled a cry as a second arrow—this one composed of bright white light—ripped through her thigh. The noise filled her ears as the pain burned through her muscles.

  Someone wanted her dead, and wouldn’t stop until they succeeded.

  While the king held her, he reached out his hand and to her utter shock, the stone wall crumbled from within. Energy gathered, lights sparking, and the stone and dust lifted into the sky.

  He turned, and with a flick of his wrist, he sent the stones crashing into the hordes of cloaked beings.

  She shrieked and without pause, he threw her over his shoulder and broke into a run that was almost too fast to be possible. Everything became a blur, but the flames and screams told a story she knew all too well.

  A howling chased behind them, and for a split second, the king paused. He leaped into the air, with her in tow, and they landed on the back of his white Great Wolf.

  All sounds began to dull, and a burning

  Nala’s eyes rolled into the back of her head.

  “Trust me,” he begged as they rode the wolf through the forest. “I won’t let you die.”

  She heard his words—though faintly—and another voice spoke to her from inside her head.

  “I’m coming for you,” a female voice said.

  A chill ran throughout her entire body, making her eyes pop open in alarm. She expected to see the moon, but the cloak of a massive shadow blocked its light.

  She looked over the king’s shoulder.

  The destruction was getting closer.

  Close enough to burn her face as she dared a look at the energy bomb that leveled the palace.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Dawn meant there was hope.

  At least, that’s what it was supposed to mean. But, as the red sky began to brighten, Nala feared that this time she might not escape the death that chased her.

  “Where are we?” Nala asked in a raspy voice. Her throat was dry, burning with pain from her screams. They’d raced through the night, escaping the siege and destruction of the Cedonian Palace.

  “Stay awake,” King Tristan said as they reached forest of dead trees, where the light of the sun couldn’t permeate or shine even a single ray. “We are in Rainier.”

  Her heart raced, and her mind was a blur. Rainier?

  Why did that word sound familiar?

  As her soul clung to her body, desperate to remain fused, she began to pray. She wasn’t sure if anyone was listening, but she had no choice. The gods had never been on her side before, but perhaps there was even the slightest chance that they’d heed her prayer.

  A cry escaped her lips and burned her throat as her magic bubbled within.

  “I think my magic is fighting to save me,” she said, gasping for air.

  “Good,” he said. “It will sustain you until we find another energy source. I will tire soon, and will be unable to keep you alive.”

  “What?”

  He stroked her cheek. “Our touch,” he said. “It transfers a bit of my energy to you. I what you’d call a Recharger. My magic is based on energy. Physical and mental.”

  She nodded, clasping her hand onto his, smoothing his palm against her cool cheeks.

  She needed more. A moan escaped her lips as his touch soothed her. He wrapped his other arm around her waist, pulling her against his hard chest.

  It was a delicious gesture, and left her leaning her head back onto his shoulder, chest heaving as his energy surged through her.

  Again, she needed more.

  All went still as he stopped in the center of the eerie forest.

  The Great Wolf knelt and King Tristan leaped from its back with Nala in tow.

  “Bone Lady,” he called into the darkness, holding Nala’s limp body out before him. “I beseech you.”

  Somehow, there was a sudden ray of light, glowing from around her.

  It was brilliant, like wisps of golden power. She glanced down with her last ounce of strength and realized that the light sizzled and permeated her flesh.

  The euphoria was intoxicating. She almost smiled as it filled her soul, and settled its raging hysteria.

  To her surprise, two small elves ran from the darkness, and helped the king take her to a tunnel that led underground.

  Relieved, she was at least alive.

  Still, that eerie voice haunted her.

  Darkness. Little noises. Muffled voices from behind a closed door. Nala did not know how much time had passed, but she could not bring herself to full awareness.

  Terrible sights raced through her fevered mind.

  Sometimes, she saw the king, impaled with an enchanted spear. Other times, Ciaran, Magnus, and Sunniva were drowning in a sea of flames.

  Whatever curse plagued her forced her to relive every terrible experience she’d suffered through and fresh ones she could have never imagines.

  The terrible day her life had changed played out within her mind, starting in the field with her parents. She could still feel the heat of the sun on her face, and feel the dripping of sweat trailing between her bosom. Her mother and father’s voices brought a smile to her face.

  Then, the whoosh of the arrows signified the end of all that was good in her life.

  The vision ended with her walking through the devastation and destruction. The burning of her village, the sheer hopelessness she had felt, the stench of the acrid smoke, the choking sensation. She cringed, covering her nose with her sleeve as the pungent, repulsive smell of burning flesh and hair, and reek of death and loosed bowels flooded her senses.

  Nala gasped a breath as if given new life. Yet, her body remained frozen. For now, she was aware of her surroundings as much as she could be with her useless body and her shut eyes.

  Unable to move her head or body, she was forced to suffer in silence.

  A cackle came from the shadows of her brain.

  I’m coming for you.

  That voice had returned to torment her, and tears filled the corners of her eyes.

  Footsteps sounded in the hallway, and Nala held her breath.

  She struggled to open her eyes, to no avail, and with
all of her might, screamed as several hands began to touch her.

  Her scream filled her mind, but never managed to escape her throat.

  What new hell was this?

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Her veins…”

  “Her face…”

  “Her pallor…”

  “The wound festers…”

  “Could it be?”

  Nala tried to blink. She strove to lift her fingers, to wiggle her toes.

  Nothing.

  While her body refused to obey her commands, she was forced to listen like an invalid, unable to alert those who spoke over her that she was lucid.

  “The darkness of her veins is troubling,” a soft female voice said. “Could be a Spell of Discord.”

  “What do you know of such spells?” A male voice asked with an arrogant huff. “Human magic is nothing like our own.”

  “This wound will not heal. It’s been cleaned thoroughly for days now, but it still oozes pus. I fear it may be the makings of a curse.”

  “Aye,” the male said. “It seems so.”

  “Level with me. Can you cure her?” King Tristan asked, surprising her by the worry in his voice.

  “Sorry, your royal highness, Wylah and I are but clerics. Our magic is not strong enough for this kind of dark magic,” the male said. “This is human magic, tempered with a bit of something else.”

  “Something unnatural,” Wylah said, her tone grave. “Cort and I can slow its effects. But, that is all. We need to wait for the Bone Lady’s return.”

  “That’ll be another week,” Cort said. “I don’t know if we have that long.”

  She’d heard that title before. Bone Lady. What could she do that the two clerics couldn’t.

  A hiss of fresh pain seared through Nala, so terribly strong and intense that her eyes finally jerked open. She yanked her arm away from Wylah.

  “It hurts,” she croaked.

  Wylah pursed her lips, nodding. “Understandably so. You’ve been through quite an ordeal.”

  With a small pointed nose, purple eyes slightly too close together, and short gray hair, she and Cort must have been siblings for he was also the same exact height with matching eyes and hair. Their skin was an olive shade, much different from the pale flesh of the Cedonian elves.

  Both clerics wore brown robes, belted with rope, shiny glass beads dangling from the ends.

  They appeared to be much older than any of the elves Nala had seen around the palace.

  Then, she remembered. The palace had been destroyed.

  That meant—Edna was gone.

  Her heart ached for her friend, bringing tears to her eyes. No, she wasn’t certain about that. Edna could have escaped.

  “Nala, this is Wylah and Cort. They are clerics,” King Tristan said, calmly, standing from the seat to her right. “They are keepers of the Rainier Court.”

  She didn’t bother revealing that she had heard them talking over her for some time now. Instead, she took in her surroundings.

  “Rainier Court?”

  “Yes,” he said. “We are in Dark Elf territory.”

  She lifted a brow. “I didn’t know there was such a thing.”

  She glanced from him to the chair and took in the rest of the room. It was a large room lit by flaming torches that lined the stone walls. There were no windows, but animal hides were scattered across the floor.

  She remembered then that they had descended under ground.

  “We tend to keep to our own territory,” he explained. “How do you feel?”

  “Everything hurts,” she said. Sweat dotted her brow, yet her body shivered. “But, at least I’m alive, right?”

  His brows knotted as he looked down at her pale flesh marred by black. The king took her hand into his own, and she flinched. Gently, he stroked the blackened veins running up her arm with his finger.

  She sucked in a breath, squirming under the covers as a cool sensation filled her veins, followed by heat that surged from her toes to the top of her head.

  Recharge Magic. She’d give anything to never part ways with the king again. It was addicting. Intoxicating.

  Still swooning, drunk on his magic, she sighed and focused on the sensation.

  He looked to the cleric. “Is there anything you can do about the necrosis?”

  “Yes,” she said, glancing at Nala and then at Cort who nodded. “But, I fear she won’t like it.”

  “Out with it,” Nala said, too tired for games.

  “Well,” Wylah said. “If I do not cut out the tainted flesh, I fear it will only spread.”

  “You mean to slice into my skin to carve out the necrotic flesh as if you are a sculptor, and I am your clay?”

  Wylah grimaced. “I would not phrase it as such.”

  Startled, Nala realized the king had left the room. She found herself wishing he’d return. Something about his presence calmed her.

  When he returned, she perked up, straightening in her seat on the bed.

  He marched over to her and held up a thin piece of wood.

  “Bite down on this,” he said. “It will help with the pain.”

  Brow lifted, she accepted the wood piece.

  “Trust me,” he said. “Losing a bit of skin is nothing compared to your entire arm.”

  Nala had to agree. Wylah was holding her left arm in place. Trying to lift the right arm caused the left to shift just enough for blinding pain to overwhelm her. She opened her mouth, and the king placed the wood just inside her mouth.

  Breathing heavily, Nala bit down hard.

  “Do you think yourself ready?” Wylah asked.

  With a whimper, she nodded, bracing herself.

  Silver flashed as Wylah brought up her blade. The healer dug into the wound and cut and hacked at the skin.

  At first, biting into the wood helped. She grunted in pain as the level of agony grew. Before long, Wylah was finished, sweat beading her face as she stood and wiped at her brow.

  Bloody fingers were wiped onto a rag and she turned to the king with a nod. “I’ve managed to remove the infected flesh. There will be some major scarring once I stitch up the wound, but,” she glanced at Nala, offering her a smile. “She will live.”

  “For now,” Cort added.

  Chapter Twenty

  Nearly a week passed as Nala recovered from the procedure on her arm. With her arm bandaged, she accepted Cort’s challenge to walk a little, and explore.

  If only she could control the burning magic that poisoned her blood and bones. Though she managed to take a few steps from her bed, no matter how many herbs and potions they gave her, a crippling fever struck, sending her crashing to the floor.

  Miserable, Nala prayed to the gods for peace.

  Peace never came. More darkness followed.

  “Awake, I see. Good.”

  Nala’s glanced at Cort, her stomach growling at her with anger as she awakened from yet another blackout.

  “Aye,” she said. “I could really use some stew right now. Where is Edna?”

  Her stomach sank then, as she remembered that Edna wasn’t there. For all she new, her beautiful elven friend was dead.

  “I’ll have some food brought up to you,” he said crossing to the other side of her bed and unwrapped her shoulder. “Truly, I’m glad to see you are lucid, and that the arm is healing. And, with an appetite. All good signs.”

  Nala couldn’t bear to look at her shoulder. The pain was mostly gone, perhaps from the scented ointment Cort applied. The rest of her body tingled, still burning from whatever afflicted her.

  “The king,” she murmured without meaning to.

  “He refuses to sleep in his own quarters. So, he sleeps by your bedside as if watching over you,” he said, his eyes curiously watching her expression.

  Her heart soared at that revelation. Despite all she had previously thought about him, he had saved her life.

  “Where is he now?” Nala asked, trying not to seem too eager.

  “Do not worry
. I am sure he will stop by shortly.”

  As if on cue, King Tristan entered the room.

  “Nala, you are awake. How are you feeling?”

  “Much better now,” she said. “Now that you’re here.” She almost couldn’t believe she’d said those words. But, after all they’d survived and shared, there was something new between them.

  Mutual respect—if not adoration.

  He sat at her side, a faint smile coming to his face. He looked as though he hadn’t slept, dark circles under his eyes.

  Still, the silver in his eyes was the most beautiful thing she had seen in a long while. Her nights had been filled with frightening nightmares and darkness.

  She wished she could take him with her into the land of dreams, a smile coming to her lips at that thought.

  He took her hand, bringing it to his lips. Her eyes widened as he kissed her knuckles. “You have no idea how worried I was about you.”

  “Why me?” Nala asked. “I’m but a servant. I’m nothing.”

  His eyes darkened. “I will not hear you say that one more time. I told you the day we met that you were special, and I will not rest until you believe me.”

  She giggled, shaking her head. What was happening? She had a king on his knees, treating her as an equal.

  “I have brought the Bone Lady to heal you,” he said. “Once you are well, we will return to Cedonia to repair what was lost.”

  Her face paled. “But, from the looks of it, everything was destroyed.”

  Shaking his head, he stood. “No, my lady. I will show you wonders you have never dreamed.”

  Then, he stepped aside as the door opened and a beautiful elven woman entered.

  The gorgeous hue of her ebony skin was contrasted by the ivory miniature skull hanging from a necklace around her neck.

  Her dress was black with black lace, with intricate black lace covering her throat. Bracelets made of bone covered both arms, and her lips were painted a crimson shade.

  She had an air about her—one that commanded attention, and maybe even fear.