by Colt, K. J.
She began to cry. Sobs escaped her throat and tears ran down her face, her entire body shaking as it rose higher and higher above the ground. The soldier’s hands tightened on her leg, his fingers brutally digging into her skin, but she couldn’t bring herself to care, too consumed by her own horror and bitter regret.
A flash of bright light shocked her vision. It was followed by a loud boom and a rapidly darkening sky. Clouds appeared, veiling the sun, and the wind picked up. Another flash of light, another boom, and Gala realized that it was lightning and thunder. A storm was gathering, a weather phenomenon she’d only read about before.
The skies opened and the rain began, huge drops falling on Gala, soaking her to the skin. The cold wetness felt good on her overheated skin, washing away the blood and grime.
The rain also seemed to reinvigorate the big soldier hanging on to her leg. He let go with one hand and pulled out a dagger from somewhere, holding it against her thigh.
“Take us down,” he ordered harshly. “Right now.”
Gala tried to kick at him, but the dagger dug into her skin, and she could see the murderous intent on the man’s face. He was determined to bring them down at any cost—even if doing so meant losing his own life.
Her body still gripped by unbearable pain, Gala instinctively reached out to the storm, feeling its fury deep in her bones.
Suddenly, there was another flash of light and an explosion of pain. Sparks flew, and Gala realized that a lightning bolt had struck the man’s dagger, its force traveling into both of their bodies. The soldier’s grip on her leg loosened . . . and he plummeted to the ground below.
Shocked and dazed, Gala continued floating for a moment before she found the strength to focus on something other than the pain. Remembering the thief she had healed, she tried to recall the way she felt then—the peace that had permeated every fiber of her being. And then she began to feel it again, the warm sensation that started deep inside her and radiated outward through her outstretched arms, intensifying with every moment that passed, the pain melding into pleasure, into a sense of warmth, light, and happiness.
She wanted to freeze this moment and feel this good forever.
Through the fog of pleasure, she felt unconsciousness slowly creeping in, and she could not fight it anymore.
She would fall into a pleasant dream, Gala thought, and blanked out.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Augusta
EXITING THE COUNCIL MEETING, AUGUSTA hurried to her room, walking as fast as she could without actually running. During the best of times, Council meetings were far from her favorite activity, but the one today had been particularly intolerable. Jandison had yammered on and on, and all the while Augusta had been sitting there thinking about the fact that, at that very moment, Barson was probably getting rid of Blaise’s abomination.
She wasn’t afraid for him, exactly. Her lover was a force to be reckoned with on a battlefield, and she had used plenty of protective spells to aid him in his task. It was more that she was anxious to see the creature destroyed, permanently wiped out of existence. For the past two nights, she’d had nightmares, dreams of that thing growing more powerful and the ground turning red with blood from the carnage that it caused. She knew the dreams were just a product of her subconscious mind dwelling on the situation, but they were disturbing nonetheless.
It would be good to know that the issue was taken care of.
Walking into her quarters, Augusta headed straight to the mirror that would show her the battle through Barson’s pendant. Sitting down in front of it, she took off the cover.
The image in front of her was that of a battle in progress. Augusta watched with a sense of gratification as the creature unsuccessfully used a fire spell against Barson’s army. Augusta’s defenses held, as she’d known they would.
However, as the battle continued, Augusta grew increasingly anxious. The thing was moving its body in unnatural ways, learning sword fighting with inhuman speed. Augusta knew of no sorcery that could allow someone to fight like that.
Soon, the battle became a massacre. The creature killed with horrible precision again and again, until all Augusta could see was blood and death. The fact that the monstrosity manifested itself in the form of a delicate young woman made the scene that much more macabre.
As Barson began moving toward the creature, Augusta felt her stomach drop. “No, don’t,” she whispered at the mirror, beginning to realize how much she’d underestimated this unnatural being.
And then Barson succeeded in wounding it. Augusta jumped up, yelling in triumph—until she saw the creature perform its most destructive magic yet. Disregarding its own safety, it made all the swords shatter to bits, sending deadly pieces of metal flying everywhere.
“Barson, stop!” Augusta screamed as her lover—bleeding, but alive—grabbed on to the thing, floating upward with it. “Let go! Please, let go!”
He couldn’t hear her, of course, and Augusta watched in horrified shock as the storm began and a lightning bolt speared through Barson’s body. Her elemental protection spell had likely dampened the full effect of the strike, but the pain must’ve been unbearable, even for Barson. His hands unclasped, and he began falling to his death.
A few seconds later, the image in the mirror broke into a dozen pieces and went dark.
Letting out a scream of agonized rage, Augusta hit the mirror, over and over, until her hands were bleeding and the mirror lay shattered on the floor.
Sobbing, she sank to her knees.
She had done this. She had caused her own lover’s death. If she had gone directly to the Council as soon as she’d learned about the creature, none of this would’ve happened, and Barson would still be alive. Keening in agony, Augusta rocked back and forth.
She had let her feelings for Blaise cloud her judgment, but she would not make that mistake again. Blaise was now dead to her—as dead as his creature would be when the full power of Koldun’s sorcerers got unleashed upon it.
The thing was evil, and evil had to be stopped at all costs.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Blaise
HIS HEART POUNDING IN HIS chest, Blaise flew as fast as he could. Out there, in the middle of the giant storm, was Gala. She was floating in the air, with a man hanging on to her legs. The ground was covered with bodies of soldiers. Blaise couldn’t tell if they were dead or just severely wounded.
His chaise shook as he pushed it to its very limits, trying to go faster and faster. The wind from the storm was hampering his efforts, so he grabbed for his bag, fishing out the Interpreter Stone and a few cards. Frantically adding a few key parameters to the code, he fed the cards into the Stone and waited.
Immediately, a new wind picked up. It was weak compared to the insane forces Blaise assumed Gala had somehow unleashed, but it was blowing in exactly the direction he needed.
Next, Blaise took out a handkerchief. Ignoring the rain and the lightning, he did a verbal spell. When he was done, the handkerchief began to grow until it was more like a sheet. Another spell, and the sheet was attached to the back of the chaise, becoming an impromptu sail of sorts.
The chaise went faster, helped by the wind.
Lightning kept hitting the ground, and Blaise watched in horror as one bolt hit the man holding on to Gala. In the bright flash that followed, Blaise saw the man’s face.
It was Barson, the Captain of the Sorcerer Guard—a man known to be a fighter without equal.
At the lightning strike, Barson’s entire body jerked. Then he let go of Gala and began to fall.
A moment later, Blaise began to feel a strange sensation—a blissful warmth that somehow permeated his body despite the wind and rain lashing at his skin. All the tension drained out of him and was replaced with a kind of unusual calmness, a peace unlike anything he had ever experienced before. It was mesmerizing, hypnotic, and Blaise felt himself starting to drift under, his mind clouding with the intense pleasure.
A healing spell, he realized
vaguely, his thoughts slow and sluggish, as though he was falling asleep. A healing spell like his mother used to do, only a thousand times more powerful. A healing spell that would make him forget everything if he allowed it.
No, Blaise thought, his nails digging into his skin. He couldn’t let himself go under. Reaching for the letter opener he always carried in his bag, he pulled it out and stabbed his palm. The pain was sharp and jarring for a moment, and then his flesh sealed itself, as though nothing had happened. He repeated the action, over and over. The bursts of pain prevented him from getting sucked into that mindless, blissful state.
Up ahead, he saw Gala starting to fall and felt the effects of the healing spell beginning to wane. The lightning and thunder eased, though the rain continued pouring at a steady pace.
Angling his chaise toward the ground, Blaise got underneath Gala’s falling body just in time.
She landed on top of him, and Blaise caught her in his arms, pulling her close. She seemed to be unconscious but alive, her slim body soft and warm against his chest. Shaking, Blaise mentally thanked all his teachers, even the bastard Ganir, for encouraging and nurturing his mathematical gifts. Had the angle of his descent been even slightly different, Gala would’ve plummeted to the ground below.
Looking down at her exquisite face, Blaise bent down and gently kissed her lips, tasting the rain and the unique essence that was Gala. He couldn’t believe she was finally here, with him, and he hugged her, trying not to crush her in his arms. Even dressed in a peasant outfit and with dirt marring her cheeks, she was beautiful enough to make him ache.
They descended slowly, and he saw the field fully for the first time. All around them, the soldiers of the Sorcerer Guard were beginning to stir, though many still had shards of metal sticking out of their armor. There were also lions walking around, a sight that would’ve surprised Blaise more if he hadn’t been so overwhelmed with everything else. On the very edge of the field, he could see Maya and Esther. They had their arms around each other and were staring at the field with terrified expressions on their faces.
The chaise touched the ground, and Blaise climbed out, still holding Gala cradled in his arms. She shifted, making a soft noise, and then her eyes fluttered open.
Smiling, Blaise met her gaze.
“Blaise!” Her face lit up with joyous wonder. “You’re here!”
“Yes,” he said softly. “I’m here, and I am not going anywhere.” Bending his head, he kissed her again. Her arms wound around his neck, and she pulled his head down, kissing him back with so much passion that Blaise felt a bolt of heat despite the cold rain that kept coming down. For the first time since Gala left, he felt alive—alive and craving her with every part of his being.
Before he could completely lose his mind, Blaise pulled back. As loath as he was to stop, he needed to take stock of the situation. “What happened here?” he asked, gently placing her on her feet.
Gala blinked, seemingly taken aback for a moment, then frantically looked around. “They’re healed,” she said in amazement, stepping back and pointing at the lions. “Look, Blaise, they are all healed!”
Blaise looked at the wild beasts that now seemed to be heading toward Maya and Esther. “That’s good, I guess,” he said, a bit uncertainly. Around them, he could see some of the soldiers slowly starting to get up.
“They’re healed, too,” Gala said, following his gaze. “I must have done it without meaning to.” She sounded relieved, which struck Blaise as odd.
“I thought they were trying to kill you,” he said. “What happened here today?”
And as they walked toward Maya and Esther through the field of dazed, but slowly recovering soldiers, Gala told him all about the fight and the incidents at the market and Coliseum.
Blaise listened in awe. He had known she would be powerful, but even he couldn’t have imagined some of the things she would do. And she didn’t even seem to have control over her powers yet.
“I’m sorry I left,” Gala said as they were approaching the two older women. Her voice was filled with bitter regret. “I caused so much havoc and suffering . . . I can’t control myself, Blaise. I should’ve stayed with you and tried to learn sorcery like you wanted me to do, instead of going off to see the world. None of this—” she motioned toward the bloody field, “—should’ve happened.”
Blaise took her hand, squeezing it lightly. “Don’t worry,” he said quietly. “I will be with you from now on.” Her hand felt small and cold within his own, and he realized how fragile she was despite her powers.
Gala nodded, and he could see that some of her earlier exuberance was no longer there. Even though only a few days had passed, she seemed different, more mature somehow. As they walked, he could see tears running down her face, mixing with the raindrops.
“Not all of them are moving,” she said, looking at the fallen soldiers. “Blaise, I think I killed some of them.” There was a note of poorly concealed horror in her voice.
Blaise again cursed himself for not being there to protect her. “You were defending yourself.” He stopped, bringing her to a halt as well. Placing his hands on her wet cheeks, he met her grief-stricken gaze. “Gala, listen to me, this was not your fault.”
“Of course it was,” she said bitterly. “I did this. I killed those men.”
“They were trying to kill you,” Blaise said harshly. “They are the ones at fault, not you. If I had been here, I would’ve killed them all. You, at least, healed the survivors. That’s more mercy than they deserve—”
“Gala!” Maya’s shriek interrupted the moment, and they both turned toward the sound. The two women were standing a dozen yards away, surrounded by a circle of lions. “Gala, get these man-eating monsters away from us!”
To Blaise’s surprise, a tiny smile appeared on Gala’s face, and the lions lay down, curling into giant furry balls at Maya and Esther’s feet.
“No,” Esther said frantically, “don’t make them corner us—just make them go away.” Turning to Maya, she said loudly, “And you, don’t you realize that yelling at them might make them feel threatened?” The two women went on to bicker, and the lions merely raised their ears from time to time, content to ignore the humans.
“They seem to be fine,” Blaise said to Gala when she turned her attention back to him. “You saved them, you know. I don’t know what the soldiers would’ve done to them.”
She nodded, her eyes still looking far too shadowed for his liking, and Blaise knew that it was little consolation to her right now, that she would never be able to completely forget the events of this terrible day.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Barson
BARSON WAS PLUMMETING TOWARD THE ground when he felt the first wave of ecstasy washing over him. This must be what it feels like to die, he thought, as all pain left his body and a blissful peace took its place. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced before. All his wounds seemed to heal, the remaining shards of metal exiting his body as though pushed out by some invisible force.
Then he slammed into the ground.
The impact knocked all air out of his lungs. Black spots swimming in front of his vision, Barson fought to draw in a breath through the compressed cavity of his chest. He could see the pendant lying on the ground in front of him in pieces. It was right next to his armor-plated arm, which seemed twisted at an odd angle. He had a strange thought that he was broken too, just like the pendant.
Then the pain hit him in one massive wave. It felt like every bone in his body was shattered, every organ bruised and bleeding on the inside. His vision blurred, and hot nausea boiled up in his throat, but he fought the blackness that tried to suck him under. He couldn’t, wouldn’t allow himself to die like this.
And just as Barson felt that he would lose that fight, the pain began to lessen again, disappearing as miraculously as it did before. He could feel his body healing, mending, and it was the most amazing sensation—until that blissful peace hit again, bathing him in the exqu
isite warmth.
He couldn’t fight the sweetness of the oblivion any longer, and he let the wave of pleasure sweep him under.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Gala
“I WANT TO LEAVE THIS place,” Gala told Blaise after the lions left Maya and Esther alone, curling up a few yards away instead.
Having Blaise here, with her, made her feel better, but she needed to get away from this field of carnage. Guilt, sharp and terrible, was gnawing at her insides. She had killed people today; she had cut short their existence. It was the worst crime Gala could think of, and she had committed it—not once, but many times today.
The different what-if scenarios kept running through her head. What if she had been able to just make them fall asleep? What if she had made their swords disappear instead of shattering into a thousand pieces? If she had been able to control her powers, she could’ve defended herself without resorting to murder.
“Yes,” Blaise agreed. “We need to go. We might be able to hide in one of the other territories—”
“No,” Esther interrupted, coming up to them. “You will be recognized—and now, so will she. No disguise will be able to hide her after this.” She motioned toward the field.
Maya approached as well. “Esther is right. Besides, this one—” she pointed at Gala, “—starts doing insane sorcery whenever she’s upset.”
Gala stared at Maya, struck by the fact that the old woman was right. Her magic—her uncontrollable powers—were very much tied to her emotions. She wanted to kick herself for not making this obvious connection before.
“So what do you suggest instead?” Blaise frowned at Esther. “We can’t go back to the village, and Turingrad is out of the question. As soon as the Council hears about this—and they will—they’re going to be after us. As powerful as Gala is, the two of us don’t stand a chance against the combined might of the Council.”