waist.
His eyes glittered when he saw the blade. “I know trouble when I see it.”
She’d seen that look before. With deft fingers, she quickly braided her hair, eyeing him as she did. It was too dangerous for him. She couldn’t bear to think he might be harmed because of her.
“You aren’t ready for what’s going on. Stay out of it.” Stepping away, she grabbed the short sword Lani had used, strapped it to her hip, and rushed out.
At the caves’ entrance, she found Scoran, the
Each was dressed in a manner that would have them blend into their surroundings. Halim held a clay pot filled with a dark greasy mess, which they streaked across their faces. She dipped her fingers in and smeared four fat lines across her face.
Signe took the pot and nodded toward the boy. “Halim will show you the way.”
Kera trusted him even if he was now unsure of her. She suspected half the reason he was willing to go back was to make sure she wouldn’t do anything to endanger anyone else. He was a hero in the making, that little man.
Kera nodded to Halim. “Let’s go, then.”
He took off. For a mutt pedigree, the boy was fast. They were far ahead of the others when the two of them approached the village. Kera had feared they would need to climb the walls, but the strange smoke curled in a wheat field. They entered the stalks, and as they moved forward, the stalks turned a crisp, unhealthy brown. The wheat drooped as if suffering from drought, and the cast-off seeds crackled drily underfoot. Kera and Halim pushed their way through the stalks as quietly as possible. The air thickened in a way that made Kera’s skin crawl. It seemed as if the sun couldn’t push through the odd haze that stretched over the area. The smell of hate and fear had her shuddering long before the wheat grew thinner and the moans of suffering reached them.
It was horrible, hearing that low painful sound. It shook the wheat stalks like ghosts on the hunt. Halim sunk into the dirt; a quiver rattled his limbs. Kera motioned him forward, but he refused to go any farther.
The others suddenly appeared and scooted up next to them, their breaths short from keeping pace, eyes wide.
Kera stroked Halim’s neck, a sweeping motion that ended at his mid-back. She bent her head to his ear. His hair smelled of earth and rain and smoke. “Go home.”
He shook his head and lifted it. A tear hovered on his lashes. He was a sensitive soul, and Kera feared that before Teag righted itself, he would be damaged for good. “Go,” she repeated.
Without looking at Halim, she drew her sword and motioned the others to follow. They slowly crept forward, weapons at the ready, eyes searching.
It didn’t take long for the clearing to come into view. Kera’s legs suddenly refused to move, as if they were stuck in mud so thick it would swallow her. And at that moment, she wanted nothing more than to disappear. The clearing within the field was empty except for a dozen or so people—men, women, and children—their clothes in tatters. They were all gagged and tied down with their limbs stretched out on a slab of ironstone. Thick smoke, as dark and solid as ink, swirled upward, then down, curling around the people and marking their skin reddish-black. The sound the streaks made as they passed was like a rasp against wood, and it made Kera’s skin feel uncomfortably tight.
She couldn’t understand what she was seeing. Leaning forward for a better view, she followed the path of one of the odd smoke strands. As it passed over a man, his body jerked, and a low, agonizing moan escaped him. A raw, oozing, reddish-black stripe appeared on his chest.
Understanding dawned. Kera reared back and clamped a hand to her mouth, suppressing the scream that rose. Whatever the darkness was, it was searing off one layer of skin at a time. These people were slowly being skinned…alive.
Kera grabbed Scoran’s arm and turned her face away from the gruesome scene. Through stiff lips she whispered, “What is that?”
Under her hand, his body shook. His pupils dilated with disbelief. “I have never seen anything like it.”
Kera forced herself to face the dark streaks swirling wickedly in the air. Beside her, Morgan swore and one of the streaks shot closer. At the apex of the streak, for a brief moment, the face of a man could be seen. It flickered so quickly, Kera wasn’t sure she believed what she saw. It darted away and joined another streak. The two slithered to the ground and the wavering inky forms of two men appeared. They attacked a woman and pulled out her gag.
Kera couldn’t hear what the strange beings said, but the woman wept for mercy, “I do not know. I swear, none of us know. Please…”
She was gagged again before the dark forms dissolved into the whiplash streaks. This time as they passed over her, they gouged deeper.
“Devils,” came the low accusation from Morgan. His body tensed with barely suppressed anger.
Elix grabbed her friend’s arm and warned him to be still, but Morgan twisted away and dove into the clearing with a ragged cry on his lips.
The dark forms instantly converged on him, slashing and ripping. Morgan swung his blade; whatever these beings were, the sword barely slowed them down and had no lasting effect.
“Do something,” Elix said in a horror-filled voice. Her hands fisted on the ground as she leaned forward, fighting the urge to rush out and help her friend. She glared at Scoran and Kera, her teeth clinched tight. “You have power. Use it!”
Scoran sputtered and confessed his limits, but Kera felt her power hum under her skin, begging her to let it loose. It was big and dangerous, and if ever there was a time to use it, now was that time.
As the two argued beside her, she tapped into the power of the earth, pulling it into her body until she glowed like a beacon. She turned her sun-bright gaze on the pair. “Go free everyone. I’ll take care of the rest.”
She stood, dropped her worthless blade, and pulled out her
She crouched, straddling Morgan’s downed body. Whatever these things were, they were pure evil, and she refused to allow them to touch him again. From what she could tell, he was worse off than those on the ironstone slab.
The streaks rose swiftly into the air, snaking together, and then burst apart, rushing toward Kera and Morgan like oil through water. Before they reached them, Morgan’s raw voice echoed his pain. “Don’t let them touch you.”
He needn’t have warned her. Although she slashed and stabbed a hundred times, spilling the darkness to stain the ground, the streaks were too many. One sped close and licked across her wrist that held the dagger. In that moment, she saw a glimpse of a face, like a shadow.
Shock and pain had her clutching her arm. A deep, searing burn appeared across her skin, and she nearly dropped the dagger. The dark streaks moved faster, darting here and there. She wasn’t yet used to the strain of wielding magic. Her mind swirled dizzyingly as she tried to stay focused. One fact became obviously clear. She’d stepped into a fight she couldn’t win. Not like this.
She desperately sought a solution, crouching lower as she lashed out. She couldn’t hold on much longer. Suddenly her pulse pounded within her ears, silencing all other sounds. A vision of the wind entered her mind. Then the whisper-soft voice, the one she had heard at the caves, spoke to her again.
Kera did what the voice said. She reached deep, deeper than she’d ever allowed herself to delve. Power infused her, driving her body straight. The light emanating from her grew until it radiated out and pushed at the darkness. When her whole body thrummed with magic, she called on the kind of wind that tore through the sky, bent ancient oaks, and whipped sea waves to monstrous heights.
Like a dog herding sheep, the wind forced the black streaks higher and tighter until they were an inky,
