“Not to be contrary, but it isn’t a gift.”
He chuckled. “I refer to the gift from our fae ancestors, of course. Have no doubt, it will be shared amongst my brethren who will truly appreciate all you have to offer.”
Becka swallowed hard. There was something appealing about a process that would drain away her gift, and in theory, her newfound obligations. “What happens to me, after you’ve consumed all of my gift?”
He cocked his head. “Few survive the donation.”
Becka ground her teeth. “Again, a donation is willingly given. Which, for the record, I don’t.”
A wolf howled in the distance.
“That’s our cue to be on our way,” he said, scooping her up and throwing her over his shoulder. Her right arm was still free, but the upside-down treatment made her even more woozy.
He strode out the door, Becka over his shoulder, and took off into the heavily wooded forest.
In her right hand, Becka held a brass poker she’d grabbed from its hook on the wall as Woden flew out the door. She knew if she didn’t get free now, she might lose her chance, and her life.
Chapter 29
Woden moved swiftly through the forest, almost at a running pace. Slung as she was upside down over his shoulder the bobbing and bouncing made it difficult to focus. With the poker in her hand, Becka got a wild idea to try and catch it on the trees they wove between. She missed one, then two, and three branches before finally snagging the poker on the fourth try.
The sudden jerk to her arm tore the poker from her grasp, but it threw off Woden’s balance and they both went spinning to the ground. At least she’d landed a little way from him, and he moved slower than she.
As they both recovered from the sudden fall, Becka forced herself to sit up, her head aching as she worked to throw off the ropes holding her down. The one around her thighs wouldn’t loosen, but she was able to wriggle along the ground and slide her legs out from under it. The other ropes unwound from her form, no longer having the tension needed to bind her. The poker, which had fallen from her grip, lay on the ground not far behind them.
After she scrambled back onto her feet, Becka ran to it and picked it up. She doubted she’d be very effective with the poker, due to the double effects of her headache and the blood loss, but Becka would not give up without a fight. This was the man who had killed her sister. He’d ripped open Tesse’s neck, no doubt feasting on her blood. Her powers.
Woden deserved everything she could throw at him, and more.
Woden stood, still clad in black from neck to feet, his face the only exposed area. “I see you are under the mistaken impression you can fight me, and win?” he laughed.
Another wolf cry echoed through the trees. Was it closer this time? Becka couldn’t tell.
“You think they will be able to save you? Think again,” Woden replied.
He raised his hands and held them in the air in front of his face, as if cradling a ball. A swirl of fire grew between his hands, a roaring, popping sound accompanying the display. He widened the space between his hands, until the fireball was a few feet in diameter, and then flicked his hands up towards the sky, throwing the superheated mass into the air. It hung for a moment, and then with a loud crack it expanded like a miasma in all directions, forming a rolling wall of fire.
It passed by Becka without harming her, except for some singed patches on her clothes. The poker heated during the brief contact with the fire wave. It wasn’t enough to make her drop the poker, but it wasn’t comfortable either. Woden himself was unharmed, but as the fire rolled out into the forest trees and bushes caught fire, charring on impact.
Was it her imagination, or did she hear yelps in the distance? Just how far and wide had that fire wall pushed?
Woden raised a brow. “I didn’t expect that would hurt you, dear Becka, but let’s try something else, shall we?”
He raised an arm and pointed two fingers at a nearby blackened tree, a high-pitched vibration shook the air. Woden winced at the noise, but didn’t hurt her.
Then the tree exploded, sending sharp shards shooting out in all directions. Becka threw up an arm to shield her face, turning away from the blast, but pain riddled through her body, driving her to her knees.
When she looked up, Woden too was on the ground. He sat up, a large chunk of tree branch embedded in his chest. He appeared unconcerned and got to work pulling it out.
Her right leg screamed at her, and Becka discovered a spear of wood lodged in her right calf. The clarity of injury focused her thoughts on the task before her. She dropped the poker and pulled at the chuck of tree, which came out accompanied by a screaming effort, followed by a rush of blood she didn’t have to spare. She had a number of other, smaller needles of wood stuck into her flesh, but was able to pull out what she could find, leaving her skin a patchwork of bleeding dots. As blood oozed from her, she shuddered. She was lucky to have survived a killing blow.
He wheezed. “You may be immune to my magic, but not to the second order effects.” He held up the branch with was covered in his blood, and then tossed it to the side.
“How many gifts have you stolen?” she yelled, grabbing the poker and getting back up onto her feet. Blood ran down her leg, the limb throbbing.
He tried to laugh, but the wheezing turning it into a gurgle. Nonetheless, he stood up, “So many, I cannot even count. Not that I would tell you. But I am
