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She is greatly outmatched. And if my father doesn’t arrive soon...
I banish the thought. I can’t let fear distract me.
I close my eyes and exhale deeply, focusing on my breathing. Aether sparks in my fingers.
Creating a mind-link works similarly to teleportation. The difference is that I must instead imagine the person I wish to communicate with in meticulous detail. I learned this spell recently, and I failed many times during practice.
I can’t fail now.
I first imagine my father’s magnificent robes and the golden thread running through the indigo fabric. Then I add his auburn hair and beard which ripple around his face like a lion’s fiery mane, and also a deep crease in his brow as he frowns at me. Finally, I complete my image of him with the vivid glow of his magenta eyes and the crystalline staff he always clutches.
“AminexTelric Ashbourne,”I whisper when I finish painting the mental portrait of my father.
I hold my breath, fearing that maybe my magic hasn’t worked. Or that maybe my father hasn’t heard my call above the chaos raging through Nolderan.
But after several long heartbeats, he finally replies.
“Reyna?”His voice echoes through my mind.
“Father!”I exclaim, without the syllables physically leaving my lips. Conversation via a mind-link flows as easily as thoughts, heard only by those it’s cast between.
“Where are you?”His words are hurried. To answer my call, he would have needed to clear his mind, just as I did. And that means he cannot fight the undead while our mind-link is being channeled.
“With Mother. Heston—he’s here!”
“Where is here?”comes his frantic response.
“Somewhere along Lenwick Street. North. I came through an alley. I think—”
Before I can offer more information, a scream shatters my concentration. The mind-link falters.
A shadow bolt pierces my mother’s chest. The veins in her neck blacken and throb as the poisonous magic seeps through her blood. Her eyes bulge from their sockets, blood-shot and swollen.
“Mother!” I leap onto my feet and push against the aether shield. But it refuses to move. No matter how desperately I try to rush to my mother’s side.
Her hand reaches out for me. Then it falls.
Swollen eyes stare at me. She doesn’t blink.
I slide down the aether shield. I don’t feel the impact of the ground.
Heston steps over to where my mother lies.
“Arka-duat.”
A stream of shadows floods into her nostrils, filling her corpse with dark magic.
My forehead presses into the barrier. My fingers dig into it.
The shadows darken. They swarm upward and form a figure which resembles my mother.
A wraith hovers above my mother’s body. Its features are identical to hers, except it is born of shadows and not flesh and blood.
“I only need one of you to render Telric helpless,” Heston says. “And this way he will know the consequences of failing to surrender.”
I crawl away, my eyes not leaving my mother’s spectral form. My back hits the other side of the aether shield, preventing any further retreat as Heston and his undead stalk toward me. The spell my mother cast to protect me now hinders my escape.
I shove my shoulders into the solid wall, hoping it will give way beneath my weight. The energy continues to hum. No cracks show. Panic overwhelms me.
