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Phoenix is about to die. Orik, too. Then me.
And after that, Rathmort and his band of villains would turn their corrupt focus on the kingdom, destroying everything good and replacing it with everything vile and wicked, making the people suffer for as long as they held power.
Pain and sorrow tore through her.
I’ve doomed us all.
Suddenly her fingers brushed something cold and hard and familiar. Under a patch of damp leaves, moonlight glinted off polished metal.
My blade!
Rathmort had called it her talisman. Right now, as she gripped its hilt, it felt like a genesis.
Time seemed to freeze but for the thump, thump, thumping of her heart, a steady beat in her ears. She let out a puff of air as her mind cleared and something inside her pulsed, like a second heartbeat coming to life within, and yet from somewhere beyond her entirely.
As she pulled the knife free of the dirt and muck and rose to her feet, a glorious blue flame erupted from the hilt, extending far past the short blade to form a long, thick sword of ice-blue fire.
Magic exploded within her, filling her body with unfathomable power. She embraced it like a living thing, like an old and most trusted friend, inviting it to run wild, to grow, to indulge in its own desire, to take root and sink down to her very soul.
She felt feverish and chilled all at once. Fire and ice danced through her system, burning, smoldering, forging a new version of herself and searing a brand into her very essence.
Rathmort had suggested the magic came from within her, that it needed to be wrangled and forced to do her bidding. He was only half right. Magic did come from within, but it was also separate, a thing with rules and restrictions, like all things in the waking world. Forcing it made it withdraw and shrink, shrivel and grow brittle. Made it instinctively resist. It needed to be set free, to do as it was designed: create, destroy, nourish, and feed. Much like the laws of mother nature, it could be honed and guided, encouraged to grow, like a delicately manicured garden, or left to flourish on its own, like a sprawling meadow of wildflowers, or whipped into strict submission and oppressed. Instantly she sensed the fearsomeness of her own power and that of those around her. If she was a wild meadow, these witches were a cracked and sunbeaten wasteland.
As she peered up at her sword of flame, it flared with a tremendous, otherworldly light.
Rathmort still clasped Phoenix in one hand, readying to cut her down with his destructive magic, but as Jessie claimed the seat of her power, his stunned gaze snapped to her…the more immediate threat.
Baring her teeth, Jessie swung her blade as though it was an extension of her own arm. It cut through the air as though propelled by invisible boosters…and pure, unadulterated rage.
Rathmort tossed Phoenix aside and jumped back to avoid getting sliced in half, but the tip of Jessie’s blade still managed to flay his torso. Blood oozed out of the wound. Rathmort gazed at her in shock and outrage.
“Didn’t see that coming, did you?” She wasted no time, slashing at him again, but he simply vanished, sifting away to avoid her wrath. She scanned her surroundings in search of him. Instead she saw another sizzling whip encircle Orik’s straining neck, cutting off his air. Still he made them work for their catch. He thrashed wildly, furiously twisting this way and that, using the weight of his body and power of his muscles to unbalance his attackers. Some lost their footing and toppled to the ground, but with such uneven odds, they easily regained control.
He couldn’t keep that up forever. He’d eventually grow too tired to fight. In fact, it appeared that was exactly what they were after. And when the last of his energy waned…
It was time to even things up.
35
Leaping into the fray, Jessie lashed out with her sword, slicing through the neck of a nearby aggressor like a hot knife through butter. As the man’s head plunged to the ground, his magic whip instantly fizzled out, freeing one of Orik’s arms.
She shuddered at how easy it was to end a life. Later she’d let the true impact of this wash over her…if there was a later. For now, she just had to survive.
The group’s attention swiveled toward her. There was a suspended second while the witches gaped at their fallen friend. Even Orik took a moment to contemplate the carcass. Then his gaze locked with hers, and she saw pride in those green depths.
In the next instant, everything kicked into high gear.
With his freed hand, Orik gripped the magical rope attached to his other arm and yanked. It was like watching an unfair tug of war. The witch went sprawling forward and Orik snagged him by the throat, squeezing until his eyes bulged. The others were quick to respond. More crackling lassos ensnared Orik all over again, forcing him to drop the sputtering witch and allowing the fiend to crawl away.
A group of five broke away to contend with Jessie. She glanced around to see if Rathmort was closing in as well, but he was nowhere in sight. They surrounded her, snapping their magic like scalding whips around them. They were trying to intimidate her with their show of power. She shot them each a dark smile and tightened her grip on her sword’s hilt. The blazing-hot blade flared brighter. A couple of them glanced at each other with unease while the other three returned her expression with savage looks of their own.
Five on one. Not great odds. She’d have to call on every ounce of her strength, resolve, and newfound power just to ward them off. All she and Orik needed was to survive just long enough for the dragons to find them. She could still hear them roaring in the distance. Wait, was the sound fading away? Were they searching in the opposite direction?
The blond witch on her right attacked, whipping out his magic like a striking snake. It coiled around her wrist, and she cried out in instant pain. Not only did it burn like a motherfucker, but it effectively kept her from swinging her blade.Dammit!
Just as the others prepared to incapacitate her the same as Orik, Phoenix leapt down from a tree, a blur in the dark, and latched her teeth around the throat of one of Jessie’s attackers. In a blink, his jugular was torn open, spurting blood, and his head awkwardly flopped backward, still gruesomely attached to his body by a thread of angry red flesh.
Bile churned in Jessie’s throat. Now she understood why Orik had freaked when she’d nuzzled Phoenix against her throat. She was glad she hadn’t realized how truly ferocious her little lema could be until this moment. And right now, she could not have hoped for a better familiar.
