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I struggle against him, not wanting to stop until Duncan comes back, but he’s strong and I don’t want to hurt him. I tremble and breathe hard as the adrenaline eases until I’m left empty with nothing between me and the aching loss of losing Duncan.
“I have to save Duncan,” I say.
“Aye,” Dugald agrees. “We will, but right now we must retreat.”
“I beat that thing. I’ll beat the rest.”
“Quinn, look.” He points around us.
I don’t argue further with him but turn in a circle.
We’ve lost.
As far as I can see is a blasted, twisted, post-apocalyptic hellscape. Dark, twisted creatures, once Fae or human, rush from one place to another, destroying anything and everything they encounter. Inverness is engulfed in flames. People scream, running away or dying.
It’s all my fault. If I hadn’t let the Commander goad me into killing him, then none of this would have happened.
“Come on, Quinn,” Dugald says, pointing at the retreating survivors. “They need you.”
They’re moving as fast as they can, carrying wounded along with them, but every step is harried by darkness and monsters. Two men guarding the rear are ripped apart by shadows as I watch.
“Damn it,” I curse. One glance back at where Duncan disappeared is all I have time for. I can’t deny this place is lost. We need to regroup, and I need a plan. “Come on.”
I run after the survivors and Dugald stays at my side. The horn slaps against his thigh as we run. Seeing it I have an idea.
“Blow the horn,” I say.
“Again?”
“Yes. I need their attention me.”
Dugald nods and raises the horn to his lips. He puffs his cheeks and then he blows. A long, low note slices through the air, calling. As it does all eyes turn to us. The humans cheer, their spirits rallying, and they run faster while the dark things shift their focus to Dugald and me.
Good. Now to see what I can do with whatever magic I carry inside, because I’m not going to risk pulling in the tainted flows.
“Are you ready for this?” Dugald asks, grinning as he draws a sword from nowhere, like he’s some kind of freakingHighlander.
“Not in the slightest,” I say. “You got another sword stashed in there?”
“You know how to use one?”
“Haven’t got a clue.”
“Hope you’ve got a plan, Quinn,” he says, then we’re both laughing because, in the face of total loss and despair, what else can you do?
I close my eyes and take a deep, calming breath. I hold it in my lungs until I can’t any longer then let it out in a long, slow exhale. It’s do or die, Quinn. Better make the best of it because Duncan is counting on me.
When I open my eyes the horde of things is close. I step forward and raise my arms to either side. If I was willing to pulling in and use magic, this would work. The power would pool in my hands, and I’d direct it, sort of, and then it would blast out and it’d be all good.
Except I can’t risk that, so this is all on what I can do on my own. Still, magic is strong in this area. It’s a roaring river of tainted energy rushing like white water. I can’t bring it in, but I can move it. Control it, some.
I motion with one hand, directing the flow. It’s not perfect, a whole lot less than that, but it does respond. I turn a circle, moving my hand to create an island around the two of us. And as I do I will the energy to be solid, to create a barrier.
Somehow, because I don’t understand magic on anything close to a mechanical level, it seems to work. The creatures slam into an invisible wall against which they promptly set about trying to destroy. Fortunately they don’t seem to be making any progress.
“Nice,” Dugald says.
“You think?” I ask, and for once I’m not being sarcastic.
