Page 132 of Sword & Shadow
Ethenn sprang forward, flinging the Wind Relic to Evylin. The ruby of the Fire Relic flared in his hand, elongating into a flaming sword. Thom and Rafferty rose, joining the Warriors as they attacked with their mundane weapons.
It took less than a minute. Not even a full sixty seconds passed as the five of them felled close to fifty Wind and Terrae Mages. Deckard’s magic claimed the largest number of victims among them all, though he’d lost count of the true number.
When their attackers lay dead in a circle around them, the team turned to Deckard. He could see the question on their faces. They waited for their next step.
His eyes landed on Evylin. Her expression was clouded as she studied him. Her dark hair was wild, loose strands wispy around her face, streaked with cuts and blood. The double-ended Wind sword shifted back to a Relic in her grasp. Its silver light reflected coolly on her face, revealing her parted lips and shuttered gaze as she watched him.
Deckard’s conscience urged him to let go of the magic. He could see the fear in her eyes and the tension in her frame as she stepped back, away from him. She was afraid of him. How many had he just killed without a second’s hesitation? How dark, how vile was his magic proving him to be? Sheshouldfear him.
But Deckard couldn’t let go of the darkness.
He tightened his grip on the Relic, the whisper of magic humming in his ears. The power filled him, wrapping with a comforting embrace around his whole being. With the merest thought, he shrouded the whole troop as Auden taught him, along with their horses, their edges turning soft like a mirage. He settled the Relic around his neck and straightened.
“Let’s go,” he said, his voice unfamiliar to his own ears. It sounded emotionless and void. Flat. Cruel.
He resolved not to let it bother him. Not until they slipped past the guards of Sutterlund Reach, through the gate, and back into Wauld, invisible and silent.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Terror gripped Evylin as they raced through the dark forests of Wauld. Her hands shook, and her heart pounded. The sweat that trailed down her chest and arms stung in the cold, foggy morning. The burning cuts from the Wind magic wept thin lines of blood along her temple and cheeks before they dried to crusty patches. Hours passed, the edges of the sky lightening to a soft gray bleeding through with rusty brown and crimson.
Breathless, exhausted, and driven by fear, the team pressed on until they couldn’t ride any longer. With Ilain still unconscious and the horses overworked from their sprint through the night, they stopped a mere handful of miles from the Reach. Ethenn scouted ahead, finding a safe place to camp.
Huffing and hanging their heads, the horses came to a grateful stop deep in the woods. However, the adrenaline and anxiety pumping through Evylin remained, causing the world to swirl before her. She watched, body trembling, as Auden and Deckard carefully drew Ilain down, Ethenn handing her over gently from her perch on the front of his horse. Due to their magical strength, the hunter and Evylin were the least worn down of the troop, which had made him the most qualified to ensure Ilain’s safety during their dash from the Reach. Thomand Rafferty sprang from their horses as well, hurrying to help clear a place for her to rest.
Evylin was numb; her mind and body were addled by the contradiction of emotion raging within her. Over and over, her eyes sought Deckard, latching on to his every move. Her head spun as she dismounted and tried to regain her composure. Just as in Dunneshead, she felt herself drawn to him, drawn to his dark and mysterious magic.
She’d stared at him in dumbstruck awe after the ambush, amazed by the power he so effortlessly wielded. In that moment, his eyes had met hers, sending a surge of embarrassment coiling through her. Ever-changing, his gaze flickered to a gentle blue in the moonlight before shifting back to a green so dark it could have been black. She was horrified that he’d caught her gawking, mouth ajar in wonder.
Her desire for Deckard was intensifying by the moment, tightening like a vise upon her very soul. The Warrior inside of her had almost gained control as she watched Deckard work magic with the ease she felt with a sword. The power he wielded was deadly, strong, and unfathomable.
And it frightened her—the urge upon her soul that was growing too ardent to ignore, beckoning her to reach out and draw him close.
Evylin’s magic wore off during their panicked ride. They’d returned the Relics to Rafferty for safekeeping before they’d ridden away—all except the Night Relic, which Deckard returned to him once they reached their ramshackle camp. Now, a hollowness filled her chest. And every time she looked at Deckard, her heart fluttered, causing her hands to flex.
To complicate her struggle, dread hung over Evylin in the dim gray morning. It wrapped around her like the fog in the trees. She couldn’t see clearly. She couldn’t think clearly. All she knewwas she had to do something. She had to find a way to stop the feeling welling up inside her.
Thom, Rafferty, and Ethenn stood aimlessly to the side while Deckard and Auden laid Ilain amongst the ferns and brush.
Auden pressed a hand to her head, then settled her skirt modestly around her legs with brotherly care. “She’s fine,” he said, though his voice was unsteady. “Just exhausted.”
“She isn’t injured?” Ethenn asked in a worried tone.
Auden shook his head. “Her body shut down to protect her. She’s in a magically induced stasis. Once the magic ensures her recovery, she’ll wake. We can’t do anything to help but keep her comfortable and safe.”
They all stared at Ilain’s prone form, her fiery hair damp from sweat and dew. Evylin clasped her hands to her chest, fighting the jitters that worked through them. Her nerves were frayed from too little sleep, the battle in the Keep, the ambush, and the fear plaguing her every thought.
Auden sighed, his sister’s security ensured, and turned to them. “Are any of you injured?”
Scanning the troop, their faces and bodies riddled with sharp cuts from the Wind Mages’ attacks, Rafferty raised his brow. “You got enough left in you to fix these?” he asked, gesturing to the scrapes on his cheeks.
“I meant something more life-threatening,” Auden said. “I don’t have the energy to waste on menial wounds.”
“I wouldn’t call them menial, but whatever,” Rafferty muttered.
When everyone confirmed their overall health, Ethenn and Thom worked together to set up a tent over Ilain. With no idea of how long she’d remain unconscious, they decided it would be best to keep her safe from the elements.
“We’re all wiped,” Rafferty said as the men worked. “Shouldn’t we bunk down too?”
