Page 131 of Sword & Shadow
They mounted up, hurrying away from the coastline to the main road. None of them spoke. They were of single-minded purpose, riding through the darkness.
The soft sea breeze tickled Deckard’s face beneath his hood. It was gentle, almost comforting compared to the wind of the Keep. It whispered through the trees and over the grass. Crickets chirruped and fireflies twinkled like the stars. The stillness of the night was tranquil and soothing after their harrowing experience.
Warmth spread across Deckard’s skin to the base of his skull. He pushed it away, recognizing the signs of magic attempting to grab hold of him. After exiting the Keep, he’d felt the magic ease back. His body relaxed, and his mind grew less alert. He felt shaky without the magic, but he preferred that, knowing it meant he was experiencing humanity.
That was what he’d now come to understand after the Wind Keep. Magic made him less human. Less vulnerable. Less feeling and more apathetic. He lost morality when magic came over him. It gave him clear-minded logic and near-divine abilities, but it took away the man he was at his core.
He hated it.
They had to slow their flight as Ilain’s exhaustion caught up with her. At one point, she nearly toppled from her horse. Ethenn rode up to catch her just in time. Thom came forward then, offering for her to ride with him. It would force them to reduce their speed, since the weight of two individuals was too great for his horse to maintain the breakneck pace. Still, they all agreed it would be for the best.
Two hours later, the stone walls between the Reach and the Waulden kingdom peeked over the trees. Deckard slowed his horse even more, ready to guide them off the road so he and Auden could set the shroud in place, a skill he hoped he could achieve. The others reined in their horses, their cloaks turning them into hulking shapes in the night.
Deckard opened his mouth to direct them when, without warning, a giant gust of Wind crashed into them.
The surprise attack threw all but Evylin and Ethenn to the ground. Deckard slammed into the muddy terrae, his horse sidling nervously beside him. He rolled away from its stamping hooves as a mass of dark figures stepped out of the murky forest on both sides to encircle the road.
Evylin and Ethenn, secure on their horses, had their Relic bows already drawn, arrows flying. A host of Wind Mages raised their hands, catching the arrows with magic and sending them off course. Evylin cursed, shifted the Night bow into a sword, and spurred her horse toward the left side.
Deckard scrambled to his feet, reaching for his sword. Roots grew out of the mud, wrapping around the hilt and blade.Instinctively, he knew it was Terrae magic. Another gust of Wind struck Deckard, dragging him back to his knees. The Mages surrounded them, drawing closer. The roots encircled their ankles, trapping them in place. The horses whickered in fright as the terrae worked to imprison them too. The magic kept all but Evylin and Ethenn trapped, but even the Warriors couldn’t bear up under dozens of Mages.
Deckard cursed inwardly. They’d expected an ambush at the Keep. They hadn’t considered one at the gates into Wauld. Blount had outsmarted them.
Rafferty cried out, hand to his face. A line of blood marred his cheek. Deckard frowned, confused at what had hit the man when, suddenly, he was struck too.
A needle-like pain pierced his shoulder. He gasped as it jerked him back, sending him sprawling into the mud. The distressed cries of his team rang through the night as he realized the Mages were attacking them with sharp bursts of wind, so concentrated they wounded like the slash of a blade.
Deckard heard Evylin’s agitated shout and turned, finding her stumbling back as a large group of Mages surrounded her with a whirlwind of magic. She slashed at the roots that tried to pull her down, the mud climbing up her boots. The wind cut at her, tearing holes in her cloak and drawing streaks of blood along her face, arms, torso, and legs.
The rest of the Mages continued their assault on the others. Thom and Auden shielded Ilain from the brunt of the attacks, while Rafferty and Ethenn failed to get any closer to their assailants. Auden sent out an arcing surge of Day magic, managing to knock down a few Mages. But it wasn’t enough.
The Wind and Terrae Mages pressed deeper into their ranks. Evylin dropped to her knees, arms covering her head to protect her face. The horses snorted and screamed in protest. Deckard tried to rise, but the Wind and Terrae wouldn’t let him. Histhroat closed. His fingers clawed at the dirt, trying to carry him closer to Evylin.
Ilain grabbed her brother’s hand and called out for Ethenn. The Warrior lunged for her, hand outstretched. Ilain’s eyes locked with Deckard’s, conveying her message. He didn’t know whether to protest or accept the weight of responsibility she’d placed upon him in that singular look.
Then she squeezed her eyes shut in a concerted effort. Ethenn and Auden grimaced, their shoulders caving under the pull of Ilain’s magic.
Suddenly, the Wind died, and the roots shattered. The world was still. Eerie silence filled the night.
Ilain fell back, unconscious.
Knowing his role, Deckard rose to his feet. The highlady had sacrificed the rest of her energy to give him this chance. He could save them in this momentary reprieve.
Deckard raised his hands, ready to summon the Night and save their lives.
Nothing happened.
Dread spiked through Deckard. He felt no warmth, no power rushing through his veins, no clarity of mind. He stared at his hands, devoid of magic. Panic settled in as realization flooded him. In the assault, he’d lost his focus. His connection to magic was gone, and he couldn’t save them. All was lost.
The enemy Mages wasted no time regaining the upper hand. The air swirled around them, violent and gaining speed. The terrae grew up, working to restrain them once again.
However, in the millisecond of her freedom from the whirlwind, Evylin spun. “Jonn,” she yelled and threw the Night Relic. It glowed bright amethyst, twinkling in the moonlight.
Deckard lifted his hand. The Relic struck his palm, warm to the touch. It beamed with a brighter luminance, casting a violet haze over the muddy road. Power surged through his arm. Heatradiated across his skin. His heart pounded. The edges of his vision went dark. And his mind stilled.
A slow smile came to Deckard’s lips, his whole body filled with renewed life. Relief spread through his veins as Night overtook his mind. The crystalline shadows reformed, coiling around him. He breathed in the crisp air. Then he turned to the Mages surrounding them.
The shards leaped at his unspoken command. They sailed through the air, weaving in and out of the Mages. The magic twisted and sliced. It spun and tore. Mage after Mage dropped to the ground around them.
