Page 162 of Into the Isle

I folded my arms over my chest, inclining my chin.

Magnus drew out a knife and pulled up the cuff of his trench coat along his right arm. Mingled with the swirling tattoos were deep scars along his flesh, disfiguring him. I found it interesting.

The man cut into himself, creating a new scar, evidently, and that surprised me more than anything.

Dagny gasped as blood beaded on the slash mark . . . and then Magnus sliced himself again. He didn’t wince or grunt or complain as he carved up his arm.

I noticed after the third mark that he was drawing runes on his skin. I stayed quiet while he worked. What sort of magic is this?

It hit me a moment later, when the bloody rune marks began to glow. I’d heard of this skill from my studies, yet had never run into a bloodrender before. I wasn’t even sure what they were capable of.

“Are you ready?” Magnus asked us. His eyes glimmered, losing their amber hue, darkening.

Dagny and I nodded.

“Give me a moment,” Magnus said. His arm continued to bleed, dripping down his wrist and fingers, trickling to the ground.

He Shaped the air. The shadows cast by the barrel on the wall of the storeroom shifted and coalesced. They became man-shaped . . . and then split off from one another. Within seconds, we were surrounded by shadowy figures—a dozen of them—stepping off the wall and gaining somewhat corporeal form.

I knew shadowshaping, because I could do a bit of it myself. But this? So many figures held at once, directed at the same time to do Magnus’ bidding? It was revelatory. He had amplified his shadowshaping with the power of his blood.

While he summoned the shadows, the marks he’d carved on his skin glowed crimson and bubbled disgustingly. With a flick of his wrist, he sent the shadows off toward the prison longhouse.

The guards at the door of the safehouse shouted. “We’re under attack!”

Magnus nodded at Dagny, and the girl shifted. Her clothes dropped to the ground as she shrank and turned into a black-and-white house cat.

I looked up over the barrel.

The shadows surrounded the guards. They fought in a wispy dance of darkness. Every time one of the Huscarls’ weapons slid through an ethereal body, the shadow merely dissipated in a puff of smoke before reconnecting.

More soldiers joined the melee, dashing out from other nearby longhouses. Magnus toyed with the shadows from behind the barrel, moving his fingers like a puppet master. He controlled them, life and limb.

One of the shadows darted past the carnage in front of the building and snuck through the closed door, disappearing as it moved through the wooden barrier.

The door swung open a second later. Two more guards careened out with swords drawn. There were now nearly a dozen Huscarls to fight off the dozen shadowy opponents.

I looked down at Magnus, who had slid down to his back behind the barrel to do his work. His eyes were white, pupils rolled to the back of his head.

“Madman?” I grunted.

His eyes returned to normal with a blink. “Third room on the left is where they keep the keys. Grim is further down the hall.”

I blinked. “You can see out of your shadow’s eyes?”

With the intelligence gathered, Dagny nodded her tiny feline head and darted off, skittering across the ground.

She scampered unnoticed through the cracked door, while the fighting between shadowpeople and real people continued. The Huscarls were starting to get wise to the subterfuge.

Hersir Ingvus came into view from the building’s entrance. “What in Hodur’s name is going on out here?!”

“Someone is attacking us, sir!”

“Decoys, you idiots.” Ingvus looked out, scanning.

I ducked down behind the barrel.

“Shit!” a guard yelled. “That fucking cat just stole the room keys!”

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