Page 113 of Blood of Ancients

I nearly tripped on one of the dead Huscarls in my haste to make it to the cabin. It was less than fifty feet away now. I ground my teeth together and yelled in fury alongside my mates, groaning and pushing and doing whatever we needed tokeep fucking moving.

Another arrow flew in, this one careening wide of Arne to my right.

I chanced another look—they had gained on us. Somehow the dark elves were not as tired as we were. They could partake in another battle, if needed.

It will be a slaughter if we stop now, without our surprise attack.

My confidence was dwindling. My fear was rising. With a body soaked in sweat, I Shaped the air and left a wall of fire behind me.

It was more like a small fence of fire because I hadn’t had time to flare it large enough, and the elves easily barreled through it.

Arne skipped backward, Shaping to throw up an ice wall.

A second later—

BOOM!

The wall shattered in a million crystal fragments.

Our defenses were hopeless, futile.

Thirty feet away now, almost able to taste the sap and thick pollen of Kiir’luri in the air.

So close!

Blackness closed in around us, hemming my vision as I fought off whatever dark arts the Dokkalfar were trying to hit us with.

“Just a little further!” I screamed, my voice hoarse.

Ten feet. The cabin door was still open. We only needed to jump in—

Patches of darkness to my left and right turned into shadowy, smoky tendrils in my peripheral. Closing in. A circle of black opened directly in front of us, like a sewer hole or an entryway into Hel itself. The black hole was so sudden we barely had time to shift our trajectory to avoid the spell—

And Magnus didn’t.

My stomach sank as the bloodrender cried out, tripping over himself as he tried to turn on his heel at the last second and stumbled into the inky patch.

He disappeared.

My heart seized. “Magnus!”

My feet skidded through snow, kicking up a plume of powder as I spun around no less than a stretched arm away from the portal—

To find Magnus reapparing from a black patch twenty feetbehind, a few steps in front of the closest Dokkalfar, the one with the white man-bun atop his head.

Magnus was on his hands and knees, staring up into those crimson eyes the same color as his hair.

The Dokkalfar smirked over Magnus at me, drawing his cruel black blade as he lowered his outstretched hand and finished his evil spell.

The sewer grate shadow portal between our groups closed up.

My other mates spun at the same time as me, jaws slackened, everyone perplexed and stunned as we waited for the elf to plunge that blade into the bloodrender.

Everyone except Hersir Kelvar.

The Whisperer put a hand on my shoulder, wordless, and gently shoved me, widening my shadow in front of him—

Which he stepped onto and vanished.

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