Page 9 of The Shadow Wand

Yes, Thierren thinks with head-spinning distress. “They’ve got children!” he cries at the line of Mages before him. “We have to stop!”

“They’reFae!” Commander Bane snarls. “Fall back, Mage Stone.Now!”

Thierren looks over his shoulder at the young woman. The Fae have grown silent except for the sobbing and screaming young children. All eyes are on Thierren. He meets the young woman’s gaze. And suddenly, he’s swept up in a sense of kinship with her that’s so strong, all sense of self-preservation shatters.

Thierren turns back to Commander Bane. “We have to stop,” he says, his voice hardening. “This is a mistake.”

“Great Ancient One, Thierren, move aside!” Commander Bane bellows.

Thierren holds his ground.“No.”He gestures toward the Fae, adamant. “They’re not warriors. There arechildren.”

Commander Bane scratches the back of his neck then shakes his head, as if he’s seen this misguided foolishness before but never expected it to come from Thierren.

“Thierren, you know what we’re here to do,” he says with reasonable calmness. Like a parent chastising a wayward child. “And you know why.” He points at the Fae without looking at them. “These heathen spawn, right here, attacked Mage farmers and soldiers doing nothing more than trying to clearourland forourfarms. That ‘child’ there—” he points to the angry young boy without looking at him “—he tried to kill one of us.” His piercing gaze bores into Thierren with righteous fire. “Do you want to give up every last part of your life...forheathen Fae?”

Overcome by his own righteous fury, Thierren raises his arm and points his wand at Commander Bane’s chest. “We need to stop this.Now.”

Fast as an asp, Commander Bane flicks his wand and black tendrils fly out, slapping around Thierren’s wand and wresting it from his fist. Before Thierren can react, Commander Bane flicks his wand toward him again, and tendrils lash forward to wrap around Thierren’s entire body, pinning his arms tight against his sides and driving the air from his lungs. Commander Bane snaps his wand backward, and the tendrils around Thierren’s legs cinch tight and yank him off his feet. He lands on the damp ground with a painful thud as he strains against the bonds.

“Ready!” Sylus Bane commands the line of Mages.

The Mages lift their wands.

“No!”Thierren cries out, losing all control. All reason. The forest darkens.

“Aim!”

“Stop! No!”Thierren rages as wave upon wave of fury pours off the trees. “There arechildren!”

“Fire!”

Fae scream as Mage power blasts from the wands and crashes into them. Rage tears through the forest. The bloodcurdling screams of the young boy, the young woman, and the Fae baby all mingle with Thierren’s own.

CHAPTER TWO

FOREST GUARDIANS

VYVIAN DAMON

Fourth Month

Mage Council Hall

Valgard, Gardneria

Thunder cracks overhead and Mage Vyvian Damon glances up through the vaulted, stained-glass ceiling. The fierce storm brewing outside flashes lightning and slams wind against the imposing Mage Council building, steely clouds closing ranks above.

Vyvian is seated with all twelve Mage Council members around an oval Ironwood table, the inlaid image of a huge tree surrounded by a whorl of white birds set into the tabletop. Her hand rests on a smooth, dark root at the table’s far end as a heady anticipation builds inside her.

The chamber’s arching Ironwood doors open, and Vyvian’s heart quickens, a rush of heat bursting to life inside her as High Mage Marcus Vogel strides into the room trailed by two Council envoys as the Council members rise.

The young High Priest is the absolutepictureof pious elegance, his riveting features all perfectly tapered angles, his gaze like green fire. The sensation of Vogel’s contained power courses throughout the room and resonates in Vyvian’s lines as all the colors of the chamber flicker to shades of black and gray.

Vyvian blinks to clear her vision, and the disorienting color change vanishes as quickly as it flashed into being.

Vogel takes a seat at the table’s head, where the inlaid tree image branches into a mighty crown. His two square-jawed envoys move to stand preternaturally motionless behind him as Vyvian and the other Council members take their seats once more. Above Vogel’s stilled figure hangs a huge, inverted Ironwood tree attached by chains to the supporting beams of the chamber’s glass ceiling to form a massive, boreal chandelier, the tree’s obsidian wood sanded and waxed to a gleam. Mage-light lanterns are set throughout the nooks and bends in the tree’s branches and suffuse the storm-darkened chamber with their lambent glow.

The anticipatory tension in the air thickens as Council Mage Snowden dips his pen in a crystalline inkwell then suspends its blackened point over the parchment before him. He looks to Vogel, preparing to take down the Council’s motions and rulings in compact, tidy lines.

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