Page 97 of The Demon Tide

Valasca’s eyes flit to the weapons in her rune-tattooed hands and a rush of alarm crackles through her. Not only has her blue skin shifted to a pewter hue, the sapphire Noi runes on the blade gripped in her left hand are stripped of their glow. Only the blade in her right hand—her most powerful, favored blade, with a wider diversity of runes—has maintained its charge, but, bizarrely, the single emerald Smaragdalfar varg rune on its hilt is feeding green into the variety of linked runes, turning the blue Noi and scarlet Amaz runes emerald.

Remembering how easily Vogel struck down Chi Nam’s runic barrier, she gives a quick glance at the retrieval runes marked on her palms. Relief washes through her.Still there.But there’s an odd coating of emerald green edging the Noi rune’s lines. An odd green coating edgingallher runic tattoos. And the small Smaragdalfar varg rune on her wrist—the ward she had the Amaz-Smaragdalfar rune sorceress, Vestylle, mark next to her weapons-amplification rune well over a year ago—its glow is unusually bright.

The ramifications of this circle through her military mind as Valasca swings around to find the portal she just flew through fading to an almost imperceptible imprint on the air.

A cyclonic roar sounds directly above. She jerks her head up, eyes widening as she takes in the funneling circle of Shadow streaking down toward her, like a giant’s incoming heel.

Hurling herself sideways, she slams onto grassy ground as the funnel punches down beside her in an earsplittingboom. Rapidly rolling away, then springing to a crouch, she breathlessly takes in the dark column before her. Tendrils of undulating Shadow are rapidly branching from it to form another gigantic Shadow tree. Mouth agape, Valasca cranes her neck and scans the ghoulish canopy fanning out high above.

Disoriented, she rises, carefully advancing through the whirling fog. Her focus zeroes in on the screams of women and children sounding up ahead amidst ground-shaking explosions, their cries in a multitude of languages as broken dragons blast through the Shadow canopy.

The next thoughts flash through Valasca’s mind in staccato jabs.How much time has passed since Lukas Grey threw me into the partially charged portal? Where is Vogel? Where is Elloren? Where am I?

Her thoughts cast about for purchase as she tightens her grip on her blades. “Elloren?” she calls into the tendriling fog, to no response.

More screams, one a child’s at closer range.

Valasca breaks into a sprint toward the sound, darting around huge Shadow trees and down an incline. She emerges from the denser portion of Shadow forest, the fog thinning as she’s met with an expansive view of the huge, Shadow-tree-riddled valley.

Her lungs seize, a light-headedwhooshflashing over her.

Sweet Goddess,I’m in Amazakaraan.

With a horrified sweep of her gaze, she takes in the bizarre Shadow-forest canopy hanging over the city, Amazakaraan’s protective runic dome gone.

Dragons are streaming in, the Mages on their backs throwing bolt after bolt of dark, silver-spitting fire at her city, the explosions like knife-strikes to Valasca’s heart. She can just make out almost uniformly grayed Amaz soldiers in the distance as they attempt to do battle with the incoming Mages, the usual glow from their runic bows and blades gone.

Valasca flinches again as a cacophony of darkened Magefire slams down from multiple attackers, all streaking toward the Central Plaza’s mammoth goddess sculpture, Amazakaraan’s most revered religious image. The Goddess explodes with a thunderousbang, the beautiful statue rendered to a smoking pile of rubble.

A vicious expletive erupts from Valasca’s throat as she fists her blades tighter and makes for the plaza.

“Mum’yi!”

The little girl runs toward Valasca through the narrow street’s Shadow fog, screaming in Elfhollen for her mother. Decimated buildings crackle with silvery-gray fire all around as Valasca accelerates toward the child, her heart giving a hard wrench as she recognizes her.

Inge. Sylvi’s child. Not more than four years old.

A broken dragon flies through the dark canopy above, barreling toward them both. Narrowing her eyes with lethal intensity, Valasca draws back her fists, slides her fingers along the runes of her varg-rune-marked blade, then hurls both weapons forward with a guttural cry. Both slash across the sky and find their mark, one slamming into the dragon to impale its forehead, the other punching into the neck of the Mage astride the broken beast.

The Mage’s neck snaps back as the dragon’s head bursts into a ball of emerald flame, the dark creature’s flight pattern chaotic as the Mage’s wand falls from his hand.

Valasca presses her thumbs to the retrieval rune on her palm and the rune-charged blade flies back, slapping into her hand as the dragon crashes into a nearby smoking building, the Mage flying off its back and landing in a lifeless heap. Wasting no time, Valasca sheathes her blade, grabs quivering little Inge, and breaks into a run down the Shadow-fogged streets as the little girl screams“Mum’yi! Mum’yi!”over and over.

The child’s terror is a dart straight through Valasca’s emotions, even as she tries to force sympathy aside and allow her coolly vicious battle-mind to descend. But a choking feeling breaks through, rising hot in her throat as she takes in the dead women’s and children’s bodies strewn amidst the rubble, many of whom she knows. And the animals...beautiful horses rendered to carnage, the children’s little pet Visay’un deer mangled, so many broken corpses. Bile rises in Valasca’s throat as she considers what’s likely become of her beloved goats, the horses she helped raise from spirited foals...

And then she spots her friend Evralyr splayed on the street amidst the rubble, her kind smile forever stilled, her normally violet face a sickly death mask of gray, her long lavender hair a black-blooded mess. Valasca struggles to keep the devastating rush of grief from completely shattering her as a more potent fury grips hold.

A young Amaz appears, running toward her through the twining gray mist—an Alfsigr girl of about thirteen. Her black Amaz facial rune marks are a stark contrast to her ivory face, her salt-white hair short and spiky, an uncharged rune blade in her fist. She sets silver eyes on Valasca just as the amorphous form of a Mage appears through the fog behind her, the glimmering green of him monstrously highlighted by the surrounding shades of gray.

“Take the child and get behind me!” Valasca snarls.

The Alfsigr teen glances once over her shoulder, then briefly turns, silver eyes wide with terror as she runs frantically to Valasca, pausing only to take hold of Inge before darting behind Valasca as Shadow dragons streak by overhead and the Mage advances.

He strides toward them almost idly, his young, handsome form solidifying as a smile curls his lips, cruel, green eyes narrowing.

Recognition explodes inside Valasca. She slows and carefully draws both her charged blade and another, concealing them behind her back. She’s met this high-ranking fiend before during her diplomatic work as the head of the Queen’s Guard.

Sylus Bane.

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