Page 50 of The Dryad Storm

Gwynn looks to the storm bands and thinks, yet again, of the Urisk she witnessed being herded into wagons, the Smaragdalfar children fleeing for their lives. The monster of the whole Magedom bearing down. And then, the memory of how kind Mavrik was to Ee’vee and Bloom’ilya, to the point that Ee’vee was reluctant to leave him.

She meets Mavrik’s piercing gaze. “Geoffrey isgone. But our power—it’sright here. This fight isright here. I want you to kiss me. Help me access my power. For the good of Erthia.”

Mavrik stills, then nods, his breathing tripping into a faster cadence as he stepsclose, brings his hand up to caress her arm, then leans down and brings his lips to hers.

A shock of multicolored light cracks through Gwynn, an explosion of wanton pleasure flashing through her as they both gasp against each other’s mouths and their magic breaks free to surge through each other’s lines. Swept up in their powers’ prismatic undertow, they draw each other closer, and Gwynn can feel, in the twining of their power, their instantaneous mutual desire tofuse.

Something shocks through Gwynn, the sense of trapped magic in her center breaking open in a burst of light as she grips his tunic’s side.

Breaking the kiss, Gwynn looks around, dazed, to find that every color in the crimson desert around her is brightened, Mavrik’s face and form limned in an aura of shimmering multihued light.

“Try the spell again,” Mavrik huskily prods as he slides around her once more and clasps his wand hand around hers.

Forcing focus, Gwynn lifts the wand, Mavrik following her motion as she murmurs the runic spell.

A clean, luminous yellow line sweeps from her wand’s tip, and Gwynn’s heartbeat leaps, utter disbelief surging. “Holy Ancient One,” she rasps out.

“Go on,” Mavrik prods, “finish the rune.”

Getting hold of herself, Gwynn finishes crafting two small suspended golden amplification runes then drags and fuses one to her wand arm and the other to Mavrik’s. Deciding to experiment, Gwynn hands Mavrik’s gold wand back to him and places her hand aroundhisthis time.

Murmuring the Noi flow-rune spell, Mavrik fashions a suspended sapphire rune, seeming stunned by his new Light Mage ability to create runes. Visibly gathering himself, he connects the Noi rune’s power to the golden runes on their arms via two luminous rays of sapphire, Gwynn’s light power running bright through his lines.

“This changeseverything,” Mavrik says, seeming awestruck by the Noi rune suspended before them, raying out light. He turns to her. “Do you have any idea of the magic we can dotogether? We have access toall fiveelemental lines.” He hands her back the wand. “Try to cast a spell without me touching you.”

Drawing in a bolstering breath, Gwynn raises the wand and murmurs the Mage light-orb spell once again.

Her magic surges toward the wand and flashes against her palm’s underside once more, triggering an even stronger ache as it remains blocked. Frustration swampsher, but before she can give voice to it, dawn breaks over the distant storm bands’ towering apexes. Gilded sunlight washes over the desert’s breathtakingly vermillion expanse, and Gwynn’s heart lifts as her lines fill with a euphoric energy. A bright orange hawk soars into view overhead, then another, the raptors circling each other like two spots of saffron flame.

A small gasp escapes Gwynnifer. “Those are Agolith Flame Hawks,” she tells Mavrik. “They pair for life.” Her voice hitches around the words as she watches the hawks wheeling through the sky. She turns and meets Mavrik’s intense stare as an idea lights, bright as the hawks’ feathers and sudden flood of sunlight. “We could join ourselves with Issani twinning runes,” she ventures. “The Issani twin their high-level sorcerers. That way, they have full, permanent access to each other’s magic. Without needing to touch each other.”

She can sense the wheels of Mavrik’s wandmaster mind turning as he peers more closely at her. “That’s Issaan’s most powerful military magic, Gwynn,” he says, a strong note of caution in his tone. “A complete fusing. As permanent as fasting.Moreso. And the amplification of power it triggers... it can belethal. Which is why it’s rarely cast.” He shakes his head. “If you were to set down that twinning spell and we survived its fusing, we’dneverbe able to remove it. We’dneverfunction as separate Mages again. We’d have to stay in the same location. Always. And if one of us died, the other would die too.”

Gwynn pulls in a deep breath, peering up at the hawks as her lines strain toward Mavrik’s. Undaunted, she lowers her gaze to his, tension igniting between them.

“It’s too dangerous, Gwynn...” he insists, slicing his hand emphatically through the air. “Wecan’t—”

An explosiveCRACKbooms out from every horizon, knifing through Gwynn’s ears and breaking off Mavrik’s words as the image of the Verdyllion pulseshardagainst Gwynn’s mind.

Startled, they turn toward the sound, and shock lances through Gwynn at the sight they’re met with.

The tall black storm bands in the distance have morphed to dark gray and are rising higher into the sky, rapidly gaining height as they flash and boom with a strange, curving black lightning, their bright white lightninggone.

“Bloody hells...” Mavrik exclaims as the morning’s golden light dims and Gwynn realizes that the storm bands are not only enlarging but moving toward them. The Verdyllion pulses against her mind once more with dire urgency.

Her eyes meet Mavrik’s as the horrific understanding crystallizes. “Vogel’s taking over the storm bands!” she cries. “And he’s coming for the Verdyllion. We’ve got to get everyone below ground and shielded!”

Mavrik draws his Varg-marked wand and grasps hold of Gwynn’s wrist, their magic bolting through each other’s lines as they launch into a run toward Wynter, skidding over the sand, the wind picking up as the sky rapidly grays. A series of earsplitting rumbles of thunder crackle, and Gwynn winces, the surrounding storm bands barreling closer.

They speed under a crimson stone arch, birds and wildlife scampering and darting away from the advancing storm bands. Gwynn glances over her shoulder just as a dark swarm of flying creatures bursts from the incoming wall of roiling gray chaos and soars rapidly toward them.

“Wraith bats!” Mavrik cries out.

A rush of pure terror courses through Gwynn as the bats fly nearer, wind and sand scouring her back as her mind runs through everything she’s read about the beasts, almost immediately realizing her fatal mistake.

“Control your fear!” Mavrik yells over the wind. “They feed on it!”

Gwynn forcefully stamps down her panic as she’s filled with a sense of the bats’ vicious energy pressing into her mind, drawn to her terror.

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