Page 234 of Red Ruin
Not suddenly.
They’ve been here all along, concealed by the king’s power.
The elite draugr look like elvish skeletons, gaunt and gray with jeweled crowns and dense auras that drive my toes into the cold ground.
My gaze slides beyond the powerhouses to the row of fallen Farguard Sentinels.
I recognize their blank faces.
My chest aches.
I was too late.
Kevan stands among them, dead-eyed.
He’s not the prize he thought.
The lich king doesn’t seem to give a fuck about the Kyorgos bloodline or Kevan’s powers. The duke is just another puppet for the army.
If I were his Guide, this wouldn’t have happened.
The thought loosens something in my chest.
“Why take that body as your host?” I ask, hoping to distract the lich as I move in. “Guides are physically weak.”
Lich-Luca lifts his hand, rolling wisps of green energy between his fingers.
“So this is a Guide’s body. Fascinating,” he says, deadpan and discordant. “It’s adept at manipulating energies. Conditioned for necromancy,” he continues, talking purely to himself. “But limited to one target. Pity.”
Green flashes again.
This time, I recognize the color of magic pulled through their imprint.
Even reduced to half a corpse, Kevan shudders.
But if the imprint is working, he and Luca must still be alive?
I can’t promise to keep them that way.
“That body.” Lich-Luca swings his white eyes back to me.
My muscles lock from the weight of his attention, digging through my soul.
“Perfect. Unconstrained. Yes. I wantthatbody.” Lich-Luca beckons. “Come here.”
Death magic wraps around my ankles and forces my feet to move.
“No.” I plant my glaive and strain to slow the pull. Spectral fingers yank away my pole.
I yelp as my left knee buckles in a flash of pure white pain.
Shit. I must’ve pulled something.
I can’t stand unsupported, let alone resist.
Helpless, I’m dragged in front of the lich.
Cold mist creeps along my skin. My body temperature drops, leaving me shaking and clammy.
