Page 117 of Polestar
She tried.Truly she tried.
While she focused on that, the shaman continued his work.
“You don’t know what she’s doing.Why would she be channeling your dead shaman?She could be trying to finish what she started to ensure the king’s demise,” Yvan protested.
Elias moved so that he faced Yvan, scowling up into his face.“I know my shaman’s voice when I hear it.Do not interfere.”
Magnus stumbled to his feet.“He’s worried that Ana and the Shaman will break his spell, releasing the control he and Wulker have over their victims.Including Aksel.”He directed the last words at Ulla.
“Don’t listen to his lies, Ulla.We’d never—I’d never do such a thing.”
Ulla moved next to her son, holding Yvan’s gaze.“Wouldn’t you?”
Ana couldn’t maintain her focus on the exchange any longer.Whatever the shaman was doing, he pulled her into it.
The old man chanted a Barentian song, hands extended over the King’s head and torso.His soul’s force drew power up through the soles of her feet, along her legs and into her heart where it churned around and around, making her feel like she had awe-inspiring heartburn.
The power gathering, combining with the emotion in her physical body, made her shake and tremble with possibility.
She was an open conduit to the Shaman’s will as he pulled what he needed from the surrounding earth to boost the king’s soul energy and keep him alive.
Next, Ana felt as though the shaman jack-knifed the power, swinging an extended right arm in Yvan’s direction.
Hold on!Ana’s otherself—herHigher Selfyelled as her grasp on Ana’s and the Shaman’s spirits tightened.
Yvan lurched toward the Shaman, chest first, as though dragged closer.
The tenor of the words changed as the Shaman’s left hand hovered an inch above the black ink sigil marring his king’s throat.
Yvan struggled against the invisible grip, grunting and crying out as though the Shaman was clawing something out of him.
The inked sigil appeared to burn off in layers until it streamed away, soaking into the king’s pillow, leaving his skin clear again.
Once the sigil was gone from beneath the shaman’s right hand, he swung it too, in Yvan’s direction, an inch from his throat now.Chest arched out, throat pressed in, he struggled on tiptoe against the shaman’s power, gasping.
“No.No.No!”
“You wish to steal and defile our sacred magics?”The shaman growled at the human magician.
Now, the energy of the Shaman’s bear surged forward, snapping at Yvan with vengeance.
Its energy threatened to overpower Ana.Had it not been for the hold herHigher Selfmaintained on her, rooting her in her body as the Shaman exacted justice, she would have been consumed by it.
Ana snarled in Yvan’s face as her fingers curled into claws, as though she held his heart in one hand, his throat in the other.She felt the rapid beat of his heart against her palm, the gush of air through his windpipe at her fingertips.
From her left palm, energy, white and hot, seared the skin of Yvan’s throat.By the time she was done—the shaman was done.It scarred him with the same sigil, without the ink.
Instead of the octopus shifter’s venom fueling the curse, Yvan’s own power looped back into it, binding his will, containing any magic he had within his own body.
Done.The Shaman released his hold.
Yvan dropped to the floor at Ana’s feet.
The room was silent except for her panting.
“Havard!”a guard outside the room shouted at the sound of another body dropping to the floor.
The shaman turned toward his king, and seeing that the king’s breath came steady and strong in his still-unconscious state, he nodded, released his hold on Ana and stepped outside of her.
