Page 111 of Prisoner of Darkness and Dreams
But Caledon only has eyes for one person. Ana. She’s across the avenue from me, and at a diagonal to Caledon’s approaching entourage. Still, it’s easy to see where the black hunger in his gaze is directed. The carriage stands between us, and the chasm I opened up runs across our left side. In between it all, the fight rages on, throwing up new obstacles every second.
My heart drops when I realize that with me over here, there’s no easy way for me to get to Ana. I tell myself that’s okay, but my gut bucks at the thought.
“Let me help, Leon,”she says to me through the mooring.
I look over for just a second as Ana raises her hands, then I’m aware of a blazing burst of sunlight searing through the crowd of clerics. Most of them get out of the way in time, ducking the surge of power and exposing their leader. For a moment, I feel a surge of triumph.
But then Caledon steps forward, a smug smile on his face. This was his plan all along.
Ana’s celestial power hits him square in the chest. Except rather than searing a hole straight through him, it explodes against his robes in a shower of sparks. He throws his arms wide, as if embracing the magic, and it appears to sink into him.
His face takes on a healthy glow, his hair shines brighter, and I don’t think I’m imagining the sudden disappearance of a few wrinkles around his eyes. Then Caledon lowers his arms with a satisfied sigh, a scorch mark on the front of his robes the only sign of Ana’s attack.
I feel the cold bite of fear sinking its teeth into Ana as she realizes what I’ve already worked out: Caledon has absorbed some of Ana’s magic without him even touching her. She can’t use her power to hurt him—all it will do is make him stronger.
Just then, a surge of wind blows across the avenue, kicking up the debris of the battle and whipping at people’s clothes. I screw up my eyes, trying to see through the haze of dust and dirt, only to realize the wind is concentrating like a whirlwind around Ana, pulling her toward Caledon.
Damia’s the closest, and she reaches out for Ana. But she’s too slow, her hand snatching thin air. Whichever aesteri is conjuring the wind must be powerful. It has to be one of the bearers Caledon brought, and the other is the geostri who blocked my earth splitting. They’re the only ones who’d be strong enough for this scale.
“Use your orbital power!”I shout to Ana through the mooring. I see the glow of her magic, and she slows down, but the wind’s still managing to drag her, step by stumbling step, closer toward the clerics.
“Captain!” Hyllus’s usually quiet voice booms at me over the wail of the wind. “The bearers—they’re chanting something.”
He’s right, they are, and they’re also unwrapping something from a cloth. A metal object that gleams with an unnatural light.
Gods, no.
It’s a scythe. I have no doubt it’sthescythe. The one the Agathyrians warned us about—the famed artifact of Ethira.
I sprint forward again, trying to cut my way through the clerics. Only this time I’m not heading for Caledon. No, I need to reach Ana before she’s blown right into him.
“What are they saying, Hyllus?” I demand.
“It’s a spell—something old and dangerous,” he gasps beside me as he crushes two clerics between his huge arms. “I don’t know what.”
“I’m coming Ana, keep fighting.”
“I am,”she replies, and I feel the panic quivering through her.“But I’m tired, Leon.”
After expending so much magic in the battle, she’s losing her fight with the wind.
One of the bearers, now only a few clerics away from me, is lifting the scythe as the blade begins to glow with a golden light. They’re going to bury it in her, I’m certain. Whatever else that thing does, it’s going to sink into her flesh and cut her to ribbons.
In that moment, as I shove against the clerics trying to slice at me, I have a choice. I could try to reach Ana, maybe not make it in time, and risk watching my main reason for living be wiped from this earth.
Or I could remove the threat entirely.
I throw the last few clerics out of my way, charging at the bearer. He doesn’t see it coming, too focused on handling the scythe, still chanting his spell. He cries out when I tackle him to the ground, his head hitting the stones with a solid crack.
I look up at the sound of the wind suddenly dropping and see Ana tumbling to the ground herself, the grip of magic on her suddenly gone.
I knew I was right. This bastard is the aesteri. He must be powerful if he was doing both that and?—
Something slips between my ribs, something thin and warm, like a sliver of sunshine. The sensation stops me short, and I look down to see the scythe buried in my stomach. Except it doesn’t hurt—there’s no blood or tearing flesh—because it’s somehow there and not there at the same time, touching a part of me no physical thing should be able to touch.
I meet the bearer’s eyes. There’s a quick, slicing sensation.
And then a deep, crucial part of me is ripped away.
