Dawn of Ash (Imdalind, #6)(12)

Come here, now. He hadn’t needed to say it.

I was already running.





I moved at a dead run, my ribbon pulling against my sloppy bun as it trailed behind me in a bright line of color. I ran past the hordes of people who looked at me with a combination of horror and fear. However, my mind was still too trapped on that dark, blood covered street to even dwell on what was going through their minds.

I had one task—get to Ilyan.

Throwing up my shield, I ran past the thin, white line that covered the cobbles and through the barrier Ilyan and I had made to protect everyone inside.

The tension in my heart increased as the pressure of the barrier pushed against me like cellophane and a suction cup. It was hard to breathe, hard to think, but I didn’t stop. I kept moving, propelling my feet through the pressurized space and out into the open where fear and tension combined with the painful reality of what the world around us had become.

Within Ilyan’s barrier, the space still held shadows of the war we were stuck in, streaks of blood no one could remove, broken windows and shutters still waiting for repair. But it was clean, safe. Here, underneath the bright red glow of Edmund’s dome, trapped in the city he had designed to be a death sentence, the safety was gone.

Out here were silence and fresh streaks of blood. Out here were carcasses and remnants of life, burned out cars, and belongings scattered over bloodstained streets from when people had attempted to escape. Out here it was an active war.

With a tight knot forming in my gut, I took one look back to the cathedral. All signs of life were gone now, wiped out by the shield, leaving me looking at a cathedral and courtyard as broken down and devoid of life as the one I now stood in, exactly how it would look to Edmund’s men.

Can you show me again?

I knew what he was asking. I could hear his terror as he tried to play back over the sight, as his brain picked apart every change in a mad yet useless attempt to make sense of it.

I’m almost to you, I said as I took off into the air, my wind and magic catching me as I jumped, propelling me forward and toward the heavy pull that Ilyan’s magic always gave me.

Be safe, he whispered, his magic further filling me as he tracked my movements, as he traveled alongside me.

I welcomed it, pulling it into me, knowing I might need it.

It wasn’t safe out here.

Even with all the magic, there was no way to be safe. Our own men moved through the streets like ghosts, looking for survivors, for food, for any sign of Edmund’s guards as they patrolled the streets, groups of them attacking with no warning, even when shielded. The Vil?s scoured for anything they could try to attack, like rabid dogs.

The faster I got to Ilyan, the better.

I let my magic carry me up toward the rooftops, the broken shingles and collapsing spaces stretching before me like some kind of deranged, rotting garden.

Speeding up, I kicked off the corner of an old wrought iron balcony, the ancient structure groaning and shaking underneath the pressure. I had already moved away from it when the sound of metal against stone reverberated through the crippling silence. The balcony crumbled to the ground, landing against a street cart, and the old, food vendor’s stand collapsed under the pressure.

Grinding, heaving, explosive sounds boomed through the dilapidated city, growing louder as bricks and wood continued to collapse.

What was that? He was panicked, and so was I. With the sound of the crash, my heart had sped up, everything tensing in a violent agony. After all, if he had heard it, then so had any other living thing within a twenty-mile perimeter.

Great.

I’m fine.

I had done that a million times before, but this time, when everything was already tense and frightening, it had decided to collapse in the loudest racket possible, guiding everyone and their dog right to me.

Don’t even start, I growled, talking more to myself than to him.

I wasn’t going to. Just get here.

Right. That was going to be harder than I had expected.

I could already see the black specks of the Vil?s zooming through the streets below me, heading right to the noise, toward the now crumbled remains of seventeenth century architecture.

I should be happy that, at least for the time being, it had pulled their focus. I wasn’t an idiot, however. It wouldn’t last. I had learned the Vil?s could track magic like nobody’s business. It was why I was so good at it, it seemed. Why all the Chosen were.

Minutes.

I had minutes.

Ilyan was right; I needed to hurry.

I could feel his magic ahead. I could feel his tension, his anxiety. I could feel his fear right alongside mine.

But I could also hear the Vil?s behind me.

They are coming, I hissed into his mind, my agitation pulling through each syllable while I tried in vain to move faster, knowing it was impossible. I had tried to outrun them before and failed.

Today would be no different.

I could attempt to defeat them, yes. But I already knew there were too many. I could feel each speck of their power as they streamed behind. I could feel their anger, feel their determination to destroy me.

My only chance for everyone was to lose them.

Ilyan! I shouted, although I didn’t need to.

I am coming. A small, black shape appeared between the buildings before me. The form of a man moved closer as he sped toward me, hair and délka vedení královsk swirling around him like the tail of a kite.