Dawn of Ash (Imdalind, #6)(2)

With one quick slide of my hands through the stale air, another beam of light flew from my palm, and the two Vil?s turned to ash and smoke as the earth reclaimed them.

“Risha!” I said again as I walked right to her side.

The tall Sk?ítek woman didn’t so much as look away from the fight. She simply turned, sending our enemy away as she protected the young Chosen woman who sat huddled behind her, crying as she bled profusely from her chest. She wasn’t the only one huddled behind the warrior, but I was sure the elderly man she was leaning up against was already gone judging by the glossy look in his eyes.

“Focus your magic on stopping the bleeding,” I yelled at her as another explosion sent my former blockade into us. My magic caught it moments before it landed on top of us.

With a burst of energy, I sent it to the left, speeding toward two of Edmund’s men and pinning them between brick and twisted metal.

“I’m never leaving the cathedral again,” Risha growled from somewhere behind me as yet another stream of light moved past me, my magic alerting me to the danger late enough that I watched the bright red blade cut through my hair, long lengths of gold falling to the ground.

For a moment, my heart stopped, scared the délka vedení královsk had been lost, but the long length of ribbon was still wrapped around my wrist, kept safe in the only way I knew how in these situations.

“You said that last week, Risha,” I growled as I destroyed another man, the older gentleman crumpling to the ground like improperly made origami.

“This time, I mean it.”

I clenched my teeth at her determination, jaw tightening as my shoulders did, my temper continued to rise dangerously.

Another man collapsed at my hand, my magic scurrying in a mad attempt to keep us ahead of the fray, only to freeze as the entirety of the narrow street lit up in a bright yellow blaze. Heat moved over us as the luminescence shone over every lifeless body, every smear of blood, revealing the destruction that Prague had become in ribbons of light that made the dilapidated city all the more frightening.

The light washed over us, waves of iron following behind, wrapping around me with the force of a weapon. It was a weapon that, if I didn’t fight, would destroy us all, friend and foe.

Grimacing at the effort, I broke free of the attack, glittering trails of crimson streaking away from me and toward every one of my people. My scream of exertion ricocheted around us as my magic broke through the attack, ripping the bands from their bodies, releasing them from the deathly bind.

Heaving, I fell to the ground alongside Edmund’s men, my body weak from the exertion, while Edmund’s deformed army lay, gasping dying breaths, their own attack taking their lives in a slow, painful end.

I would rejoice in the luck of such a ploy, but I wasn’t a fool.

I could already hear the wings.

The light would bring more Vil?s to us, and with no quick escape route, our only chance was to go up right as Vil?s were coming down.

Heart pounding violently, I jumped up, muscles shaking with exertion that I had to ignore. “Risha, I need you to take them up. Fly to the Young Prince, keep your head down, and move on to the Old Man. Use the river as a guide to mask the magic. Meet me on the high point. They are coming.” I didn’t need to say anything more. Risha was already nodding in understanding, not a moment passing before she shot ropes of green from her fingers, each powerful strand of magic attaching to one of the Sk?íteks, one of the survivors who had traveled with us.

The poor, undertrained Chosen screamed in fear as the power moved into them, connecting them to her in a tether they could not break. Risha’s grating yell of exertion followed her into the air, her powerful magic forcing a wind to swirl and move as it swept her and her charges up and up, away from the battle. Away from the danger this city always provided. Away from me and what I was about to do.

I couldn’t wait to verify their ascent.

Standing, I leered at my father’s men who continued to move through the alleys, right to the lone man standing amidst destruction and death. I could see their anger, see their intent. And so, I let mine free. I let the temper, the anger, the magic free.

Free from the carefully crafted cage I always kept it locked in.

It moved into the monsters that surrounded me, attack after attack felling man, woman, and tiny, winged beasts. Everything was illuminated as I stood, surrounded by death. My heart was racing, muscles tensing, when out of nowhere, a scream I recognized broke through the death, broke through the light, broke through the battle I was trapped in.

Joclyn.

She was screaming. I could feel her fear, hear her cries as she lay miles from me, trapped in one of the many nightmares her sight had plagued her with for the past few months. Our connection opened up within me as I fought. My magic swelled, her fear ripping through me in agony, in an emotional prison that, even if I hadn’t been preoccupied, I couldn’t have saved her from.

Listening to her scream as I continued to fight, my chest constricted painfully, but I kept up the attacks, her magic continuing to move into me, strengthening me, filling me, controlling me in dangerous waves of frightening ability.

Joclyn’s magic supercharged my own past what I was capable of, the darkness and terror of her sight pulling my magic into a deadly concoction that felled one after another, many of them turning to nothing more than smoke and faded memories.

Teeth clenched, chest heaving, I continued to fight, focusing on Joclyn’s magic, on her fear, knowing what I needed to do. It was the only way I could calm her.