Soul of Flame (Imdalind Series #4)(100)

We ran up a small flight of stairs to emerge into what should have been another hallway, but instead was now only open air.

Happy laughter met my ears as a small group of Trpaslíks who had been destroying the space turned, the joy in their voices fading into a menacing growl as they caught sight of us.

I stepped forward, ready to fight my way past them just as more than a dozen came streaming in behind them, their eyes lit in hatred as they ran at us with the others, ready to destroy us.

I squared my shoulders, ready to attack, but Ilyan pulled me away, his muscles tense as we ran toward the pulse of Edmund’s magic, searching for a way to break through the lines of guards Edmund had set for us.

Ilyan pulled me down the elevated hallways as ash flowed around us, the waves of destroyed stone rising and falling beside us, letting pools of firelight cover the floor and the angry crackle of the flames fill my ears. Ilyan’s hand was tight around mine as Edmund’s magic grew the closer we got to him.

The icy chill of his magic ran down my spine, writhed through my stomach. My fear and anxiety grew the nearer we came. I fought my mania, my anxiety; I wasn’t sure how much longer I would last.

I tried to push beyond my broken emotions, I knew I needed to. It was my destiny to beat him, to defeat him. I just wasn’t sure I was strong enough to keep the terrors away. Even with Ilyan’s magic running through me, Edmund’s magic awakened something that was proving to be bigger than me.

I panted as we ran, my breath breaking as the flames seemed to grow, the red of the fire dripping over the stones in streaks of blood. Ilyan stopped abruptly as we came head on with at least ten of Edmund’s men. Their battle cries raged over the fire, sparking at the anxiety that was already threatening to drown me. They were ready for us, just as we were ready for them.

I pushed away my mania, a deep scream ripping from my lips as I rushed them, Ilyan by my side as flashes of fire and smoke and light and dark surrounded us. I fought from one to another, desperate to make it through, to fight just as Edmund’s magic flared, the power so strong I knew he was only a few steps away.

I screamed in terror as my insanity blended in my eyes, the few stone walls that surrounded us bleeding red rivers as my scream continued. Edmund’s magic pulsed into me like a hot knife that cut into me. It was pain and heat and agony and I screamed more, the pain rushing into me so quickly that I knew it wasn’t my insanity that brought the pain. It wasn’t my nightmares that caused the blood to flow over my stomach.

My body seized in agony as a Trpaslík’s sword that I hadn’t seen, a weapon I hadn’t expected, sliced through my stomach, an acidic magic plunging into me.

Ilyan spun as my scream rent the air, his eyes wide in fear as he watched the sword pull from my stomach, watched my blood spray over the man who had attacked me, and watched it flood out of me.

My scream grew as Ilyan disappeared from sight only to feel his magic pulse behind me, the life of the Trpaslík who had injured me leaving with only a pulse of Ilyan’s magic. I gasped as life left my attacker, my body falling as his did. I screamed as my bones split and shattered, my skin burned as I fell. I was falling, endlessly falling. I waited for the impact, for my back to break only to have Ilyan’s strong hands catch me, pulling me into him. I tried to reach to him, but everything was pain as my body tried to turn itself inside out. All I could focus on was my pain, on keeping my hands against me, desperate to stop the blood from flowing.

Ilyan’s magic pulsed into me as my own sped to my belly, my stomach attempting to knit itself back together before it was too late. My mind screamed in fear, telling me that it already was. I could feel the Trpaslík’s venomous magic burn off my magic’s attempts to heal me, the blood flow only increasing.

Ilyan’s magic grew in a pulse of tight, cold pressure as we moved between worlds, but all I could focus on was the pain.

“Ilyan?” I moaned as he began to run, his movement quick and smooth, the motion so similar to when he had found me behind the dumpster. When I had broken my back, when the flame of fire had crippled me, and when I had wanted to die. Everything about this was so similar except that, this time, I didn’t want to die.

“It’s all right, my love. You are going to be all right.” His words were desperate as his feet moved more quickly, the fear of what he had just done outweighing my healing injury.

Ilyan had Stuttered.

He hadn’t dared to go far from what the sight had shown, to put too much strain on the magic that was trying to heal me, and so we remained in the abbey, the smell of fire surrounding us. Trapped and unable to Stutter again.

Ilyan held me close to him as he ran, his magic trying to numb the agonizing pain that split through my bones. I clawed at the wound, pressing myself into Ilyan’s chest as his worry washed over me, his need to keep me alive screaming at him, trying to convince him that he shouldn’t follow the path that sight had given us. To defeat Edmund.

I could already feel him rushing toward us, Ilyan’s Stutter showing Edmund exactly where we were.

Everything tensed as I felt him move closer, and I gasped in pain. Ilyan’s magic enveloped me as I coughed, the warmth of my blood spreading over my chin, the taste of dirt and iron spreading over my tongue.

“He is coming,” I gasped, my voice deep and strained as Ilyan’s grip on me tightened.

I wanted to say that we could still fight—that we could get out of here alive—but I was no longer so sure, and judging by the internal war that raged through Ilyan, I knew he felt the same.