Soul of Flame (Imdalind Series #4)(68)

My fingers pressed into the warmth of his skin, his magic flooding me at the contact, unprompted by him. I could feel his warmth, my nerves calming just with the knowledge that I wasn’t alone in this.

I forced the weakling Edmund had created out of me, leaving me with who I really was.

“Uml?et!” Ilyan roared, and I flinched, the heavy magical restraint in his voice catching me off guard. It washed through the air and over my nerves, freezing me in place as the strength of the magic numbed the anxiety.

My gaze darted over the table, to the other stone figures in front of me before the magic released us, freeing us from our prisons, and pushing my emotions back into me with a sting.

“Sorry, My Lord,” everyone’s mumbled apology came at once.

Ilyan nodded once in acceptance before his focus dropped to the map, ready to lay out the battle plan that was now only hours away.

“The four of you will travel along this path here.” Ilyan dragged his finger near the same path he had outlined earlier, deviating enough to avoid the tent full of poisoned Vil?s this time.

My heart thudded loudly against my chest as I watched the red glitter trail from his finger until it dragged off the map in a line of sparkling light that shot through the darkened room before it fell to the ground and disappeared.

“You will take this path toward the cave at Vitoria. Once you clear this line, take to the air.” Ilyan’s fingers intersected with the red line he had just made, putting a blue streak through it. Thunder rumbled as his finger dragged over the paper, the flashes of lightning that filtered in through the windows casting odd shadows of the map we all stood around.

“Wynifred, you will need to burn the trail here and here,” Ilyan continued, his finger swiping over the map as line after line appeared on the paper.

“How do you wish me to burn it, My Lord?” she asked, her face filled with the same excited frenzy she had had in the LaRue mansion last June, her eyes alight with the anticipation of battle. It was the same look I had seen in Ilyan’s eyes, except hers was more of madness than control and power. The look rippled through my spine, and I fought the need to step away from her.

“Slow. Burn the undergrowth and let it linger, you need to keep the Vil?s off your trail if they escape that tent.”

I cringed at the memory of the rabid look in the Vil?s eyes, their brutality as they descended upon that beautiful city in my sight. My stomach tightened as the vision flashed before me, my confusion at what it meant growing.

I didn’t want to think of that city under siege as we stood here. I did not want to think of the army Edmund was creating, and us, helpless to stop it.

“So, begin with the earth, burn the trees and then take to the air.” Wyn’s eyes glossed over as Ilyan’s voice deepened, his eyes boring into her as he leaned across the table, his magic binding Wyn to his command.

“Yes, My Lord,” Wyn said, her voice monotone and dead as Ilyan’s magic took hold.

I was in awe of the control he demanded, the resounding respect they all held for him. No one moved as Ilyan told them how to lay out their magic, how to fight, how to transport Dramin and Ryland without problem. His confidence radiated over everyone, and even with what we were facing, none of the others looked like they might go hide in the corner and empty the contents of their stomachs.

Only me.

“Joclyn and I will let ourselves be seen here and here, drawing the armies away from this line before we begin the main battle at this camp by destroying the Vil?s tent and drawing Ovailia’s attention.” I jumped when Ilyan said my name, my knees threatening to buckle as he detailed my role in the fight.

I watched his hands move over the map, a green trail leaving the tip of his finger in swirls and circles. It was only a shadow of a movement and sound, a faded memory of color. I knew I was looking at it, however, my brain was unable to focus, the rapid pulse of my heart making it impossible to control my breathing.

I wasn’t sure if everything was slowing down or speeding up.

“We will begin an hour before dawn,” Ilyan announced, the loud echo of his words bringing me back from my panic as his hand pressed against my back, the faint whispers of his worry moving through my mind. My skin warmed underneath his touch, the fabric of my shirt keeping his magic from trailing into me. I gasped at the pressure, knowing that even though his focus was on the map and the plan in front of him, he had heard my panic, and he was worried.

I swallowed hard as his touch left, his voice an echo in my ears as I pushed my fear away, my nerves still wiggling as the map came into focus.

“Spend the next twelve hours to prepare and rest. We will begin before dawn.” Ilyan hit his hand against the map, his palm making a loud smack that echoed through the stone room. His figers were stretched wide as he lifted his hand above the paper; the glittering trails of magic he had made mirroring the movement until hand and lines hovered inches above the map.

His hand froze as the lines glimmered in the dim light, his magic expanding until he flexed his fingers, the pulse of movement sending the glimmering specks of color soaring through the air into each of our minds as Ilyan’s magic infiltrated us.

Even though I had barely heard the strategy through my stress, one look at the image that had been placed in my mind’s eye and I knew exactly what to do. I saw it in detail as everyone’s part was laid before me, I understood it, and I knew that it was going to work.