Soul of Flame (Imdalind Series #4)(91)
It was as natural as breathing.
I dropped to the ground before Ilyan did, my red shoes silent against the forest floor as I landed. My magic prickled in excitement as I stood, Ilyan landing right beside me just as another flash of light cut through the sky.
The garden of tents that we had landed in sprouted up like weeds, the filthy white canvases casting shadows and creating dangers that we hadn’t really planned for. We had expected them to be asleep, but now they could be anywhere, a wrong turn could easily end in our failure.
I stretched my magic through the tents from where I stood, seeking out the location of each of our enemies. My magic pulsed the information right into Ilyan without me having to focus on it. I saw him nod once from where he stood, his excitement flaring as the precise plan of what was going to happen fell into place. Ilyan’s hand trailed up my back as he stepped in front of me, his muscles tensing under his t-shirt as he led the way.
We darted through the darkness between the tents, hiding among the canvas city with each lightning strike. Every few tents, Ilyan’s magic would prickle, the air shimmering as he placed a shield over one of the many filthy tents, blocking the inhabitants from sound and sealing them inside. Ilyan’s intent to save as many lives as he could was clear.
Part of me wished he wouldn’t, that we could just wipe them out and finish this war in one clean fight. I knew better, though. Ilyan wasn’t only King of the Sk?íteks, but of the Trpaslíks as well, and even if they didn’t recognize that, Ilyan still held the same respect for them as he did for all of his other subjects.
Our subjects.
I shook the thought from my mind as we moved around another tent. My magic flared in caution and I reached toward Ilyan on instinct, the painful warning coming a second too late. My fingers wrapped around Ilyan’s arm just as a Trpaslík came to face us, his eyes widening in confusion before the light of anger clicked in understanding. The Trpaslík’s brain moved far too slow to grant him an escape, however; his mouth opened in warning just as the ground began to shake with Ilyan’s magic, the dirt shifting as it swallowed him whole. A wave of dirt sealed itself over him, leaving only a small salad plate-sized patch of hair visible, the small spot almost indistinguishable amongst the dirt. The man had disappeared before any sound had escaped him, the whole process moving so fast that I didn’t fully understand what I had seen.
I stood still as I stared at the ground in awe, my body moving forward only when Ilyan grabbed my hand and led me off in the opposite direction. We had only darted down another dark trail of the maze when voices yelling about earthquakes sounded through the jungle of tents, the voices drowned out by yet another rumble of fire in the sky.
Stay close to me, my love, Ilyan pleaded, his hand warming against mine before he released it.
He didn’t need to tell me twice, I could already feel the magic of the enemies that surrounded us awaken; the sharp, angry points of their terror and want of blood shaking through me until I fought the need to vomit. Their magic had changed from apprehension to the bubbling torrent of a blood hungry war. I could almost hear their teeth gnash together as they scattered, darting between tents. Searching for us.
They are coming, I said to Ilyan.
The muscles in his back rippled as his magic did, his excitement flaring aggressively just as a small Trpaslík darted between the tents before us. I jumped at his appearance, but Ilyan wasted no time. He spun on the spot, grabbing the man’s head between his hands as he jerked it to the side, his magic severing the man’s tendons as his hands broke his bones.
The Trpaslík crumbled to the ground like a rag doll, my eyes widening at the now lifeless man that Ilyan had dropped at my feet.
“Come on,” Ilyan growled, his hand wrapping around mine as he pulled me after him, our feet taking us closer to our destination. Toward the center of the camp and the large fire that most of the Trpaslíks had gathered around. I could feel it just ahead of us.
I dropped Ilyan’s hand as I ran behind him through the maze of dirty canvas, the dead leaves crunching beneath my feet in loud slaps. I could smell the rot of the food, the smoke of a fire, but I heard nothing except thunder. My heart growled with a quick, painful pulse as we darted through the horrifying blindness the tents had created, sure our enemy was behind the next turn. And the next.
Another Trpaslík jumped in front of us as we ran, his face wide with a grin as he found his bounty, obviously expecting to do us in and win a great honor.
He didn’t even get a chance to try. Ilyan stuttered the moment he saw him, his body vanishing from between me and the Trpaslík. My jaw grit in determined fear as Ilyan left me exposed, my fists clenching as I tried to convince myself I was ready to fight. The Trpaslík grinned at the change, his yellow teeth flashing before I felt Ilyan’s magic surge, his tall body reappearing unseen behind the Trpaslík who faced me.
A giant line of glittering black extended from Ilyan’s hand as it cut through the air, moving through the solid flesh of the Trpaslík as he cut him in half. I could see the look of pain in the Trpaslík’s eyes, his mouth opening in a scream only to have blood seep from his mouth as he tumbled to the ground, his fingers twitching in death.
My heart thundered painfully as I watched the Trpaslík collapse into a heap, just as another one darted through the tents, a battle cry on his lips. He attempted to ram Ilyan but Ilyan’s hands stopped the tiny man’s progress before he made it even half way. I was frozen in place as our enemy’s screams were silenced with a simple movement of Ilyan’s hand.