Soul of Flame (Imdalind Series #4)(92)

It was too late, though. With that one scream, he had given away our position, and I could already feel them closing in on us.

The aggressive warning of my magic rocked through me and I turned just as two husky Trpaslíks burst through the tent behind me, the canvas tearing to shreds as they ripped it apart in their fury.

White hot dread tightened through me as I saw them, the feeling of terror gripping me in an iron fist as my two attackers smiled, their wide grins snapping through me.

I stood frozen in fear, staring into the smile of death, my death. I could stand and die, or fight. Ilyan had trained me for only one thing.

And I was ready.

My fear vanished at the blood thirsty look in their eyes. The filthy touch of their magic ignited something else, something that I hadn’t felt before. A mad power rippled and warmed through me in a dangerous energy—energy that promised I could do anything.

I smiled as they approached me, my magic erupting as I sent a wave of electricity toward them, knocking them off their feet. They shook with the mild pulse before I clapped my hands together. A straight path of lightning shot from my fingers, the crackling white light digging into their chests and frying their nervous systems. They couldn’t even have moved if they tried.

My heart clenched with the knowledge of what I had done, the fear and regret growing before another Trpaslík darted behind me, his quick attack catching me off guard and burning through my shield. I screamed as fire spread through my bones, folding my body together painfully before my magic fought it, the burn leaving as my powerful magic counteracted what I was sure was supposed to have been a death blow.

I rose to face him, but Ilyan had already dropped my attacker to the ground in his panic to protect me. His eyes were wide in fear as he looked to me.

My breaths came in deep pants as I attempted to rebalance. My magic and my body felt jittery as adrenaline and fear ran rampant through my blood stream.

Ilyan said nothing as he stepped over the bodies between us. He didn’t need to; I could feel it all, the heart-stopping fear as he had heard my scream repeating through his mind, the loss and devastation that still shook him. His warm hand wound around mine as he led me away, closer to the center of camp and the tent that was our target.

I just hoped we had enough time. If the Trpaslíks were seeking us out, there was no guarantee that Ovailia wouldn’t already know of our arrival.

I could hear the heavy footfalls as our enemies closed in, their magic growing and flaring from all sides as they surrounded us. I clenched onto Ilyan’s hand, sure he felt it, too, just as we moved through the final ring of tents, breaking free of the horrifying labyrinth, to face hundreds of Trpaslíks who stood around the red and purple fire, waiting for us.

They all looked up at our arrival, wicked smiles illuminating their eyes with a maniacal light that seemed to scream of our death. I could tell by the way they licked their lips—the way their fingers crackled and pulsed with power—that they thought this would be a quick end to the man they had hunted for so long.

They were wrong.

I smiled at the looks on their faces, smiled because they thought they had the upper hand. I could see the canvas walls of the Vil?’s tent just beyond the crowd, the whole thing vibrating from the diseased creatures that had been restrained inside. That was where we needed to get to, the first major step in Ilyan’s plan. By the look of fury in the Trpaslíks’ eyes, though, they were going to make this harder than I would have liked.

My magic prickled as I pushed it away from me, my mind creating a map of the exact placement of every Trpaslík that surrounded us. The surge of their anger influenced my magic until it prickled under my skin. The power ran through me, the anger that Cail had infused me with finding an outlet, and I smiled, eager to begin.

My fingers sparked as I stepped in front of Ilyan, my hands spreading wide as I showed them the power that was waiting to escape, the magic that wanted to end this as much as I did.

The power continued to swell as I held it inside of me, the heat of my attack pressing against my skin, ready to explode. I saw the fear in the eyes of the Trpaslíks closest to us as their understanding peaked, yet it was too late.

My magic exploded in a rush of air and fire that spread away with the strength of a bomb. It burned through the fabric of the tents, and through the bodies of those who were closest to me. It washed over the entire camp as the smiles and jeers of a hopeful victory turned to yells and screams of agony and death.

Lines of men that had surrounded us fell, their screams evaporating into the air as their bodies hit the ground, never to rise again. The screams spread through the circle as the attack broadened, the sounds rippling away as more and more of them began to understand what was happening, the weak running away while the strong stepped forward, ready to face us.

To face me.

I was sure Ovailia had heard the screams, had seen the fire light the sky, and felt the residual waves of the attack. If she hadn’t been aware that we were coming for her already, she was now, and we hadn’t even blown the tent yet. Time was not on our side.

I only hoped Edmund had not arrived yet.

Get the tent, I ordered, hoping that Ilyan wouldn’t second guess a command given by me as I rushed away from him toward the survivors who were charging me, their battle cry loud in my ears.

Ilyan rushed through the remaining army as I did, his movements quick as he took to the air, flying toward the tent in a streak of gold. I wasted no time and ran into the fray, my magic pulsing as two Trpaslíks found their feet, their faces hard as they rushed me, their magic sparking in preparation to kill.