Soul of Flame (Imdalind Series #4)(98)

My magic surged as I followed him, the electric tendrils of my power laying out the map of the land that surrounded us. My eyes closed at the image of the Trpaslíks who swarmed through the forest, most on their way to us, others running through the abbey or standing guard outside. There, in one of the rooms at the center of the large abbey, tucked near the back, was Edmund.

“In the abbey, in a room near the bell tower,” I answered, my eyes snapping open to the long, golden ribbon that trailed down Ilyan’s back.

Ilyan nodded once as he began to move, and my heart thumped at the thought of the hundreds of Trpaslíks who separated us from Edmund. I moved to meet Ilyan, my fingers weaving through his as I pulled him to a stop, turning him to face me.

“Let’s go right to Edmund, Ilyan. Let me finish this.” I clung to his hand as I begged him, knowing he could feel the need, feel the power that coursed through me.

I needed to finish Edmund, and right then, I knew that I could.

I wanted to.

“How? When the abbey is swarming with his guard?” Ilyan asked, his nerves fluttering at what was to come.

“A Stutter.”

Ilyan’s eyes widened at my request, his mind going into overdrive as he thought through every option of the plan, every possibility. I felt them rumble through me as I tried to understand, but with the mixture of Czech and English and the quick flashes of his thoughts, it only confused me more.

“We cannot Stutter,” Ilyan said, his thought slowing down as the depth of his voice grew. “Not this close to him. He will be able to feel us coming; he will know right where we will appear. I have run into this problem before. I do not want you to get lost in the blackness between worlds.”

Ilyan leaned closer to me as he pressed his hands against my face, his touch soft as he looked into me, the desperate need that had taken over him seeping into me. Edmund was stronger than I had assumed. Being able to feel a Stutter? The thought sent ice into me and I nodded, the strong confidence I had felt before ebbing.

“Then what do we do?” I asked.

Ilyan’s eyes burned into mine as his hands trailed down the side of my face, his fingertips brushing over my neck. I shuddered at the touch, my magic warming and reacting to the connection as Ilyan pulled the hood over my head again, tucking the braid and the ribbon carefully away.

“You tell me, my love,” Ilyan said, his smile feeling strangely out of place. Then I understood. I understood the question and the meaning behind it.

I could see what was ahead.

I nodded once and closed my eyes, my chest heaving as I caught my breath, pulling at the dizziness I had pushed away before. It rumbled through me as Ilyan held me, his hands warm against my skin and my blood reacted to it. It boiled through me as my vision burned red, the blackness flashing before the images came, flashes of fighting that moved through my vision in a strobe.

I gasped at the images, the flashes of Ilyan fighting through fire, the stones of the abbey surrounding us as the maniacal light hit his eyes. My body tightened uncomfortably as the images slowed and the words Ilyan sought seeped from my lips.

“Take the fire and find your strength. The last moment is yours.”

The words faded as the image did, my confusion growing at the nonsensical words which had seeped from my mouth, leaving me to replace them with ones I could understand.

“We fight.”

“Then we fight,” he repeated, his hand wrapping around mine as together we ran through the forest. Our speed spiked as his magic surged, the power moving right through me while we ran. We didn’t stop as we approached the burning tree line, Ilyan’s magic surrounding us in a shield that kept the flames from burning our skin.

We came to a halt just before the large pasture that surrounded the abbey, my heart falling to see fire erupting from many of the windows. The flames licked at the stone, sending billows of smoke into the already darkening sky. The grounds in front of us were filled with dozens of Trpaslíks; rows of an army, all at attention. All ready to fight. The scene before us was laid out so perfectly I could feel my stomach clench together in warning.

Edmund had set a trap even though he did not know all the contents of the sight. He had made his plan, hoping he could assume enough to give him the upper hand.

Ilyan clenched my hand as we prepared to move, his body bouncing in excitement before a pain shot through his arm with an intensity so sharp that I could feel the shadow of it in my own body. I gasped at the pressure, my hand clamping over my arm as the surge faded, the sharp pain disappearing into nothing.

“What was that?” I hissed, unable to keep the frustration out of my voice, the memory of the pain too fresh.

It felt like I had been stabbed, and even though the pain was gone, I almost expected the culprit to remain, my arm to be drenched in blood, yet nothing was there.

“Something has happened. Wyn has deviated from the plan,” Ilyan almost growled, his eyes narrowing as he glared through the abbey grounds and toward the forest on the opposite side that had been the escape route for the others.

I looked through the fires and the armies as he did, my magic taking my sight away from me and through the trees until I found them. The others walked forward in a quick pace that none of them seemed capable of maintaining. Thom supported Dramin while Sain practically dragged Ryland. They followed Wyn as she led them, her face haggard and blood-covered.

If they had followed the plan, they would have been flying; instead, they stumbled and limped through the forest. They had been attacked, and what was more, more of our enemies were heading right for them. I could feel the deep, angry pulses as the Trpaslíks ran to surround them.