A Shadow Bright and Burning (Kingdom on Fire #1)(100)

The fire rippled on my skin. The others spun their staves together, weaving a great net. I felt the energy flowing from me and into them. It was a strange sensation, like someone stealing the air from my lungs. Once everyone had a light, we spread out. Porridge grew warmer in my hand the faster I spun. Finally, we ran forward and propelled our great net of flame. It arched upward, so impossibly high that it went over Korozoth’s head and pinned him to the earth. The enormous fiend bellowed and thrashed, tentacles straining against the fire. We all ran to different sides, keeping the beast down.



“I think we’ve got him,” Dee yelled, waving to me.

But with the sound of snapping wood, the monster burst through the net, its tentacles waving and its hideous shadow mouth open in a triumphant call. We rushed to regroup.

“It’s too strong,” Blackwood said grimly. “It can’t be stopped.”

A tentacle came out of the darkness and nearly slammed on top of me. Magnus pulled us to the side.

“Are you all right?” he shouted.

“Yes. We have to turn back.” We tried to protect one another as we moved down the street.

“I’m not running,” Magnus said, warding a blade as the tentacle began to slither away. With a great cry, he leaped into the air and brought the blade down, severing the thing. Half of it went flopping along the street like a landed eel. Korozoth screamed as foul black fluid erupted out of its stump, coating Magnus, who, blinded, tried to get away. Another tentacle walloped him off to one side. He rolled a few times and lay there.

“Let me go,” I shouted as Blackwood wrapped an arm around my waist. Korozoth moved toward Magnus, prepared to absorb him.

Rook appeared beside me. He bled and sweated so badly that his clothes clung to his body. His eyes were black, but I could see that he was in control.

Cupping my face in his hand, he whispered, “All will be well, Nettie.” His breathing was a slow wheeze.



“Stay here,” I gasped, clutching at him. He stumbled toward the monster with his arms above his head, calling in that terrible, screeching voice. Korozoth stopped a mere foot from Magnus and paused, as if determining the best course of action.

Rook called the shadow to him.

Korozoth bellowed in surprise as Rook began to summon wisps and tendrils of its own body. Cloaked in the monster’s darkness, he yanked at the beast. Korozoth turned away from us, inch by inch. Rook was actually pulling it after him. He dodged the tentacles twice. His luck couldn’t last, though. With a grumbling cry, the monster finally struck him down and held him while he thrashed and screamed. Blackwood put a hand to my mouth to stop my shrieking; I bit at him in an attempt to free myself.

Finally, the monster released Rook. He lay on the ground like a broken toy, his arms and legs at strange angles. He wasn’t moving. I screamed as Korozoth inched toward him, fighting free from Blackwood.

I grabbed Wolff’s arm. “If I give you a light, can you manage the rest of the net?”

“What? Yes, of course.”

I ran, my heartbeat loud in my ears. I had to turn the monster, keep it from consuming Rook and Magnus. I created a column of wind and rose high into the air in front of Korozoth. With a shot of blue flame at eye level, the beast noticed me. I brought myself back to the ground as fast as possible. A tentacle landed beside me as I touched down. Frantic, I summoned up Mickelmas’s duplication spell, and a moment later, there were four of me stationed around Korozoth, every one of them—of me—brandishing a stave. As I moved, my copies moved.



Mystified, Korozoth struck down a duplicate, and I saw my chance. Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to race toward the thing. It rose above me, a wall of black smoke. I warded myself as I ran. If this didn’t work, I would die.

I didn’t even think. I just screamed.

Blackwood shouted my name, and his voice was the last sound I heard as I ran straight into Korozoth and blackness overtook me.





The darkness was absolute. I picked my way down the stairs slowly, trying to keep the candle flame from guttering. “Hello?” I whispered, shivering. My nightgown wouldn’t keep out the chill. I might have a cold tomorrow, and Mr. Colegrind would never allow me a day in bed. I frowned as I came down the final step. The darkness felt closer than usual.

“Who is it?” a little voice whispered. A small blond boy squatted at the back of the cellar, among the bags of potatoes for tomorrow’s peeling. He sat wrapped in an old shirt, his hair damp and his black eyes bright with fever.

“What’s your name?” I put the candle down, tucked my hair behind my ear, and crouched beside the boy.

“I don’t know.”

“You must have some idea.”

He shook his head. “Can’t remember nothing.” He trembled in pain, rubbing his left arm.

“I’m Nettie Howel. They say you got scars all over. Can I see?” The boy pulled at the neck and sleeves of his shirt to let me glimpse the horror of the pulsing sores. Mr. Colegrind said girls shouldn’t take an interest in such gruesome sights, but I couldn’t help my curiosity. The boy whimpered as something moved inside the cellar. “Don’t be scared. It’s probably a mouse, or maybe a rook. They get trapped down here all the time. I got something for you.”



“What?” He hugged his knees. Feeling sorry for him, I held out a small cup.