Crown of Cinders (Imdalind #7)(98)

Perfect.

He would do nicely.

I looked right at him as my magic, the deep magic that was already wound into him, connected with his. It connected with the Drak magic that each of the Chosen had. The Dark magic that I could so easily control.

His eyes widened as he felt it, as he felt his arms go numb and his body disconnect from his mind, his body connect to me.

“Here they are,” I said to the frightened chosen as he began to move forward step by step, unable to stop himself. Of course, I could tell by the look in his eyes that he was trying to fight it.

He couldn’t fight it.

He continued forward until he stood beside me, looking at Bronislav and George. The panic of the two Trpaslíks over what they were witnessing was clear.

“Kill them,” I said to the man beside me.

“No,” the poor man gasped, his hand beginning to rise, his magic rolling through him, his fingers sparking.

I laughed as the man began to plead for surrender, began to cry for mercy. His desperation turned into panic as Bronislav and Georg stood, convinced it was a joke.

“Kill them now!”

The Chosen man’s magic erupted at my command, ripping from his hand without consent as he yelled for a relief that never came.

The attack spanned away from the man, hitting Bronislav in the chest. Another attack followed the first, smacking against Georg’s back after he finally had the good sense to turn tail and run just like the coward he was.

Laughing, I stepped toward the two traitors, the two men who were now spread out over the dirt, blood seeping from their wounds. The blood flowered over the dirt under them as Bronislav pushed himself up, ready to attack, ready to face me. He was barely able to hold his own weight before he collapsed again, one last breath erupting from the stupid man in a puff of dirt.

It was a beautiful sight. It beat against my heart and supercharged my magic as I pushed it outward, continuing to take control of each of the Chosen in the stands. I wrapped my magic around theirs without their knowledge.

After what they had seen, I was positive they knew. How could they not? A few had even tried to escape, but too late. They were already under my control. Their cries of fear were lost in the growing yells now filling the stadium.

“You are fools,” I hissed. “No one can defeat me. No one.”

It was then that the stadium erupted. A million eruptions exploded around me. Everything filled with smoke and color as attacks flew toward me, hitting against my barrier with a resounding thud before I sent them back toward their owners like I had the knife.

Some dodged, many countered, and a few watched in horror as their supposed death knells smacked against them, sending them into whatever fate death had for them. All the while, the Chosen stood, trapped underneath my magic, trapped underneath my control. Terror was painted clear on their faces, their eyes watching me in fear of the hell I had dragged them into.

A hell I was ready to deliver.

“Attack them!” I yelled, and the Chosen turned toward the Trpaslíks, cries and pleas for mercy and death ringing clearly. “Kill them all!”

The stadium erupted in color, fire, and smoke as the Chosen attacked the Trpaslíks. The battle ripped them apart in an eruption of color and smoke. My magic controlled the power of the Chosen as they fought, leaving them as they died.

A Trpaslík jumped from the top of the stadium with a scream that cut through the air, sending my heart into a panic as he landed right before me, a giant uncoiling with a grimace wicked enough to match mine. His grew taller at the thought of his supposed success, only to fade as the attack hit him in the back. The Chosen I controlled had attempted to warn him of his actions before his hand was forced.

The large bear of a man fell to the ground, dust wafting into the air around him and trapping us in a fog of dirt and smoke. It cleared in a rush of icy wind, revealing the Chosen before me.

A young boy had tears running down his cheeks, his hand still outstretched from the attack he did not want to deliver, his eyes wide as he stared at the bulk of a man he had not wanted to kill.

“Tsk, tsk,” I said, wagging my finger before me like a primary school teacher. “Trying to warn him. What a fool you must think me.” The boy flinched as I stepped over the corpse, dodging another well-placed attack in the process. His eyes widened further. “I suppose you will have to guard me, then. You will have to protect me.”

“No,” he gasped, more tears streaming down his cheeks as I prodded him forward. My magic guided him step by step as I brought him up to stand by my side.

“Oh, yes,” I sneered, throwing my arm around him, feeling the boy shake beneath me. “You’ll love this because I don’t even need a shield anymore, not if I have you.”

The battle that surrounded us became a graveyard as I twisted him before me. The powerful shield dropped from me as I held the boy in place while his hand fluttered underneath my palm like a misfiring engine.

He shrieked in fear as another attack streamed toward me, the child directly in the line of fire. The magic hit him right in the chest.

“Whoops,” I said, trying to hide the laugh from my voice unsuccessfully. “I suppose I forgot to let you fight back. We’ll do better next time, won’t we?”

The boy’s sobs rang clearly as I forced him back up, moving him into place as I pulled several other Chosen along with him. Five little puppets were all pulled into a circle around me.