The Spell Realm (The Sorcery Code #2)(45)
Gala watched as the older woman disappeared down the street, then looked up at Blaise. “Have you ever seen one of these storms?” she asked, wondering about the phenomenon. “Is it truly that much worse than regular lightning and thunder?”
“I’ve never seen one,” Blaise told her, reaching out to take her hand as they walked toward Liva’s place. “I’ve heard stories, though, and read about them. There is a good reason why the mountains are not considered a habitable location.”
At that moment, a blinding flash of light illuminated the purple-streaked sky, and the thunderous boom that followed was so loud that Gala literally felt the ground shake beneath her feet. “It sounds like it’s getting closer,” she commented worriedly, looking up. The villagers’ fear was starting to rub off on her, even though she still didn’t understand how some rain, wind, and lightning could be that dangerous.
“It does, doesn’t it?” Blaise stopped at the entrance to Liva’s house and looked up at the sky himself. “You know, I never thought I would get an opportunity to see one of these in action. It should be fascinating—particularly if we make sure that no one gets hurt.”
Gala nodded, hurrying inside the house as a light rain began. Blaise followed, already taking out his magic supplies. She watched as he spread out his cards on the table and began to write what looked like a series of complex spells.
“Can I help?” she asked. “Maybe I can do something too.”
Blaise hesitated for a second. “Do you understand all the spells I’m writing?”
“Of course,” Gala said, surprised that he would even ask. “In fact, I think I can do it even more efficiently—if I wrote those spells, that is. I’ll do it my way, though. I could use more practice.”
He gave her a rueful smile. “Sometimes I forget how advanced you’ve become in such a short time. In that case, why don’t you take the neighbors’ house and strengthen its defenses as much as you can? I will put a protective bubble around both houses.”
“Why don’t you put a protective bubble around the entire village?”
“Because that’s a much more complex task, and the bigger the bubble, the less stable it is. It’s easiest to shield something small, like a person.”
Gala nodded and hurried outside. Another flash of lightning nearly blinded her, and she could feel the wind picking up as the rain intensified, the cold water lashing at her face.
The storm was on its way.
Chapter 28: Barson
The seriousness of his situation was beginning to dawn on Barson as he continued fighting Larn and the two other soldiers. He was already tired from practice, and Larn was one of his best; they had trained together since childhood. To make matters worse, Zanil and Pugan, though not the best archers, were both excellent with the sword.
Larn made a triple feint, and Barson barely managed to block what would have been a lethal blow. As they circled around the room, their feet kicking up the sand from the bags Barson had decimated earlier, Barson’s mind was racing. Why was Larn doing this? Was this a power play? It was hard for Barson to believe that, though he knew military history was rife with instances of second-in-command trying for the top. Larn was practically family, about to marry Barson’s sister; surely it wouldn’t make sense for him to do this.
As the fight continued, Barson did his best to defend himself without killing his soon-to-be brother-in-law. Although it made the fight more challenging, he could not bring himself to do that. It helped that the three men seemed to be fighting without coordinating their movements. It was odd, but he was grateful for it. He was also confused. They all knew how to fight as a team, and the fact that they were not using such a powerful advantage was strange. Was this some sign of what was really going on? If so, Barson was still not sure what that was.
Zanil came at him next, leaving Pugan and Larn behind.
Barson made a split-second decision. Pretending to go for Zanil’s left shoulder, he switched tactics as the man blocked, and thrust his sword deep into his opponent’s thigh. Blood gushed from the wound, but to Barson’s dismay, Zanil didn’t stop. Instead, he continued to attack Barson, each step causing more and more blood to spill from the leg wound. It was as if Zanil had lost all reason, all sense of self-preservation.
An ugly suspicion stirred in Barson’s mind. Sorcery. His men were somehow being controlled.
Cursing, Barson took advantage of Zanil’s clumsy movements and punched him in the face, knocking him out. At that moment, Pugan and Larn reached him again. Though they still didn’t act in a coordinated fashion, they attacked together, forcing Barson to retreat as he parried their furious onslaught.
Everything seemed to happen in a blur of motion. Pugan sliced at Barson’s forearm, inflicting another wound. The pain was sharp and sobering. Spotting an opening in Pugan’s defense, Barson swung his sword at the soldier’s exposed throat, dodging Larn’s attack at the same time. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the young soldier falling to the ground, his blood seeping into the spilled sand.
There was no time for guilt or regret, as Barson felt himself weakening from his own loss of blood. If he didn’t bring this fight to a swift conclusion, he would die.
Whatever was done to Larn seemed to have actually made him a better fighter in some ways. Larn’s usual problem was letting his emotions get the best of him, but right now he appeared to be fighting with deadly precision—methodically, without passion. A thrust followed by a block, followed by a counter attack, over and over again.