Jade Fire Gold(61)

He smirks like the prospect of me manhandling him is enticing.

“Naked,” I threaten.

“Mmm.”

“In the middle of winter.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“Oh, believe me—”

I don’t get to finish my sentence. Altan shoves me to the ground. I fall hard. He hisses as an arrow cuts through the fabric of his left sleeve. Another arrow whizzes down and he yells at me.

“Find cover!” He lets go of the reins and our horses bolt off.

I dash to a tall rock formation and crouch, eyes veering wildly for the source of the attacks. A man in black stands at the top of a cliff with an arrow notched in his bow, scouting for a target. Before I can warn Altan, four more men spring from an outcrop yelling as they descend upon him with their weapons raised.

Altan’s sabers are out, bow tossed onto the ground.

The air comes alive with grunts, blades grating together as they meet. Blood drips from Altan’s arm, but he has no trouble parrying the onslaught of blows from the men. Who are they? Priests? But I only see magic coming from Altan. They must be bandits.

He sends a gust of wind at the archer on the cliff. The man slips but manages to hang on to the edge of the cliff.

I want to help Altan, but my mind is too frazzled to focus on my magic. Another arrow swishes over my head and drops in front of me. Its tip is blackened with a substance that gives off an acrid smell. I move to take a closer look, but an arm grabs my waist from behind, forcing air out of my lungs. A meaty hand claps firmly over my mouth. My neck strains as I’m yanked back.

“Guess your friend’s too busy to save you,” growls a voice in my ear.

I buck and kick out, but my attacker only tightens his grip. Altan turns in our direction when he hears my muffled screams. He starts to sprint over, waving his hand. Boulders soar through the air, ramming into the bandits chasing him. Two escape unscathed and continue their charge, but Altan doesn’t seem to notice.

Turn around, I think desperately. Watch your back. The fool is going to get himself killed if I do nothing. I draw a deep breath, ignoring the pain in my chest. Slivers of energy start to hum in my veins.

Metal flashes across the sky. A spray of red and a bandit drops dead. The spinning silver curves back out toward an outcrop, seemingly vanishing into thin air. Who threw the dagger? It wasn’t Altan. But at least it gets his attention. He pivots, working his double sabers in a slicing motion. Another bandit falls.

My attacker curses and drags me back.

Use it. Use it, whispers the slithery voice.

I stop struggling and focus, reaching deep, searching for an elusive thread of magic. The cicada hum from the alleyway starts in my ears. I breathe in. The burst of clarity returns. As does the feeling of wholeness.

The world around me transforms. The cloudless sky is a luminous azure. The canyon walls flare a stratum of russet, white, and ocher against the brilliant flaxen hue of the sun. The melodic trickling of the stream dances behind me as the gentle breeze whispers in my ear. My breath catches when Altan strides into my field of vision in a blaze of light, hair igniting gold like a celestial halo over his magnificent face.

He is dazzling, brighter than sunshine.

Someone wheezes on my left. My attacker—I didn’t realize he’d let go of me. His eyes roll back, bulging face turning red and purple. An ominous green light leaks out of him like an aura. He gives a final, desperate gurgle and crumples to the ground.

Something else happens.

That soft white light around Altan shimmers to a pale green when he nears me. He gasps and doubles over.

You’re killing him! my mind shrieks. I can’t stop. I don’t know how to stop.

Altan struggles to stand, finding strength from gods know where. Our eyes meet, and I see his fear.

Something pushes back at me. The light around him turns white again. I start to shake. Pain impales my chest, and I crash onto my knees in agony. My magic vanishes.

Rocks slide from the cliffside. The archer is hauling himself back up to safety. Altan grabs his bow from the ground, shakily notching an arrow.

“Don’t look,” he says.

I look.

Dangling precariously on the cliff edge with his back to us, the man is oblivious to what is coming. His hands slip from the force of Altan’s arrow and he falls, shrieking. I yelp as his body strikes the jagged rocks below, bouncing like a rag doll. He hits the ground with a solid thud, limbs flung out unnaturally. Bloody trails line the rocks above and the ground around him.

Altan lowers his arms and frowns at me. “Told you not to look.”

Then, he takes a swaying step and drops to the ground.





23


Ahn


The sky dims. The world blurs around the edges. I command myself to breathe, but all I can do is wheeze. Footsteps disturb the pebbles on the ground. Someone’s near.

Altan? Is he all right? Is he alive? Or is it another bandit? I groan, the pain in my chest flaring. Through half-opened eyes, I see someone standing over me. A scream curdles in my throat.

A demon.

Its face is red, with bold black stripes around its eyes and swirls of white and blue across its forehead and cheeks. I blink. It isn’t a demon. A mask. It’s someone wearing a theatrical mask. I grope the air in front of me. A hand pushes my outstretched arm firmly away.

“Shhh.” The voice is soft, gentle.