The Last Smile in Sunder City (The Fetch Phillips Archives #1) - Luke Arnold Page 0,85
started, the world fell silent.
The figure attacked, sending some flash of color in my direction, and I didn’t even dodge. Dumb luck alone let me live. A bolt of conjured lightning sailed past my right hip, leaving a burning scar across my side. A second later, something exploded behind me. The quake shook my insides and sent me hurtling forward, out of control, landing at my attacker’s feet.
I didn’t think about the strike. It was instinct. The figure was so close I could feel the warmth coming off its body. Light sparkled around my head and I knew that it was summoning some new spell with which to fry my brain. So, I sprung to my feet, pushed out my sword, and ran it under its ribs as hard as I could.
Blood was in my eyes and in my mouth and I left the sword inside the body. I stumbled back, wiping my face with dripping hands, which only made it worse.
Blind and shaking, the next thing I heard was a scream. Not the sound of an attacking soldier and not the gurgle of death coming from the lifeless figure in front of me. This cry was full of grief.
I turned and saw a woman, her palms empty and open, her face a vision of pain. She sent a stream of light right in my direction and I took the hit straight to my heart.
Magic burned from her fingers, striking somewhere deep inside my chest. It wasn’t a single bolt, but a prolonged and intensifying torture like a hot coal being pushed into my flesh. The pain held my eyes open so I had no choice but to look at her face as she howled with fury. For a moment, I could have sworn it was Amari, screaming through tears as her outstretched hand forced pure hatred into my body, cooking my chest from the inside.
Then her face ripped in half.
A torrent of arrows opened up her skin and flayed the flesh from her bones. When she fell to the floor, I joined her.
Soldiers stormed in and, finally, more Magum came to meet them. For the first time, it looked like a real fight.
I was bent over on all fours, crouched under the charging feet, hoping that the hole inside my chest would heal. The hot blood fell from my nose, chin and hands, pooling beneath me in the melting snow.
I stared at the woman’s open face and there were still tears on her shredded cheek. Behind her shoulder, I saw the hiding space she must have climbed out of. Some underground bunker made from the cracks in the stone. And there, in the darkness, was another set of eyes.
They were small but wide with fear and understanding. Too young to put into words what had happened but old enough that she would never quite forget. She looked from the body, to me, and…
I was under our house…
… The killer came right past me, panting and dripping with blood…
The next thing I remember, the child was in my arms.
I left the fighting behind and it was swallowed by the mountain as I ducked through crevices and under cliffs until I was far away from the battle. Climbing down the south side of the mountain was harder than the way I’d come, but it shortened the distance to level ground. Pine trees filled my path but kept me covered. I had no food but I gave the child water and she drank it. I kept her wrapped in my jacket as I stumbled between rocks, aiming to get to level ground and then…
Something snapped around my ankle. I spun around, holding the child into my chest, as my back and then my skull cracked against the rocky floor. I was dazed. Bleeding. But I opened my eyes enough to see the uniform of a Human soldier with red hair and a wicked smile.
Then, I don’t know what happened. Maybe he hit me or maybe I just passed out, but my vision closed like a broken kaleidoscope as he wrenched the kid from my arms.
When I woke up, I was wrapped in rope and sure that I was about to freeze to death. The soldier was gone and a group of Elves in navy-blue Opus jackets were standing around me.
“He’s Human.”
“Is this some kind of joke?”
“He must have stolen it.”
“No.” One of them bent down and lifted my face to have a better look at me. “It’s the defector. I met him