The Whitefire Crossing - By Courtney Schafer Page 0,153
dark void I’d carried in my soul since the day I’d Changed. All these years, so dead inside, and now alive again—
A booming explosion shook me free of revelry. I bared my teeth at Mikail. He inclined his head to me, and moved aside.
The rock plummeted to the ground as I shifted my attention to Ruslan. “See how you like this, you arrogant bastard,” I growled, and shoved at him, hard as I could.
***
(Kiran)
Sheets of flame crashed upon Kiran, battering his body with raw power while subtle, sneaking tendrils pried at his mind. And all the while, vicious gusts of magic whittled away his connection to the meadow confluence as inexorably as a sandstorm eroding adobe.
Ruslan was so strong. How could he attack on so many fronts at once? Every time Kiran tried to stave off the dissolution of his confluence link, his defenses threatened to collapse under Ruslan’s other onslaughts. Despair crept through Kiran, whispering of surrender. He fought all the harder, pouring all of his rage and hatred and guilt into his magic, fashioning every scrap of power he possessed into a howling black tornado hurled straight at Ruslan.
The bright blaze of Ruslan’s defensive magic shone undimmed under the assault. Kiran groaned, struggling to shore up weakened defenses. His supply of confluence energy dwindled to a mere trickle. Kiran spent his own ikilhia instead, abandoning all caution. Sweat dripped into his eyes; his heart raced and then faltered.
Ruslan’s attacks doubled in force. Kiran’s shield wavered, his inner defenses crumbling. Desperate, he reached deep within himself for more, preparing a counterattack he knew would fail.
Without warning, Ruslan flew sideways as if smacked aside by a giant, invisible hand, and slammed into a cinnabar trunk. His outer shield flickered and failed, right as Kiran’s counterstrike hit. A brilliant flash seared the air. Ruslan collapsed.
Confluence energy surged into Kiran unimpeded. The shock sent him sprawling, his shield flaring with overflow. Even as he fell, he snatched at power and cast another raw blast of magic at Ruslan.
Crimson light outlined Ruslan’s unconscious body, and Kiran’s strike sheeted harmlessly away to dissipate in scattered, guttering fires. Kiran grimaced. Ruslan’s barriers had snapped up before the strike reached him, and now his ikilhia pulsed in a sullen knot behind protective magic dense and impenetrable as stone. Any further brute force assault would be futile.
Kiran pushed warily to his feet. Ruslan’s focus had been shattered by the physical impact with the tree, allowing Kiran’s initial counterstrike to reach him before his barriers formed, but what had sent him flying in the first place?
“Hey! Don’t just stand there, blast him again!”
Dizzily, Kiran turned to see Dev running toward him. Dirt and blood streaked Dev’s skin, his clothes scorched and torn, but his face shone with a fierce, dark glee.
“Dev? But...the backlash, and the rockfall...how...?” Kiran felt caught in some odd, fantastical dream. First the abrupt halt to his fight with Ruslan, and now Dev, alive...he’d been certain Dev was dead, another soul added to the black weight on his conscience.
Dev shrugged, then winced and pressed a hand to his side. “I got beat up pretty good, but it takes more than that to fell an outrider.” He cast a sharp glance over his shoulder. Kiran followed his gaze, but saw nothing more than the silent, empty cave. Dev stabbed a finger at Ruslan’s silent form, and spoke in a low, urgent voice. “Hurry up and kill him! Unless...he’s already dead?” He sounded half-hopeful, half-skeptical.
“No. He’s unconscious. But his barriers are up, and they’re far too strong for me to breach without a channeled spell.”
“Let me have another try, then.” Dev’s brow furrowed, his breath hissing between his teeth. Above Ruslan, the massive cinnabar tree shook as if lashed by a strong wind—yet Kiran sensed no magic, just as when Ruslan had been knocked aside...a sudden, vivid image of Mero’s intent frown as pebbles rattled across the courtyard sprang into his head.
“The Taint! That was you, before—but how? Adults can’t—”
Dev thrust an arm at him. A charm band covered in intricate sigils gleamed on his wrist. “Thanks to Simon. Guess that blacksouled viper was good for something after all.” He grimaced, his hands fisting. Creaks and pops echoed from the tree. The trunk shuddered, groaned, and toppled toward Ruslan’s crumpled body.
“No!” Kiran threw out a hand. A blaze of lightning speared up from burning grass and shattered the trunk to cinders.
Dev rounded on him, eyes burning with startled anger. “What the fuck?”