he released the animal, pulling his shirt back on as the little grey furball turned and chirped at him indignantly. “Hey, I’m sorry, little guy, but this is mine,” Emane said, holding the amulet up. In the dark, red light spilled down his arm. “What the . . . ” The amulet was no longer amber.
The furball chided him with a few more squeaks and chirps before turning tail and running. Emane looked warily around the area before tying a knot in the broken cord and sliding the blood red amulet around his neck. The forest was quiet and eerie. Emane didn’t need threads or an amulet to know something was wrong.
Grabbing his sword, Emane held it out in front of him as he moved slowly back in the direction of the magical barrier, turning circles as he went.
A snap from behind sent him whirling around, sword at the ready.
A dark looming shape materialized and rushed him. Something hard connected with his wrist, sending his sword clattering to the ground. The shape slammed into his head. Emane hit the ground, spots swimming before his eyes.
He didn’t even have time to groan before something jumped on him, clawing. Emane struggled, fighting something he could not see. He felt legs—only too many to be human—wrap around his waist. Two hands grabbed his face, digging into his skin with sharp, thin nails. He twisted and pulled but the hands pried open his mouth, while a third hand poured something bitter down his throat. Emane sputtered and spat as much out as he could.
The thing on top of him hissed its displeasure before prying his mouth back open and pouring more liquid in. This time the hands forced Emane’s mouth closed, plugging his nose. Thrashing, Emane tried to free himself of the thing’s grasp, but it was no use. He had to swallow.
The liquid burned all the way down. The creature released its grip, crawling off him. Free, Emane tried to get back to his feet, but something was wrong. His legs felt heavy and weighted. Emane looked down to his feet, grunting as he tried once more to jerk them forward. Nothing. The weight spread quickly to the rest of his body, his limbs refusing to obey his commands. Against his will his eyes closed, and his body collapsed to the forest floor. Emane could not move or make a sound. The only thing on his body still working were his ears, allowing him to hear whatever had just drugged him cackle in delight. Icy, cold fingers explored the snake wrapped around his arm.
“Nice, very nice,” it chattered. “Very interesting. They will like it, they will like it very much. I will take it. Yes.” It nodded. “Yes, I will take it. Mmmmm, nice-very nice.” Having come to its conclusion it picked Emane up, throwing him like a sack of potatoes over its shoulder.
“No magic, you,” it told him, poking Emane harshly in the side with the same sharp, pointy finger. “My potion make it so you no work!” It cackled again. “No work. Don’t try.”
Emane’s captor hauled him through the forest, muttering incessantly about “No magic,” and “They would like it.”
Emane hung there helplessly. He had left the barrier without telling Kiora or Drustan where he was going. How could he have been so stupid?
* * *
“KIORA, WAKE UP!” WHERE’S Emane?”
She woke to find Drustan shaking her. “What are you talking about?” she muttered groggily, running the back of her arm across her eyes. The sun was just poking through the trees, sending harsh rays of light through the camp.
“Where’s Emane?” Drustan repeated.
She pushed up onto her elbows and looked around. Emane was nowhere in sight, his thread conspicuously absent. She jerked all the way up. “How long has he been gone?”
“I don’t know. I woke up and he wasn’t here. I can’t feel his thread—you need to try. You can feel farther than I can.”
Kiora nodded, ignoring the rising panic as she reached out for Emane’s thread. Nothing. Trying again, she pushed out as far as she could, searching for any sign of him. “I can’t feel him.” She huffed in frustration. Emane? she mentally called to him. Emane!
Rolling to her feet, she searched the camp. “His sword is gone.” Dread tightened her throat.
Drustan strode up next to her. “What was he thinking?” he spat, scanning the forest. “We have no idea what’s out there.”
They had to find him. What if he was hurt or—Kiora jolted. “A vision,” she said. “I