darkened blade_ A fallen blade novel - Kelly McCullough Page 0,13
heavy with magic and enchanted weapons, this ragged edge of the army of the dead was faring badly. I pressed myself into the shadow of a broken door and took a momentary rest while the dead focused on the Sylvani and their human allies.
The Sylvani all stood at least a head taller than their human auxiliaries, with one or two taller yet—close to the seven feet and change of my friend Ash. The Sylvani had donned full armor and close-faced helms against the threat of the risen, all in varying hues and shades of crystal. As I watched, one of the risen struck their leader in the center of her breast plate with the terrible strength of the dead. The point of impact flared and sparked, sending light crazing away from the spot like cracks running through a dropped mug, refracting the force of the blow by a sort of elemental light magic.
The Sylvani struck back, whipping a slender dueling blade up and around with inhuman speed to stab the risen in the eye. A bright spark of light flashed down the length of the crystalline blade from the hand that wielded it toward the point of the sword. It vanished for a moment when it passed the point where sword met rotting flesh, but the risen’s head started to glow from within a moment later, like a bright lamp glimpsed through paper walls. The glow spread down and out, filling the risen with light. Then, there was a bright flare—viciously so to my borrowed darksight—and the risen collapsed in on itself.
The sudden brightness had come as a painful surprise, leaving me blind for several long beats of my heart. I hadn’t realized that the Sylvani could perform magic atop the warding wall as well as within its boundaries. The gods had created the thing to bind the power of the older race among other things—preventing them from using their magic in the lands beyond its bounds.
As the battle intensified, I saw my chance. Sheathing my swords, I climbed up the nearest building to the rooftop, and slipped past the barricade along the chimney road. I finally released my hold over Triss once we were well and truly beyond the fighting, though I kept moving. He rose at once from the dreams where he’d retreated to allow me finer control over both shroud and magic.
Faran? he sent anxiously as soon as he was fully himself again.
I don’t know. I shrugged, and then winced as the motion sent threads of rainwater crawling down my back—I was going to regret not having had time to grab my poncho, or any of my gear beyond the bare minimum—I always kept my sword rig on. I didn’t see her join the battle before the risen stormed the upper stairs, and I’ve no idea what happened above.
I hope she’s all right. . . . Triss rather dotes on Faran, but then, so do I.
Me, too. And then, because I could feel a weight of worry behind his thoughts, She’s tough and smart and her new swords should serve her well against the dead.
I know, but— He stopped speaking when another shroud brushed across us—a familiar and welcome presence.
“Siri!” I said.
We were far enough away from the fighting now that I halted, signaling Triss to drop his shrouding effect so that we could see and be seen. The shroud collapsed into a dragon-shaped shadow at my feet as Triss shifted forms to show his public face. Kyrissa did the same, becoming a smoke-feathered serpent who hung in the air behind Siri as we faced each other.
“Aral.” She nodded hello and I nodded back.
“Do you know where Faran is?” asked Triss.
“No, we were separated when the risen swarmed the sitting room. She went up and I went out a window.”
“Dammit!” I growled.
Siri put her hand on my shoulder. “I’m sure she’s fine. She’s very good with her swords, and an excellent mage.”
I nodded. “And smart and tough, and all of that. I know, but . . .”
“Dead sexy, too,” said a familiar voice.
I spun around in time to see Faran drag herself up over the fallow-side edge of the roof. Her tone was light, but her right sleeve was drenched in blood and she had no shadow because Ssithra had wrapped herself tightly around Faran’s arm above the biceps reinforcing a rough bandage. Faran staggered as she got closer and I leaped to catch her. She was soggy and cold, though the rain was warm.