with glowing sapphire runes on their hilts. And his extra wand with Noi runes worked into its ebony wood is sheathed against his side.
“The Vu Trin took out the entire estate,” Lukas harshly recounts to Thierren, his jaw set as he pulls on a plain woolen tunic.
I turn away from them, yank off my Sealing tunic, hastily throw on the new one, and wipe off my makeup with the discarded tunic as another explosion sounds in the direction of the city.
“Vogel survived,” Lukas says to Thierren, giving him a quick, portentous look as I tug on the long riding skirt under my Sealing skirt. “He knows what Elloren is. And he suspects she’s alive. He sent out a search spell.”
Thierren stills, as if he’s been physically hit with this information. “During the day?” he asks, low and weighted as I tug off the Sealing skirt.
Lukas nods, his returning look one of such grave import that it spikes my urgency as I quickly remove my glittering ruby earrings, necklace, and hair decorations and shove them into my pocket.
“We need to get Elloren out of the Western Realm.” Lukas draws the rune-marked wand from its sheath strapped just under his tunic’s side. “And fast.” He turns to me, his eyes blazing with purpose. “Pull up your sleeve, Elloren,” he says, his tone brooking no argument. “I’m going to create another shield just under your skin, to make it difficult for the Vu Trin to track you, as well.”
Wordlessly I draw back my sleeve and hold out my forearm to him.
Lukas presses the rune wand’s tip to my skin and murmurs a spell in the back of his throat.
A stream of thready blue lightning flows from his wand’s tip and forks around my wrist and up my arm, tickling my skin as the thin, forking veins crackle over me. Then Lukas goes to one knee and lowers his wand to the forest floor, angling his head down as he murmurs another spell.
Another flash of blue lines courses from his wand’s tip. They fan out over the forest floor in a glowing net that courses in the direction we came from, the lines vanishing almost as quickly as they were sent out.
“What was that?” I ask Lukas.
“Noi anti-tracking sorcery.” He rises and surveys the forest floor. “One of the runes on the wand is precharged with it.”
His knowledge of mixed magery is like a door to the unknown thrown open. “You need to teach me how to do all of that,” I say, insistent.
Lukas flashes me a look of approval. “I will,” he promises as he pulls up the side of his tunic, flashing his glimmering-green skin in the dark gloom as he resheathes the wand.
Thierren stuffs our discarded clothing into one of the horses’ packs then hands both Lukas and me dark cloaks that match his own. We throw them on, then mount the horses, pull on our cloaks’ hoods, and take off through the woods down a rough, winding path as explosions and the roar of dragons reverberate in the distance.
Eventually we come to what looks like a long-abandoned Keltish guard tower, the top of the structure charred to oblivion, lichen growing over its crumbling stone walls. The explosions booming from the direction of the city are now faint disturbances that mingle with the muted roll of thunder from the storm that’s been gathering for more than a day. A storm that, I imagine, will be quite violent when it finally breaks.
We ride around the structure’s stone corner, and my heart leaps.
Aislinn.
An almost debilitating surge of relief sweeps through me.
She’s standing beside Sparrow and Effrey alongside two more horses tethered to a rusted hitching post. The large black Frezian steeds are loaded with saddlebags, and brand-new silver wire spectacles frame Effrey’s fear-stricken purple eyes. Just above them all, Raz’zor perches on an overhanging tree limb like some bone-white, reptilian bird, his ruby eyes set fervidly on me.
Aislinn is dressed as I am, in simple, homespun garb, a cloak fastened over her shoulders, her hood casting her face in shadows. Dark circles anchor her eyes as she stares at me with a jagged intensity that speaks of prolonged, horrific struggle.
“Aislinn,” I rasp, my voice breaking as we all dismount and I go to her, the two of us falling into a tight, emotional embrace. “Lukas got you out,” I say as we hug each other close. “Thank the Ancient One.”
Aislinn pulls away, clutching my arms as she glances at Lukas and Thierren, who