Under a Winter Sky - Jeffe Kennedy Page 0,129

family group—but nothing. Could Glister have blocked her summoning in some way? Though Mooriah was the better mage, Glister was no slouch—it was certainly possible.

Everything she tried fizzled, but it was not until the crowd grew hushed that she truly became afraid. It was as if the entire audience took a collective gasp. One of the warriors had fallen, Rumble or Ember?

She cried out again, screaming in rage and pain, when light flared overhead. She looked up to find Murmur’s face peering down at her. “Thank the Mother!” she cried. “Can you get me out of here?”

The elder waved a hand and murmured an incantation too softly for her to hear. The smooth stone of the walls changed and morphed into stairs which she used to climb out. She had no idea such a spell was possible and cursed her ignorance.

“Mooriah, I’ve been searching for you. I’ve had a vision—”

“I must check on Ember,” she said racing past him back to the arena. She sped down the aisle to the brawling circle then stopped short.

Ember lay on his back in the center, a knife protruding from his belly. The wound was putrid, the blood foamed and was tinged with a bluish tint. She approached and dropped to her knees, horror making her movements jerky. The crowd was quiet.

This was poison. Even had Ember’s wards been at normal strength, he would not have been protected from such.

Across the circle, Rumble stood with Glister. The match official had not yet awarded Rumble the winner’s ribbons, but the warrior’s expression was smug. Glister appeared flustered, her gaze returning again and again to Ember’s motionless body and his bubbling wound.

Crimson stood at the edge of the circle, his gaze stormy. Mooriah had no idea what the chieftain was thinking or feeling as he watched his son succumb to what was obviously poison, but at the moment it didn’t matter. She sank into the embrace of her Song and reached for Ember with her power.

He was nearly gone but not quite. Wanting to cry with joy, she drew away the Nethersong filling him, pulling him back from death’s door. Vaguely she heard the rising voices of an argument between the match official and Rumble, and Crimson’s voice intervening, but her only focus was on keeping Ember from dying.

He was no longer on the cusp, but neither was he healing. She fumbled for the blade at her waist and sliced both her palm and Ember’s, mingling their blood and working a forbidden spell. The damage to his organs from the blade she could patch, but she didn’t know what kind of poison Rumble had used, and it was wreaking havoc on him.

She removed the Nethersong from the substance, making it inert, but it had already worked so quickly, affecting Ember’s blood. Rumble had planned well, choosing something to kill his brother that a shaman would find nearly impossible to fix. Their magic required the patient’s blood, and Ember’s was tainted.

She looked around wildly and found Murmur only a few steps away. She pleaded with her gaze, but he shook his head.

“I’m sorry, child. This is not something I can undo. His blood is toxic, the blood cannot save him.”

“Can we purify it?” Her mind raced for a spell that would do such, but Murmur’s expression was her answer.

Her breathing became stuttered and a ringing jangled inside her head. Connected to her Song, she pulled away the Nether as it formed around Ember, but his chest had ceased to rise and fall.

Rumble’s laugh drew her attention to him. Apparently tired of the arguing, he wrenched the ribbons away from the official’s hand. “Enough! What does it matter what the rules say? I am alive; he is dead. I am the chieftain’s heir.”

He lifted a hand in the air, seeking a cheer from the crowd. A low murmur rose, but not the exuberance he seemed to want. Next to him, Glister shook with fear. Had she somehow found the blood poison and shared it with him? She seemed to be afraid of him now, but Mooriah wouldn’t put it past the woman to get in deeper than she’d expected with such a character.

“Did you hear me? I am the chieftain’s heir!” Both of his arms shot into the air, and the audience caught hold of his mood. More enthusiastic cheers rose all around, though the people still seemed confused.

Mooriah stood and faced him. “You will never be chief.”

She unleashed her Song from its tether and struck Rumble down

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