Ride the Storm (Cassandra Palmer 8) - Page 257

Were in blue.

And green, I realized, as a passing Alorestri flung a puddle of water on a charging fey, enveloping him in a skin he couldn’t shake, despite tearing at it with both hands. A watery skin that covered his body, his head, and finally his face. And drowned him on dry land.

A second later, a mass of men and horses thundered by our little cart on both sides, shaking the ground and almost running us down. And I looked up to see Arthur leading a charge that pushed like a spear into the middle of the Svarestri forces, tearing them in two. And cleaving a clear path behind them.

“There!” I yelled at the witch. “We have to get to the river!”

She nodded and threw me one end of the rope, and snatched up the other. We took off as fast as we could, which wasn’t that fast. But not because of the weight of the cart, which the charm made almost negligible, or the straggling horses we had to dodge, or the fighting going on everywhere.

But because the ripples the arena had been putting out had just turned into all-out waves.

Earth fey, I thought grimly, as horses whinnied and fell, as Arthur’s charge broke, as the nearest section of the burning town shuddered and shook and collapsed into a sea of rubble. And as we plowed determinedly ahead, despite the sledge being so low that it hit the back of our legs with every stride. Until a piece of earth like a tidal wave came speeding toward us and tilted it over, throwing us to the ground and scattering the wounded everywhere.

That wave was followed by another and then still more, the smaller ones from behind suddenly nothing compared to the ones from in front. And a glance showed that it wasn’t targeting us. It was happening everywhere, in a huge circle around the battlefield. The Svarestri were encircling us, not with more soldiers but with their element, refusing to allow us to escape.

Because they didn’t know who was behind this, so they planned to just kill everyone they could find.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” the little witch said as I turned back around. And noticed that the broom was no longer attached to the sledge.

Because she and the witches who could still move were climbing on board.

“No!” I said, trying to reach her past the rolling waves of earth. “No, take us, too! Take us with you!”

“Too heavy. I’m sorry!”

“No, please—”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” And then they were gone, flying up into the air as I clutched Pritkin and watched our last lifeline spiral away—

And be hit by two Svarestri spears, one from either side, and be blown out of the sky.

Suddenly, everything got louder, or maybe it was just my heartbeat speeding up, pumping blood to my ears as I watched the burning bodies rain down. Or watched part of it, because I couldn’t even make out where they’d landed. The battle raging above was easy enough to see, but lower down smoke and steam and spell-fire were everywhere, confusing my eyes; screams and crashes were doing the same to my ears; and waves of earth were destroying my sense of direction, throwing me off my feet and freaking me out every time I tried to stand.

So I crawled instead, using the rope to grab the last piece of charmed wood, which was now floating fairly high with nothing on it. Until I pulled it down and strapped Pritkin to it and started dragging him along with me. Because the witch was dead, so this spell was going to unravel pretty damn fast and I couldn’t renew it.

I couldn’t do much, including crawl effectively, although that was partly because of the dirt constantly hitting me in the face. I finally gave up and climbed on board with Pritkin, draping myself protectively over him. And pushing us along with my feet, ridiculous though that was, because it was all I could do.

And to my surprise, it worked.

Like really worked, like body-surfing on dry land, which was so insane I decided not to think about it, and just go with it. And suddenly, we were moving, coasting across the ground under the protective haze, pushing off from each crest and zooming down and then up the next, like a crazy toboggan. We’re getting away, I thought, an insane grin spreading across my cheeks. We’re getting away!

And then a barrage of fey energy spears flew past, barely missing us. And took out a group of witches running just ahead. Who were hit so hard and so fast that they were dead before they plowed into the ground.

I stared at them, my mouth dry, my heartbeat hard enough to actually hurt. And that was before one of the dead decided to abruptly roll over and sit up, a large chunk of her torso gone, her hair on fire. And her slack features becoming animated once more as a spirit in search of a body suddenly acquired one.

And this time, it didn’t fight back.

You have got to be kidding me, I thought, as the dead eyes met mine.

And then Jo was coming.

But this wasn’t my first time at the rodeo. Which was why one of the corpses behind her caught her ankle, tripping her up just before she could reach me, leaving her splayed on the ground. And slamming her filthy, shoeless heel into my borrowed face as I hung on, trying to keep her away from the two bodies now slumped over the gently revolving sledge.

Jo turned around, snarling, and I snarled back out of a half-missing mouth. A fey who had been bearing down on us both turned a whiter shade of pale and backed away, only to get taken out by a witch’s curse. But not before dropping his spear, which didn’t go out. It lay there, eating its shape into the dirt, while Jo and I stared at it.

I didn’t know what she was thinking, but I had always assumed that those things were a spell given form, since the fey just materialized them when needed. And maybe they were, but they must have run on different rules from human magic. Because this one spluttered and hissed but continued to burn, despite the very obvious death of its caster.

And then we both went for it.

Tags: Karen Chance Cassandra Palmer Fantasy
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