On her hands and knees between the thanes and the sorceresses, Brynn pulled directly on the others’ spells. These were killing spells, burgeoning with power, but simple.
Magic was justkaexpressing the will of a mortal. Brynn might not match their combined strength, but she had honed her focus for years. She imposed her will on their spells, dragging the power toward herself.
Pain exploded across her skin as unseen blades sliced her and fire turned the water soaking her clothes to steam.
Blood splattered as their spells sliced through her shift, but the spells barely made it skin deep before she absorbed them, drinking them into her body. Thekahealed her instants later, some of it mending the damage it had done and some of it flowing through her, ready to be put to another use.
The pain sliced and cut and burned, but she planted her hands in the silt beneath her and focused. Magic was nothing without focus. Runes, patterns, and weaves were all useful for magic, but only because they helped focus.
White-hot agony covered her whole body and Brynn screamed with the effort of taking in so much so fast. She had thought her mother, and the others might hesitate to attack her, but it seemed they were more concerned with saving themselves.
They showed no mercy. Brynn’s vision went gold, nearly white from all the pain and power assailing her from what felt like every angle.
On her hands and knees, Brynn gritted her teeth, building a shield. Screaming, she bent their power back, refusing to let the spells reach past her—refusing to let them touch Cenric.
“Brynn!” Cenric cried her name, but a scrambling sound told her someone held him back.
Good. She wasn’t sure how long she could hold this shield. Panting, she held the barrier between her mother, the seafarer, and Cenric and the line of thanes at her back.
Brynn was still soaking wet, her hair a mad tangle, covered in dirt, silt, and bleeding from countless cuts from head to foot, facing down at least eight other sorcerers and sorceresses.
Eight other spell weavers she had just overpowered. Six of them were men and likely not as well-taught, but still.
“Brynn,” her mother gasped. “How?” Selene watched her with a strange expression that was half fear, half anger.
The seafaring sorceress and her men edged back, but where could they go? Their ship had been destroyed and they were stranded.
“When Aelfwynn died, I was helpless,” Brynn croaked, voice shaky from the cold. “I will not be helpless again.”
Years of practice, of pushing herself, and using her magic every single day had made her stronger. Brynn’s discipline had matured. She might not be able to overpower Selene and the others outright, but if they wanted to keep throwing spells at her, she had the control to impose her will on their magic. Their killing spells were child’s play compared to the nuance andcomplexity of the healing spells she had worked almost daily for years.
“I wanted to be left alone.” Brynn’s voice came out as a rasp, a whine. “I only wanted to be left alone.”
Selene shook her head slightly. “Brynn…it doesn’t have to come to this.”
“You brought it to this.” Brynn’s words ended in a whimper.
“Brynn.” Selene shifted. Was she going to run? “Brynn, don’t. We can talk about this.” She spread her hands, releasingka.
Brynn looked to the seafaring sorceress and her men. They didn’t attack, but they still held onto magic. The seafarer looked to Brynn’s mother, a question on her face, but Selene was looking to Brynn.
A hesitant smile shaped Selene’s lips, probably meant to be cajoling. “Trust me, child.”
Those words. The exact words her mother had spoken to Aelfwynn before sending her sister to an unmarked grave.
Brynn sent a lash of power straight for her mother. The spell struck Selene in her exposed neck, slicing through skin, cartilage, and bone.
Selene’s eyes locked with Brynn’s—shock, horror, and abject disbelief—before she crumpled to the ground.
One of Selene’s surviving thanes hurled a javelin. Brynn ducked and the missile struck one of the shields at her back.
That attack had been meant to strike her chest.
Brynn gathered power for a counterattack, but a hatchet struck the enemy thane in his temple, caving in his skull. The man toppled, and one of his fellows made to run.
In an instant, the remaining men tried to flee, but they were tangled in the rushes. The line of thanes at Brynn’s back rushed past her to fall on them, hacking, stabbing, and spearing at the men with ruthless ferocity.
Brynn watched the bloody work with a distant kind of horror. They were her enemies. This was the way of war, the way of the world.
