The flames from the burning shack had been smothered by the torrential rain, and a heavy mist clouded above the quickly cooling remains. Fallor wouldn’t give up. And he wouldn’t make it easy.
As the thought crossed her mind, a pulse of magic rippled out across the ground, tangling her ankles. Vi felt herself falling, clasping her hand as tightly as possible to Taavin’s so as not to break the magicks that were hiding them. But it was Taavin who let go.
The power that had been concealing them shattered under the second pulse of magic that swept over the grassy cliff. Fragments of light swirled in the ripple before blinking unnaturally from existence. It was as if Taavin’s power had never been there at all.
“Loft Dorh Dupot,” Taavin snarled. Vi had never heard such a vicious tone from the man’s mouth before and was taken aback by it.
Taavin held out one arm, fist clenched around the center of a spinning circle, as though he was holding an invisible tether. She followed his focused gaze to Fallor. Vi remembered when Taavin had used the same immobilization rune on her.
He’d said it was no easy feat, even if he made it look otherwise.
Which meant Vi had to act fast.
“Mysst Soto Larrk!” She sprang into motion, feeling light condense under her palm into the hilt of a sword. She didn’t want to riskjuthinterfering with Taavin’s magic. She’d take the fight to Fallor.
Vi was nearly to him when Fallor broke free of Taavin’s magic with a roar. She shifted her grip on the sword, swinging it with all her might. Fallor dodged, the point of the blade missing his neck by a hair’s breadth. She let out a scream of frustration.
“A sword?” Fallor caught her wrist. His fingers looped entirely around and then some, compressing her bones. “Did you learn how to use this from yourfriend?”
Jayme.
Vi’s hand released the hilt under Fallor’s crushing grip. The magic blade fell to the ground, unraveling into formless strands of light that faded quickly into the night.
“What was the poor wench’s name who lived under your boot again?” he sneered.
The narrowing of her eyes was his only warning before magic exploded from her, unfettered. It was light and fire. Both and neither. It was every inch of agony she felt and had not even had a breath to properly address since waking.
Fallor jumped back from the flames. In the same movement, he unsheathed a dagger, nearly the length of a short sword, from his thigh. He reared back, driving it right toward her chest.
“Mysst Soto Xieh!” Vi proclaimed, staring up at Fallor, unflinching, as his weapon drove harmlessly into a spinning circle of slight. “Don’t you dare mention that traitor’s name in my presence.”
Fallor stepped back, spun, and launched another attack.
“Loft Dorh Hoolo,” Vi seethed. She poured every ounce of hate for the man—and Jayme’s betrayal—into the words. Fallor was stopped instantly, frozen in time.
Even under the influence of her own word of power from the goddess, Fallor was barely tethered. Rain poured over her shoulders. Mud dripped into her eyes. But Vi ignored the burning sensation, staring at Fallor as she waited for Taavin’s words.
Waiting for him to finish the job.
A crack of lightning arced overhead, dancing through the clouds, splitting toward the earth. Her attention wavered as red illuminated the entire bluff.
Red lighting.
Vi found herself flooded by a profound sense of foreboding. The watch at her neck felt hot and whispers tickled the edge of her hearing. She’d seen the phenomenon in the distance on theDawn Skipper. Up close, the lightning was profoundly unnerving. In its wake, Vi felt surrounded by an enemy she couldn’t see but could sense lurking, ready to attack.
Unfortunately, it distracted her from the enemy right before her.
“Mysst Soto Xieh!” Taavin spoke so hastily the words were barely distinguishable. A shield of light was before her once more, this time shattering under Fallor’s blade.
Vi jumped and slid back, putting distance between her and the pirate. “Mysst Soto Larrk.”
In her right hand, a bow appeared; in her left, an arrow. Vi brought them together, hands moving with expertise born from years of training. She drew back the bowstring, feeling the aches in her shoulders that accompanied it. Vi ignored every protest her body made—every reminder that she wasn’t operating at full health.
She loosed the arrow point blank; it moved only inches to sink into Fallor’s shoulder. The arrow exploded into light as Vi reached back to where a quiver would be. Her fingers condensed around something solid—a new arrow where there had previously been none.
Nocking the second, Vi loosed it just as quickly. Fallor stumbled back, raising his hand up to his shoulder, covering the wounds she inflicted. Rain, tinted red by another burst of lightning, merged with the dark blood pouring from the wounds. Vi expected to find anger, rage, or frustration in Fallor’s gaze when he trained it upon her.
She hadn’t expected the laughter.
