We do as we’re told, shifting farther away from the men. He sets his hands above Algar’s chest, and instead of his eyes sparking their usual gold, they darken. The bright gold transitions to black, and inky veins crawl along the whites of his eyes.
The amber in his palms melts away to be replaced with tendrils of black. This isn’t like the shadows he gives off when fighting or defending. This is a thick, inky smoke—one that could suffocate a person if he wanted it to.
Thane’s lips are moving, but he’s speaking too low for me to understand. It has to be a sorcerer’s chant of some kind. The more his lips move, more smoke appears, curling around his hands and snaking up his forearms. As he repeats the incantation, droplets are being drawn out of Algar’s chest.
They accumulate into one yellowish ball no bigger than a cherry. Thane finally stops chanting and shifts the venom a great distance away from us. It splashes abruptly on the ground. Thane finally drops his hands with a weary grunt. The shadows disappear, almost as if his body has absorbed them.
“Thane?” I call softly.
He flicks his gaze my way with a ticking jaw, and my breath hitches. His eyes are still black, and there is something cold about his stare. Something truly menacing.
It terrifies me.
Rynthea leans forward and glares at Thane, blocking me with an arm across my chest, her other hand on the dagger at her waist.
“Snap out of it,sorcerer,” Rynthea warns.
Thane closes his eyes, breathing in through his nostrils. When he exhales and opens his eyes again, they’re back to normal. Mostly.
“A-are you okay?” I ask warily.
“Fine,” he mumbles, looking away.
Algar sucks in a sharp breath and springs up, immediately drawing one of his daggers and babbling incoherently.
“Settle down.” Rynthea goes to him, forcing his arm down. She can’t help but laugh.
“What the shadows just happened?” he wheezes.
“Thane just saved your life,” Rynthea informs him.
“Did he? I knew he still cared about me.” Algar looks for his friend, but Thane is already wandering away.
I press my hands to a nearby stone to stand but can’t pull my eyes away from Thane. His hands are shaking as he stares at them, lines of concern etched into his forehead.
Yes, Thane saved Algar’s life. He barely hesitated to do so, despite the repercussions he could’ve faced from using black magic.
But was it the right thing to do? Did we push him too far?
As I stare at him, recalling that cold, wicked look in his eyes, I wonder just how much it has cost him to save our friend.
Chapter 53
We sit for several minutes to reorient ourselves, but howls start up in the distance. More shadowhounds are on the way.
“We need to get inside before more of those things sniff us out.” Thane has pulled himself together enough to focus, now leading the way toward the temple as I put on my rucksack and tighten the straps. My thigh is still aching and sore, but I can tell it’s healing.
We trail Thane to the entrance. As we approach the towering building, I have to wrap my mind around the fact that we’ve made it. This is a place that many people onlydreamabout—but I’m here.
Up close, the temple is coated with a thin layer of red dirt and wrapped in thorny, dark-green vines. About twenty crumbling steps pave the way up to an arched entrance. Sculptures of doves line the stone rails.
We take the stairs by twos, stopping short of the entryway when Thane throws up a hand.
“There are runes,” he murmurs, studying the arch. “I heard there would be.”
I look with him, taking notice of the symbols carved into the stone bordering the top of the entrance. “What does it say?” I ask.
“Abundance is obtained only by wisdom and blood,”Thane answers, reading the runes aloud.
