Page 19 of A Touch of Shadows

There wasn’t time to think. All she could do was react.

Elodie had always warned her not to reach out to her power in anger or in fear. Control was key. Measure out what was needed, control the flow and by all the Light keep a handle on it once released. Use the othertongue sparingly. It had to be done that way because otherwise the magic that threaded through her body and the world around her could run out of control. And it had on more than one occasion. But Elodie had been there to help her, to counter it.

But not this time… this time…

Elodie was gone. Elodie could be dead. She could be lost. They might have already taken her or she could be up there, her body burning. What choice did Wren have?

Wren felt the magic locked deep in the earth underneath her and reached for it blindly. It surged in response to her touch, winding itself around her, draining shadows from the trees and the rocks, from the depth of the water, from the rising column of smoke. It rose like a wave around her and, as the horsemen charged towards her, she made ready to unleash it.

But the shadows weren’t ready to release her. They clung to her, smothering her, dragging her down. She pushed harder, tangling herself with them, trying to gain the upper hand. It wasn’t working. Normally just a nudge or a request would do it, but this time…

Shadows ignited in her blood, rushed along her veins and she breathed it in. Something dark and powerful, dangerous, which threatened to sweep her away.

She wanted… she needed… she burned…

The weight of it crushed her, ground her to pieces. She had to break through whatever it was doing to her, to get hold of herself again and?—

Her legs went weak and she heard her heart thundering inside her.

No… not just inside her. Everywhere, all through the forest, all around her. Old magic, dark magic, the touch of the Nox…

Something struck her middle, lifting her off her feet and carrying her away.

Too stunned to react, she struggled to keep hold of the threads of darkness, dragging them to her core, but they spilled loose regardless, as if they had a mind of their own.

Something tangled, snapped. And she felt it like a punch in her guts, driving all the air from her as her spell fell apart.

CHAPTER 11

WREN

Finn slung Wren up across the saddle in front of him. Dancer galloped across the open ground like a streak of shadow given solid form.

The knight bent low over her, urging the horse on, through the edge of the lake in a spray of water and back into the trees on the far side.

The sound of pursuit was unmistakable. The horsemen from Ilanthus crashed through the undergrowth, their mounts screaming in protest as they were driven on.

Wren tried to catch her breath but everything swirled around her, the shadows surging in her head made it all feel wrong. She couldn’t focus, couldn’t control any of it. Her body burned, ached and all she could think of – stupidly – was Finn’s nearness, his body pressed to hers, keeping her on the horse. Behind them, the forest snarled and shivered like a wild beast and the shadows inside it awoke.

This was bad. Really bad. She remembered Elodie’s warnings far too late now. If you call to the fragments of the Nox in the darkwood, it will always answer, little bird, but it won’t always do what you want. You could lose yourself, like so many have been lost. Never reach for the dark.

But Elodie had never really understood. It wasn’t so much reaching for the darkness. It was always there, always trying to get to her. She fought to keep it away. Sometimes she just let down those walls, just for an instant.

This time had been different though. This time she hadn’t just allowed it in, she had demanded it come to her, serve her, help her…

And when she did… a spear of desire dug deep inside her, twisting, a pleasure cutting along the edge of agony. Give in, it seemed to tell her, singing to her in that voice that seemed like a lullaby. Just give in and it would be everything.

Wren struggled for reality. She had to get a grip on herself, on the world as it was. Not on this swirl of ungovernable emotion.

Dancer’s muscles strained beneath her, and sweat stood out on his skin. The smell was raw in her nostrils. Behind her, Finn was a knot of tense muscles, entirely fixed on escape, guiding the horse through the trees. But one false move, one unseen obstacle or ditch, and it would be over.

Wren closed her eyes, fought for equilibrium and turned the shadows back, forcing up her barriers again, shutting herself off. It was agony. A conscious severing of something so intrinsically part of herself. Tears burned in her eyes.

Everything slowed. It wanted her to release her control, to give in to it. That was all it had ever wanted. For her to be part of it, to let it into her mind. She felt the darkwood still reaching for her, its voice soothing.

No, not the wood, not the forest. This was the darkness itself, the darkness that lurked beneath, the shadows she turned aside, the shades she heard whispering in the night. It was everywhere.

Those who gave themselves unconditionally to the Nox lived short lives, sunken in every depravity. And the joy of it was absolute, or so they said. If you went to it and made a deal it would give you anything. Or at least that was its promise. Those who had even once felt its touch on their minds, on their bodies, would never be the same. It left its mark, and a ghost of desire that never faded, for which nothing else would ever compensate. Elodie had refused to discuss it, but even in a tiny village like Thirbridge, people talked. Deals could be struck, like whatever arrangement Pol had struck to have a son. But those who gave themselves completely…