Page 111 of Storm of Shadows
I turn to Lhorok and pray my face doesn’t betray my fear. If the Orc King realizes how inexperienced I am, he won’t entrust me with his valued captain.
“We won’t be long,” I say, hoping my voice sounds firmer than it feels. “We will be gone for an hour at the most.”
King Agzol gives a slow nod before striding up the few steps and sitting on his throne once more. “We will await your return.”
I dip my head and turn back to Lhorok. The captain’s expression hardens. Not from fear, or at least I don’t think so. He looks ready to rush into battle and face his enemy head-on. Hopefully he doesn’t see me as his foe rather than the true enemies we all face.
“Ready?” I ask, my voice small against the enormity of the stone hall.
Lhorok clenches his jaw. “Ready.”
I hold out my hand.“Conparios.”
Violet light stretches into my staff’s silhouette, becoming solid in my hands. My fingers grasp the smooth crystalline surface, and it glistens in the amber light of the braziers.
The staff is heavier than usual. I can’t fail with this task. If I do, Nolderan will go unavenged. My father won’t be laid to rest.
With a deep breath, I close my eyes and draw on all the aether around me. Magic rushes into the staff, spilling into brilliant purple light. I seek more and more aether, until my blood is boiling with power.
When more magic bubbles in my veins than I can contain, I focus my mind and envision the streets of Nolderan as vividly as I can. I picture them as I left them: silent and still. It’s the fountain in the upper city’s square I imagine myself standing in, and in my mind’s eye, I craft the ornate white benches surrounding it. I sharpen the image with so much detail I see the water trickling from the fountain. I hear it.
I remove one hand from my staff and reach out for Lhorok beside me, sensing his presence through my magic. I clasp his armored shoulder, allowing my magic to wash over him, and continue to craft the image of our destination in my mind.
Teleporting over such a great distance requires precise targeting, as well as an abundance of aether to fuel the spell. Only when the image is fully formed do I finally unleash my magic.
“Laxus!”I cry, my voice reverberating off the stone walls.
The floor fades from beneath my feet. As does the echoing of my voice. The tinkling of magic sounds all around us, and we’re swept from time and space, floating through the planes of existence. I feel as fluid as water and as light as air. This spell takes far longer than usual to complete, and I have more time to experience the effects of teleportation.
My heart thunders against my rib cage. Will this teleportation spell work? What if we never materialize again?
No, that’s impossible. I’ve never heard of a mage remaining dematerialized forever from a teleportation spell. The worst that can happen is that we could teleport to an unfamiliar location, maybe even to the bottom of the ocean. At least my magic can prevent us from drowning. Magi lost to teleportation spells always turn up in the end. I remind myself of that over and over, drowning out the shouts of my doubts.
Ground emerges beneath my feet. My eyes flicker open to see the silhouette of Nolderan’s streets crafted from purple light. The fountain stands before us, gradually solidifying.
My shoulders sag in relief. We are here—exactly where I intended.
A dome of violet light appears high above us, the protective barrier which now surrounds Nolderan. Beyond it, I can scarcely make out the night sky and the stars’ twinkling light.
The buildings of the upper city materialize. In the distance, I see Nolderan’s Aether Tower. Activated, like I left it.
The city is silent, aside from the night wind sweeping through the streets. The rubble around remains untouched.
Lhorok scans across the square, his brows furrowed. “This is Nolderan?”
I dip my head, a lump swelling in my throat. The loneliness of the city makes my heart shudder. “Yes,” I reply, my voice breaking, “this is Nolderan.”
Lhorok says nothing as he stares at the rubble scattered through the square. His gaze trails upward to the Aether Tower, and his eyes narrows as he examines it.
“That’s the Aether Tower,” I explain. “It powers all the wards here. Before I left, I used it to activate a shield which prevents anyone but me from entering the city.”
Lhorok’s frown deepens. “Though the city is ruined, there is no trace of death.”
“You mean there are no bodies?”
“Indeed.”
“That’s because the necromancers reanimated all the dead, leaving no corpses.” Except for Eliya. But that’s only because I clung to her body, refusing to let the necromancers take her away. And Arluin apparently instructed them to spare her to use her as bait for me. At least he underestimated my ability to trick him with an illusion. I suppose the Reyna he once knew was a far more useless mage than the Reyna of today.