Starborn by Toby Forward

Author:Toby Forward [Forward, Toby]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781406342727
Publisher: Walker Books
Published: 2013-06-16T04:00:00+00:00

The grey figure ignored Sam

and crossed the room towards Flaxfold. Sam, still stunned, crawled towards his staff. He was half-blinded by the flash, half-deafened by the noise. He fell to one side, bumped against the wall and threw up. Or, rather, nearly threw up. He hadn’t eaten and all that came was bile. It burned his throat and made him cough.

“Ash,” he tried to call. “Ash.”

He tried to focus. The grey figure stopped, halfway to Flaxfold. It turned and looked at him. Sam couldn’t make out the features.

“Come on,” he coughed, the words hurting as much as the bile. “Come here. Leave her alone.”

The figure strode towards him, hand outstretched.

Sam lunged forward and fell on his face, his hand just touching his staff. His fingers sought it, and it slid away, beyond his reach. He was finished, powerless.

The figure leaned over him, put its hands under his armpits and dragged him to his staff. Sam’s hand closed over it. He felt a new strength, a new power. His throat still hurt. His ears still sang. His eyes were still dazzled, but he could stand. He dragged himself free of the hands, backed against the wall, raised his staff and pointed it at the figure.

“Sam.”

Sam paused.

“Sam.”

The grey figure took hold of Sam’s staff. It moved it to one side and down.

“Sam.”

Sam closed his eyes. Bright flashes of yellow and white and blue carried on behind his eyelids. A hand covered his face. “Sam. Hush.”

The lights dimmed. The ringing faded. The hand pressed against his face, warm, a little rough, large enough to cover the top half.

“Sam.”

Sam took hold of the wrist and moved the hand away. He opened his eyes. Clear sight now. No flashes and confusions.

“Flaxfield?”

“Who else?”

Sam backed away.

“You’re not Flaxfield.”

“Sam.”

“Get back. Get out. Get back through the mirror.”

Sam brandished his staff, ready to fight.

The figure swept its arm back and indicated the broken shards of polished steel, the twisted frame. The mirror was destroyed. It put its finger to its lips and smiled. “Hush. Watch.”

Sam watched it turn and walk towards Flaxfold.

“I told you to leave her alone,” he called.

He made a barrier spell and threw it into the figure’s path. The grey thing walked straight through it and when Sam ran after it to grab it, he bumped into his own spell and recoiled from the barrier.

Helplessly, he watched the figure sit on the chair by Flaxfold’s bed. It took her hand, smoothed her forehead and tucked the stray strand of grey hair more securely behind her ear.

Sam beat his fists against the barrier. He stabbed at it with his staff. He kicked and hurled himself at it. He had created his own defeat and Ash, or Smedge, or whoever the figure was, had used it against him.

Now the figure was leaning over Flaxfold. It put its forehead to hers. It took hold of her shoulders and shook them. It leaned back again and turned to Sam with a grim smile.

Sam clicked his mind over and was on the treetop, surveying the countryside, watchful for attack.

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