This Dark Mirror by Tricia Owens

Author:Tricia Owens
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Tricia Owens
Published: 2020-04-14T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

"Great catch, Jessyd!"

Gam and Lio leaped past Caled to check on Hadrian, whose limp body was slowly being lowered to the ground by invisible forces. Try as he might, Caled could see nothing supporting the unconscious sorcerer, yet magick clearly had broken what would otherwise have been a fatal fall from the cliff.

"Excellent," Manix murmured, pausing to pat Jessyd on the shoulder before joining the others in carefully turning Hadrian’s limp body supine. Jessyd’s face, though shiny with sweat, reflected pride at his efforts.

"Is he alive?" Caled managed through a throat that had gone bone-dry. He took a step backward from the group. Then another.

"Yes," Syellen declared as she held her fingers to Hadrian’s throat. Her hand trembled. Perhaps she alone, with her distaste of sorcerers, shared something of what Caled felt in this moment.

"Are we safe here?" Caled’s voice sounded strained to his own ears.

Manix broke from his survey of Hadrian to look up at the cliffs. The Elder’s forehead creased. "Although I do not know for a certainty, I would assume that if we have not yet been attacked, then the trap has sprung and closed. But we should not let down our guards."

"I hadn’t intended to," Caled said sharply.

Manix’s black eyes slid to him, studying him. Caled tensed beneath that thoughtful, assessing look. But the Elder didn’t say another word, instead turning back to Hadrian.

Caled released a breath and took another step away from where the others huddled around the black-haired sorcerer. He needed the distance. He felt his self-control unraveling. He was seized with a manic urge to draw his sword and slice the air with it. He wanted to sink the blade into something tangible. He needed a target on which to vent his emotions.

Instead of drawing his sword he rubbed his hands briskly up and down his arms. The taint of magick clung to his skin like a filthy, disease-ridden blanket. He cursed beneath his breath, imagining he could feel it seeping into his pores and contaminating his blood. He wanted to dive into water and scrub himself raw. He had to resist the urge to grab fistfuls of dirt and use it in lieu of soap.

"Caled, are you alright?" Unlike the others gathered around Hadrian, Gam was looking straight at him with concern.

He tried not to snarl. "I’m fine."

But he was not fine. His fingers twitched, yearning to scratch at the magick he thought he felt crawling up his chest. He wanted to hurl himself to the ground and roll like a horse to get it off of him.

Gam watched him fidget for a few seconds. With a murmur to Lio—who was pale and silent as he bent over Hadrian—the scarred thief left the group and approached the mercenary. "You’re not fine."

Caled gnashed his teeth together. "I. Cannot. Stand. Magick! Is that plain enough for you? I detest it to my core!" His fingernails dug into his biceps as he remembered the unnatural slither of magickal energy over his skin. It made him want to let loose a roar of disgust.

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