Devil's Frost, Spellspinners Series #3 (The Spellspinners of Melas County) by Heidi R. Kling Page B

up to entertain around the campfire. Evidence of its existence, along with its ability to reanimate dead Spellspinner flesh, is yet another myth derived by Congression to give us hope after jacking us up in the Stones.” His articulate speech left me disappointed yet eminently curious about this Cintamana , but it looked like Griffin was done.
    “Classic Frankenstein’s monster,” he mumbled as he stood. “Do you want to come with me back to the house, or do you need another minute?”
    “I’d better stay on here. I need to pay my respects.”
    “Hang in there, bro.” Griffin’s hand gently squeezed my shoulder.
    “Thanks, Griffin.”
    “You bet.” He squeezed my shoulder again. When he paid his respects to Chance, kneeling on one knee and kissing his limp, large hand, I bit back tears. All I could manage was a nod in his direction as he looked at me one more time before walking into the forest to mourn with the others and to begin the customary day of silence, during which we ate only broth and bread for dinner and spent our time reflecting in private. But now I was finally alone with Chance.
    I had heard rumors of this “cure,” but no one really knew what it was—or how to locate it. I hadn’t heard of it the way Griffin described. Cintamana . What I heard was it originated somewhere in Europe, where the Ancients used to live. A few years ago, an elder warlock died during a magical battle in the forest. A search party had gone looking for the means to revive him, but returned empty-handed. After seven long days, the allotted time between death and the possible administering of the cure, the warlock was buried.
    If there was even the slightest hope Chance could be revived, I wouldn’t give up until he did. But I needed something more to go on. I lacked both the strength and the intel to begin a search. I needed help.
    I sat there for who knows how long before sunset streaked through the canopy of trees and onto Chance’s body. Beams of golden light sparkled across his dark skin, looking like pale-colored veins on the underbelly of a leaf. Blinking, I felt a tingle of magic cascade over the dreary space. Pine needles crackled under my bare feet as I moved in for a closer look. What in the world?
    Chance’s eyes were closed. His face was quiet and peaceful even though broad lines began to appear, one by one, forming a spiderweb of ink across his chest. Like inkblots, some spots were darker than others. Shapes burst where nothing had been before; shadows formed one after the other after the other. A chain of something…
    But what?
    Hesitantly, I reached out, gently tracing the dots, startled by how his usually hot skin had cooled in death. Even though I knew it wouldn’t do any good, I wanted to warm him with my hands. When I did, the strange shapes brightened. Glowed like stars, spastically scattering across his chest and then stopping. They looked almost like…islands. I blinked, checking over my shoulder, assuring I was alone. Spreading my legs a bit, in case someone was looking, I hovered over his body, concealing my discovery.
    Inhaling deeply, I went inward, searching for what this could mean.
    More light shone down from the trees and, again, with it, there was a tingling sensation of my magic being rejuvenated. I stood up, staring, my muscles tensing with newfound strength and revitalization. Also with the light came clarity and energy and magic from the universe.
    This is a map to the cure.
    Someone was sending me a message. But who? Who would want me to find the cure and save my best friend? I stared at Chance’s chest until I had every detail memorized. Ribbons, curls, circles. Oblong shapes and, finally, most important, a crescent moon inserted into a circle, which marked a destination. The place someone was willing me to go.
    Kneeling on one leg, I closed my eyes and squeezed his hand. I kissed his hand goodbye, whispered apologies and promises into his ink. Swallowing away a mix of pain and