said Morigna, thinking. “I can…”
Mara shuddered, her eyes going wide. Jager grabbed at her arm, and Mara sagged against him, sweat appearing on her forehead, a tremor going through her thin limbs.
“She’s likely exhausted,” said Ridmark. “Kharlacht or I can carry her…”
“No!” said Mara, pushing away from Jager.
A hurt look went over the halfling’s face, followed by sudden fear. “Mara.” For some reason his eyes went to her left wrist. “Did they…”
“The bracelet,” she whispered. “I lost the bracelet, Jager. When I escaped. I couldn’t take it out of the tower of iron.” She shuddered again, the cords in her neck standing out, and began to blink. “I can’t…I can’t hold it back, I can’t hold it back any longer. Oh, Jager, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”
“No,” said Jager.
She closed her eyes, and opened them again.
Kharlacht snapped a curse and drew his sword.
Mara’s green eyes had turned solid black, the color of the eyes of dvargir, a bottomless pit into a howling void. She shuddered again, and shadows swirled around her, rippling from her limbs like a torn cloak caught in the wind.
“Mara,” said Jager, “Mara, listen to me, you can fight this. You can…”
“No,” said Mara. “Stay away from me. All of you, run! I’ll hurt you. I won’t be able to stop myself. Go! Please, go!”
“God,” said Gavin, drawing his sword. “She’s one of the Enlightened of Incariel, isn’t she? Jonas and Coriolus looked like that when they used their dark magic. Was this a trap, Master Thief? To string us along until she could kill us?”
“No!” said Jager. “It wasn’t, I swear it! She…she can control it. She just needs a moment.”
“Go!” said Mara, her voice a scream. The shadows condensed around her limbs like armor, seeming to harden into claws atop her fingers. “Please! I can’t stop it!”
Kharlacht and Gavin raised their weapons and stepped forward, and Jager cursed and drew his sword and dagger
“Stay away from her!” he shouted. “You have been good friends, but if you try to hurt her, I will stop you!”
Morigna summoned power for a spell, focusing on Mara. The woman seemed in the grips of a transformation, one that reminded her of the Old Man’s shapeshifting within the stone circle. But Mara’s transformation seemed involuntary, which meant she might well lose control of herself. Morigna focused her magic, preparing to release it…
Forgotten in the confusion, Ridmark stepped behind Mara and swept his staff beneath her legs. Mara fell in a heap, her head bouncing against the ground. Jager whirled with a cry, but before the halfling attacked, the end of Ridmark’s staff came to rest against his throat.
“Hold a moment, please,” said Ridmark as Calliande stepped to his side.
White fire crackled around her fingers.
“I am sorry,” said the Magistria, her face solemn, “but this is going to hurt quite a bit.”
She thrust out her hands and white fire erupted from her palms and slammed into Mara. The shadows unraveled into nothingness, and Mara thrashed against the ground, screaming in agony as burns spread over her face and hands.
Calliande could not harm another mortal…but her magic could attack creatures of dark magic.
“You’re killing her!” said Jager. He started to move, and Ridmark prodded him with the staff.
The white fire faded out, the last of the shadows gone, and Mara slumped against the ground, moaning. The spell had left her clothing untouched, but hideous burns marked her face and hands. When she regained consciousness she would be in terrible pain.
Calliande took a deep breath, knelt next to Mara, put her hands on the smaller woman’s temples, and cast another spell. White light flared around Calliande and washed over Mara, and Calliande went rigid, her mouth drawn into a tight line, her eyes narrowed into slits. Mara’s burns began to shrink, vanishing beneath the power of
Mara shuddered, her eyes going wide. Jager grabbed at her arm, and Mara sagged against him, sweat appearing on her forehead, a tremor going through her thin limbs.
“She’s likely exhausted,” said Ridmark. “Kharlacht or I can carry her…”
“No!” said Mara, pushing away from Jager.
A hurt look went over the halfling’s face, followed by sudden fear. “Mara.” For some reason his eyes went to her left wrist. “Did they…”
“The bracelet,” she whispered. “I lost the bracelet, Jager. When I escaped. I couldn’t take it out of the tower of iron.” She shuddered again, the cords in her neck standing out, and began to blink. “I can’t…I can’t hold it back, I can’t hold it back any longer. Oh, Jager, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”
“No,” said Jager.
She closed her eyes, and opened them again.
Kharlacht snapped a curse and drew his sword.
Mara’s green eyes had turned solid black, the color of the eyes of dvargir, a bottomless pit into a howling void. She shuddered again, and shadows swirled around her, rippling from her limbs like a torn cloak caught in the wind.
“Mara,” said Jager, “Mara, listen to me, you can fight this. You can…”
“No,” said Mara. “Stay away from me. All of you, run! I’ll hurt you. I won’t be able to stop myself. Go! Please, go!”
“God,” said Gavin, drawing his sword. “She’s one of the Enlightened of Incariel, isn’t she? Jonas and Coriolus looked like that when they used their dark magic. Was this a trap, Master Thief? To string us along until she could kill us?”
“No!” said Jager. “It wasn’t, I swear it! She…she can control it. She just needs a moment.”
“Go!” said Mara, her voice a scream. The shadows condensed around her limbs like armor, seeming to harden into claws atop her fingers. “Please! I can’t stop it!”
Kharlacht and Gavin raised their weapons and stepped forward, and Jager cursed and drew his sword and dagger
“Stay away from her!” he shouted. “You have been good friends, but if you try to hurt her, I will stop you!”
Morigna summoned power for a spell, focusing on Mara. The woman seemed in the grips of a transformation, one that reminded her of the Old Man’s shapeshifting within the stone circle. But Mara’s transformation seemed involuntary, which meant she might well lose control of herself. Morigna focused her magic, preparing to release it…
Forgotten in the confusion, Ridmark stepped behind Mara and swept his staff beneath her legs. Mara fell in a heap, her head bouncing against the ground. Jager whirled with a cry, but before the halfling attacked, the end of Ridmark’s staff came to rest against his throat.
“Hold a moment, please,” said Ridmark as Calliande stepped to his side.
White fire crackled around her fingers.
“I am sorry,” said the Magistria, her face solemn, “but this is going to hurt quite a bit.”
She thrust out her hands and white fire erupted from her palms and slammed into Mara. The shadows unraveled into nothingness, and Mara thrashed against the ground, screaming in agony as burns spread over her face and hands.
Calliande could not harm another mortal…but her magic could attack creatures of dark magic.
“You’re killing her!” said Jager. He started to move, and Ridmark prodded him with the staff.
The white fire faded out, the last of the shadows gone, and Mara slumped against the ground, moaning. The spell had left her clothing untouched, but hideous burns marked her face and hands. When she regained consciousness she would be in terrible pain.
Calliande took a deep breath, knelt next to Mara, put her hands on the smaller woman’s temples, and cast another spell. White light flared around Calliande and washed over Mara, and Calliande went rigid, her mouth drawn into a tight line, her eyes narrowed into slits. Mara’s burns began to shrink, vanishing beneath the power of
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