Stormwielder (The Sword of Light Trilogy Book 1) by Aaron Hodges

through my fingers again!
    We must wait , the wolf’s voice spoke in the sanctity of his mind.
    “Why, beast? Why should we be afraid of the desert creatures?” Gabriel spoke aloud.
    Because they will kill you, fool. My master’s magic will not protect you from teeth or claw. It will be safer in the woods tonight. One less night spent wandering the cursed desert.
    Gabriel gritted his teeth. “Very well,” he snapped, storming into the trees.
    He could see the wolf shadowing him as he looked for a place to camp. He had already grown to hate it; a constant reminder of the deal he had struck. Regret was never far from his thoughts. What was I thinking?
    You needed help. You took it from the only option left to you, the wolf supplied.
    “Stay out of my head! If I wanted your opinion, I’d ask for it”
    The creature lifted its shaggy head and howled. The noise cut through the night, raising goose bumps on his neck. The hoot of an owl and the chirping of crickets vanished.
    Gabriel glared at the wolf and drew his sword.
    The howling ceased. The black beast lowered its head, teeth bared. Its growl sent a shiver down Gabriel’s spine.
    “Just keep quiet, mutt,” he snapped, sheathing his sword.
    Gabriel closed his eyes and put his head in his hands. How had his life crumbled so quickly? He tried to picture his parents, his fiancé. Their images floated through his mind and he felt his chest constrict with love and pain. Yet their faces were blurred and indistinct. Then flames burst within his mind, consuming his family once more.
    He opened his eyes and smashed his fist into a tree. They had taken everything from him, even his memory, it seemed. He could no longer even grieve – the tears would not come. All he found was his hatred. He could not stand the thought of their freedom. They would be punished, he would see to that.
    Perhaps then he would find peace.

Nine
    Silence settled like a blanket over the night. The fire burned low, leaving nothing but mere embers to light the camp. The shadows it cast were long and haunting. The air reeked of blood, rot and ash. The stars stared down from above, uncaring witnesses to the slaughter of the night.
    Sharp stones ground beneath Eric’s knees, tearing into his pants, stabbing at his skin. He didn’t care. He crouched beside Alastair, his trembling fingers searching frantically for a pulse. The old man’s eyes were closed and he did not respond to Eric’s touch. His body lay crumpled on the ground, his clothes soaked with blood.
    “No no no no!” Eric whispered.
    He could not bring himself to believe the mighty Magicker who had spirited him out of Oaksville could lie dying. An iron fist wrapped around his heart and began to squeeze. His breath could not come fast enough. This couldn’t be happening.
    “Come on, Alastair. You can’t do this, you can’t die. You have to live!” he shook him. Tears ran down his face and dripped onto Alastair’s.
    It did not take a doctor to see the wounds were beyond any mortal man’s will to live. Alastair’s right leg was a tangled mess; muscles torn from bone, threads of tendons dangling in the dirt. His left foot twisted at an awful angle. The final blow had shattered his ribcage, leaving a deep indentation in his chest. His face was torn and bruised, and a cold sweat beaded his brow. A thin red trickle ran from his mouth.
    Eric finally found the vein in his neck and felt a faint pulse. It was already growing fainter, as the life fled from his friend. He would not survive the next few hours, let alone until morning. Even if he did, they were still stranded in this cursed desert, miles from help
    He sat back on his haunches, defeated. “Please wake up,’ he begged. Tears ran down his face.
    “Don’t cry, Eric,” a voice spoke from the darkness.
    Eric’s heart skipped a beat. He leapt to his feet, swinging around to face the new threat. It was almost beyond him to care, but he was determined not to go down without a fight.