She couldn’t understand what she was seeing. Leaning forward for a better view, she followed the path of one of the odd smoke strands. As it passed over a man, his body jerked, and a low, agonizing moan escaped him. A raw, oozing, reddish-black stripe appeared on his chest.
Understanding dawned. Kera reared back and clamped a hand to her mouth, suppressing the scream that rose. Whatever the darkness was, it was searing off one layer of skin at a time. These people were slowly being skinned…alive.
Kera grabbed Scoran’s arm and turned her face away from the gruesome scene. Through stiff lips she whispered, “What is that?”
Under her hand, his body shook. His pupils dilated with disbelief. “I have never seen anything like it.”
Kera forced herself to face the dark streaks swirling wickedly in the air. Beside her, Morgan swore and one of the streaks shot closer. At the apex of the streak, for a brief moment, the face of a man could be seen. It flickered so quickly, Kera wasn’t sure she believed what she saw. It darted away and joined another streak. The two slithered to the ground and the wavering inky forms of two men appeared. They attacked a woman and pulled out her gag.
Kera couldn’t hear what the strange beings said, but the woman wept for mercy, “I do not know. I swear, none of us know. Please…”
She was gagged again before the dark forms dissolved into the whiplash streaks. This time as they passed over her, they gouged deeper.
“Devils,” came the low accusation from Morgan. His body tensed with barely suppressed anger.
Elix grabbed her friend’s arm and warned him to be still, but Morgan twisted away and dove into the clearing with a ragged cry on his lips.
The dark forms instantly converged on him, slashing and ripping. Morgan swung his blade; whatever these beings were, the sword barely slowed them down and had no lasting effect.
“Do something,” Elix said in a horror-filled voice. Her hands fisted on the ground as she leaned forward, fighting the urge to rush out and help her friend. She glared at Scoran and Kera, her teeth clinched tight. “You have power. Use it!”
Scoran sputtered and confessed his limits, but Kera felt her power hum under her skin, begging her to let it loose. It was big and dangerous, and if ever there was a time to use it, now was that time.
As the two argued beside her, she tapped into the power of the earth, pulling it into her body until she glowed like a beacon. She turned her sun-bright gaze on the pair. “Go free everyone. I’ll take care of the rest.”
She stood, dropped her worthless blade, and pulled out her incordium dagger. At her appearance, the dark streaks slowed their assault. She didn’t stop to think, but rushed forward. When she was almost upon them, she dropped to the ground and slid on her knees beneath the nearest dark streak, slicing it in two. Unlike Morgan’s blade, her incordium dagger severed the magic and the streak fell to the earth like ink to paper—a worthless blob that sizzled and stained the ground.
She crouched, straddling Morgan’s downed body. Whatever these things were, they were pure evil, and she refused to allow them to touch him again. From what she could tell, he was worse off than those on the ironstone slab.
The streaks rose swiftly into the air, snaking together, and then burst apart, rushing toward Kera and Morgan like oil through water. Before they reached them, Morgan’s raw voice echoed his pain. “Don’t let them touch you.”
He needn’t have warned her. Although she slashed and stabbed a hundred times, spilling the darkness to stain the ground, the streaks were too many. One sped close and licked across her wrist that held the dagger. In that moment, she saw a glimpse of a face, like a shadow.
Shock and pain had her clutching her arm. A deep, searing burn appeared across her skin, and she nearly dropped the dagger. The dark streaks moved faster, darting here and there. She wasn’t yet used to the strain of wielding magic. Her mind swirled dizzyingly as she tried to stay focused. One fact became obviously clear. She’d stepped into a fight she couldn’t win. Not like this.
She desperately sought a solution, crouching lower as she lashed out. She couldn’t hold on much longer. Suddenly her pulse pounded within her ears, silencing all other sounds. A vision of the wind entered her mind. Then the whisper-soft voice, the one she had heard at the caves, spoke to her again. Reach for more power. Dig deeper and call on the storm winds. Do not be afraid.
Kera did what the voice said. She reached deep, deeper than she’d ever allowed herself to delve. Power infused her, driving her body straight. The light emanating from her grew until it radiated out and pushed at the darkness. When her whole body thrummed with magic, she called on the kind of wind that tore through the sky, bent ancient oaks, and whipped sea waves to monstrous heights.
Like a dog herding sheep, the wind forced the black streaks higher and tighter until they were an inky, compacted, rotating mass.
Kera’s muscles spasmed. Controlling the wind ate at her strength, but no matter how much pain she was in, she refused to stop. Breathing hard, she compressed the inky darkness more, and when she was done, she cupped her hands and pushed up and away. The dark ball shot high into the air, higher than the clouds, until she couldn’t see it anymore.
The haze that had overshadowed the area lifted, and Kera sagged to her knees, gasping for breath. The sting on her wrist burned.
Elix rushed over and checked her friend for a pulse. After a long moment, she pulled back, her face long and weary and her voice hollow. “He’s dead.”
Morgan couldn’t die. Not after what Kera had gone through to save him. “I can heal him,” she insisted. She pushed Elix away and laid her hands on Morgan’s chest. Her touch grew warm as she passed her hands over his injuries. She labored over him until Elix angrily pushed her away. “Stop it! He’s gone.”
Kera stared at her hands. “But I can heal.” What had gone wrong? The gift was too new, and Kera didn’t understand why she could heal some things and not others.
“If you can heal, come help these,” Scoran said from his post by the victims.
Kera stood, shaking from her efforts with her eyes still locked on Morgan. She felt too hot, too slow. Her limbs shook as if ice water flowed in her veins.
Elix’s fingers slid Morgan’s eyelids down over his fixed gaze. Closing her eyes, she bent her head. After a moment, she stood and walked away.
Scoran took Kera by the arm. “You have done all you can. It would take more power than you have to bring back the dead, though it is never wise. Zombies are created that way, as are black-hearted men who think of no one but themselves.”
He brought her to a row of people, cut loose from the poison of the ironstone, and laid out like bodies waiting for their shrouds. Some were able to sit up for her, others laid still, their wounds deep and raw. With Scoran’s help, one after another, Kera tended their wounds.
Kneeling by a child, Kera knitted new skin. As she did, the black, raw strip along her wrist burned hotter. Deeper. She sucked in her breath and a slight moan escaped. She had been able to ignore it at first, but no longer. When she was through with the little girl, Kera tried to heal her wrist, but she couldn’t.
Strong fingers edged in blood gripped Kera’s arm. Elix knelt beside her and pulled out a bandage. “Did no one tell you? Healers can only heal others. Not themselves.” Elix wrapped the strip of cloth around Kera’s wrist and secured the end of the bandage. When she was done, she rubbed at the blood on her fingers. “His blood won’t rub off.”