flesh.
Despite the pain, she kept moving toward the flames as the faint thread of shouts reached her ears. There was no sense in trying to call back to her companionsâ¦They wouldnât hear her.
And so far, though the snaking, twisting fog and cloud was loud and malicious, it hadnât attacked or seemed able to injure her. She kept crawling.
Finally, the flames roared next to her, and she could see that the fire burned in a ring.
And in the center of the ring was a pale, lifeless body.
Wayren.
Her long blond hair lay spread over her torso and on the ground, and her face was turned toward Victoria. Her eyes were closed, and she was not moving.
Rearing back onto her knees, Victoria glanced behind and could see nothing but faint shapes moving amid the blasting smoke. The blaze reached the ceiling, and when she looked up, she saw more shapes flitting and skittering through the tips of the flames like large bats or birds. The shapes were amorphous, yet more solid than the smoke and fog that continued to envelop her.
The fire was too tall for her to try to jump over, or come down from the ceiling, even if she were able to get high enough amid those ugly black shadows. The only way to get to Wayren was through the blaze.
Victoria pulled to her feet, unsheathing her sword. The wind continued to batter, tearing her hair from its braid and sending long locks flying into her face, and around her shoulders and torso. It flicked into the blue flames, caught, and sparked, sending Victoria stumbling back, struggling to stuff the loose hair down inside her shirt. The last thing she needed was for it to catch fire.
When sheâd subdued her curls as much as possible in the ferocious vortex, she stepped forward again and swung the sword, slicing it through the evil blaze to see if it would allow the metal to pass. As it swished through, cutting into the flames, something stunned the metal blade, and it vibrated in her hands.
The trembling was so strong she felt it all the way up her arms and into her torso. She swung again, and again the vibration caught hold, and this time a hot sizzle followed it, slamming into her body.
Victoria stumbled back and stared at the flames, breathing heavily, wondering briefly if Max and Sebastian had followed her into the room, or if something had stopped them.
She looked at Wayren again. The woman hadnât moved, but Victoria didnât think she was dead. If sheâd been killed, why protect the body with this prison of fire? Thereâd be no need. She had to be alive and able to be saved.
But how? How?
In frustration, Victoria swiped her blade again, and this time, it was even harder to drive it through the fire.
The wind nearly knocked her off her feet, and it blared in her ears, drowning out everything, even the crackle of flame. Her hair swirled again, coming loose from the collar of her shirt.
The strength of the flames was increasing, incensed by her attempts to battle it. She had to make a choice. She had to get to Wayren, even if it meant going through the fire.
And then she remembered that deep pocket of her trousers in which she carried a bottle of holy water. Pulling it out, she removed the cork and, still huddled near the floor, splashed a bit of the water up and into the flames.
They hissed and leapt back, turning sunny yellow and cowering for the briefest of momentsâ¦then roaring back with a vengeance, angrier and louder and hotter.
That was it.
Victoria gathered herself up, holding the sword in front of her, and backed up several steps. She bumped into someone behind her, and his hands grabbed at her. She heard her name carried away on the wind, though it was shouted into her ear.
âWayren!â she yelled back, trying to make himâit was Sebastianâunderstand. She lifted up the bottle of water and shoved it into his face so he could see it, then turned away, knowing the blaze was growing stronger with every moment of delay.
Tearing away
Despite the pain, she kept moving toward the flames as the faint thread of shouts reached her ears. There was no sense in trying to call back to her companionsâ¦They wouldnât hear her.
And so far, though the snaking, twisting fog and cloud was loud and malicious, it hadnât attacked or seemed able to injure her. She kept crawling.
Finally, the flames roared next to her, and she could see that the fire burned in a ring.
And in the center of the ring was a pale, lifeless body.
Wayren.
Her long blond hair lay spread over her torso and on the ground, and her face was turned toward Victoria. Her eyes were closed, and she was not moving.
Rearing back onto her knees, Victoria glanced behind and could see nothing but faint shapes moving amid the blasting smoke. The blaze reached the ceiling, and when she looked up, she saw more shapes flitting and skittering through the tips of the flames like large bats or birds. The shapes were amorphous, yet more solid than the smoke and fog that continued to envelop her.
The fire was too tall for her to try to jump over, or come down from the ceiling, even if she were able to get high enough amid those ugly black shadows. The only way to get to Wayren was through the blaze.
Victoria pulled to her feet, unsheathing her sword. The wind continued to batter, tearing her hair from its braid and sending long locks flying into her face, and around her shoulders and torso. It flicked into the blue flames, caught, and sparked, sending Victoria stumbling back, struggling to stuff the loose hair down inside her shirt. The last thing she needed was for it to catch fire.
When sheâd subdued her curls as much as possible in the ferocious vortex, she stepped forward again and swung the sword, slicing it through the evil blaze to see if it would allow the metal to pass. As it swished through, cutting into the flames, something stunned the metal blade, and it vibrated in her hands.
The trembling was so strong she felt it all the way up her arms and into her torso. She swung again, and again the vibration caught hold, and this time a hot sizzle followed it, slamming into her body.
Victoria stumbled back and stared at the flames, breathing heavily, wondering briefly if Max and Sebastian had followed her into the room, or if something had stopped them.
She looked at Wayren again. The woman hadnât moved, but Victoria didnât think she was dead. If sheâd been killed, why protect the body with this prison of fire? Thereâd be no need. She had to be alive and able to be saved.
But how? How?
In frustration, Victoria swiped her blade again, and this time, it was even harder to drive it through the fire.
The wind nearly knocked her off her feet, and it blared in her ears, drowning out everything, even the crackle of flame. Her hair swirled again, coming loose from the collar of her shirt.
The strength of the flames was increasing, incensed by her attempts to battle it. She had to make a choice. She had to get to Wayren, even if it meant going through the fire.
And then she remembered that deep pocket of her trousers in which she carried a bottle of holy water. Pulling it out, she removed the cork and, still huddled near the floor, splashed a bit of the water up and into the flames.
They hissed and leapt back, turning sunny yellow and cowering for the briefest of momentsâ¦then roaring back with a vengeance, angrier and louder and hotter.
That was it.
Victoria gathered herself up, holding the sword in front of her, and backed up several steps. She bumped into someone behind her, and his hands grabbed at her. She heard her name carried away on the wind, though it was shouted into her ear.
âWayren!â she yelled back, trying to make himâit was Sebastianâunderstand. She lifted up the bottle of water and shoved it into his face so he could see it, then turned away, knowing the blaze was growing stronger with every moment of delay.
Tearing away
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