He gave me a look. I thought you said they were trackers. I turned my palms up. They had been dressed as trackers. And they had moved like trackers. Someone with this kind of power shouldn’t have bothered learning stealth.
The wall beside Chevelle blew out, large chunks of stone flying into the corridor, and he jumped back, pressed farther from me. Had council been cross-training their strongest fighters all along, or had we given them too much time to regroup? The next blast opened the wall beside me and I leapt out of the way, flinching as pieces of rock pelted my side.
I glanced back at Chevelle, whose expression left no doubt he was about to pummel this nasty interloper. But just as he shifted to move on the entrance, a cyclone of paper, Asher’s precious documents, swirled into the corridor. I bit down hard. This was one man. And we were wasting time.
I stepped in front of the opening in one swift move, just as Chevelle did the same. The documents parted, Chevelle’s magic, and the tracker’s arms and legs broke at the bicep and thigh, mine. He fell back against a shelf, gritted his teeth, and threw a vicious strike toward me, which met my power and dissolved to nothing. He threw another, and then another, to no avail. I stepped forward, ready to question him, and recognized his face. Archer Lake.
He smiled at my recognition. It was an ugly, hate-filled smile and I wanted to destroy it.
Flames returned with the memory. I felt the heat surround us as I watched her burn. He had been the one who’d finally overtaken her. They had all killed my mother, but this man had possessed the strength to overwhelm her, an energy of legend. He had burned her.
And he had taken pleasure in it.
I would make him suffer. He would blister and burn in agony. Dark hair whipped my face as I drew air into the room to feed the flame. He would boil. He would suffer. He threw another blast of power toward me, but I couldn’t even feel it now, the collision was nothing. He was nothing.
“Frey!” Chevelle’s voice cut through the anger, and I was startled by the inferno. We were surrounded by flame. Had he been yelling?
I glanced at him, beside me, unburned but clearly in pain, and shook myself. The fire extinguished while I let out a long breath, as if blowing out a flickering candle, as I released the magic. My eyes connected with Chevelle and we stood for a moment, understanding passing between us. He was right. We had to get to Anvil.
I looked for one last time at the man who had killed my mother. He was badly burned, but seemed relieved. As if he were saved now. I shook my head in disbelief and then severed the large vessels of his heart. He wouldn’t die slow enough, but he would die.
Chapter Nineteen
Myst
We found Anvil among a large pile of rubble that used to be the east wall. He was winded and between that and the chaos of stone, I knew the two here had been no mere trackers either.
“What happened?” I asked, glancing at the destruction surrounding us.
He shook his head. “Not trackers. They were waiting for whoever was inside to return.” He took a deep breath. “They were going to ruin what they could of the castle and grounds.”
I eyed the remaining section of wall. They hadn’t done a bad job of it, even now.
A few sentries were running toward us, finally aware of the attack. I couldn’t fault them, it had all happened rather quickly. Chevelle gave them a brief explanation and instructed them where to search for the fallen and what to repair first. I took the opportunity to find my hawk.
When I opened my eyes again, Anvil was recovered. “Where is he?”
“Bunkered down on the northeast crag. No doubt he heard this,” I gestured toward the wall, “so he must have known better than to run.”
“Or he has some agenda,” Chevelle said.
I shrugged. “We can find them here or at the temple. It will end the same.”
From the east tower, we heard a sentry call out when he’d found a fallen comrade. The three of us looked toward the sound.
Chevelle’s voice cut through the silence that followed. “Then let us end it.”
We moved swiftly across the yard and down the jagged black rock to where I’d seen the council member.
As we neared the target, Anvil shouted, “Show yourself.”
There was no response, so we stepped carefully closer, the three of us spread out along the mountainside. I could barely see the colors of his robe where he’d concealed himself, and a surge of apprehension prickled my skin. This felt like a trap.
“Hold,” Chevelle said from across the rock.
I glanced at him, and then heard the chanting. That wasn’t fear prickling my skin, it was the edge of a spell. I stepped back involuntarily.
“You cannot protect yourself,” Anvil called to the mass of rock. “Will you go out like a coward?”
The chanting grew louder and I had to fight not to move back again.