Downshadow

TWENTY-SIX

In the strange flash of light, Myrin saw Kalen first, kneeling and helpless, and then the woman-the dead woman wearing the false face-looming over him.

"No," she said in a voice she hardly recognized as her own. She lunged forward and grasped Avaereene by the arm, trying anything she could to stop the slaying magic. She wanted to steal the magic away, rip it from Avaereene so it could not touch Kalen. And she did exactly that.

The fires darting around Avaereene's fingers faded, flowing instead into Myrin's hands, which lit with fierce blue light. The wizard opened her mouth and stammered.

Oblivious to what she was doing, lashing blindly, Myrin struck Avaereene with her will. A flash of brilliant red and black flame erupted, and the woman slammed backward against the wall with a chorus of crackles and snaps. Bricks cracked and turned inward.

Myrin stared down at her hands, horrified and awed. Blue runes spread down her forearms, almost covering her skin. Power electric filled Myrin's body, making her shiver and shake. The fog boiled away around her, evaporating in the heat coming off her body.

"Damn you!" Avaereene hissed in a voice from beyond the grave. "You do not know what you do, child. This is my own power! How are you-?"

"Shut up!" Myrin shrieked. The stolen magic punched Avaereene in the chest, shaking the building behind her. Holes burst in the wall, and Myrin saw into the common room of a tavern through the cracks.

Avaereene hardly seemed hurt by the blow, but her eyes went wide. Then they turned blood red and began to leak sanguine tears.

"How are you doing this?" she roared in frustration. "You're just a child!"

Myrin merely pointed her hands, loosing bright, hungry flames like nothing she had ever seen or imagined to tear at Avaereene. The wizard screamed in agony and fear. Her skin shivered, then began to bubble and boil. Around her, the bricks glowed red, sizzled, and shook as though caught between an anvil and a smith's hammer. Her black cloak and gown started to smolder and unravel, and soon she was naked. Her entire body quaked and rotted before Myrin's eyes, but the wizard could not scream against the pressure of Myrin's spell. Her eyes were livid and terror filled.

A smile spread across Myrin's face and a thought came unbidden- a thought in her voice but not hers: this will teach her.

Then Myrin heard a new sound: a gagging, rasping sound from the ground at her side. She looked down and saw Kalen coughing and retching. He tore open his helm, and she saw him vomit blood onto the cobblestones. "Muh-Myrin… stuh-stop…"

He looked up at her and she gasped. His skin shivered like Avaereene's, and his eyes were shot through with red. Tears of blood leaked onto his face.

Myrin looked around and saw others gagging and retching-folk inside the tavern, and some who had come forth to watch or help. Gods-what was she doing?

The force holding Avaereene against the wall lessened, and the old woman sucked air into her lungs. She looked down at her withered hands, then touched her face. She screamed.

Myrin turned and clapped a hand to her mouth, shocked. Gone were the beautiful face and body-they had rotted into a withered corpse. Worse, her form had been crushed against the tavern with such force that she had somehow melded with the building's skin. Bricks grew out of her like massive, chunky warts. The red eyes that glared out were not dead, nor were they alive. Myrin recognized the woman's true body, that she was-Myrin didn't know where the word came from-a lich. An undead horror.

"My face! My body!" Avaereene shrieked. "You will die for this, girl!" #

The wizard's form had been a magic-wrought falsehood-the corpse embedded in the wall revealed the truth. Myrin's magic had undone years, perhaps decades of delicate spellwork that had achieved the beauty the lich wanted for herself. Complex castings, suid probably painful.

Avaereene barked a sharp word. Myrin recoiled, but it was no attack. Hissing in pain and anger, the lich vanished, taking part of the wall with her-and leaving aught of herself too.

With a sick cry, Myrin closed her eyes and fists. She willed the magic to vanish.

It didn't.

Dark fire rolled out of her, uncontrolled. Myrin screamed for ir to stop, but it was alive in its own righr. It danced around her, gleefully consuming whatever it touched.

She could not stop it.

"Myrin," came a voice, cutting through the chaos.

It was Kalen, his form blurring as though it fought to maintain consistency. His gauntleted hand grasped her tightly-strange, that the right hand had a gauntlet and the left hand was bare, she reached for his bared hand, but she remembered what her touch had done to the lich. She drew back, horrified.

"Myrin, you have to stop." Kalen's voice was calm, his eyes filled with blood.

"I can't!" she cried, and barely jerked her face away from his in time to send her words into the air and away. The force of her voice struck a spire on a nearby building, which tore free of its mounting and fell-horribly-toward them.

Kalen seized Myrin in his arms and threw them both aside. Sharp stone shattered into the cobbled street where they had been standing. Kalen held Myrin with fingers hard and cold as coffin nails.

"Stop!" he cried. "Stop this now!"

Myrin moaned and the ground began to shake. Buildings trembled around them and began ro wrench themselves aparr. Blue-white flames burst out of loose stones and bricks, which started rolling as though to put themselves out-or to delight in destruction. Folk screamed around them, gagging on what Myrin prayed were meals and not blood or worse.

"Calm," Kalen whispered. "All's well. You must calm yourself."

"I can't!" Myrin sobbed. Her body was shaking, far beyond her control.

His eyes bored into hers, shrinking her world to the size of two orbs. She saw her face reflected in his eyes, saw that almost every finger-length of her skin was scripted with blue runes. They told her a story, and she could almost read them.

"Calm," Kalen whispered again. His face was close to hers, but not touching. His lips hovered over hers, not kissing. "Please."

Slowly-so slowly-Myrin's heart slackened its race. Her screams and sobs subsided and her breathing slowed. The buildings ceased their shaking and the blue flames flickered out and died.

Finally, finally, the blue haze faded, and they were alone in the street, Kalen lying atop her, holding her, protecting her from the night-and from herself.

He wasn't moving, she realized.

"Kalen?" she asked. "Kalen!"

"Uhh," he groaned and rolled off, coughing. "Not so… not so loud."

Myrin could have kissed him, but men loomed over her, and she looked up. Thieves and kidnappers had come to harm them. Many were wounded or bruised, attacked by Kalen in his pursuit or wasted by the spell chaos. Kalen's eyes glittered and he closed his helm's faceplate, preparing to fight again.

No. Myrin would stop this. Words came unbidden to her lips.

Kalen knelt on the ground, coughing and trying to rise. "No," he said. "No-don't do it."

"All's well." She touched his helmed face with a loving hand, which yet glowed blue. "This is mine," she said. "It's only magic."

"Only…" Kalen coughed and retched. "Only magic?"

Myrin spread her hands and began the chant. This time, no blue runes crawled onto her tanned skin. This was a spell, whose words were written on her hean, though she had not known them until now. The power felt pure-untainted by the horrid darkness she had channeled from the lich woman. Somehow, she had drawn Avaereene's poweg, but it was too much-she couldn't control something so strong.

Never again would she draw powers like that. Never again.

"Begone," she said, magic crackling about her fingers. The men hesitated. f,"Begone!" she cried, and conjured fire arced up and burst from her hands.

The thieves didn't have to be told a third time. They turned and fled.

Myrin let the power subside and die, then breathed out in a rush. She felt so tired-so very drained. She sat down next to Kalen. His breath came raggedly and his face was bloody, but his eyes were bright and sharp as diamonds.

She wanted so much to kiss him, but a part of her feared to do so. Instead, she pressed her forehead against his. "I… Kalen, I…"

His eyes widened and he thrust her away. She saw, as her backside hit the cobbles, his reason.

The thief who'd held her-the one Kalen had stabbed-was crawling toward them, a hooked blade in his hands. The edge dripped with a purple smear that Myrin knew was poison. Kalen's rapier- still inside him-scraped along the stones with a sickly hiss. Blood ran from his mouth. Pain and hatred filled his eyes, from which dripped red tears.

"Bitch," the thief rasped as he limped toward Myrin. "Stick you good, I will-"

His dagger fell. It would have struck Myrin's chest, but Kalen lunged in front of her and grappled with the thief. Myrin watched, stunned, as they wrestled, the knife pressing ever closer to Kalen's unprotected face. Then the knife cut across his cheek and she screamed.

The thief's eyes flicked to her, and the distraction was all Kalen needed. He slammed. his open helm against his attacker's face, sending him reeling. He punched out with his gauntleted fist, hitting the man in the same place and shattering his nose. Before the thief could flee, Kalen caught hold of his wrist. He wrenched, and the man screamed as his arm snapped.

"Kalen, stop!" Myrin wept.

At her cry, Kalen looked up, and the thief punched him in the jaw, knocking him down. The man limped away, coughing. Kalen stumbled after him, his hands curled into claws.

"Stop! Please!" Myrin cried, weeping big tears that ran down her cheeks. The man had attacked her, yes, but she had to stop Kalen. He was not a beast but a man-she wanted a man, not a monster.

At her words, Kalen turned and caught Myrin in his arms. And though she knew they were both falling down beaten, she felt perfectly safe.

"Shush," Kalen murmured. "It's well-all's well."

"Gods…" Then Myrin's heart leaped. "All's Kalen-you've been poisoned."

She lifted her fingers to touch the slash across his cheek, where the venomed knife had cut him. Greenish black veins had appeared there and spread beneath his skin, the poison Working through his blood. They already covered half his face. Myrin had no idea how she could see it-she knew she shouldn't be able to.

Then, as she watched, the poison began to recede. The veins became pink once again, little by little, and the blackness shrank until it vanished entirely from beneath his skin.

He looked as surprised as she felt. "My blessing," he said.

Myrin felt power unlike her own-divine, rather than arcane-fill him. His bare fingers joined hers against his cheek, and she watched as they shimmered white with heat, so bright she could see his bones. The light spread from his fingers into his skin, and the cut turned into a sharp scar. He gasped in relief and surprise.

"I don't understand," Myrin whispered, yet somehow she did understand. A god had saved him.

He shook his head. "Helm-nay. The threefold god," he explained. "He… he isn't finished with me yet." He hugged her tighter and his head dipped against her shoulder.

Myrin let loose a deep, terrified breath. She feared Kalen had succumbed, but she could feel him breathing. Tears welled in her eyes.

She and Kalen held each other in the empty street. They would have to move along soon, she knew-before the Watch came-but for now, they could just rest together.

Above them, far above them, a light rain began to fall. ¦«

At the top of the cracked tavern, a half-elf woman moved out of the moonlight, trailing a mane of scarlet hair.