The King's Challenge #308

TKC 308

I hear only a whisper of sound, which means Lorn is deaf to it. While I marvel at Gennerin’s ability to move stealthily, I silently urge him to be swift.

He is.

A bolt smacks into the arch of Lorn’s left foot, piercing the leather as if it is mere paper. As our uncle screams another bolt penetrates his right ankle. Screeching, Lorn Makar hits the floor hard. I sweat the second arrow shattered his ankle.

Lorn can no longer stand, never mind walk. Advantage is ours. Well done, Commander Gennerin.

Enris and Damin hurtle forward together and hold the flailing man down. He continues to scream, now obscenity and agony.

Kay whispers in my ear from behind, “Incapacitate his hands also. A sorcerer does not need his feet to dispense spells.”

The westerner is on the mark. I immediately stride forward to kneel beside our uncle. Without looking at either Enris or Damin, I smack my glowing hands onto my uncle’s and grip hard.

The man screams as if devils pursue him, and fire licks over my shin and his. Green fire. By the stars, it is an odd sight; there is actual fire and it is hot as hell’s acid, but my skin remains whole. Unfortunately I cannot say the same for Lorn’s hands.

His fingers blacken and curl, with foul tendrils twirling upwards. It is sickening to witness, but this man poisoned our father; there is no mercy he deserves.

Enris lays one hand on the burning clasp. “Enough,” he murmurs. He must feel the unholy heat, but he keeps his hand in place. “Let go, Iniri.”

I let go. Stumbling up, I turn away to retch repeatedly.

Lorn Makar is silent; he is unconscious and I do not care.

Siri kneels beside the prone form, touching him briefly. Drawing in a breath, she looks up at me. “We need him to talk, yes? Then he needs some healing. He will die otherwise.”

“I don’t care!” I shout.

“But I do,” Enris says grimly. “We have to know how far this goes. Siri, heal him only to stave off death.”