The Nature of Magic (The Curse of Magic Book 2)

Chapter 22

Feeling his heart skip a beat, he wanted to cry at her to stop as the tip of her staff started glowing, but he was too late. Right before his eyes, almost too fast to take in, a spike of stone shot out of the earth behind Wyn, flying forward, ready to stab through the elf's chest and kill him.

Just as it was about to reach its target, though, the area exploded with a bright, golden light, the spike shattering into a thousand pieces and flying all around them as it hit the newly created shield. Feyrith blinked, throwing an arm in front of his face to protect it from the debris.

As he looked at Genrith and Wyn once more, he realized that Genrith was the one who had created the shield, her staff held up high, the dome of golden light covering both her and Wyn, who had now turned around, his eyes wide and surprised.

Feyrith wanted to breathe out and relax, then, knowing that no one had been harmed, but he didn't get a chance to. The next second, Genrith's shield blinked out of existence, and she was yelling two words Feyrith didn't know, aiming her staff at Ralis. At all of them.

Frozen in place, Feyrith couldn't even manage to try to get away from whatever Genrith had cast, seeing a blue ball of energy shoot out of her staff and rush toward them at an incomprehensible speed. He could just stare at it, waiting for his doom. But just as it was about to hit them, another wall of golden light formed, this time around Feyrith and the elves next to him, making Feyrith blink at the sudden brightness that enveloped them.

The shield only stayed for a second, but before it disappeared, a scream filled the air, which let Feyrith snap out of his shock enough that he could try to figure out what had happened.

"You old fool, what have you done?" Genrith snapped, making Feyrith focus on her. She was standing over Wyn who was now dragging himself to his knees. Even from where Feyrith was standing, it was clear that the elf's right hand was burned, the skin blackened and cracked. And his whole body was trembling.

Wyn must have summoned the shield that had protected them, Feyrith realized. He had stopped it from hitting them, but had gotten injured himself doing it, likely due to the magical energy ricocheting back at him.

"Leave, Genrith," Wyn forced out, gasping in pain. "We will talk once we return to the base."

"If you think—"

"Leave," Wyn repeated harshly, somehow managing to slowly pull himself to his feet so he could look the female elf in the eye directly. He was holding his burnt hand close to his chest, an agonized grimace on his face. "And if you try to hurt anyone here again, I swear I will deal with you."

Genrith stood there for a moment, looking from Wyn to Feyrith and the others before throwing her staff over her shoulder. "Fine, make however many mistakes you want. But if this endangers our plans, it is your failure, and yours alone."

And then she turned away sharply, her robes flowing behind her as she did, marching away as she put two fingers to her lips and made a loud whistling noise. Feyrith's confusion as to why she'd done that was almost immediately explained away as a quasir ran up to her. And then both she and her mount disappeared among the trees, hopefully gone for now.

As Wyn began to sway, Feyrith was about to rush to him to stop him from crashing to the ground, but seemingly out of nowhere, Edwyr ran in, at Wyn's side in no time, helping the elf gently to the ground.

"Wyn!" Edwyr cried, one arm around Wyn's back, the other around his front, holding the elf close to his chest. "Are you okay? What happened?"

Even from the few feet of distance between them Feyrith could see Wyn trying to inch away from Edwyr, to get out of his embrace, but with very limited success. And then in a barely audible mumble he spoke as he shook his head. "N-no. Don't...deserve your help. I'm...so sorry."