The War of The Magi : Book One

Chapter Sixty Seven

Senea grasped onto the reins, trying to steer with all of her might. Cobalt pressed on though, eyes wide as he galloped on. "Cobalt! Turn!" she demanded out. She clutched her thighs as tight as she could and Cobalt, instead of stopping, reared back.

Senea screeched and slipped off the saddle. Her feet dislodged from the stirrups and she landed flat on her back. She heard the popping sound of her spine and tossed her head to the side. Cobalt's feet landed with a loud thud, his head shaking back and forth, black hair wild.

She sat up, grimacing as she felt her back realign. "Easy, there!" she heard a voice call out. Cobalt whinnied again, backing away from the group of men and women who came rushing towards them.

She had made it. Her eyes widened as they came closer to her and she stood up in a jolt. "Miss? Are you -"

"Magnar! He needs help, now!"

A man pushed passed the group of them and Senea recognized who he was. She reached for his arms and tugged on him with a dire need. "Your gr - my lady! Where is the commander?"

"Magi!" she breathed out, tugging him once more.

He pulled his arms back, his body turning as he looked at his troop. "You heard her. Have a squire send a hawk to the Lord Commander. "You," he said with a strict point, "gather the bowmen."

Senea sped off back down the path, her legs burning as she ran. She heard the commotion behind her but could not bare to wait anymore. Praying to Ral, she pleaded for Magnar to simply hold on.

Further away from the First Sigil, Magnar howled in agony as he swung his sword at another Draithe, the one behind him snaking its tendril like fingers along his free arm. He could feel every line of pain as it shot up his arm through his veins.

"The harder you fight, the worse the pain is."

Magnar grimaced and spun, thrusting the blade into the black being. He could feel every spot they had touch begin to cake with infestation. He slumped down onto his knees, death tickling at his neck. He turned and stabbed another Draithe, slicing the blade out of it's side.

Ylva stood there as she wiped her hand, glowering at him. "They will keep coming until you die. Then, they will kill everyone else in the vicinity. Quite possibly that woman who you are so inclined to protect."

He stood with the last of his strength, staggering and swaying as he held out his blade. Three more creatures appeared from the pit in the ground, the wind howling in agony. "Not as long as I draw breath."

"This is boring," Ylva said, exhaling as she took a step closer to him. "Tell me what her powers really are."

"You know what they are. You know what she is!"

Ylva blinked and twisted her hand up, the flames in the forest growing. "And you know that I need to see it."

Magnar spat at her, his sword swinging violently at another Draithe. "So you can tell the Prophet. Your sister would have never wanted -"

She whipped her hand at him, the fire dancing in her eyes. "Kill him. I'm sick of this. I'll get the girl myself."

The three Draithes appeared behind him, two of them grappling onto his arms. He bellowed out, shaking his entire body in protest. No longer having the strength, the sword clattered to the ground. The other Draithe slipped in front of him, the mouth widening. Wisps of black smoke began to twist from it's innards and Magnar recoiled back, feeling his arms become completely numb.

He was comforted in the single fact that Senea would be taken back to Orriel. That she would be safe. That she wouldn't have to witness this kind of suffering.