There are a dozen different spells I could use to alleviate the pain or help the wound mend itself, but between the fear and the pain and my growing exhaustion, I can’t seem to think of a single one.
Need to get the shifter to safety.
I stumble up the last of the stairs. My legs shake, my lungs and shoulder and back burn, and I can feel my hot blood running down my leg and warming my skin.
TAKE MY MAGIC. I wince at the sound of Memnon’s voice inside me.
Is that what he meant? Take his magic?
NOW, MATE.
Ugh, “mate.”
EST AMAGE. TAKE IT.
“Stop yelling at me,” I moan, staggering away from the stairs and toward a carved wooden door ahead of me. I’ve only taken two steps when the blood seeping from my calf wound begins to bubble and boil against my skin.
I cry out from the fresh new pain.
Now why would my wound do that…？
The spell must’ve been a curse. A really shitty one.
I stumble the last few feet to the door and awkwardly grab the knob, nearly dropping the limp girl in my arms. I just manage to twist it open, and then me and the shifter fall through it. I barely have time to twist my body so I’m the one who hits the wet earth and not the girl.
We’re outside.
I let out an exhausted huff. That feels like a win all on its own.
I smell the forest around us, and when I look back toward the open doorway, I see the door itself has been carved into the trunk of a tree, though the interior of the tree appears to be far larger than its exterior.
Magic, man…
I still hear the distant sounds of witches fighting and screaming inside, but I doubt the lamassu will hold them all off for much longer.
I try to get up, but my entire body is protesting. I whimper at my various wounds. My magic and my adrenaline are wearing away. I don’t know how much more I have in me.
By the love of all our gods, little witch, Memnon says, please—I am begging you—take what I am offering!
What you’re offering? I feel it then, through that magical river that seems to flow right to my heart.
Power. Endless power. More than anyone has any business handling.
I don’t understand how he’s siphoning it to me, and I don’t bother to consider the repercussions of using this sorcerer’s magic. I reach for it.
I gasp as it pours into me. The pain from my various injuries grows dull, and my fatigue vanishes entirely.
I rise to my feet, picking up the unconscious girl once more.
And then I run.
Need to get to shifter territory. That’s all I can think as I sprint.
I sense the boundary line ahead of me, but it feels like it might as well be in a different country.
I stumble over roots, and twigs and rocks cut into the soft pads of my feet. I clench my teeth against the sensation of blood dripping down my calf.
Later. I’ll deal with it all later.
I can’t hear the witches behind me anymore, and I’m starting to gain confidence when the girl in my arms begins to gag.
I don’t want to stop running, not when bloodthirsty witches who practice the dark arts want to enslave this girl’s will to another.
But I also don’t want her to choke on her own vomit.
I stop and let her down. She’s not even conscious. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. I lay her on her side, focusing my attention on her.
Whatever they gave her, I’m afraid she’s been given too much.
She gags again, and it’s clear that the substance in her system needs to come out.
Gently, I press a hand to her stomach. “Purge,” I command, pressing my borrowed power into her flesh.
The sunrise-orange magic billows out from beneath my palm, then sinks into her skin.
She lunges forward and retches violently. I try not to make a face at what comes up, but I can smell the tainted magic lacing her vomit.
She throws up again. And again.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, combing her hair back, wincing as I feel a tug in my injured shoulder.
There must be more poison within her, poison that’s entered her bloodstream. It too needs to be removed from her system.
Placing a hand on her chest and another on her back, I grab Memnon’s power and coax it down my arms to my palms.
“Dissolve the poison within,” I command in Sarmatian.
Then I force my power into the girl.
Her back arches, and her eyes snap open. She begins to scream, and I have to grit my teeth and brace myself as magic battles magic within her.
I continue to force as much healing power into her as possible, overwhelming the toxin slipping through her veins. I sway a little, the sustained effort making me feel faint.