Anne Bishop - Shadows and Light

Mentally, Keely was as much of a child as Brooke. But Breanna was not a child, and as he slowed his horse to a trot, he saw the way she walked a few steps behind Keely and Oakdancer, scanning the sky, looking back over her shoulder at the nearest trees.

And he saw her freeze suddenly as she looked at those trees.

Framed by the rich greens of summer was one tree with several large, dead branches that looked like old bones. Had those branches been dead when the men had brought the horses into this pasture?

The wind shifted, now coming from the direction of those trees.

Liam had a moment to wonder if that had been Breanna’s doing before the horses went mad.

Oakdancer reared, pulling Keely off her feet. Liam’s horse suddenly swerved to the left, almost throwing him as it made a tight circle to run back toward the manor house. Liam reined in hard, startling the animal just long enough to give himself a chance to dismount and make a quick knot in the reins to shorten them enough to keep the horse from stepping on them. Then he let the horse go.

As he turned back toward Breanna, he saw a black cloud of small, winged bodies pour out of the trees, flying fast toward the two women.

Breanna whirled around, raced to reach Keely. When she shouted, “Stand!” Oakdancer’s front hooves hit the ground. The stallion was trembling but stood firm.

Keely got to her feet, her lips pushed out in a pout. She started to argue, but Breanna cut the argument short by grabbing Keely’s shoulders and turning her so that she could clearly see what was heading toward them. Then Breanna spun the mental child who was her mother, grabbed one leg, and gave Keely enough of a boost to mount Oakdancer’s bare back.

Breanna glanced back at the trees and slapped Oakdancer’s flank, shouting, “Go!”

Liam’s heart pounded in his chest as he ran toward Breanna. Oakdancer cantered right toward him, ears pricked, dark eyes focused on the man he trusted.

“Go!” Liam said, pointing in the direction of Breanna’s house.

“No!” Keely cried, looking back as if she finally understood what was going to happen. “No! Breanna!”

“Go!” Liam shouted.

The stallion stretched into a smooth gallop and quickly disappeared with Keely.

Liam turned back to look at Breanna. For one long moment, the world held its breath, and he saw her standing there, as strong as the land, the nighthunters filling the sky behind her.

He and Breanna couldn’t run fast enough to escape, and they had no weapons. They were going to die in that pasture, and they both knew it.

“You could have mounted the stallion,” Breanna said. “Why didn’t you go when you had the chance?”

“You’re my sister. I won’t let you stand alone.”

Pleasure. Sorrow. Determination. He saw all those things in her face. Then she said, “The villagers need a strong baron who will stand for them against the Inquisitors and the barons they control. My family needs a strong baron to stand for them. None of them will have that if you die here. Run, Liam. Run now.”

She turned and moved toward the approaching swarm of nighthunters.

He froze for a moment, unwilling to believe she would stand as bait and sacrifice.

“Breanna, no!”

Heat throbbed under his skin as the distance between Breanna and the nighthunters closed too fast. She was right about the county he ruled needing a strong baron.

He took a step toward her.

She was right.

Took another step.

His heart didn’t care if she was right. She was his sister .

She glanced back at him, saw him moving toward her. She lifted her skirt, as if preparing to run.

He would never know for sure if she’d intended to run toward the nighthunters to give him more of a chance to escape or if she’d intended to run back toward him. He would never know because, at that moment before she moved, the hawk screamed.

It dove toward the nighthunters, toward Breanna.

Liam felt a stab of jealousy when he saw that same blend of feelings in her face when she looked up at the hawk as she’d had when she’d looked at him.

No. Not quite the same. There was something more there, something a woman wouldn’t feel for a brother.

“No!” Breanna shouted.

The hawk had almost reached her. So had the nighthunters.

Wind whipped around her, swirling, gusting, coming from no direction and every direction.

Breanna swung her left hand upward, as if she were tossing a ball into the air.

The hawk screamed again, but it sounded more surprised than angry as the wind Breanna summoned caught it and lifted it straight up into the sky, too high for the nighthunters to attack. Too high to help Breanna.

She made a slashing motion with her right hand, first in one direction, then the other. Wind howled over that part of the pasture, hit the nighthunters, and sent the swarm tumbling in the air.

Liam heard the creatures’ squeaking shrieks. Some of them fell to the ground, with one or both wings broken. They flopped and crawled toward Breanna, their mouths open to reveal needle-sharp teeth.

Breanna skipped backward a couple of steps to stay away from the nighthunters on the ground. She made that slashing motion again, and the wind continued to whip around that part of the pasture, keeping the rest of the nighthunters tumbling. Then she turned and ran.

Liam couldn’t tell if her foot slipped on a stone or came down wrong in a depression in the land, but she’d run only a few steps when she fell, sprawling full length in the grass.

He ran toward her as the nighthunter swarm fought against the wind to reach its prey. The heat under his skin pulsed like it was alive, feeding on his fear and fury.

“NO!” He flung one hand forward, as if that gesture would stop the nighthunters. Heat roared up from the soles of his feet, up through his legs, through his body, and finally raced down that outstretched arm.

Streams of fire leaped from his fingertips. He spread his fingers. The fire fanned out, following the movement. It hit the nighthunters, consuming them in the flames.

Breanna glanced up, then screamed as charred, stillburning bodies fell and hit her skirt. She crawled forward as fast as she could to get away from the falling bodies.

Fire continued to pour from Liam’s fingertips. Terrified, he waved his hand. The fire followed the movement, catching more of the nighthunters, burning them in the fierce heat.

“Liam!” Breanna shouted, continuing to crawl toward him.

Heat continued to flow through his body on its way to his hand. He didn’t know what he’d done to cause this, didn’t know how to stop it. He started to lower his hand, but the fire streamed out, setting the grass ablaze.

“Ground it, Liam!” Breanna shouted. “Ground the power!”

He didn’t understand what she was saying, didn’t know what she meant. There was no power, only this heat that, somehow, had become tangible.

Squeaking furiously, the remaining nighthunters fled back to the safety of the trees.

Liam’s heart pounded in his chest. His legs shook. His lungs couldn’t seem to draw in enough air. The heat was starting to fade, leaving him feeling exhausted and a little ill, but fire continued to spurt from his fingertips, burning more of the grass.

He heard men shouting behind him, heard someone giving orders to bring water and wet blankets—and fetch Nuala.

“Liam!”

Breanna’s voice slashed at him. He just looked at her, feeling the panicked desperation of a child who had gotten himself in trouble and now hoped the adults around him could save him from his own folly.

“You have to ground the power now, Liam,” Breanna said, her voice strained by the effort to sound calm as she crawled on hands and knees toward him.