A Trial of Sorcerers: Book One by Kova, Elise (korean novels in english .TXT) 📗

gasped, wheezing. But the ice continued to protect her flesh. The covering stayed as she stood once more, staggering to her feet as Ferro approached.

“You…you made the shield on the lake,” Eira whispered, trying to get her thoughts in order.

“You two were the last to die tonight and I got clumsy.” He took a breath, opening his mouth once more. But Eira didn’t give him a chance to say another word of power.

With a cry, she lunged forward. Ice flaked off of her. A weapon appeared in Eira’s hand by instinct more than a conscious command. She thrust forward, ready to skewer him.

“Mysst soto xieh!” Ferro barely had time to react. Eira’s trident shattered on his shield.

She spun in place, feeling the air around her condense. The moonlight shifted through her distortion. A copy of her—an illusion—jumped back as she spun around Ferro, invisible in the darkness.

“Juth calt,” he snarled, and Eira watched as her illusion was ripped to shreds.

She summoned a dagger to her palm and went to plunge it into his side. But Ferro was too fast and too well-trained. He dodged at the last second, her ice merely clipping his luxurious coat harmlessly.

“Kot sorre.” A glyph appeared between them. It charged into her, pushing Eira back. She tumbled through the snow, trying to fight against it. But the circle of light moved with the speed of a carriage pulled by a dozen invisible horses and she was just as helpless to fight it.

Her back cracked against a trunk as the glyph nearly doubled her around a tree. Eira let out a gasp of air and the remaining ice vanished from her skin. Everything in her body hurt. Everything was aflame with an agony she’d never known before.

The only thing that kept her moving was a drive deeply rooted in her—survival. She would do anything to survive. She would keep moving at all costs. She wasn’t going to let him or anyone steal the breath from her lungs.

Especially not before she avenged her brother.

Eira groaned, plunging her fingers into the snow. She dug deeper than ever before for magic. Ice spiked upward, racing from her to Ferro.

“Juth calt.” He shattered her magic with two words, sending a spray of ice in all directions. “You can’t beat me. You know that, right?” He laughed. “You’re tougher than you look, I grant you. But I am the son of the Champion. I am destined for glory!”

Eira groaned, moving her hand through the snow, trying to leech its cold—its strength. But she was tired, so tired. There wasn’t enough left in her to fight him. He was right. She didn’t even know the first thing about combat.

Ferro came to a stop, looming over her. “Now, it’s time for you to die.”

Eira pressed her eyes closed. Make it stop, she begged her magic, the goddess, anyone. This can’t be it; I can’t die here.

“Loft dorh,” he snarled.

Weight piled atop her, trying to hold her down.

No! The instinct to survive was back—even when her body broke, it persisted. Eira resisted against the invisible force. She pushed herself to her knees.

“Loft dorh,” Ferro repeated with purpose. Eira saw the glyphs that hovered in his palms flickering, as if they were unstable, as if his own strength was fading. “How…how are you—”

She didn’t give him a chance to finish. With her magic waning, Eira was left with no other choice. She punched him square across the jaw. Her knuckles split on his bone but she followed up her first punch with another. And then a third.

Ferro stumbled backwards, putting space between them. He wiped the back of his hand against his bloodied face. Eira knew she shouldn’t ease up on her attacks but she was too weary to keep going. Every movement was leaden.

“Maph,” he snarled. A glyph sparked like a tinderbox around his wrist. Barely there and fragile. Ferro looked at it in disgust and then back to her. He opened his mouth to speak but Eira wasn’t going to give him the opportunity.

Running on the last of her power, she froze his mouth shut. He grunted and groaned in agony, raking his fingers down his face, his nails clipping on ice. But her magic didn’t budge, and his lips could no longer move.

Lightspinning was powerful and incredible in its versatility. But it had one key weakness that Eira had just figured out—a sorcerer had to be able to say the words to summon the glyphs and use the magic.

Eira sank back, collapsing. She kept a firm hold on her magic. She’d die before she let him speak again.

Ferro charged forward, hands balled into fists.

With a look toward his feet, she rooted him to the ground. Ferro toppled forward, no longer able to move. Three points of magic—she had to sustain three points, his mouth and two feet.

As Ferro tugged against her holds, Eira stared at him listlessly. It was because of him her brother was dead. He had tried to kill them both.

Whatever remnants there had once been of her heart were now turning dark and cold. Part of her was dying alongside where her brother lay. Whatever goodness Eira had once possessed was leaving her.

Kill him, an ugly voice within her snarled. It grew louder by the minute. Blood for blood.

Eira stared at Ferro. He’d stopped struggling and now stared at her with an almost content gaze. He was going to wait her out. He knew how weak her magic was and the moment he was free, she wouldn’t be able to put up a fight.

Her gaze drifted back to Marcus.

Pushing herself up for what felt like the final time, Eira made her way to her brother, ignoring Ferro. She knelt down, scooping him up—or trying to.

Marcus…the golden child. Marcus…the better one. Marcus…the true son of their parents.

His blood was on her hands as much as it was on Ferro’s.

She hadn’t been fast enough. She’d told him to stop trying to break the shield. She’d gone out on the lake with him