[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
.The wind had shifted.I could taste the south on it, mangos and warmth and the distant brightness of spice.With the southerly wind, the magic didn’t feel like lace; it felt like sunlight, like ocean water, like air.It was everywhere, and all I had to do was reach out and harvest it.I squeezed my eyes shut.The magic flowed through me, changing inside my bloodstream.I whispered an incantation in the old tongue, and I told myself it would work, it would have to work–The paralysis lifted.My eyes flew open, and I jumped to my feet.The wind swirled around us, looping around the costumed men like a rope.I stumbled away from them, gasping with the effort.Asbera and Finnur lay tangled up against each other, their eyes closed.The tree broke free of my chains.“Friend of Kolur.You cannot stop us.”I strengthened the magic, and the wind knocked him away.He landed on his back, shedding pine needles in the moonlight.I knelt beside Asbera and Finnur and sent the magic flowing through them.Their veins glowed golden beneath their skin.“Wake up,” I whispered in the ancient tongue.“Wake up, wake up, wake up.”Asbera’s eyes opened first.She stared at me like I was a wild animal.“Hanna!” she gasped.“You must move.” I said this in the ancient tongue, too.Asbera’s eyes widened and her arms jerked and the wind dragged her body up until she was standing.Then it dragged Finnur up.His eyes fluttered.“Run!” I screamed at them, still in the ancient tongue.“Run! Run home!”The costumed men wailed over the roaring of the wind.I couldn’t tell which direction it blew; it seemed to come from everywhere, north and south, east and west.Asbera and Finnur raced away, their movements jerky and awkward and not entirely their own.I whirled around to face the costumed men.The thread of magic had tightened around them.I stared; I hadn’t tightened it.I’d been tending to Finnur and Asbera, and doing so had sapped me of my strength.The rioting wind howled and howled, drowning out the cries from the costumed men.It howled so much that it became a voice, sharp and shining and cold like ice.I wasn’t sure if I imagined it or not.It spoke the ancient tongue.Run, it said.Run.Run away.And I did.CHAPTER 11Somehow, I made it back to the boarding-boats.The wind faded the farther I got from the costumed men, and by the time I was back on the docks, it was a gentle breeze, strong enough to rock the boarding-boat sign back and forth on its post but nothing more.I leaned up against the signpost.My legs trembled and my lungs burned and every muscle in my body ached.I prayed to all the gods and ancestors I knew that the costumed men – the Mists men – wouldn’t come for me.I had no more strength left to fight them.“Hanna?”Asbera’s voice trembled from out of the thick night.It sounded small and afraid.She stood at the end of the dock, a magic-cast lantern hanging from one hand.“Hanna – what happened–”She moved toward me, although her steps were slow and unsteady.She must have been weak, too.The lantern swayed, the blue light gliding across the docks.As she drew closer, I saw the streaks of tears on her face.“Finnur?” I asked.“He’s alive.” She hung the lantern from a hook on the sign.For a moment, we stared at each other.Then she flung her arms around my shoulders and buried her face in my neck.“Oh, thank you, Hanna, we would’ve – I don’t even want to think what would have happened if you hadn’t been there.”I hugged back as best I could.My thoughts were clouded with exhaustion.Asbera pulled away and smiled through her tears.“You were so brave.I can’t believe they – that was the Mists, wasn’t it? They desecrated the Nalendan.” She looked ill.“How is that even possible?”“I don’t know.” I stood there, wobbling in place.“We have to tell the priests,” Asbera babbled.“We have to warn them.I just don’t know how this could have happened.”“They were trying to find me.” I stared blankly ahead.“The Mists.It’s my fault you were hurt.”“We weren’t hurt.” Asbera grabbed my hand.“We weren’t hurt, because you saved us.”I shook my head.Asbera pulled me into a hug, almost knocking me off balance, and I could smell the smoky-sweet scent of magic on her, and the sharp tang of old fear.“Thank you,” she said when she let me go.It felt wrong, taking her thanks.Humans weren’t able to defeat Mists magic; everyone knew that.And certainly not humans like me, some fisherman’s apprentice who could control the winds for ships and not much else.Someone must have helped me.Kolur.Kolur had dragged us away from the Mists before.And that fierce northern wind – Frida, maybe, helping him.“You can stay with us tonight,” Asbera said.“I wouldn’t feel comfortable letting you go back to the Cornflower alone.”I nodded, feeling numb.Asbera rowed us back to the Crocus, and the slap of the oars against the water kept time with the beat of my heart.She took me down below, past the rustling plants and dried-out vines.Finnur was stretched out on a cot beside the hearth, liquid bubbling in a cauldron on the fire [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]