EXCERPT
The vision whisks us away from the cottage, and our spirits fly to a tiny camp deep in the forest. We stand with hands joined, staring at four Elves gathered around a campfire.
Fortune magic whispers through my mind, telling me these are the Elves who took my mother. My blood boils, and I grit my teeth.
One of them, a young woman with a shaved head, has the faraway look of someone in the grip of a vision. The others wait, staring into the flames.
When her eyes focus on the world before her, she hisses, “Fetch her.”
A form beside her separates from the shadows. A malicious smile spreads over his features, but darkness hides sunken eyes. He disappears into a tent only to return, dragging my mother along behind him.
My heart twists in my chest.
Dirty ropes bind her hands. A gash on the side of her face sucks in the light, and dried blood coats her skin.
“Mother!” I scream, voice breaking.
But she doesn’t hear me.
The woman with the shaved head steps closer to her. “What do you know and who did you tell?”
“All I know is that Gourmaht wants to renew the Blood Magic, and he’s somewhere in the Cargam Mountains. That’s it.”
The bald woman looms over my mother, leaning close. “Who did you tell?”
“No one.”
The woman steps back and motions to the shadowy man. His hand flies out, slamming into my mother’s face.
She stumbles backward, nearly toppling into the flames, and I gasp. Cold horror sweeps through me.
But my mother doesn’t make a sound.
She squares her shoulders, lifts her chin. A single tear trickles over her cheek, and blood flows from the gash on her face, now weeping once more, cascading to her tattered shirt.
The bald woman shouts, “Who did you tell?”
Mother’s words come out a whisper, “No one. I told no one. I couldn’t bear to speak of it.”
Finally, this satisfies them. The bald woman enters another vision. But fortune magic tells me it isn’t by choice. Waergou triggered it. The same man who traced Mother’s location.
When she snaps out of it, she says, “Gourmaht believes that she told no one. She has no one, after all, so who would she tell? Such a pitiful, lonely existence.”
Turning to the remaining two figures, she says, “Make it look like an animal attack. Provoke one if you can.”
Then, she vanishes into the tent behind her.
The shadow man shoves Mother to the ground, and my mouth falls open. Beluroan’s grip on my hand tightens.
Don’t let them do this.
The remaining Elves, two faceless figures, drag her to the edge of the firelight. Shadow wraps around them, hiding their faces.
I reach for a stick, anything to use as a weapon, but my hand passes through. Only my spirit stands here.
The Elves pull knives from within their cloaks and slash my mother’s arms, her stomach, her legs. A terrible scream erupts from me, but they hear nothing.
Mother bites her lip, silent and still. Blood trickles from her mouth where teeth pierce flesh.
I tug at Beluroan’s arm, desperate to go to her, to save her, but he pulls me into his arms.
“Elairie, we can’t do anything,” he gasps, voice cracking as he tucks my head against his chest.
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Sounds like an interesting book.
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