Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 66196 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66196 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
But there’s no fierce warrior outside her door—just a humble peasant with frightened eyes. He’s twisting the ragged cloth of his tunic and shifting from foot-to-foot as he looks up at us.
“Please, my Lady Sorceress,” he says in a voice shaking with emotion. “I never asked you for nothing before and my wife says you’ll probably kill me for asking but I have to try.”
“I do not kill anyone for making requests of me,” Sylvanna says. “Tell me, what is your trouble?”
“It’s Jacobin—my oldest boy,” the peasant says. “A fever came upon him sudden-like and he’s near death. I’ve heard that you hold the power of life and death in your hands, my Lady and I beg you—if there’s any way you can take my life and give it to my son, I’d do anything—pay anything!”
Sylvanna’s eyes go soft and compassionate—I’ve seen that look before. It’s the same expression she wore when she woke me from my nightmare and fed me healing nectar from her breasts while she stroked me. It’s still a memory I treasure.
“I cannot trade one life for another, but I’ll come to see your son,” she tells the peasant. “Maybe I can heal him. Just let me get my grimoire and some supplies.”
She disappears up the spiral stairs for a moment and then comes back down in a hurry, carrying a huge, heavy book bound in blood-red leather and a satchel full of supplies.
“Here, Mistress—let me take those.” I take the satchel and book, noticing that it seems to hum in my hands as I do. Then I follow Sylvanna out of the tower and the peasant nods to us.
“It’s this way, my Lady,” he says pointing. “About half a day’s walk in that direction.”
“Half a day’s walk? We’ve no time for that!” Sylvanna pulls a crystal from her satchel and looks at me. “I may need to draw on some of your stored power, Alaric. Transporting three people by magic is no easy task and I’ll need to save my own magic for healing the boy.”
“I’m yours to command, my Mistress,” I tell her. “But can you really take the three of us so far by magic?”
She nods.
“This is a traveling gem,” she says, nodding at the deep blue crystal she holds in her palm. It’s as long as my middle finger and pointed at both ends—as sharp as a needle.
The peasant looks frightened but says nothing at the idea of the three of us being whisked across the countryside by magical means. I believe that Sylvanna can do it—I have a feeling I’ve only seen a small part of her magic so far.
She beckons for me and I lean down to her. She places her hand on my collar and I feel something flowing out of me and into her. Could it be the power that’s been overflowing during our training sessions? I know my personal reservoir remains full—I’ve learned to feel it and see it in my mind’s eye whenever I want to now.
Whatever it is, Sylvanna seems to get enough after a moment because she nods at me and then presses the point of her finger to the needle-sharp tip of the traveling gem. A single drop of blood wells from her fingertip…and then is sucked into the crystal which turns from bright blue to a cloudy purple. At the same time, Sylvanna is chanting.
“Take us where we need to go
Speed in haste, do not be slow.”
No sooner has she finished speaking than everything around me seems to whirl away. It’s like I mounted the fasted horse in the world and he’s traveling at a breakneck pace while I cling to his back and the world spins around me.
It’s a dizzying sensation and not just for me. The moment we come to an abrupt stop, the peasant falls to his knees, retching in the grass. Sylvanna is swaying as well. I catch her before she stumbles.
“Thank you, my Paladin.” She looks up at me gratefully. “I haven’t traveled this way in some time. I had forgotten how fatiguing it can be.”
In fact, she looks pale—even paler than usual, which is saying something. I’m fucking worried about her and I look down at her anxiously.
“Mistress? Are you sure you’re up to this?” I ask.
She nods firmly and straightens up, shaking my hand off her arm.
“I’m fine, Alaric—thank you. I just needed a moment to recover my composure.”
The peasant seems to be taking a moment too but eventually he staggers to his feet and gasps,
“My abode is this way, my Lady.” He points to a small cottage with a thatched roof not far from us.
“Very good—lead the way,” Sylvanna commands him.
Like me, he doesn’t question her. We follow him to the hut and he pushes inside, calling for his wife.
She comes at once—a Nocturna woman with a pale face and red eyes—it’s clear she’s been weeping.