A Sky of Spells (Book #9 in the Sorcerer's Ring) Read Online Free PDF Page A

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CHAPTER FOUR
     
     
    Alistair sprinted her way
through the chaotic battlefield, weaving her way in and out of the soldiers as
they fought for their lives against the army of undead rising up all around
them. Moans and shrieks filled the air as the soldiers killed the ghouls—and as
the ghouls, in turn, killed the soldiers. The Silver and MacGils and Silesians
fought boldly—but they were vastly outnumbered. For each undead they killed,
three more appeared. It was only a matter of time, Alistair could see, until
all of her people were wiped out.
    Alistair doubled her speed,
running with all she had, her lungs bursting, ducking as an undead swiped for
her face and crying out as another scratched her arm, drawing blood. She did
not stop to fight them. There was no time. She had to find Argon.
    She ran in the direction she
had seen him last, when he was fighting Rafi and had collapsed from the effort.
She prayed it had not killed him, that she could rouse him, and that she could
make it before she and all her people were killed.
    An undead appeared before
her, blocking her way, and she held out her palm; a white ball of light struck it
in the chest, knocking it backwards.
    Five more appeared, and she
held out her palm—but this time, only one more ball of light emerged, and the
other four closed in on her. Her powers, she was surprised to realize, were
limited.
    Alistair braced herself for
attack as they closed in—when she heard a snarling noise and looked over to see
Krohn, leaping beside her and sinking his fangs into their throats. The undead
turned on him, and Alistair found her chance. She elbowed one in the throat,
knocking it over, and ran.
    Alistair pushed her way through
the chaos, desperate, the ghouls increasing in number by the moment, her people
beginning to be pushed back. As she ducked and weaved, she finally emerged into
a small clearing, the place where she remembered seeing Argon.
    Alistair scanned the ground,
desperate, and finally, between all the corpses, she found him. He was lying
there, slumped on the ground, curled up in a ball. He lay in a small clearing
and clearly he had cast some sort of spell to keep others away from him. He was
unconscious, and as Alistair rushed to his side, she hoped and prayed he was
still alive.
    As she came closer, Alistair
felt enveloped, protected in his magic bubble. She took a knee beside him and took
a deep breath, finally safe from the battle all around her, finding respite in
the eye of the storm.
    Yet Alistair was also struck
with terror as she looked down at Argon: he lay there, eyes closed, not
breathing. She was flooded with panic.
    “Argon!” she cried out,
shaking his shoulders with both hands, trembling. “Argon, it’s me! Alistair!
Wake up! You have to wake up!”
    Argon lay there, unresponsive,
while all around her, the battle was intensifying.
    “Argon, please! We need you.
We cannot combat Rafi’s magic. We do not have the skills that you do. Please, come
back to us. For the Ring. For Gwendolyn. For Thorgrin.”
    Alistair shook him, you
still he did not respond.
    Desperate, an idea came to
her. She lay both palms on his chest, closed her eyes and focused. She summoned
all of her inner energy, whatever was left, and slowly, she felt her hands
warm. As she opened her eyes, she saw a blue light emanating from her palms,
spreading over his chest and shoulders. Soon it enveloped his entire body. Alistair
was using an ancient spell she had once learned, to revive the sick. It was
draining her, and she felt all the energy leaving her body. Getting weak, she
willed for Argon to come back.
    Alistair collapsed,
exhausted from the effort, and lay at Argon’s side, too weak to move.
    She sensed movement, and she
looked over and to her amazement saw Argon begin to stir.
    He sat up and turned to her,
his eyes shining with an intensity that scared her. He stared at her, expressionless,
then reached over, grabbed his staff, and gained his feet. He