Memories of Ash (The Sunbolt Chronicles Book 2) Read Online Free PDF Page B

except I don’t need a warning as much as a shielding from hostile magic and protection from attackers. I want these beads to create a bubble around me that cannot be penetrated. I don’t know if I have the ability to manage this casting or not, but I’ll get as close as I can.
    I work for nearly two hours layering my enchantments. I cast a simple shielding , strengthening it repeatedly until it can withstand a spell of the highest order. Then I stabilize the boundaries created by the shield to stop physical objects from passing through: arrows and swords and stones. By the time I accomplish this much, my eyes feel dry as dust and I have to blink often to keep my focus clear. There’s a faint ringing in my ears from the magic I’ve expended, and I have a new problem to contend with once I’m rested … the air I breathe within the wards might not naturally replenish itself.
    I gather up the cord, looping it around my hand until it’s compact enough to stuff back into its pouch. That’s enough for now.
    After a light lunch, I walk out to the lake and perch on a small boulder, staring out across the rippling waters. How had Stormwind managed out here alone day after day? What was she running from, what was so terrible that she chose to spend her years here in solitude?
    I massage my temples, trying to ease the ache spreading behind my eyes. With the gentle autumn sun warming my shoulders and the wind whispering to itself across the lake, I feel sleep softly beckoning. All the magic-working has taken its toll. I stretch out beside the stone, turning my head to gaze out over the shimmering water.
    Before long, I slip into a doze, my mind drifting along familiar paths, thinking now of Stormwind, then my mother, then Val. In the way of dreams, I find myself inexplicably somewhere else, my thoughts untroubled.
    I stand at the stern of a good-sized ship. Two tall masts with slanted triangular sails rise at my back, the mark of a sea-faring dhow, built to navigate rough waters. Before me lies a city unlike any I’ve heard tell of before. The buildings are carved into two huge cliffs that face each other, forming a deep gorge above the rolling waves. The city is bounded by low-walled streets and sheltered by soaring cave roofs. The buildings must be built into caverns, though I cannot tell how deep they go. The city might just as easily hold a few thousand as a few hundred residents.
    I shift, leaning against the rails. No— not me , but the man whose eyes I look through. I hold myself still, hovering beside his awareness, conscious now of the faint pressure of his thoughts, words that bear the sound of his voice: home and barrier and trouble brewing. I know the eyes I see through are amethyst in color, that the body I have slipped into isn’t human at all.
    I’ve had dreams like this before, a handful of times. Each time I lost my hold on it before I could be sure of its reality. This time, I intend to stay as long as I can. I make myself small, keeping away from the thoughts that brush past me, light as the wings of moths.
    The boards creak behind us. “It always looks better at a distance, doesn’t it?” The speaker, a man with light brown hair and peridot green eyes, steps up to the railing beside us. He gazes at the receding city with a mix of humor and contempt.
    “Most things do,” the breather whose body I share replies blandly , his voice deeply familiar. I pull farther back, try to keep from speaking his name in my mind.
    “Bah.” The man spits into the water. “I don’t know what we expected of them anyway.” He turns away. “I’m going under.”
    Val nods. He glances to the side, and I see that the ship approaches a rocky shoal. As the ship shifts, the captain adjusting its course, a faint ripple crosses the deck. Val looks back at the city — but it’s no longer there. Blank cliffs run unbroken along the shore. The canyon is gone, the buildings hidden. The wide-open waters are rocky and unwelcoming