The White Forest (Mages and Kingdoms Book 2) Read Online Free PDF Page B

harnessed and used so casually was a wonderment. Amelie didn’t know if she’d ever get used to these sights. She tried not to gape like an outsider. Inside, she wished for such an active power that she could put on display.
    She rubbed the amber chain around her neck. Henna had found the tamest variety of amber and had woven it sparingly through silver to create a pretty rope that was only a slight pain on her collarbone. She’d grown accustomed to the constant burn but sometimes when she was thinking about her powers, the heat flared and bothered her skin.
    After her first outing to the village, Amelie soon began to crave market day. The only other times she ever left the cottage was to assist Henna with a birth or check on some of her deliveries to make sure mother and child were doing well. She’d only been to two births and both left her weak and shaking with fever. At the market, she simply trailed Henna around the carts and watched.
    Many of the mages looked just like any human would but a few were striking. There was one with a shock of blue hair running the length of her blonde locks in a streak behind her left ear. From her fingers, crystals of ice formed. She dropped them in brown mugs. The cart sold iced cider. It was one of Amelie’s favorite stops. The liquid was sweet and the sensation of cold on her tongue was still unexpected even though she bought one each time she visited.
    The commotion came one day as Henna was inspecting a selection of vegetables they didn’t grow in the garden at the cottage. Several people ran by in the direction of the main fountain, a large angel with water pouring out of her hands. Amelie craned her neck but Henna tapped her arm.
    “Listen, but do not draw attention to yourself,” she instructed.
    “It would draw attention if we ignored it,” Amelie countered to which Henna had no reply.  The old woman stepped away from the cart and rose on her feet to get a better look. “Perhaps,” she murmured.
    “He’s hurt!” a shout came. “Help me get if off!”
    A need inside Amelie snapped. The pain in her chest tore through her at the same time as the villagers cries for help rang out. She stumbled, grabbing at the phantom pain near her heart. She felt it keenly, even through the amber chain. The injury was serious. He would not survive the hour. Through a blinding white haze of hurt, she stumbled through the crowd, elbowing and jostling her way to the fountain.
    Sloughing off angry curses and pushes back, she finally reached the source of the pain. She reached out blindly, her fingertips finding the chest. Her eyes cleared a bit and she looked down. A gentleman looked back at her with wide, frightened eyes. He was streaked with gray in his hair and beard, but he had many years left in him. A wheel was pressed onto his upper torso. The balance of a large cart of metal was pushing its weight behind it, crushing him.
    Amelie could see where the axle snapped. The four men struggling with the load had stopped in their efforts to look at her.
    “Remove the cart,” she ordered impatiently, barking at the men who’d stopped. They instantly resumed and with a grunt, finally lifted it off him.
    Amelie removed her necklace and tossed it aside. The intensity of the pain was an instant shock and her scream pierced the ears of everyone around her. She couldn’t breathe. She felt as if she’d die that instant. Her heart crushed in on itself, making it hard to move her limbs. The moonstone. It was magnifying everything, crippling her with pain.
    She placed her hands on the man’s chest. Rankor’s warning rang through her about mortal wounds but she pressed on. Her magic would pull away if it proved futile. She prayed to the angels that the moonstone she took from the last birth still coursed in her body and would restore this man. Through clenched teeth she pushed on his chest. They cried in unison, their sounds a biting pain to anyone within earshot.
    Amelie felt some resistance.