And with that, he disappeared. I swore, sat down, and closed my eyes. I didn’t bother reaching for calm, didn’t bother to center myself. I simply wrenched my soul free from my flesh and flung myself onto the fields. For a moment everything spun around me, a whirl of gray that had my stomach churning and my pulse rate shooting through the roof. Or maybe that was simply fear.
The Dušan exploded from my arm, her lilac form quickly gaining flesh and shape, until she seemed so real that I wanted to reach out and touch her. She swirled around me, the wind of her body buffeting mine as her sharp ebony gaze scanned the fields surrounding us. I wondered if she sensed the Rakshasa, or if she was merely reacting to the knot of fear growing in the pit of my stomach.
I spun around, my gaze searching the silvery plains. But there was nothing; no one was here. Then I remembered what Azriel had said—if spirits traversed the fields, it was only via the paene. I’d come too far into the fields.
I dove for the shadowy divide between the fields and the real world, and spotted it. The Rakshasa was a boiling, writhing mass of dark gray that almost merged into the mist that was this part of the fields. And it was quickly receding into the distance.
Azriel was easier to find—he was a blaze of sunlight in this ghostly otherworld, a force whose very presence throbbed through my being. He was closer to the creature than I was, but nowhere near close enough.
I ran forward, Amaya gripped tightly in my right hand and the Dušan’s serpentine form swirling around me. Her eyes glittered fiercely as she continued to scan the fields around us—searching for trouble. Searching for a threat.
I hoped like hell she didn’t find it.
But even as that thought crossed my mind, trumpets echoed, the sound oddly haunting in the hush of the fields. The last time I’d heard those trumpets, it had meant the Raziq were hunting me.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I kept my gaze on the receding forms of Azriel and the Rakshasa, trying to increase my speed and catch up, but having little success with either. I might walk the fields, but this was not my world, and it seemed that the constraints of my flesh were affecting me here. Speed had never been one of my gifts.
The haunting echo of the horns drew closer. Amaya was a fierce storm battering my thoughts, wanting to stand and fight, and frustrated that we weren’t, while the Dušan’s movements were getting more and more agitated. My gaze swept the shadows, but I couldn’t see anything or anyone.
They were out there, nevertheless. I could feel the ill wind of their presence rushing toward me.
And then, from out of nowhere, they struck.
Only it wasn’t the Raziq. It was a writhing mass of sinuous, sluglike forms that had stalks for eyes and seemed to bleed a white substance from all over their bodies.
They rolled out of the shadows like a gigantic bowling ball and came straight at me. The Dušan screamed and dove into their midst, sending gray forms scattering as she bit and slashed. Several rolling lumps re-formed out of the main mass, the smaller ones circling me as the larger one—with the Dušan still in its midst—continued rolling toward me. I jumped out of its path and swung Amaya. Purple fire trailed from her blade, splattering the nearest creatures as she sliced through their beings and cut them asunder. Gray muck sprayed from their bodies and the mass seemed to writhe with greater agitation. But it didn’t fall apart, didn’t seem to be deterred. It simply did a long looping turn and came at me again.
The Dušan rose from its midst, twisted in midair, then dove again, teeth wide, chomping down on gray forms, flinging them left and right. It still didn’t seem to have any effect. The writhing forms just drew closer, instantly filling the spaces created by the Dušan.
A wind hit me from behind. I staggered a little, caught my balance, then swung around. One of the smaller masses had broken the circle and was coming straight at me. I swung Amaya. Her blade hit the ball of slugs and came to a shuddering halt—it was as if something had gripped her hard. She screamed her fury, spitting fire that sizzled and flamed out the minute it struck the oozing sides of the slugs. I swore and pulled back with all my might. She came free with a weird sucking sound just as a second small mass of slugs swept in. I swung to face it, but it arced, avoiding the sweep of the blade. As it passed me, the white mucus that bled from its pores exploded, splattering through the air. I twisted away from it, but nowhere near fast enough. The mucus plastered my left side and instantly hardened, pinning my arm to my body and immobilizing my leg.
Glue. It was some form of fucking glue.
There was no fighting this. All the slug balls had to do was keep their distance and spit their glue at me, and I’d be trussed up tighter than a turkey at Thanksgiving in no time. I had to get out of here.
Sorry, Azriel, it’s too dangerous for me to stay here on the fields. I closed my eyes and flung myself back into my body. The force of it sent me toppling off the chair and onto the floor. And that’s where I remained, doing nothing more than sucking in air as pain shuddered through my body and tiny men with hammers went crazy inside my head. After several heartbeats, the shifting magic crawled sluggishly over my face, my body unable to sustain the change when my energy reserves were so low.
And matters weren’t being helped by Amaya—she was a continuous scream echoing through the outer reaches of my thoughts, and the Dušan was writhing up and down my arm, the movements somewhat disturbing and definitely furious. Neither of them, it seemed, was happy about my sudden retreat.
Not that I particularly cared. I couldn’t fight if I was all glued up, and I had no intention of landing in the hands of the Raziq—I had no doubt that was who’d sent those things. For whatever reason, they didn’t seem prepared to get their hands dirty trying to capture me, be it here or on the fields.
I released Amaya, then tried to get up, but with both my left arm and leg out of action, it was decidedly awkward. Eventually, I skewed myself around until my back was pressed against the wall, then did a sideways sit-up. I poked the white substance warily; it had set like rock, and made an odd, almost hollow sound when I tapped it. I dug my fingernails under one end and tried to break it away from my clothes, with little success.
I reached for Amaya and pressed her point lightly against the muck gluing my leg. Her hissing dropped several octaves—becoming more a grumbling sound, as if she was reluctantly obeying my unspoken need—and the flames dancing down her sides ran across the mass of white. The pungent scent of burning flesh began to infuse the air. It wasn’t my flesh burning but the white substance. It might look and work like glue, but it obviously wasn’t.
After several more minutes, the glue had disappeared, leaving only a powdery white stain on my jeans. I repeated the process on my arm, but this time, the powdery substance had chewed through my sweater and the skin underneath had a pink sheen, almost as if it had been burned.
I pushed myself to my feet, but the room spun and I had to grab at the wall to stop myself from falling. Heat shimmered around me; then Azriel appeared, quickly catching my other arm and holding me steady.
“You need to sit,” he said.
“No,” I replied, swallowing bile as sweat broke out on my brow. “I need to stay right here. Otherwise, I’m going to throw up all over your boots.”
“These boots are part of the illusion I wear, so it would not matter.”
“Which doesn’t mean they won’t get ruined when I vomit all over them.”