Firewalker (Worldwalker 2)

“You’re not going up there, are you? How can you defend yourselves from him if you’re busy climbing?” Breakfast asked, whispering frantically. He looked at Una pleadingly. ?

??Don’t.”

“Stuart,” she said, smiling softly, “we either do this now, or we live in fear forever. I won’t live in fear again. You know that.”

Breakfast stared at Una, probably sharing a private exchange in mindspeak, before finally nodding.

“We have to hurry,” Rowan said.

They gathered as much wood as they could and piled it in front of Lily. All the wood was wet, and it smoked ferociously when Rowan finally got it lit. “It could go out at any time,” he warned Breakfast. “Watch it carefully.”

Lily’s mechanics stood around her, packs resting on the ground, knives sheathed at their belts, all of them anxiously awaiting her strength. She drew the heat of the fire into her willstones and a witch wind howled down the cliffs and through the trees. Power surged through Lily, lifting her feet off the ground as a shrieking column of witch wind formed around her. She rose up in the air, suspended as if she were floating in water. As she filled her mechanics’ stones with pure force, one cold-blooded thought echoed through her mind.

Kill him.

Her three warriors went streaking to the cliffs like black lightning. Lily stayed connected with Rowan, Tristan, and Una as they climbed but she lost them one by one as each ducked into a different cave to seek out Carrick. They would have to check every crevice. It was Carrick’s goal to pick them off one at a time, and it occurred to Lily that he probably didn’t want to meet Rowan first. Carrick had far less experience as a mechanic and simply wasn’t ready to face his half brother. Carrick would go for the weakest, but how would he know who was the weakest when he didn’t know any of their potential abilities?

He wouldn’t, she realized.

He’d let Rowan decide who was the least capable fighter—by waiting to see which one he left behind.

In a panic, Lily’s eyes snapped open and she saw a hunched, crow-like shape appear between the slim trunks of a birch tree stand.

“Breakfast!” she shouted, but not in time. Carrick’s willstone flared with Lillian’s power, and in an instant he was on top of him. Carrick took Breakfast by the throat so that he couldn’t even scream.

“Someone help!” Lily wailed. She saw a flicker of silver in one of Carrick’s hands. She filled Breakfast’s willstone with power and he wrenched an arm free, stopping the descending blade just inches from his eye.

“Holy shit!” a strange voice yelled. Lily saw a person stumble into the light of her bonfire. It was Scot.

“Scot, help him!” she pleaded desperately. He stared at her floating form, his jaw dropped in shock. “Now!” she commanded.

Scot managed to snap himself out of it and he tackled Carrick, knocking him off Breakfast. They rolled and twisted across the ground. Lily heard Scot scream. Breakfast righted himself, reared back, and hit Carrick with everything he had. Carrick tumbled away from Scot, who was gasping and gurgling in the snow. A pool of black blood fanned out around Scot’s head. Carrick had cut his throat.

Lily! What’s happening?

Rowan, it was a trap! Come quick!

Breakfast knelt next to Scot and pressed his palms against his neck as if he could hold back the tide of blood. As Scot clutched at Breakfast’s arms, drowning in his own blood, Carrick scrambled to his feet and reached a hand into the collar of his overcoat.

“Lillian,” he called, clutching his willstone. Lily saw a brilliant flash of magelight that haloed Carrick for a split second, and then he disappeared between the trees.

Rowan, Tristan, and Una arrived a moment too late. Rowan took a handful of steps down Carrick’s escape path, and stopped.

“He’s already too far,” Rowan said through gritted teeth.

Tristan threw himself down next to Breakfast, tearing at the hem of his shirt.

“Tie it off,” Tristan said, wrapping the rag around Scot’s neck.

“Here,” Una said, joining the circle around Scot’s head. “My scarf.”

“Everyone just stop!” Breakfast snapped. “Rowan, do something!”

“The cut is too deep to heal,” Rowan said regretfully. “It’s almost to the spine.”

The frantic motion around Scot slowed and one by one they all sat back on their heels. Lily let go of the power loop, her witch wind died, and she dropped back down to earth.

“Let me see him,” she insisted, running forward and sinking to her knees by Scot’s side. The snow around him steamed with the heat of his spilled blood.