Dorian Wraith's Arc

Chapter 15 of 27

Dorian looked down at the king in the grass and felt his hands shake. This was the man who would burn his own son's mind out to spite a witch. There was no time to make him pay. Every second, soldiers were dragging Evander closer to the water. Dorian curled his fingers and pushed. Wind ripped out of his palm and threw King Ambrose sideways into the trunk of a low oak. The king slumped at its base, breathing but still. Dorian opened the pink and yellow grimoire, pressed his hand to the teleport page, and thought of Evander's face. Yellow light cracked around him. He landed on wet stone at the edge of a wide basin. Water poured from a carved arch into a round pool ringed with old runes. Four soldiers stood at the rim. Two held Evander by the arms. A third had a cup in the water. Evander saw Dorian and his face broke open. "Dorian." The soldier with the cup turned. Dorian did not wait. He threw his hand out and lightning tore from his fingers in a white line. It caught the man in the chest and dropped him. The cup rang on the stones. The other three drew swords and came at him. Dorian struck again. Lightning arced from his palm and knocked one back into the basin wall. The second soldier reached him before he could turn. A gauntleted fist hit the side of his head. Dorian's vision went white. His feet left the stone. He fell backward into the pool. The water closed over his face. It was cold and slow and full of a soft ringing sound. His name went first. Then Evander's. Then everything else. He opened his eyes under the water and saw only pale blue light and did not know why he was there. Above him, Evander drove his elbow into the last soldier's throat and tore free. He ran to the small cage tied at the fallen rider's belt and snapped the door open with both hands. A fairy the size of a sparrow tumbled out, then swelled in a breath of pink and blue light into a full-grown man with wide wings and green leather at his waist. "The fountain," Evander said. Together they hauled Dorian out by the arms. Water poured off him. His head lolled. The fairy pressed a hand to his chest and Dorian coughed, sat up, and stared at them both. "Easy," Evander said. He reached for Dorian's face. Dorian jerked back on the stones. His blue eyes moved from the blond man to the winged one and found nothing to hold onto. "Who are you." His voice was flat. "Who am I." Evander's hand stopped in the air between them. The fairy's wings sank. Water dripped from Dorian's hair onto the runes. The king was miles away in the grass. The soldiers were down. Evander was free. And Dorian did not know his name.