The Heartstone Saga Archibald Bradford (english novels to improve english TXT) 📖

The Valkyrie burnt it away like it was nothing, impervious to his human weakness, and he shrieked out in agony at the damage she did to his psyche by doing so.

You would direct your power at me? Why, it’s almost as if you don’t know where it came from to begin with! Allow me to remind you.

The Valkyrie spoke to him almost conversationally, but he still couldn’t escape her. Even when he threw all of his desperate power into trying to wriggle free of Nameless again, Jonathan remained pinned and forced to face up to everything he’d done.

Very quickly he was blubbering from the judgment in her mind’s eye searing through him.

Still she did not relent.

I’ve wanted a private chat with you ever since you had my husband thrown out of a window.

The mental judgment intensified, and Volka’s chatty demeanour vanished as she stepped back into being a Dominar to finish things.

By the light of my goddess, entrusted to you through your ancestors, I find you lacking Jonathan Pym. And I take back what was given.

His torment worsened as the light within him, the light Evadne had worked so hard to corrupt and twist to her purpose, shifted away from his center in response to the Dominar’s call, burning its way free of him as it did.

Outside of the mental landscape, Jonathan was seized up, his every muscle taut as miniscule pinpricks of gold shone forth through his skin, growing brighter by the second until it was like Volka was pulling tiny beads of molten metal out of every one of his pores.

Agony couldn’t even begin to describe what he experienced.

A moment later it was done, and Nameless was holding onto nothing, Jonathan’s mind gone.

Come Husband, our true task awaits us. Dwell no more upon that man, for he can do no more harm in this life.

Right. But still, how do we do this?

He turned his attention back to the countless black holes surrounding them, both of them straining to find a solution while the Undines maintaining the Sacred Current fretting as they watched on, their power unable to help any further.

One at a time for now, unless you can see an alternative that I cannot?

He couldn’t.

__________

Grant Semper was on a stretcher being carted away from the fighting by Brandon Dixon and his father Rory, the pair of them working with the other volunteers to evacuate the wounded.

The water pattering down on Grant’s face was a comfort to him, as was the heavy weight of Linda’s clay, packed tight around the stump of his right leg to staunch the bleeding.

In a daze from blood loss, he was trying to figure out where in the hell Evadne and Jonathan had drummed up a Manticore, the fierce monster girl whose barbed tail had so recently cost him a limb.

Technically it was actually Bruti’s thick black claws that cost him the leg; the bear was fully aware of how fast Manticore venom acted and couldn’t see another way to save his life in the midst of the melee.

“You’re…going…to… be… alright.” Linda swore, miserable tears rolling down her face belying her worry.

Bruti was there as well, hanging back and looking forlorn as she carried his leg in her claws.

Grant made to reassure her, but was cut off by the blacksmith on the front of the stretcher.

“The Gnome is right, he’s gunna be alright.” He said gruffly; “We got a whole mess of Dryads working double-time, and the best medics out of Garland. Your man is going to be fine.”

Grant was actually a bit put out that this stranger was saying all of the things that he wanted to say, especially when he saw Bruti nodding her head in agreement, still clutching his leg tight.

But when he opened his mouth again to tell them all that, a stab of pain unlike anything he’d ever felt came from where his leg used to be and he hoarsely cried out instead.

His voice joined the many others amongst the wounded and dying, forming a grim chorus to accompany the harsh shouting and snarling of those that could yet fight.

Grant had already decided that he didn’t like the music.

But then something happened to change his mind.

It was subtle at first, barely at the edge of his range of hearing, but even gravely wounded as he was it filled his breast with that most precious of things: hope.

Because amidst the horrible symphony of the continuing melee, two thousand Amazons from the Darkwood arrived on the field to change the tune.

At their front stood Escrya, daughter of Alcaia, a broad band of black warpaint covering her eyes as she surveyed the ghastly scene below, while on her right was the hulking presence that was the Amazon Matriarch, her face similarly painted.

There were a number of gasps of conflicted shock and joy from the Darkwood Amazons, because even though the Valkyrie was huddled in the midst of the Undines with Nameless, many of them had already caught sight of her golden wings.

“I did not dare to believe.” The massive Amazon leader murmured.

“It would seem I don’t get to kill you after all.” Alia agreed from the other side of Escrya, looking only slightly unhappy about it.

“I’m sure that you will get your chance to prove yourself down there.” Helena advised with a nod of her chin.

Kaylee said nothing, her lips thin and her eyes focused on the conflict.

Ignoring the younger warriors, the Matriarch turned to Escrya and bowed her head, deferring to the one who had summoned them.

“Battle calls to us, daughter of my sister. Show us the way.”

Escrya drew in a deep breath and began to walk purposefully forwards, casually tossing her spear aside, and soon her stride became a loping