Free Dead Magic by A.J. Maguire Page A

allowed all Witch-Born to see the unseen, to inspect the Warding Pillars around their domain. Dorian was a little confused by it, but then Elsie started a memory spell and he understood. Whatever she was going to show him, it existed in that realm and not the present.
    Everything shifted again, their reality being overtaken by whatever memory Elsie had called forward. Rather than the ridgeline and the ark, Dorian found himself in Delgora Square, the wide circle of the marketplace bustling with activity. Merchants shouted to be heard above the crowd, venders waved their various wares at potential buyers, children zipped through the street, laughing. It looked quite normal. Dorian could even smell freshly baked bread coming from a nearby building.
    And then someone screamed. It was the sort of scream that held terror and pain, as a large mass of gray fur barreled into a merchant. There was no time for a stunned silence as the creature bit into the ill-fated man. More screams rang out, several more wolf-like creatures started to emerge from the jungle, and then chaos erupted. People scattered, trying to flee, but the wolves kept coming.
    A loud crack sounded just beside him as the closest building splintered, falling in on itself. Vines burst through shutters, curling around homes and yanking them from their foundations. The sight jarred him and Dorian blinked, still holding tight to Elsie's hand. In his mind he could hear her voice from eight years ago, demanding that her ark be made of steel and iron. She'd insisted that no wood be on the outside because it wouldn't hold up.
    He looked to her, but she wasn't watching him. Elsie stared off to the left, to where the Manor was crushed beneath the weight of hundreds of vines. The impact rumbled through the ground, vibrating through his boots, and the deafening report of the defeated structure covered the screams of people scrambling to get away.
    "Is this your premonition?" He whispered the question, fear fluttering in his gut.
    "One of them."
    "Fates have mercy." Dorian flinched, spotting a young man as he was tackled by one of the creatures. Blood stained the wolf's gray fur, its massive paws were slick and dark with it. Dorian watched, horrified, suddenly understanding Elsie's obsession with the ark, her sleepless nights and her irregular behavior. He'd known there were creatures beyond the Pillars, he'd just never seen one before.
    The wolf let out a triumphant howl that seemed to crawl over Dorian's skin. Its counterparts echoed the call, drowning out the sounds of still crumbling buildings. There were no more screams.
    Elsie's voice reached him, quiet and grim as she released the memory and returned them to their own place and time. "I think Fate is fresh out of mercy, Dorian."
    ***
    Winslow woke up sometime in the night with a pleasant sort of numbness radiating from his shoulder. They hadn't moved him far from the scene of the attack and he knew he should be worried about that. The great cat hadn't been very wounded, just startled enough to run away. There was a good chance it would come back, but he had an odd sort of detachment about it. He wanted to be worried, yet he couldn't find the willpower to work up such an emotion.
    He felt bubbly, as though he were floating on a soft surface, and curiously amused. This is very wrong , he thought, because there's little humor about being on the brink of death.
    Winslow fought for coherency. He needed to wake up. He needed to heal himself again. The fact that this was the second time in a week where he'd been seriously injured was irritating. He'd gone through Winter Tournaments, sparring against other Witch-Born, and never had this much trouble. And that, he thought with a frown, was decidedly more dangerous than riding a train or hiking the mountains.
    Closing his eyes, he tried to summon his Talent. To his surprise, his magic didn't respond. It was still there, at his core, he could sense it. But there was a lazy sensation