Free Ferran's Map by T. L. Shreffler Page B

muzzle, then
swiftly struck the next two dogs, one in the ribs and the other in
the chest. At each impact of her weapon, dark smoke poured from the
mouth of the beast, then its eyes and ears. Her staff smashed
through their skin like it was breaking open a beehive, this time
releasing gusts of black smoke. The necklace absorbed the dark
energy.
    As soon as the magic entered her necklace,
nausea spiraled from her stomach straight to her head. She stumbled
to one side, sick and dizzy, close to losing her balance. She
couldn’t keep this up for long. The Dark God’s taint was like
poison to her necklace. She already felt the need to vomit.
    Then she heard an unexpected moan from
behind her, and whirled to face the door of the building. To her
shock, she saw several corpse-like villagers rising from the last
row of benches. Were they already dead or near death? They looked
wasted and skeletal, and a ravenous gleam lit their eyes. One moved
to block the doorway. She recognized only a shock of red hair—his
skin was as pale and corpse-like as the woman by the river. He
snarled at her with ferocious intensity, spittle flying from his
lips.
    Sora raised her staff and rammed it into the
Dracian’s face, toppling him behind the bench.
    The stone murmured weakly at her neck. It
flickered, and then the glow slowly faded from her staff. She
backed away from the row of villagers toward the center of the
room, clutching her weapon before her. Her necklace couldn’t handle
another dose of the plague, and she needed time to recover.
    Then a new figure stepped into the doorway.
As Sora staggered backward, fear gripping her heart, completely
exposed to the oncoming attack, she gasped.
    Crash entered the room, sword in one hand
and dagger in the other. A grim and terrifying expression marked
his face. As soon as he set foot in the building, the shadows
seemed to move away from the walls until the whole room darkened.
Sora watched, stunned. She had never seen him like this.
    The assassin turned to the plague-ridden
villagers. At the sight of him, the corpses recoiled and hissed,
cringing, raising their hands meekly like slaves beneath a
whip.
    Crash struck down a man to his left with his
sword, slicing off his arm with a mighty heave. The shadows twisted
around Crash’s body like living snakes, then shot toward another
corpse and dragged the man to the floor. The corpse wailed in
frustration, then the shadows plunged into his mouth, cutting off
his voice.
    Sora watched, horrified and entranced. Her
Cat’s Eye let out a fierce rattle of alarm. She had never witnessed
this kind of magic. Crash manipulated the darkness easily, seeming
to direct it with his thoughts. A lethal aura emanated from his
presence, striking her cold with fear. She wondered, then, if she
was witnessing the demon’s power.
    She turned around just as another ragged
hound flew at her, growling and scratching. She smacked the dog
over the head. Dark mist smoked from its ears, but no blood. Sora
staggered again, almost falling to her knees as the plague entered
her necklace. No more, she thought, as though the Cat’s Eye
had spoken aloud.
    Ferran seemed to have reached his limit
also. He came to her side while Crash took on the remaining
villagers. “Come,” he panted. “Let’s go.”
    As they began to run, she heard a rumble
different from the hoarse growls of the hounds. She and Ferran
looked back to the far corners of the room. Her Cat’s Eye jingled
loudly, and for a moment her vision swam. She blinked her eyes,
trying to clear her vision. A green glow tainted her sight, and she
felt a strange pressure in her nose as the necklace asserted itself
over her senses. She wondered if the plague was now affecting her
stone.
    Then as the room shifted before her, she saw
a black cloud accumulating toward the back wall that slowly formed
into a shape. Strands of smoke curled into arms and legs resembled
a spider, though it was larger than a bear. She clutched her
necklace