Read The Dread: The Fallen Kings Cycle: Book Two for Free Online

her arm and cheek, though no paw prints of an attacking animal led away from where she lay.
    “Daddy, what’s wrong?”
    Jair felt Kenver behind him, and only then became aware that he had been calling Talwyn’s name loudly. “Mommy’s sick. Go get grandpa. Run!”
    Jair drew a deep breath, forcing himself to think instead of feel. Talwyn’s skin was unusually cool, but not devoid of warmth like a corpse. Her muscles were clenched tight, though not with the rigor of death. To his relief, he found both breath and pulse, although Talwyn did not rouse, even when he splashed her face with water.
    Pevre and Kenver were beside him in minutes. “What happened?” Pevre asked, taking in Talwyn’s condition with detachment.
    Jair moved back to permit Pevre to examine Talwyn. “I don’t know. Something woke me. There was nothing unusual in the tent, no strange noises outside. I reached over to Talwyn and found her like this.”
    Pevre frowned in concentration, and he extended one hand, palm down, over Talwyn’s face. Slowly, he moved his hand down the center of her body, just above her skin. He closed his eyes as he moved his hand and began to chant under his breath in a low voice. Finally, he opened his eyes and looked at Jair.
    “Someone… or something… has sent dream magic against her. She’s rigid because she’s fighting for her life in the dream realm, against something we can’t see or hear but that is very real to her. Her body is cool because whatever it is drains her life force, the same way a
vayash moru
drains blood.”
    “Fighting for her life,” Jair repeated quietly, and instinctively he put a protective arm around Kenver, drawing the small boy close. “So it’s real to her, even in the dream realm?”
    Pevre nodded. “Very real. This kind of magic is old. It takes power to wield it, and skill. It’s considered gray magic at best because the potential to misuse it is so strong. You can imagine what such a thing could do to a political rival, or a spurned lover, for example.”
    “How do we break it?”
    Pevre rocked back on his heels, thinking. “I need my ritual bag from my tent,” he said with a glance to Kenver, who ran to fetch it. While they waited for Kenver to return, Pevre motioned for Jair to help him move Talwyn closer to the fire. Lifting her by shoulders and ankles, they carried her near the fire pit and laid her on a mat. Pevre added wood to the fire and lit the lanterns. Kenver returned with the ritual bag, and Pevre set it down near Talwyn. He made a gesture of warding over the bag and opened it reverently, and then he walked a larger circle of warding around Talwyn, carefully keeping Jair within the circle and motioning for Kenver to step back so that he would be outside the warded space.
    “I don’t know who sent this, or how strong their magic is. I’ll need your help to fight it,” he said with a nod toward Jair. “But I’d just as soon Kenver stay outside the warding. My magic should be strong enough to keep it contained.”
    Pevre withdrew a shaman’s mantle from the ritual bag and carefully laid it around his shoulders. Then he took four carved images from the bag, one for each of the Spirit Gods the Sworn honored—the Bear, the Eagle, theWolf, and the catlike Stawar. These he placed in a ring around the fire. As he placed the images, he bowed to each one.
    “Guardian spirits, we honor you,” Pevre said in a low rumble. “Walk with me on the dream paths, and give me your strength to overcome the attacker.”
    The fire glowed more brightly, and Jair thought he glimpsed movement in the shadows of the four images, and he wondered if it were a trick of the light. Pevre removed several polished disks of amber and agate from his bag and placed them at Talwyn’s head, feet, shoulders, and hips. He took a smooth piece of onyx and pried open Talwyn’s fist, closing her fingers around the disk. Then he motioned for Jair to kneel beside Talwyn.
    “Hold her hand in your