The evil heat Mathias put off loomed closer suddenly, and the other wizard gibed, “Let’s meet the real Isdernus Rykard.”
What the bloody devil did that mean?
The cloud clung to him, hovering over his face. Ice continued to gasp for breath as dizziness spiked in his head. Panic for air set in. Surely at any moment he would pass out, die right in a heap at Mathias’s feet, as the cloud paralyzed him from lifting a damn finger.
But a moment later, it passed through him. He drew in a desperate gasp of air and fell to his knees as the black mass drifted up the wall, clung harmlessly to the ceiling.
Mathias reared back. “Impossible!”
He reached a hand toward the cloud and hurled it at Ice again. Once more, it blanketed him, cutting off his air, his light, his hope. Then it left him, floating aimlessly in the enclosed force field. Why hadn’t it clung to him as it had Bram? Why hadn’t it damn near killed him?
“What does it mean?” he heard Sabelle ask.
Ice risked a glance at her. She looked pale, worried, as she turned to her brother, frantic for an answer.
“I don’t know,” Bram murmured. “It latched on to me viciously and didn’t let go. Almost instantly, I felt … anger, arrogance. My worst thoughts all right in my head. Then I don’t remember a bloody thing until the dark healer came to me.”
“Is—is Mathias doing the spell incorrectly?”
Bram scoffed. “I think he’s both familiar and ruthless with it.”
“What the bloody—” Mathias fisted his hands, his blue eyes blasting rage. Fury hollowed his cheeks. Sweat slicked his chest and corded abs. “That is impossible!”
Ice stepped away from the wall, completely unharmed, untouched by the thunderous cloud. And amazed. He staggered, weakened and exhausted, but he was on his feet. He yearned to curl up against Sabelle and sleep for a year. But he’d lived through something he never expected to. Inside, he glowed with triumph.
“Apparently not,” Ice taunted.
“No one,” Mathias spat. “No one is incorruptible. Everyone has at least one flaw that makes them susceptible to the dark side. Take it!”
The furious wizard hurled the black cloud at Ice again. As before, moments of breathlessness, heavy chest, anger, and frustration. Then … surprising freedom.
Ice cocked his head and grinned. Finally, he understood. “I felt pure evil pass through me, looking to partner with its own kind. It found nothing useful, so it left.”
“It must have latched on to you. Inside you. Somewhere. Surely, you have some—some flaw of character that could make you embrace the dark. Greed, lust, avarice, envy. Something.”
The black cloud hovered in the corner … then started listing its way back to Mathias, as if drawn there. As if the mass sought evil, wanted a harbor in someone who hated or envied or felt too much pride or lust.
In Ice, the mass had found nothing it sought. It had scurried from the caring and love that flowed in his veins. From the light inside him.
And now Ice understood exactly how to fight Mathias.
With a snap of his wrist he conjured a sword. One thing Marrok had taught him well was to use a human blade. In a few short months, he’d perfected the art of slicing an enemy any way he wished, whether to defend, or in this case, to kill. Avenging Gailene was in his grasp, and for her Mathias must die now, by his hand.
At the sight of the heavy broadsword, Mathias scoffed. “A human’s weapon for a wizard’s fight. You are mad. You’ll get nowhere near me with that, you know.”
It would be a challenge, but certainty fueled him, overriding exhaustion. He would succeed. For Gailene. For Sabelle. For the past and future.
Using the edge of the blade, he cut his own thigh. Sabelle gasped, and he did his best to put her concern from his mind. Bram stood behind her, offering comfort.
Now, he had to focus all his energy on delivering his blow to Mathias and ending two hundred years of agony.
The blood welled from the stinging wound on his thigh, and Ice wiped the flat of the blade across one side, then the other, coating the sword with the essence that beat from his heart. For a moment, he gripped the blade, bowed his head over it, and wrapped it in an enchantment that spread hope and joy. Love.
When Ice righted himself, Mathias’s eyes widened, and he backed away, wary. His nostrils flared, and his face reddened.
“You will not touch me with that blade.”
Ice didn’t bother refuting him. He just took a step closer, wand outstretched with another paralysis hex ready.
The pungent stench of fear wafted across the challenge ring, and Ice smiled, the gesture every bit as warm as his name. Mathias shook his head, stepped back through the cracking sheet of frozen water and slushy remnants of snow.
“No!” The evil wizard screamed, the raw sound reverberating through the force field. Then he thrust a hand forward, aimed toward a listing sheet of ice standing between them. Twisting his wrist, Mathias hurled the shards directly at Ice.
As he melted the frozen projectiles, Ice watched fury overtake Mathias. He laughed. Adrenaline charged Ice’s system as he raised the sword. No doubt, Mathias would try to thwart him using some underhanded method, but he would not succeed.
Ice charged the other wizard, blood-wet sword at the ready. His nemesis retreated a step, then another. It seemed that Mathias feared the human weapon. Because he didn’t know how to wield it? Possible. He’d never seen Mathias fight human. Perhaps he simply feared the unknown … and what Ice would do with it. The blood had to frighten him as well. Blood magic, though not practiced widely for centuries, was notoriously unpredictable and strong.
Mathias continued to back up—until he hit the force field. A few steps more, maybe two or three, and victory would belong to Ice.
“Cease!” Blackbourne called. “The break period has begun.”
Bloody fucking hell. Everything inside Ice itched to lunge forward, finish off Mathias for good. Bury his ghosts. If he did, he would violate the rules of the challenge and forfeit all right to the Council seat … and any chance he had of spending his future with Sabelle.
With great force of will, Ice lowered the sword.
Mathias’s gloating sneer nearly made him rethink his position. Cheeky bastard would use the next fifteen minutes to his advantage, devise some new counterattack. Though Ice’s limbs felt heavy, he’d rather keep fighting. A thinking Mathias was a dangerous one.
“You heard the esteemed gentleman,” Mathias said, backing away. “Put the sword down. Unless you wish to forfeit.”