Elves: Beyond the Mists of Katura Read Online Free Page A

mage, and Stein was far from fit. His head and arms were burned and raw and his left leg was a throbbing agony. The spells he had cast had
depleted his stamina and he felt a gnawing shock at the ease with which the enemy had caught and destroyed them.
    Stein focused on managing his stamina, trying hard not to think about the futility of his escape attempt. He tried even harder to stop making bets with himself about how long it would be before
his wings flickered out and he plunged into the southern ocean. Instead he concentrated on the feeling of the air across his face and the chill in his hands, using it to remind himself he was still
alive.
    Stein lost track of time fairly quickly once he’d been through one night. The endless ocean below him had started to look like the most comfortable of blankets beneath which to sleep.
    Stein welcomed the pain of his injuries because it kept him awake. His left leg was a particular torment, constantly prey to the buffeting of the wind. The cloth of his trousers was burned into
his flesh, and his boot had contracted around his foot to create a hideous throbbing that sent pain all the way up to his hip.
    His face and arms were raw and blistered. The rain that whipped into him periodically made him cry out, begging for it to stop. But at least it meant he was still alive, still flying, even
though he knew it could not last. It was a shock when he noticed how close he was to the waves. His speed was barely above a trotting run and the shape of his spell had become so ragged that his
wings were holed and torn in sympathy with his concentration.
    Stein had absolutely no idea how far Calaius was and he found no satisfaction in the knowledge that he had tried to deliver his message. He had failed and he would drown; the elves would never
know of their peril in time. The thought made Stein angry, and he shouted with both voice and mind even though none would hear him barring the gulls following him.
    ‘Congratulations, Ephemere. Note that following my teaching produces wonder, excitement and progress simultaneously.’
    Stein gasped and almost dropped into the ocean. He was sure it was his mind playing tricks but it sounded so real . . . so close.
    ‘We’ve got him. I don’t believe it, we’ve got him.’
    ‘There was never any doubt in my mind that this would work.’
    (Laughter)
    ‘It’s amazing. Is he still conscious?’
    ‘Barely, but it doesn’t matter. We can sustain the casting for two reasons: it is a very basic construct, and we can feed the necessary strength through the energy lines I always
told you were there.’
    ‘I wonder why he’s coming here?’
    ‘I don’t care. This is purely an experiment in energy transfer. And it is one that will succeed. It really doesn’t matter whether he lives or dies.’
    ‘You have no heart.’
    ‘There is no room for heart. You’ve felt the sickness in the north. We have to be ready, and that means we have to understand our craft more keenly than they do
theirs.’
    ‘Then we need him to live, don’t we? He might have critical information about why our voices in the north can no longer be heard.’
    ‘I already know why.’
    ‘You know the answer to absolutely everything, don’t you?’
    ‘Almost.’
    The voices stopped after that, and Stein’s consciousness slipped away.
    Stein had an itch. Actually his whole body itched but his face was the worst. He put his hands to his cheeks then pulled them away with a start. Strange. Stein opened his eyes,
blinking against the light and waiting while they dragged themselves into focus. He was bandaged from fingertips to elbows. This was not death as he had imagined it.
    Stein closed his eyes. He was lying down. He’d got the impression of a small room filled with a drumming noise and possibly with two or three people staring down at him. It felt hot and
humid too. He opened his eyes again and found he was right on all counts.
    He was in a small room with wooden walls.