Chosen (9781742844657) Read Online Free
Renatus had released Emmanuelle and shouted an ancient-sounding word. A bolt of too-fast misty blue energy ripped through the air, aimed at Lisandroâs green-sashed chest. Lisandro saw it coming. He dropped his wand.
The result of his unexpected spell was instant. With a deafening, unexplainable noise, the entire garden was shrouded in poisonous black smoke. The candle flames that had lit the space were immediately snuffed. The White Elm began coughing painfully as soon as they inhaled the smoke. It was toxic, constricting the throat and lungs in a way that normal smoke did not. Lord Gawain dropped to the ground, his lungs already desperate for air. He had no idea how to reverse this dark magic. That was Lisandroâs job as Dark Keeper, but no doubt Lisandro had displaced himself by now.
Because, impossibly, the councilâs secret weapon had backfired and Lisandro had betrayed them.
âWhat is this?â Susannah asked, her voice forced.
âI donât know!â Lady Miranda said, coughing and sounding lost.
âItâs exhaust,â Renatus said. His voice was calm and easy, his sudden anger of moments earlier lost. Lord Gawain looked around for him but the smoke stung his eyes. However, the smoke was thinning. Within a few seconds it was gone. Renatus was the only one standing, his wand out.
âExhaust?â Lord Gawain asked, slowly standing and looking around. Sure enough, Lisandro, Peter and Jackson were gone. The other White Elm were getting to their feet.
âItâs an old, old piece of dark magic,â Renatus said smoothly. âItâs the negative energy left over after dark magical spells, turned physical. Itâs called exhaust. Most of the time this energy dissipates but Lisandro obviously knows how to manipulate it into exhaust.â
âHow do you know this?â Lady Miranda demanded, standing and pointing her wand at him threateningly. Renatus handed over his wand obligingly but didnât answer. âIs it from your spell?â
âPartly. Mostly your own energy you imparted to him-â
âHeâs done nothing wrong, Miranda,â Lord Gawain said immediately. He knew Renatusâs familyâs reputation, like everyone present, but now wasnât the time to pretend it mattered. âWe need to focus on Lisandro.â
Lisandroâs gone .
The Elm Stoneâs gone .
Both weapons, and two other talented councillors, gone â lost in a matter of minutes. In this moment, there was no obvious course of action.
Heavy rain slashed at the windows, so hard they could have broken and no one would have been surprised. A flash of lightning briefly relieved the stormy darkness, but was followed by an eerie flickering of the living room lights and television. The thunder clap was immediate, and the image on the television blinked out. A cold and shaking hand grabbed mine â my equally terrified sister trying to comfort me, trying to remind me that inside, we were safe, surely. The wind howled, and whole branches were ripped from the massive tree in the yard. The two men I loved most in the world ducked as the wind intensified and flung a neighbourâs post box over their heads. There was a huge, sickening crack from outside, totally unlike the thunder and many times worse, and the tree began to fallâ¦
A harsh rumble like thunder jolted me awake, and I sat up suddenly.
âThis is your stop, isnât it?â my bus driver asked kindly, smiling at me in her rear-view mirror. I nodded, blushing as I got to my feet and hurried to the front door.
âThanks,â I mumbled, grateful that my bus driver, at least, knew what I was doing. I apparently didnât. Falling asleep on the bus? That was something new, and stupid. The next stop wasnât until the Catholic neighbourhood, and, well, I wouldnât exactly be welcomed there. As far as they were concerned, I was a Protestant through and through, and this is
The result of his unexpected spell was instant. With a deafening, unexplainable noise, the entire garden was shrouded in poisonous black smoke. The candle flames that had lit the space were immediately snuffed. The White Elm began coughing painfully as soon as they inhaled the smoke. It was toxic, constricting the throat and lungs in a way that normal smoke did not. Lord Gawain dropped to the ground, his lungs already desperate for air. He had no idea how to reverse this dark magic. That was Lisandroâs job as Dark Keeper, but no doubt Lisandro had displaced himself by now.
Because, impossibly, the councilâs secret weapon had backfired and Lisandro had betrayed them.
âWhat is this?â Susannah asked, her voice forced.
âI donât know!â Lady Miranda said, coughing and sounding lost.
âItâs exhaust,â Renatus said. His voice was calm and easy, his sudden anger of moments earlier lost. Lord Gawain looked around for him but the smoke stung his eyes. However, the smoke was thinning. Within a few seconds it was gone. Renatus was the only one standing, his wand out.
âExhaust?â Lord Gawain asked, slowly standing and looking around. Sure enough, Lisandro, Peter and Jackson were gone. The other White Elm were getting to their feet.
âItâs an old, old piece of dark magic,â Renatus said smoothly. âItâs the negative energy left over after dark magical spells, turned physical. Itâs called exhaust. Most of the time this energy dissipates but Lisandro obviously knows how to manipulate it into exhaust.â
âHow do you know this?â Lady Miranda demanded, standing and pointing her wand at him threateningly. Renatus handed over his wand obligingly but didnât answer. âIs it from your spell?â
âPartly. Mostly your own energy you imparted to him-â
âHeâs done nothing wrong, Miranda,â Lord Gawain said immediately. He knew Renatusâs familyâs reputation, like everyone present, but now wasnât the time to pretend it mattered. âWe need to focus on Lisandro.â
Lisandroâs gone .
The Elm Stoneâs gone .
Both weapons, and two other talented councillors, gone â lost in a matter of minutes. In this moment, there was no obvious course of action.
Heavy rain slashed at the windows, so hard they could have broken and no one would have been surprised. A flash of lightning briefly relieved the stormy darkness, but was followed by an eerie flickering of the living room lights and television. The thunder clap was immediate, and the image on the television blinked out. A cold and shaking hand grabbed mine â my equally terrified sister trying to comfort me, trying to remind me that inside, we were safe, surely. The wind howled, and whole branches were ripped from the massive tree in the yard. The two men I loved most in the world ducked as the wind intensified and flung a neighbourâs post box over their heads. There was a huge, sickening crack from outside, totally unlike the thunder and many times worse, and the tree began to fallâ¦
A harsh rumble like thunder jolted me awake, and I sat up suddenly.
âThis is your stop, isnât it?â my bus driver asked kindly, smiling at me in her rear-view mirror. I nodded, blushing as I got to my feet and hurried to the front door.
âThanks,â I mumbled, grateful that my bus driver, at least, knew what I was doing. I apparently didnât. Falling asleep on the bus? That was something new, and stupid. The next stop wasnât until the Catholic neighbourhood, and, well, I wouldnât exactly be welcomed there. As far as they were concerned, I was a Protestant through and through, and this is
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