Excerpt: East of the Sun, West of the Moon

I hooked one arm under Arlen Howard's, the eldest son of the Lord Howard, shoulder and got him to him upright. He used me as a crutch and took a few steps. The mix of drink and the pixie kisses had taken the strength from his feet, but between us we managed. However, before we could reach the edge a wind rushed at our faces and the Shadow Man blocked our path. The Shadow Man was not remotely trying to appear human, his dark hair and skin shimmered beneath the flames that rolled up his skin. He glowed blue in the afternoon air.

I felt the blood drain from Arlen Howard.

“You had to go pick the harder path, did you Maggie?” His voice sounded like snaps and cracks of fire, sparks jumped from him and scattered on the ground in front of him. “You couldn’t just take the bait, like a good little girl.”

I started to shake. I could feel the Shadow Man’s anger scream toward me; it had wings made of sharp-edged glass and it was ready to cut me down. Arlen Howard straightened his spine and pushed me back. This was his role, this is what he was raised to do – be the defender, be the master, be the arm of power.

The Shadow Man slapped his hands together. The world shifted quickly; once where there was nothing but a meadow of stillness now came galloping hooves. A rider rushed from the horizon, I could catch is desperation and panic from the hundred yards that separated us.

But I couldn’t focus on the new arrival for long; the Shadow Man shrank and produced wings. He flashed bright orange flame and launched himself at me. His flames swarmed over my face and his arms tackled my shoulders. Arlen Howard punched at the Shadow Man with one arm, but fumbled to the ground. The Shadow Man shook me and my teeth slammed together, biting my tongue.

Arlen Howard surged to his feet, all weakness in his knees forgotten. The rider was at 50 yards. The Shadow Man turned one hand red hot and slapped it on my shoulder – leaving a burn smoking through all my clothes. Every living thing on the meadow was living inside panic. The rider was fumbling for a bolt, Arlen had picked up a rock, and I was trying to get a hold of the Shadow Man.

The Shadow Man wasn’t out for my blood, I could tell that much. His anger was burning about him, that was for sure, but it wasn’t set on killing me. I needed to get a hand on him to make sure, but every time he touched me he was surrounded by his own power, shielding him from my attempts to gain control.

Arlen smashed the rock into the side of the Shadow Man’s head as the rider crossed another 20 yards. The Shadow Man flicked Arlen a glance before tossing him five feet with a wave of flame.

I couldn’t put a hand anywhere on the Shadow Man, no matter how I squirmed he pinned my attempts, locking my shoulders, elbows, and wrists. I saw Arlen stand out of the corner of my eye and I felt the rider notch the bolt on his crossbow finally.

Then my one moment of brilliance struck. I kneed the Shadow Man as hard as I could between the legs. Gran had always said it was the best defense against any man of any creed; she’d been right.

The instant of contact I felt the pain seer through the Shadow Man, like knives and ice and iron. I felt his triumph rushing through him like the flight of a thousand birds; I felt his unending sense of pride billowing inside of him for he heard the click in the air.

And I felt the finger squeeze on the rider as Arlen Howard launched himself at the Shadow Man, ready to tackle him from the chokehold he had on me. And then everything moved in horribly slow motion. Arlen barreled into the Shadow Man, shoving his grip on me askew. Their bodies shifted places in front of me as one drop of water follows another. The Shadow Man fell, clutching his groin but smiling. Arlen even looked triumphant for a moment.

Until the shaft of an arrow bloomed from his side, just beneath the armpit; Arlen looked down and smiled, as if it were something he’d been missing for quite some time. But when his eyes turned back to me their clear steel color had fled. Instead his eyes looked glassy.

Time regained its pace as Arlen Howard coughed blood all over me.

His fall shook the ground.

My hands went to his wound as the greatest pain I’d ever felt shook at my heart. It was his own heart, trying to beat with an arrow clean through it, his lungs, and his wind pipe. Arlen sucked for breath, and blood rattled at the back of his throat.

My hands grabbed fiercely at the blood seeping through his side as I screamed, “Live! Live! I command you to live. You can’t die!”

My hands were glowing red; I couldn’t tell if it was from power or blood.

Arlen looked me right in the eye and I felt him cry out – Not me, not yet – with every ounce of his body. His heart relaxed, not bothering to try anymore. It sighed, once, marveling in the beauty of a girl’s pale face against the sky, and beat no more.

Just like that Arlen Howard ceased to be.

There was no passing of a soul, no last coughing breaths at life; a simple sigh and turn of the head. Eyes that saw the sky just stared with no one to look through them.