Shadowmaster (Book 2# in the Guardian series)

Chapter 13

"What's happening?" Isabel asks while I pull myself onto her back, her wings beating rhythmically as she hovers in the air. Keeping control of the shadows is exhausting, especially when the Shadowmaster was fighting to take them from me.

"I'm not sure, but it started happening right after the Shadowmaster fell in. Get me ahead of the the lava. I might be able to stop it."

She races several yards ahead of the hot liquid as it continues its lazy descent toward the Darklands. I dismount from her back, using the shadows again to stay upright on the air. "I'm going to try and keep this from moving any further. But warn the Shadowpeople in case this doesn't work. Quickly!" I tell her as the lava comes closer.

"Are you sure about this?"

"No. But I have to try."

She nods and soars away.

I gather the shadows as the lava comes closer.

"Guardian, make my gift strong to protect the Darklands!" I murmur as I form a shield.

Then I start to feel the pressure and insane heat of the lava building up against my shield. Suddenly I'm pushed to the ground. I remember to keep my shield up just as droplets of lava start to seep through it. I look up to see someone who is disfigured from being badly burned, standing above me.

"You thought you'd stopped me, didn't you?" the Shadowmaster laughs harshly.

I'm not even going to begin asking how he survived falling into the lava. I start to stand, but the force of the lava against my shield is making me weaker with strain, like I'm carrying a heavy weight, and I crumple to the ground again. He grabs me by my shoulder and forces me to face him.

I jerk back from his grasp and crumple weakly to the ground again, unable to stop myself. The Guardian's strength is the only thing helping me right now—I've never felt so vulnerable to an attack. How can I stop the Shadowmaster now? My shield stands both between him and the Darklands.

Shadows press against me and I gasp as more lava seeps through the shield in orangish streams, flowing toward my home and an unsuspecting Shadowpeople.

"I am the true Shadowmaster. Join me now and I may spare you and your aunt. You see, I wanted your gift for a reason."

I feel a slight panic. If I'm dead, he can still hurt my aunt. I try not to show it though—I don't want to give him the fearful reaction he wants. I press my lips together, too focused on staying alive to have the energy to answer.

"So this is how it ends?" he taunts. "You die trying to protect the Darklands and I resume my rightful position as the Shadowmaster. Ironic, is it not?" he laughs.

At that moment it's like a veil is removed from my eyes, and I have access to something I'd never been able to see before—his gift is like a cloud—weak, something he stole from others. He was never truly a keeper, I realize. If I can't destroy him, I will destroy his gift. "No, this is not how it ends," I tell him as I grit my teeth.

I rise, the strength of the Guardian surging through me again. I grab the Shadowmaster's neck and use shadows to wrench the gift from him. He shrieks and gasps, clawing at me and then seeming weaker.

The shadows I guide take the gift from him, and I close my hand around it so he can't take it back. He grabs for the gift, his strength returned. I can feel the corrupted gift trying to merge with my own, to darken me with his evil. Before it can I throw it toward the lava, not sure that will do anything. It dissolves, but I feel it pulling me in like a string.

I step backward, trying not to lose my balance. I struggle to keep the shield strong and, in the process, fall into the lava as the pulling force becomes too overpowering for me to resist.

*****

I open my eyes and find myself lying back in a green field, looking up at a perfectly blue sky. I am in the middle of a forest, in a land more beautiful than anyone could ever begin to describe. How did I get here?

"Destiny," a familiar voice whispers.

I sit up as leaves swirl in front of me and a familiar man appears. The Guardian.

He offers me a hand and helps me to my feet. He puts a hand on my shoulder and smiles proudly. "Well done."

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