She had asked the question to the wind, and a voice within her head answered back.

Crouch and place your hand flat on the ground.

She blinked and searched for the one who could speak to her mind as if whispering in her ear. Everyone appeared busy.

We are linked through your power. Now heed my words if you wish to know what evil has risen.

Kera was afraid to ask more. She bent and placed her hand flat on the ground. Rumblings of hate echoed through the dirt. A sudden clash of blades sounded. A stab of dark magic surprised her and she yanked away, flexing fingers suddenly gone numb.

A chuckle echoed in her head. True wickedness has been unleashed the likes none have seen in a long, long while.

She peered back at the rise and fall of unnatural smoke. She couldn't shake the impression of evil she had felt and its quest to inflict harm.

Signe squatted and twirled the ring Kera had given her. "What?"

"Find me three people capable with the sword."

A light of hope entered Signe's eyes. Kera grabbed her friend's hand before she stood. "I give you no promises. There may be nothing I can do, understand?"

Signe nodded and Kera let go.

All she wanted was to go home to Dylan, but another part of her demanded that she stay. It felt as if her soul were being ripped apart. She closed her eyes, knowing she couldn't leave. Not yet.

Spinning on her heels, she dashed into the caves and straight to Signe's quarters and Lani's clothes chest. She yanked out the garments she needed and stepped behind a screen. When she reemerged, she wore dark-brown leather pants and a dark, long-sleeved linen shirt. Over the shirt, a thick leather vest fit snugly to her torso.

Seeing Reece standing at the entrance to the bedroom, Kera came up short. "You should be in bed."

"I heard you come in. Where are you going?" he asked.

She didn't answer, but neatly slid her incordium dagger into its sheath at her waist.

His eyes glittered when he saw the blade. "I know trouble when I see it."

She'd seen that look before. With deft fingers, she quickly braided her hair, eyeing him as she did. It was too dangerous for him. She couldn't bear to think he might be harmed because of her.

"You aren't ready for what's going on. Stay out of it." Stepping away, she grabbed the short sword Lani had used, strapped it to her hip, and rushed out.

At the caves' entrance, she found Scoran, the first Kera had seen defending his rights when she'd entered the caves, and Morgan and Elix, two half bloods. Scoran and Morgan offered gentlemanly h.e.l.los, but Elix only nodded her head.

Each was dressed in a manner that would have them blend into their surroundings. Halim held a clay pot filled with a dark greasy mess, which they streaked across their faces. She dipped her fingers in and smeared four fat lines across her face.

Signe took the pot and nodded toward the boy. "Halim will show you the way."

Kera trusted him even if he was now unsure of her. She suspected half the reason he was willing to go back was to make sure she wouldn't do anything to endanger anyone else. He was a hero in the making, that little man.

Kera nodded to Halim. "Let's go, then."

He took off. For a mutt pedigree, the boy was fast. They were far ahead of the others when the two of them approached the village. Kera had feared they would need to climb the walls, but the strange smoke curled in a wheat field. They entered the stalks, and as they moved forward, the stalks turned a crisp, unhealthy brown. The wheat drooped as if suffering from drought, and the cast-off seeds crackled drily underfoot. Kera and Halim pushed their way through the stalks as quietly as possible. The air thickened in a way that made Kera's skin crawl. It seemed as if the sun couldn't push through the odd haze that stretched over the area. The smell of hate and fear had her shuddering long before the wheat grew thinner and the moans of suffering reached them.

It was horrible, hearing that low painful sound. It shook the wheat stalks like ghosts on the hunt. Halim sunk into the dirt; a quiver rattled his limbs. Kera motioned him forward, but he refused to go any farther.

The others suddenly appeared and scooted up next to them, their breaths short from keeping pace, eyes wide.

Kera stroked Halim's neck, a sweeping motion that ended at his mid-back. She bent her head to his ear. His hair smelled of earth and rain and smoke. "Go home."

He shook his head and lifted it. A tear hovered on his lashes. He was a sensitive soul, and Kera feared that before Teag righted itself, he would be damaged for good. "Go," she repeated.

Without looking at Halim, she drew her sword and motioned the others to follow. They slowly crept forward, weapons at the ready, eyes searching.

It didn't take long for the clearing to come into view. Kera's legs suddenly refused to move, as if they were stuck in mud so thick it would swallow her. And at that moment, she wanted nothing more than to disappear. The clearing within the field was empty except for a dozen or so people-men, women, and children-their clothes in tatters. They were all gagged and tied down with their limbs stretched out on a slab of ironstone. Thick smoke, as dark and solid as ink, swirled upward, then down, curling around the people and marking their skin reddish-black. The sound the streaks made as they pa.s.sed was like a rasp against wood, and it made Kera's skin feel uncomfortably tight.

She couldn't understand what she was seeing. Leaning forward for a better view, she followed the path of one of the odd smoke strands. As it pa.s.sed over a man, his body jerked, and a low, agonizing moan escaped him. A raw, oozing, reddish-black stripe appeared on his chest.

Understanding dawned. Kera reared back and clamped a hand to her mouth, suppressing the scream that rose. Whatever the darkness was, it was searing off one layer of skin at a time. These people were slowly being skinned...alive.

Kera grabbed Scoran's arm and turned her face away from the gruesome scene. Through stiff lips she whispered, "What is that?"

Under her hand, his body shook. His pupils dilated with disbelief. "I have never seen anything like it."

Kera forced herself to face the dark streaks swirling wickedly in the air. Beside her, Morgan swore and one of the streaks shot closer. At the apex of the streak, for a brief moment, the face of a man could be seen. It flickered so quickly, Kera wasn't sure she believed what she saw. It darted away and joined another streak. The two slithered to the ground and the wavering inky forms of two men appeared. They attacked a woman and pulled out her gag.

Kera couldn't hear what the strange beings said, but the woman wept for mercy, "I do not know. I swear, none of us know. Please..."

She was gagged again before the dark forms dissolved into the whiplash streaks. This time as they pa.s.sed over her, they gouged deeper.

"Devils," came the low accusation from Morgan. His body tensed with barely suppressed anger.

Elix grabbed her friend's arm and warned him to be still, but Morgan twisted away and dove into the clearing with a ragged cry on his lips.

The dark forms instantly converged on him, slashing and ripping. Morgan swung his blade; whatever these beings were, the sword barely slowed them down and had no lasting effect.

"Do something," Elix said in a horror-filled voice. Her hands fisted on the ground as she leaned forward, fighting the urge to rush out and help her friend. She glared at Scoran and Kera, her teeth clinched tight. "You have power. Use it!"

Scoran sputtered and confessed his limits, but Kera felt her power hum under her skin, begging her to let it loose. It was big and dangerous, and if ever there was a time to use it, now was that time.

As the two argued beside her, she tapped into the power of the earth, pulling it into her body until she glowed like a beacon. She turned her sun-bright gaze on the pair. "Go free everyone. I'll take care of the rest."

She stood, dropped her worthless blade, and pulled out her incordium dagger. At her appearance, the dark streaks slowed their a.s.sault. She didn't stop to think, but rushed forward. When she was almost upon them, she dropped to the ground and slid on her knees beneath the nearest dark streak, slicing it in two. Unlike Morgan's blade, her incordium dagger severed the magic and the streak fell to the earth like ink to paper-a worthless blob that sizzled and stained the ground.

She crouched, straddling Morgan's downed body. Whatever these things were, they were pure evil, and she refused to allow them to touch him again. From what she could tell, he was worse off than those on the ironstone slab.

The streaks rose swiftly into the air, snaking together, and then burst apart, rushing toward Kera and Morgan like oil through water. Before they reached them, Morgan's raw voice echoed his pain. "Don't let them touch you."

He needn't have warned her. Although she slashed and stabbed a hundred times, spilling the darkness to stain the ground, the streaks were too many. One sped close and licked across her wrist that held the dagger. In that moment, she saw a glimpse of a face, like a shadow.

Shock and pain had her clutching her arm. A deep, searing burn appeared across her skin, and she nearly dropped the dagger. The dark streaks moved faster, darting here and there. She wasn't yet used to the strain of wielding magic. Her mind swirled dizzyingly as she tried to stay focused. One fact became obviously clear. She'd stepped into a fight she couldn't win. Not like this.

She desperately sought a solution, crouching lower as she lashed out. She couldn't hold on much longer. Suddenly her pulse pounded within her ears, silencing all other sounds. A vision of the wind entered her mind. Then the whisper-soft voice, the one she had heard at the caves, spoke to her again. Reach for more power. Dig deeper and call on the storm winds. Do not be afraid.

Kera did what the voice said. She reached deep, deeper than she'd ever allowed herself to delve. Power infused her, driving her body straight. The light emanating from her grew until it radiated out and pushed at the darkness. When her whole body thrummed with magic, she called on the kind of wind that tore through the sky, bent ancient oaks, and whipped sea waves to monstrous heights.

Like a dog herding sheep, the wind forced the black streaks higher and tighter until they were an inky, compacted, rotating ma.s.s.

Kera's muscles spasmed. Controlling the wind ate at her strength, but no matter how much pain she was in, she refused to stop. Breathing hard, she compressed the inky darkness more, and when she was done, she cupped her hands and pushed up and away. The dark ball shot high into the air, higher than the clouds, until she couldn't see it anymore.

The haze that had overshadowed the area lifted, and Kera sagged to her knees, gasping for breath. The sting on her wrist burned.

Elix rushed over and checked her friend for a pulse. After a long moment, she pulled back, her face long and weary and her voice hollow. "He's dead."

Morgan couldn't die. Not after what Kera had gone through to save him. "I can heal him," she insisted. She pushed Elix away and laid her hands on Morgan's chest. Her touch grew warm as she pa.s.sed her hands over his injuries. She labored over him until Elix angrily pushed her away. "Stop it! He's gone."

Kera stared at her hands. "But I can heal." What had gone wrong? The gift was too new, and Kera didn't understand why she could heal some things and not others.

"If you can heal, come help these," Scoran said from his post by the victims.

Kera stood, shaking from her efforts with her eyes still locked on Morgan. She felt too hot, too slow. Her limbs shook as if ice water flowed in her veins.

Elix's fingers slid Morgan's eyelids down over his fixed gaze. Closing her eyes, she bent her head. After a moment, she stood and walked away.

Scoran took Kera by the arm. "You have done all you can. It would take more power than you have to bring back the dead, though it is never wise. Zombies are created that way, as are black-hearted men who think of no one but themselves."

He brought her to a row of people, cut loose from the poison of the ironstone, and laid out like bodies waiting for their shrouds. Some were able to sit up for her, others laid still, their wounds deep and raw. With Scoran's help, one after another, Kera tended their wounds.

Kneeling by a child, Kera knitted new skin. As she did, the black, raw strip along her wrist burned hotter. Deeper. She sucked in her breath and a slight moan escaped. She had been able to ignore it at first, but no longer. When she was through with the little girl, Kera tried to heal her wrist, but she couldn't.

Strong fingers edged in blood gripped Kera's arm. Elix knelt beside her and pulled out a bandage. "Did no one tell you? Healers can only heal others. Not themselves." Elix wrapped the strip of cloth around Kera's wrist and secured the end of the bandage. When she was done, she rubbed at the blood on her fingers. "His blood won't rub off."

Kera made to help her, but Elix jerked her hands away and looked Kera in the eye. "Don't." She scrambled to her feet.

"Scoran and I will take care of the dead." She spun around and left, her sword slapping the side of the leather trousers as she jerked on a pair of dark-brown gloves. They hid her bloodstained fingers, but not the pain of her loss.

Kera turned her attention to the little girl's mother, the last of the wounded, but her thoughts stayed on Elix. She was like so many of the tainted. Her spirit had been bruised too many times by the firsts, becoming wary of anyone who held even the smallest measure of power.

Smoke soon filled the air, spinning a cloud of gray against the sun even though Elix and Scoran had taken the dead to the opposite side of the clearing. Using his magic, Scoran quickened the process, and all too soon, the wind pushed the ash along the ground until it covered the area in gray. Kera tried not to think of the life that now fed the earth. If she hadn't left, could she have prevented all this? Yet if she hadn't left, Blaze would never have entered the human realm and wouldn't have been with her in the forest when the millispits found Reece. He and countless others could have died.

Here. There. It didn't matter. Someone would suffer. Guilt pressed down on Kera, making her head ache and her hands shake.

Nausea twisted her stomach as she knitted the last inch of skin over the last wound. Finished, she stood, her feet unsteady beneath her. She had saved eight and lost three, one a little girl no older than five. Huddled together like refugees, the people she had helped stared up at her, waiting. She had no answers for them, but surely they could help her understand. "I don't wish to upset you, but I need to know. Why did they attack you? What did they want?"

The woman Kera had seen the dark souls question blinked up at her. "They wanted you."

Her? That didn't make sense, but then life in Teag had ceased to make sense years ago. Without warning, her vision darkened and her knees buckled.

Scoran and Elix were beside her in an instant, catching her before she fell.

Lying on the ground, she blinked away the darkness and slowly pushed herself to her elbows. "I'm fine. Just a dizzy spell."

A dozen hands shot out to press her back down. "You've done too much. You need to rest," a villager said.

So many worried eyes stared down at her. She caught sight of Halim's owlish gaze poking at her from afar. So young, yet so tough. He was Teag's future. She couldn't allow exhaustion and fear to steal that future from him. She'd fought her enemy and won the battle, but they would be back. She had to be ready. Not just her, all of them.

"I haven't done enough." Without thinking, Kera pulled more power into her.

She was suddenly reminded of something her father had said. He had known the Lost King by his first name, Baun. They had been friends, and even when Baun had been crowned, they stayed friends. When Baun first ruled, he would go for weeks without sleep because he was able to draw power from the earth at will, something most firsts couldn't do. His drive to become the perfect king drove his need for power. Her father believed that constant need eventually caused an imbalance in Baun, and that imbalance affected his mind.

Had his insanity begun as simple as that? Wanting to help his people? Tearing through the energy until his body insisted he shut down? Had his extreme exhaustion caused his hate-filled delusions? From her position, her father's theory was all too easy to believe.

And what did it mean that she could access the same power so easily?

Kera accepted the water Elix offered and shivered. Scoran placed his coat around Kera's shoulders and sat next to her. After a few moments, the sallow cast to her skin pinkened and a collective sigh of relief pa.s.sed through everyone. Yet all eyes stayed glued to her.

"What's wrong? Why are you all staring?" Kera croaked out.

Scoran's sharp gaze softened. "You're a healer. The last healer died more than fifty years ago. Not just that, you sent the black souls away, something no other first could do, even if we combined our power."

They all nodded. A girl with long, tangled brown hair hugged her knees. "They came in a rush of wind and darkness. Pulled us from our homes. No warning. No time to think." She bit her lip and turned away, blinking back tears.

"You firsts did the same to my father and brother. They were in the field when they were taken. Beheaded and nailed to a post."

The girl stared in horror at Elix. "Are we being justifiably punished, then? I deserved to be tortured? They deserved to die? Is that what you're saying?"

Elix looked away and Scoran spoke up. "No. Never."

"What were those things?" Kera had to know if what she saw was real.

A woman clutched her young son to her side. "I thought they were a myth. I should have known better. They are called the black souls."

Kera thought back to all the stories she'd been told, and none had ever touched on anything like what she had seen.

"When I was younger," Scoran said, his voice low and fearful, "an old man whispered a tale about the birth of the dark souls. They were-are-the creation of hate, and once made, nearly impossible to destroy. I never thought the tale was true. But to see them with my own eyes... I've not heard of anyone using dark magic for hundreds of years. I thought the art was lost."

"Someone found it," a man said.

"Someone always does," another said.

"But who would do it?"

Elix hovered at the edge of the group, her face sour with hate. Bending, she scooped up a little girl who had lost her parents. "One of your kind, a first," she said without any hesitance, "and not one I'd like to know. Talking about the dark souls, hearing the fear in our voices only makes them stronger and us weaker. I, for one, say we head back."

As Elix carried the little girl away, the others straggled along behind her. Scoran leaned close. "Elix is right. Only a first would brave that kind of magic, though I personally know of no first with the kind of power it would take to conjure one dark soul, let alone so many."

Kera stood, her feet steady, her vision clear. She brushed the dirt from her clothes as her mind spun with possibilities. "We have to find out who did this and why."

"We will." Scoran stood and squeezed her shoulder. "I know you wanted to leave, but if you had, everyone would have died. Thank you."

Kera didn't feel triumphant. She felt torn in two. If not for the voice...

She refused to a.n.a.lyze where it came from or how it had appeared in her head. She was just grateful for the help. "I cannot stay. You know that."