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Read Online Vision of Light [The Renegades 1] by Amanda Hilton - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Amanda Hilton
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with Daman instead of merely accepting her fate had given him the time needed to save her. She also showed remarkable recuperative power. Pulling back, he touched her injured shoulder, bringing the dagger close, working his energy so it glowed enough for him to look at her wounds. Her slender fingers remained intact and still perfect. Even though she could use a little more healing, he had to regenerate. Barely staying conscious, Lucien pulled her tunic back in place and wrapped his cloak about her to keep her warm, and then gently laid her on her back on the cold, hard floor of the cave. Placing the dagger on top of her body, he wrapped her fingers about the hilt. She held onto it even in her unconscious state.
Sitting next to her, he pressed his palms against the center of his chest, one on top of the other, and focused on regaining his strength and restoring his power. Once he recovered his energy, he would heal his open wounds.
The day passed by slowly. By late noon, Aislan stirred. Lucien could not open his eyes immediately. He calmed his raging energy until he could interrupt safely. He looked at her, but he could do nothing beyond that. If she awoke, she could do whatever she wanted, and he would not be able to lift a finger to stop her.
Lucien waited until he had recovered enough before he checked on her. Feeling along her slender throat, he pinched a few of her nerves, but when he applied energy strategically to calm her down, her inner force grasped his hungrily. He pulled his fingers free, cutting the energy flow from being absorbed by the suction force inside her. She continued to sleep, but because he had not been able to apply enough pressure on her, she stirred several times, as if dreaming. Disconcerted with her restless energy, he tried to understand the kind of sorcery she possessed.
Aislan had a rare ability he had never encountered before, one much feared but highly coveted in the Circle. She might be a predator based on how quickly she had absorbed his sorcery power. Lucien had to struggle to free himself from the intensity of the menacing hunger.
* * * *
Aislan dreamed, a dream with a familiar presence, but this time it took on another dimension. She ran on foot through the forest from an ominous, all-powerful phantom, but she could not run fast enough. Looking behind her, she expected the Dark Lord, but a faceless old man with long gray hair and dark voids for eyes chased her. He looked as old as time and as solid as a boulder. Aislan had never seen him before, and yet she sensed he had always been there, waiting, watching.
The old man overtook her easily on his huge black horse. He jumped off his horse. Despite his size, he moved as agile as a pouncing tiger as he flew at her with his long sword in hand. She tried to fend off his fierce strength and powerful sorcery. Aislan held in her hand a familiar one-foot silver dagger, which danced with life and obeyed her every thought. Fire sparked with each impact of his sword against her dagger. As the man raised his sword for the final strike, a figure dove out of the darkness and deflected the long blade with another sword.
As her defender parried every downward blow and vicious thrust aimed her way, the old man appeared even more infuriated. Then her rescuer grabbed her hand and they both ran, running as fast as the wind, leaving the enraged old man far behind. They dropped into a void together. As they fell, Aislan held fast onto her dagger with one hand while she kept a tight hold onto her savior with her other hand. He turned, his dark hair flying back from around his head, and she saw his face.
"Lucien.” She reached for him.
* * * *
Aislan woke to the faint morning light that made its way into the cave. She lay barely a few feet from Lucien, his profile turned to her in the semi-darkness, his eyes closed. He sat in a cross-legged position, his hands one on top of the other over his chest, not reacting to her. Despite his unmoving posture
Sitting next to her, he pressed his palms against the center of his chest, one on top of the other, and focused on regaining his strength and restoring his power. Once he recovered his energy, he would heal his open wounds.
The day passed by slowly. By late noon, Aislan stirred. Lucien could not open his eyes immediately. He calmed his raging energy until he could interrupt safely. He looked at her, but he could do nothing beyond that. If she awoke, she could do whatever she wanted, and he would not be able to lift a finger to stop her.
Lucien waited until he had recovered enough before he checked on her. Feeling along her slender throat, he pinched a few of her nerves, but when he applied energy strategically to calm her down, her inner force grasped his hungrily. He pulled his fingers free, cutting the energy flow from being absorbed by the suction force inside her. She continued to sleep, but because he had not been able to apply enough pressure on her, she stirred several times, as if dreaming. Disconcerted with her restless energy, he tried to understand the kind of sorcery she possessed.
Aislan had a rare ability he had never encountered before, one much feared but highly coveted in the Circle. She might be a predator based on how quickly she had absorbed his sorcery power. Lucien had to struggle to free himself from the intensity of the menacing hunger.
* * * *
Aislan dreamed, a dream with a familiar presence, but this time it took on another dimension. She ran on foot through the forest from an ominous, all-powerful phantom, but she could not run fast enough. Looking behind her, she expected the Dark Lord, but a faceless old man with long gray hair and dark voids for eyes chased her. He looked as old as time and as solid as a boulder. Aislan had never seen him before, and yet she sensed he had always been there, waiting, watching.
The old man overtook her easily on his huge black horse. He jumped off his horse. Despite his size, he moved as agile as a pouncing tiger as he flew at her with his long sword in hand. She tried to fend off his fierce strength and powerful sorcery. Aislan held in her hand a familiar one-foot silver dagger, which danced with life and obeyed her every thought. Fire sparked with each impact of his sword against her dagger. As the man raised his sword for the final strike, a figure dove out of the darkness and deflected the long blade with another sword.
As her defender parried every downward blow and vicious thrust aimed her way, the old man appeared even more infuriated. Then her rescuer grabbed her hand and they both ran, running as fast as the wind, leaving the enraged old man far behind. They dropped into a void together. As they fell, Aislan held fast onto her dagger with one hand while she kept a tight hold onto her savior with her other hand. He turned, his dark hair flying back from around his head, and she saw his face.
"Lucien.” She reached for him.
* * * *
Aislan woke to the faint morning light that made its way into the cave. She lay barely a few feet from Lucien, his profile turned to her in the semi-darkness, his eyes closed. He sat in a cross-legged position, his hands one on top of the other over his chest, not reacting to her. Despite his unmoving posture
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