Shadow and Bone

will not have this power, too.” He raised the knife higher and
yowled, “Skirden Fjerda!”
The knife plunged down in a shining arc. I turned my head,
squeezing my eyes shut in terror, and as I did, I glimpsed the
Darkling, his arm slashing through the air in front of him. I
heard another crack like thunder and then … nothing.
Slowly, I opened my eyes and took in the horror before me.
I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound would come. The
man on top of me had been cut in two. His head, his right
shoulder, and his arm lay on the forest floor, his white hand
still clasping the knife. The rest of him swayed for a moment
above me, a dark wisp of smoke fading in the air beside the
wound that ran the length of his severed torso. Then what
remained of him fell forward.
I found my voice and screamed. I crawled backward,
scrambling away from the mutilated body, unable to get to my
feet, unable to look away from the awful sight, my body
shaking uncontrollably.
The Darkling hurried up the hill and knelt beside me,
blocking my view of the corpse. “Look at me,” he instructed.
I tried to focus on his face, but all I could see was the
assassin’s severed body, his blood pooling in the damp leaves.
“What … what did you do to him?” I asked, my voice
quavering.
“What I had to do. Can you stand?”
I nodded shakily. He took my hands and helped me to my
feet. When my gaze slid back to the corpse, he took hold of
my chin and drew my eyes back to his. “At me,” he
commanded.
I nodded and tried to keep my eyes trained on the Darkling
as he led me down the hill and called out orders to his men.
“Clear the road. I need twenty riders.”
“The girl?” Ivan asked.
“Rides with me,” said the Darkling.