Shattered Destiny by Shay West

Feeror snarled and let an enemy combatant get close, close enough to smell the sweat drenching the other man. Feeror spun, sweeping his enemie's legs out from under him. In a heartbeat, the Volgon male was grappling with the man, each one screaming curses at the other, breath coming in gasps. Both were tiring quickly. Feeror got the man on his stomach and pulled his sword arm back and upward until he heard the shoulder separate. Once the man stopped fighting, Feeror wrapped his hands around the man's head and gave a sharp jerk, snapping his neck.
    Saemus and Kaelin stood hand in hand, aiming fireballs at the enemy. Who are these men? Where did they come from? Questions filled Saemus’ head, but he had no time to consider them as more and more men came running from the direction of Heart Stone.
    “I want the boy and the old man alive, you idiots! Kill the others, but leave those two unharmed!” Fa’ Vel's voice pierced the cacophony that filled the air.
    Brok growled low in his throat as he made his way toward where the voice had come from. Capture me? We'll see about that! Brok dispatched another man who had come at him wielding a wicked-looking scimitar. The smoke from the various fires burned his eyes and made them water. The smoke was thick and heavy, swirling among the trees and obscuring his vision. He tried to hold the coughs inside, unwilling to give away his position.
    Suddenly, Brok found himself alone. He heard a low laugh, and his skin crawled over his bones. He whirled, trying to pinpoint the source of the laugh, but all he could see was smoke.
    He was hit from behind, and he went down hard, the breathleaving his chest in a whoosh. His mouth was full of dirt and leaves. He struggled to push himself to his feet but was terrified to find that his body would not obey his commands. Rough hands grabbed his head and yanked back so hard that Brok feared his neck would snap. A gag was forced into his mouth, and a strip of cloth was tied roughly around his head. Several pairs of hands jerked him to his feet, and a burlap sack was thrust over his head.
    “Now get the boy, and be quick about it! I will meet you in Faerow.” Fa’ Vel's voice said to Brok's right. Brok stood, shaking, trying to gather his thoughts. He's after Jon! Though Fa’ Vel had only said “the boy,” Brok had no doubts as to who he was after. He tried to access his power but couldn't. Soon his attempts became frantic as he realized that he had somehow been closed off from his power.
    “You can't touch your magic. You may as well stop trying.”
    Brok could hear the dark magician moving around him.
    “Before you are burned at the stake, you will tell me who you are, where you come from, and what your plans are for this world,” Fa’ Vel purred.
    Brok shook his head, but a sharp blow from Fa’ Vel sent him to the ground again.
    “Do not presume to lie to me, old man. I saw you! I saw you and those others disappear into the rock. I know that you and those like you are responsible for the moon rings and the strange readings from the seers. I will know the why of it.” Fa’ Vel's hand grabbed Brok's hair and forced the Mystic's head back so that he could look down on Brok's terrified face. “Let's go,” the man ordered.
    As Brok was dragged away, he sent up a prayer to the good spirits that Gerok would keep the Chosen safe.

    *   *   *

    Gwen used her power to hurl a man off Feeror, who turned and gave the dwarf girl a small salute before whirling to find another foe to fight.
    “Jon!” Gwen ran for the boy she adored when she saw himsurrounded by a half-dozen armed men. She stopped when he smiled mockingly and raised his hand nonchalantly. The men's faces went white, and they clutched their chests, slowly sinking to the ground, twitching.
    Gwen cried out and put her hands over her mouth, fighting the bile that burned her throat. He killed six people with that evil magic. She looked around at the dead and dying, wondering why what Jon