Wayra groaned. Her head hurt, and so did her abdomen, like a horse had kicked her in the stomach. She opened her eyes and stared at a red blur only an inch from her face. She tilted her head back and the blur resolved into a brick. Beside that brick was another, and another.
It took a couple of seconds for her to realize she was looking at a brick wall. She glanced around and cried out in surprise, scrabbling for purchase. She was hanging out a second-story window of the keep. Finding a handhold, she dragged herself up and back in through the window.
And nearly fell to her death.
She gasped. The inside of the keep was little more than a shell. Doors, windows, and entire rooms were just. . .gone. There was no second floor. Along the back wall, the stair that led up to the central tower remained standing, but it was the only recognizable feature. So many holes gaped in the walls it was a miracle the entire structure didn’t buckle. Out in the courtyard, scattered debris floated in calf-deep water.
Wayra reached for her power and frowned. The magic of the keep responded, but weakly, as if her connection were failing. Still, it was enough to wash away the pain and clear her mind.
She looked around the devastated courtyard that stood empty as a tomb. From where she straddled the window, she couldn’t see over the wall, nor through any of the gaping holes. She had to get higher, had to know what was going on.
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Leaping from inside the window, she hardened the air and slid down to the first floor. She then slogged through the standing water to the stairs and raced up toward the room at the top of the central tower.
She didn’t notice the crimson-robed figure striding into the blasted shell of the keep, followed by a lumbering halimaw.
# # #
Ceren stared at the brilliant light burning on the plateau near the keep wall, and then glanced at the slope where Kevlin and the others struggled to get up the slope.
Antigonus had chosen her for a reason, and it was not to be a nursemaid. Turning to Indira she said, “Come on. We need to help them.”
“But there are so many who need my help.”
“You’ve already saved the critically wounded,” Ceren insisted. Despite exhaustion, Indira had kept applying her amazing gift to heal as many as possible. “If Tanathos wins, we’ll all die.”
“What can we do?”
“We won’t know until we get up there.”
“I couldn’t help Kevlin.”
Ceren frowned. Indira had tried to protect Kevlin, but she’d said that something had blocked her gift. Ceren pushed away doubt.
“Let’s get up there. I’m sure you’ll be able to do some good.”
Pulling Indira to her feet, she led the healer to a row of horses. The two mounted and galloped toward the keep.
# # #
Dripping wet and battered, Gabral hauled himself out of the river. He dropped to the earth and lay panting for several minutes. He released the Mace and rubbed his aching fingers.
At least he was alive. Even with the Mace’s power, it had been a near thing. His body felt like one giant bruise, and he’d swallowed so much water that he’d thrown up twice. The river had swept him at least two miles downstream.
Staggering to his feet, he ran a hand through his sodden hair and frowned. Killing the halimaw had been a great victory, but they would need him at the keep. That was where the ultimate glory of the day would be won.