Chapter 53
Chapter
Fifty-Three
ALLIE
T he masked figures crawled out of the openings in the wall, scurrying on the ceiling, a neverending dread that shouldn’t have existed.
They looked like humans, but didn’t move like us.
Ryker and his warriors cleaved through them as they cascaded down on top of us.
My arrows thinned their first flanks with cold precision.
I plucked the string so fast, the calloused skin on the tip of my fingers began to split and bleed.
But we were at a clear disadvantage.
I was the only one with a long range weapon.
Ryker’s warriors were experts with swords, axes, and daggers, but they couldn't throw their steel at the ceiling.
When the attackers fell down, their weapons were merciless and swift–but it was a reactive fight, at the whim of our enemy.
Those rarely went well.
My quiver was already feather-light, and there was no chance of reclaiming my arrows from the choking ash.
My well of power stirred as I called upon it.
In a battle, unsteady magic was dangerous.
But I was desperate.
The tendrils pulsed in my veins, eager and ready to burst, but they didn’t coil around my arms, no matter how hard I tried. I tensed my muscles to the point of pain, but even if I had ripped them from my bones, my powers still wouldn’t have seeped out.
No.
Not again .
Please.
The fear and helplessness from the maze burned up my throat.
My powers couldn’t abandon me again.
But they hadn’t, had they?
They were in me, blazing, eager to help.
This isn’t the wedding massacre .
No. My powers were here, my constant companion.
Something was dampening them.
This forsaken place.
It refused my magic, as if it was a sacrilege.
If the crater had evolved to refuse all other powers, I had no chance.
A good tactic on any other day, to keep the enemies out.
Today, it could be deadly.
A figure lunged right behind me as I cocked another arrow. I gripped it in my shaking fist and whirled around, impaling it straight in his neck. For a terrifying moment, I saw scared human eyes from behind the mask’s slits.
But then he burst into dust, leaving behind only an acrid, foul stench. Its rotten flesh grit coated my face, searing into my lungs and mouth. I spat it out, heart galloping against my ribs.
Right before my watering, terrified eyes, the second torch flickered out of existence.
Only one left, too small and far away from the fight to count.
The spark of steel clashing against steel was my only guide–and the sparks in Ryker’s eyes.
In this dimness, the glimmer in his gaze was like a beacon.
A dangerous one.
Shadows closed in on him, wave after wave.
I cocked my arrows at the ceiling, now swallowed by darkness. I relied on sound and hope to hit my targets.
“Left!” someone barked in the darkness.
But the voice wasn’t enough.
A slash, followed by a scream, and a thud in the soot.
“Use the walls!” Ryker bellowed.
Then a thud resounded in the chaos.
Followed by three sharp knocks against the wall.
The warriors were doing it again–talking through the stone.
Between these vibrations, the cloaked figures’ noises scratched my eardrums more menacingly. But if I could hear them better, I could hit them faster.
My quiver was almost empty. Still, I didn’t stop, arrow after arrow splitting the ash.
Another thud vibrated through the wall.
Quick.
Urgent.
A blur which could have only been Ryker brushed past me. I swear he whispered something in my ear as he passed, but I couldn’t make it out past the roar of the adrenaline.
I turned, gaze aching to track him. The last torch shone long enough to make out Geryll’s shape.
He was pressed against the wall, two figures slashing at his shield.
Before I managed to cock my arrow, Ryker had already turned them to dust, taking on five more.
But just as Geryll pushed himself away from the wall, another figure fell down upon him.
Neither I, nor Ryker were fast enough.
Geryll’s cry sliced through the darkness and my chest as the figure impaled a blade into his leg.
It was the last thing the cloaked being did in his miserable life.
My arrow raced at his back right as Ryker’s dagger sliced through his throat.
I didn’t know which one of us turned him to dust, but he would never hurt anyone again. Ryker picked Geryll from the ground and steadied him as he coughed his lungs out, face covered in ash.
The last thing I saw was Ryker’s face snapping toward me, eyes widening in fear.
“Behind you!”