CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
Vibrant greens and terrae-rich browns filled the Keep.
A peaceful blue sky stretched miles above them, only a thin line between the thick trees that crowded it out of view.
Abundant life burst forth all around them.
The luscious trees towered higher than any building in Loclight.
Their massive brown trunks and roots butted against one another while thick branches stretched wildly in all directions.
“The path is only wide enough for two of us at a time,” Isla said as they clustered on the stairs. “We should do our best not to step outside of it.”
The team shared nervous glances.
“You think something bad will happen if we do?” Rafferty asked.
Isla gave the trees a wary inspection. “I don’t want to find out if I’m wrong.”
“All right,” Deckard said, taking a cautious step forward. “Two at a time. Isla, take Brea and lead us. Thom, I want you to watch their backs. Ethenn and Ilain, you’ll go next with Raff and Vayden right behind you. Evylin and I will defend the rear.”
The troop moved steadily to follow his orders, though he noted Ethenn and Ilain gave one another tight looks as they stepped into place. Still, they moved together down the path as instructed.
The nine of them moved quickly. Within moments, the hum of the Shades heralded their prompt arrival. It sounded like the rustling of a hundred thousand leaves. A great whisper of the terrae, coming to life in their ears.
Dirt and clay swirled into being as the Shades rose from the grass and dirt.
And they never stopped growing. Large and bulky, these Shades dwarfed the others they’d encountered.
Deckard worried that any hits they landed would deal twice the damage.
He tightened his grip on his sword, feeling the tug of Space on his heart.
Its whisper was softer than usual, a gentle urging rather than that furious demand from his dream.
But he wasn’t yet ready to draw on his magic. He couldn’t risk losing control again.
Ethenn’s silver arrows were the first to zip through the air, each hitting its mark. But it quickly became apparent that it would take multiple arrows to bring down only one Shade. Several of the creatures barreled onto the path as his targets exploded into mounds of dirt where they’d stood.
Deckard grimaced, knowing that the force of those giant clumps could cause severe damage if a person got trapped beneath their shower.
Wind magic ripped through several Shades as Isla and Brea fought their way forward. Evylin cut one down while Deckard staved off another. The Shade’s death nearly knocked him off his feet when it burst into dirt.
Evylin tugged him out of the way. “Let me handle close combat, will you?” she said with casual humor. “I need you to thin out the pack.”
Deckard spared her a glance as they rushed ahead toward the towering obelisk awaiting them. “I should wait for the Chamber,” he said.
A column of fire burned up a Shade that got too close, its mound spilling onto their path. They veered around it as they ran, forced into single file until they passed.
“We can’t let them get onto the path,” Deckard called. “They’ll block us.”
“Are we sure we can’t go into the grass?” Rafferty asked.
“Do you want to risk it?” Evylin replied.
With no more argument, Rafferty dropped his head and ran.
Their past experiences had taught them not to waste the precious moments between waves on anything less than an all-out sprint.
They made it almost halfway down the trail by the time the second wave arrived.
Since the creatures were larger, they moved more slowly but hit harder.
A fact Deckard learned more intimately than he liked when an approaching Shade drove its fist into his chest before he could duck out of the way.
The impact stole his breath, and he was sure he heard a rib crack as he stumbled backward.
Evylin reached out but was too slow to catch him before his foot landed in the grass.
In an instant, the foot disappeared, the grass wrapping around his leg like an intertwining nightmare of ropes, pulling him down into the terrae.
Locked in combat, Evylin slashed violently with the Space sword, the power of her swing finishing off the Shade nearest her.
It burst, clumps of dirt raining down upon them as the mound piled up at the edge of the path.
The Shade that had attacked Deckard turned and reared back with both arms, swinging down to smash her.
Without thinking, Deckard raised his hand as his leg sank halfway into the dirt, the magic waiting at the surface of his consciousness, ready for his touch.
Instinctively, onyx shards shot out from his hand to tear the creature apart, shooting through it like a thousand blades.
The creature crumbled. Grabbing under his shoulders, Evylin wrenched him back on the path.
They barely caught their footing before returning to the fight.
“The terrae will pull you down,” Deckard yelled to the others. “Stay on the path.”
With a mighty effort, he pushed down his magic and tightened his grip on his sword. He had to protect his energy. If he lost himself to the magic this early, he wouldn’t have enough strength for the final battle to get them out.
The troop tore through the second wave, and giant piles of dirt crested the sides of the path, making their run precarious. As the third wave hummed into existence, they neared the chamber’s entrance. With renewed strength, the Shades attacked mercilessly the closer they approached.
Surrounded, their team worked to break through the Shade’s onslaught.
At the front, Brea and Thom moved before and behind Isla to keep her path clear.
The Mage sent out torrents of Wind and manipulated the dirt mounds of the fallen Shades to create columns of Terrae.
She caused the grass to spring up their legs and rise, twisting up the creatures’ torsos.
It slowed them down enough for Ethenn’s arrows to finish them with ease.
Though they thinned the oncoming horde, fighting with a sword grew more difficult by the second as the Shades pressed in. Deckard was about to sheath it when he was knocked flat on his back.
A Shade charged past him, clutching the back of Rafferty’s coat. The weasel let out a startled yelp as the Shade yanked him off the path and rushed into the trees. Deckard scrambled to his feet. With a grimace, he gave chase.
Every step across the grass forced him to work twice as hard as normal. He tore his feet away from the terrae’s grip each time. Then he leaped over the mounting dirt piles and plunged into the trees.
Deckard followed the faint shadow of the Shade, guided by Rafferty’s call for help.
The creature’s hulking form scraped against the trunks and low-hanging limbs while Deckard struggled to vault over the unnatural, gargantuan roots.
His ribcage pinched, but he ignored the pain with each breath.
Already, the Shade was fading into the depths of the forest, and he feared losing sight of it with his slow movement.
Magic pulsed against his chest. His jaw clamped tightly, determined not to lose another comrade.
He allowed the whisper to rise, its eagerness pressing with force against his tenuous hold.
Deckard gritted his teeth against the compulsion to give himself over to the full weight of power and thrust a hand forward.
A shard tore after the Shade, a spiral of the Heavens glittering through the forest. The obsidian spike hit its mark, piercing through the back of the creature’s head. It erupted into dirt.
Rafferty’s grunt reached his ears, but he couldn’t see where the man had fallen.
Deckard rushed forward, scrambling through the roots. They seemed to shift under his feet even as he moved, causing him to wobble unsteadily. “Where are you?” he called, forward his only option.
A muffled cry reached him another thirty feet ahead. He hurried on, spotting the large mound of dirt. He climbed over the roots as he fought the terrae around him.
“I’m almost there,” he called again.
Another now-fainter grumble replied, but it sounded like Rafferty was getting farther away.
Deckard broke over the tangled roots to stand before the mound of dirt. He had to keep moving his feet so the grass and roots didn’t begin to pull him down. But he couldn’t find Rafferty.
“Raff!”
A muted grunt came from his left, almost too faint to hear.
Deckard looked over to catch a single flash of white-blond hair before the shifting roots swallowed Rafferty whole.
Bounding over, Deckard searched the limbs for any way through. There was none.
With a deep breath, he summoned his magic, feeling the heat spread along his skin. “Don’t move,” he warned. Then Space tumbled out of him in arcs of black that sliced through the roots as though they were butter. They splintered apart, and the tree recoiled, revealing the soldier underneath.
Deckard reached down and pulled him free.
The man shuddered, coughing out dirt as Deckard dragged him to his feet.
“Come on,” he ordered without giving him time to recover. “We can’t stay in one place, or we’ll both get trapped.”
Rafferty wheezed but limped along as Deckard hopped from root to root. “Which way?” he asked weakly.
Deckard scanned the trees. They all looked the same. Every direction held an identical image all around them. They had no way to find their way back.
He continued forward, unable to stand still. “Give me a minute,” he said.
“Are you an expert tracker all of a sudden?”
“No,” he said, his thumb brushing his moonstone ring. He thought of Evylin, feeling for her presence inside his own soul. “But I am a Bonded Mage.”
Deckard had become accustomed to feeling Evylin’s presence within him. Initially, it had seemed strange to be constantly aware of her whereabouts. His attachment to her psyche and emotions was unusual. However, he had come to value it profoundly, especially in moments like these.