CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE #2
Deep within his core, Deckard found her, feeling the irresistible tug of her strength and grit, her excitement and adrenaline. Her feelings rose up within him as if they were his own, and he made a sharp right turn.
“This way,” he said, tugging Rafferty along.
Racing back through the trees, Deckard and Rafferty followed the pull of Evylin’s consciousness.
Before long, they made it back to the chaos.
Evylin, Ethenn, and Brea still fought fiercely, bringing down the last of the Shades.
Ilain stood at the head of the troop, hands raised as she used Terrae magic to lift a giant mound of dirt from the path.
Clumps of it flew through the air, clearing the pile.
Thom and Vayden knelt at the base of the mound, working to pull Isla free.
“What happened?” Deckard asked, hurrying to their side.
“We tried to hold them back,” Brea explained. “But there were too many. Isla got caught by their death knell.”
As Ilain parted the dirt in two, the men helped Isla stand. She let out a small cry, grimacing as she tried to put weight on her foot. Vayden wrapped his arm around her waist, supporting her weight.
“I’m all right,” Isla insisted, though she didn’t try to pull away. “It’s just a sprain.”
Ilain stepped over, slightly out of breath. “We’re fifty yards from the Chamber entrance,” she said. “We need to get there now before the next wave comes. Once inside, I’ll check to ensure it isn’t broken.”
“Let’s go, then,” Thom said, gesturing toward the cleared path. Together, he and Brea took the lead.
Vayden lifted Isla in his arms despite her protests and raced for the door. The soft beginnings of the rustling hum reached them just as they tumbled into the stairwell. He set his wife down on the stone steps, and Ilain crouched before her.
Evylin turned to Deckard and Rafferty, worry in her eyes. “Are either of you injured?” she asked, scanning both of them with a frantic inspection.
Deckard brushed her arm comfortingly. “We’re fine.”
“Speak for yourself,” Rafferty grumbled. “I was nearly eaten by a tree.”
Thom and Brea chuckled while Ilain stood. “It isn’t broken,” she said. “I could heal it, but—”
“No, save your strength,” Isla said. “I’ve already used too much magic on my own to take down the Guardian. I’ll lose consciousness if I do. Someone will have to carry me either way, but I can fight on the way out if I retain enough energy now.”
“It’d be an honor to be your carriage, my dear,” Vayden teased, helping her rise.
Ilain chewed on her lip. “I can heal it now,” she insisted. “The two of us can take the Guardian down together, sharing energy.”
“It will weaken you too much, Ilain.” Isla held her gaze. “Terrae is not only your lowest Elemental resource, which you’ve already had to tap into to save me, but you aren’t even supposed to manage Day. We can’t risk you healing each of our minor wounds.”
“That’s why she’s got Ethenn, though, right?” Rafferty said.
Ilain flinched, and Ethenn shifted awkwardly at Brea’s side.
Deckard frowned, noting their discomfort for a second time since they’d entered the Keep. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing,” Ilain said.
Ethenn dropped his eyes to the stone steps. “Would it help?” he asked Ilain.
She hesitated, facing away from him. “It would.”
Without a word, he stepped forward and held out his hand.
Crouching back down, Ilain set one hand on Isla’s ankle and the other in Ethenn’s palm. After a quick burst of orange light, she released them both.
Immediately, Ethenn moved away. He looked up at Deckard. “We’ve decided to end our betrothal, sir,” he said. “That’s all.”
The entire stairwell fell silent as the troop gaped at them.
Evylin’s lips parted in shock. “Why?” she asked.
Ilain bore up, her expression turning faintly amused. “You can stop gaping at us now,” she said. “We determined that our paths don’t align, that’s all. Now, shall we retrieve this Relic and get out of here?”
Though a long pause lingered, Deckard motioned toward the descending stairs. Slowly, the troop began their journey down. “Isla, do you still feel you can’t take down the Guardian?” he asked.
“It wouldn’t be wise,” Isla admitted as she limped down the steps. Ilain’s magic had given her the ability to walk again, but the ankle was clearly still sore. “Even with Ilain’s help. If we want me conscious on the way out, that is.”
Deckard pursed his lips, breathing through the aching pain in his side. “I don’t think I could manage it,” he said. “I’ve no concept of what Terrae magic feels like.”
Ilain glanced over her shoulder at him. “I can manage it,” she said, then cleared her throat. “But I will need support. From any Warrior.”
There was a beat before Ethenn said, “I’ll do it.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I’ll do it, Ilain,” he interrupted in a brusque manner.
She clamped her mouth shut and turned away.
Deckard and Evylin shared a look. Whatever the pair wanted to claim, the end of their betrothal clearly hadn’t been as amicable as they made it sound. There was a clear layer of underlying anger and hurt between them. But it wasn’t his place to question them on it.
Or was it?
Ethenn had requested that Deckard be his advocate in their betrothal.
He’d wanted Deckard’s advice. And since that first day, Deckard had failed to check in on the couple.
He’d been so focused on each day of travel, on staying ahead of Blount, and on learning to control the magic within that he’d barely given it a thought.
Perhaps he should have been more attentive to the young man’s request.
Regardless, now was not the time to resolve this problem. They’d have all the time in the world once they recovered the Relic and stopped Blount.
The Terrae Chamber spread out before them as a forest brimming with life. The entire room glimmered with verdant growth. Emerald tiles peeked through swirls of grass. Vines twisted up the columns. And a glowing dais awaited them at the far end.
Taking their first steps into the Chamber, the Wind Relic pulsed in Ethenn’s hand. It morphed into a sword, glowing with an inner silver light. He hesitated, then held out his hand to Ilain. “Stay close,” he said.
Reluctantly, Ilain’s fingers slipped through his, but she said nothing.
“Be fast,” Thom advised, keeping his sword raised. “And don’t die.”
Weapons at the ready, they moved into the giant hall. The grass under their feet remained docile but gripped the soles of their boots, making each step sluggish. A gentle rumble vibrated along the ground, harkening the Guardian’s arrival.
Deckard scanned the space, alert and ready for whatever creature might come at them. The Living Land, he remembered, from the children’s book. Was it possible that such a creature existed?
The rumble grew louder, and the ground began to shake. They widened their stances to steady themselves as the quaking intensified. Once, Thom had to reach out, catching Brea’s shoulder to keep his footing.
Suddenly, even the tiled floors began to shift.
They watched as it gave way, morphing with the grass to form a massive beast. Brutish in build and bearing two bulging limbs with its trunk affixed to the terrae, the Guardian rolled back its thick shoulders to stand at its full height.
Its head scraped the ceiling hundreds of feet above them.
Fierce green eyes landed on them with far more intelligence than the terrae should own.
The Living Land, indeed.
Then the Guardian raised its two massive fists.
“Move!” Deckard ordered, and the team immediately sprang into action.
The fists lashed out in a sweep from right to left, forcing them all back and away. Ethenn pulled Ilain to the left around the pillars while the rest of the troop leaped out of the Guardian’s range. Deckard dove, rolling to his feet beside Evylin. Together, they engaged the beast.
From the back of the troop, Vayden fired arrows while Isla propelled huge gusts of Wind in cutting swipes. With Brea in the lead, Rafferty and Thom dashed forward, slipping under the lumbering creature’s guard to hack at its monstrous trunk, but only funneling more grass and stone into its form.
Evylin charged ahead, the Space sword drawn and glittering, and Deckard summoned his magic. He didn’t care if it consumed him now. Faced with this ginormous Guardian, he knew it would take all the power they had to keep them alive.
The Living Land struck out, causing Evylin to drop into a slide as she approached. With ease, she hopped to her feet again. The Space sword spun in a luminescent arc as she twirled her wrist, slicing into the creature’s base. It bellowed a low growl. Dirt poured from the cut.
Deckard planted his feet and raised his hands.
The onyx shards trailed up his arms and across his torso.
His vision turned dark. The glittering magic soared past Evylin, Thom, Rafferty, and Brea to plunge into the Guardian’s form.
They twisted their way through the marble and terrae torso and out its back, then rotated to repeat the process.
Together, Evylin and Brea cut giant slashes into The Living Land’s trunk while Thom and Rafferty needled it with their mundane weapons.
Vayden’s arrows sank into the creature’s form only to be sucked away.
Isla’s magic sloughed off chunks of dirt and stone.
Great rivulets of soil poured from the punctures left by their assaults.
Maddened, The Living Land bellowed a thunderous cry. It swiped at them with greater fury and swelled in size. The ground shifted again, knocking Rafferty from his feet. Thom stumbled back, but Brea caught him, tugging him to the side. Evylin fought on, seemingly oblivious to the difficult terrain.
A great fist came at Deckard then. He spared it a momentary glance, his magic whispering steadily in his mind. He flicked one wrist toward The Living Land’s oncoming blow. A crystalline band shimmered to life, pinning the fist to the ground.