CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT #2
She took a step back, staring at the Relic like it was a viper prepared to strike. Deckard couldn’t tell if her hesitation was due to her previous experience with the Day Relic or if it had to do with her recent experience with Night—his—magic.
Evylin drew in a bolstering breath and took the Relic from Rafferty’s upturned palm. A spike of energy leaped through the air. Bright purple light beamed off the Night sword, now gripped firmly in her grasp.
Deckard drew his sword and stepped under the domed ceiling of the hall. This was no time for his sorrow or guilt. He was a soldier with an assignment. He would fight using sword and dagger, and if he had to, he’d tap into his newly discovered magic to get the job done.
Auden lifted his hand to the iron door. For the first time, Deckard was entering a Keep with the knowledge of his magic. Will it be different? he wondered. Will I feel and sense the same power as the Calders?
As the door rumbled open, Ilain stepped up to her brother’s side.
The passage cleared, revealing the Keep beyond them.
Silver-gray mist and dove-gray clouds drifted lazily, a fog denser than any in Wauld as far as the eye could see.
Only a narrow stone path, covered in the same swirling pattern as the door and windows, stretched ahead of them.
It hung suspended with nothing but thin air on all sides.
At Deckard’s side, Thom grimaced. “That looks welcoming,” he said.
Ilain sent him a wink. “Don’t worry, dearest. I may be a Fire Mage, but Wind and I have a special relationship. If you fall, I’ll catch you.”
Auden ignored his sister’s casual attitude. “Everyone, walk carefully,” he instructed. “The Shades will be infused with Wind, and I suspect they’ll be able to fly.”
While the Calders stepped out onto the path, the Ephrians froze in the hall.
“Fly?” Rafferty’s face contorted in disbelief. He looked up at Deckard. “I’ve decided,” he said weakly, “I’d like to resign from my post, sir.”
Drawing in a stilted breath, Deckard forced his feet forward. “I’ll join you.”
They followed the Calders into the Keep.
The stone path would only admit their passage one by one.
Ethenn took the initiative, following behind Ilain.
Thom went next. Both men immediately braced themselves as the fog swirled around them, curling around their forms as though seeking to wrap them in its arms. Rafferty and Evylin went next while Deckard stepped in last. The mist clung to the bridge, instantly coating them with a thin layer of dampness. A biting wind nipped at their faces.
Deckard looked down to ensure his footing, only to realize his mistake as his head spun. Free-floating on the bridge, his stomach revolted at the thought of falling for eternity. He trained his eyes on the horizon from then on.
The door shut with a reverberating thunk behind them, sealing them into the Keep. Slowly, they crept along. The wind rose, whistling in their ears. Then the hum of the Shades came, a gentle whoosh that sent chills down Deckard’s spine.
“They’re coming,” Ilain called.
They all prepared their weapons—Auden and Ilain raised their hands, Deckard, Evylin, Thom, and Rafferty tightened their grips on their swords, and Ethenn nocked an arrow. Then a fierce rush of wind swept in, bringing the first onslaught of Shades with it.
The humanoid creatures burst from the clouds, magical streams of air holding their clay forms together.
Their arms reached out to grapple the troop, the force of the gale causing them all to wobble on their feet.
Evylin and Ethenn fared best, holding their footing with practiced agility.
She swept her sword in an arc, catching a Shade square in the center of its chest. The hunter’s arrow managed to land on the very edge of another’s shoulder.
It was a horrible mistake.
The Shades’ clay bodies shattered, and a giant blast of air whipped out.
Both Evylin and Ethenn lost their footing then.
She was knocked back, her heels hanging over the edge of the bridge as she fought to maintain her balance.
Deckard’s heart lurched, and his hand shot out.
He caught her arm, pulling her to his chest and safety.
His pulse spiked as he held her against him, a tingle of magic spreading across his skin.
Ethenn wasn’t so lucky. He pitched backward, arrows spilling out of the quiver at his back.
Ilain let out a cry of alarm, then thrust her hand forward.
The young man froze in midair, his chest pumping furiously.
But there were still Shades swirling around them, reaching and grabbing, trying to pull them from the path.
Killing them was as ineffective as ignoring them, their deaths sending forth those frightful blasts of wind.
While Ilain used Wind to settle Ethenn back on the stone bridge, the rest of them fought off groups of Shades, clinging to one another as they fought to stay in place.
“Ilain,” Thom called when he nearly lost his footing after Auden killed another Shade with a flare of Day magic, “can’t you keep them away from us?”
Assured that Ethenn was safe, Ilain gritted her teeth and threw her arms up to the sky. A squall of upward wind knocked the Shades into oblivion. The roar of it all filled Deckard’s head like he was trapped underwater.
Freed from the onslaught of Shades, they relaxed for a mere second before bolting down the path.
“I can’t do that again,” Ilain warned. “So you’d all best be at peak performance if you want to make it out of here.”
“I thought you had a special relationship with Wind,” Thom sassed.
“I do!” she yelled back at him. “But killing a Guardian takes more power and focus than you could ever imagine. In order to retain enough energy to get us out of here, I need to conserve as much now as possible.”
Another gust ripped through, bringing more Shades.
“Stay low,” Evylin called.
They all listened, crouching and widening their stance as they defended.
Centering their gravity helped to keep them on the path, but it hampered their progress on the bridge.
They could defend their onward march this way, Deckard knew, but eventually, they would tire.
They still had to get to the Chamber, defeat the Guardian, and return through the Keep with the Relic in tow.
Ilain was right; they had to conserve their energy.
A Shade swept in, its arms latching onto Rafferty. It carried him over the side of the bridge, his feet dangling. Evylin caught his arm, but the Shade’s force took her with them.
Deckard dived forward. His arm slipped around her waist, keeping her on the path as Rafferty hung over the side.
The weasel let his short swords fall into the never-ending fog around them to clasp onto Evylin, his light gray eyes panicked.
A blast of wind from another downed Shade whipped around them.
Evylin’s feet were barely on the path, giving them very little leverage as Rafferty clung to her.
She still held the Night sword in one hand, unwilling to let the Relic go.
Deckard fought to maintain his footing as their weight drew them an inch closer to the edge.
“I’m slipping!” Rafferty cried, his hand sliding down Evylin’s arm.
The rest of the team was too embroiled in their own battles to assist as more and more torrents of wind whirled around them. Shades flew by, tearing at them, trying to drag them over the side.
Carefully, Deckard let his sword clatter to the bridge. He reached around Evylin, grabbing Rafferty’s arm. “We’ve got to pull him up,” he told her, doing his best to ignore the way his body lit up with her closeness.
“I’m aware of that,” Evylin called back. “How do you propose—?” A Shade jerked at her arms, and Deckard released Rafferty to slam his tricep into the Shade’s head. Evylin cursed as Rafferty slipped farther out of her grasp.
“Lean back,” Deckard ordered, setting his feet.
Her back pressed into his chest as she did as instructed, placing all her weight on him.
With slow, careful steps, he drew them farther onto the path.
His muscles ached from the strain. Their weight and strength gave them just enough leverage to pull Rafferty high enough to hoist himself onto the bridge.
Huffing from the exertion, Deckard released his hold on Evylin.
A small gap had formed between them and the others.
Shades rushed to fill the space around them.
Evylin swung her amethyst blade, catching two, while Deckard took his sword back up, joining her defense.
With his short swords lost, Rafferty cautiously used his throwing knives, ensuring his aim before losing what precious little weaponry he had left.
Once they’d cleared their way, Evylin pulled her broadsword from the scabbard belted to her waist. “Here,” she said to Rafferty. “Don’t lose it.”
Rushing up the path, they closed the distance between them and their team.
Though they’d fought through so much already, Deckard knew they still had hundreds of feet between them and the Chamber’s entrance.
They had to move faster. Hordes of Shades would keep coming, and they couldn’t waste their energy here.
Growing accustomed to the attacks, they began to work efficiently, ducking and huddling together whenever someone knocked a Shade from the air. Sweat dripped down Deckard’s forehead, sliding over his brow and into his eyes. The prickle of magic whispered across his skin, urging him to access it.
After too long, the face of a dark gray spire-like tower came into view, wrapped in the fog’s embrace.
An iron door beckoned them with a promise of safety.
They sprinted for it, dozens of Shades flying toward them.
Thom and Ethenn caught two right as Auden hit three others with a burst of Day.
The onrush of wind hit both of the Ephrian soldiers full in the chest and over the side.