CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE #2
Lungs burning and side aching, Deckard forced his feet faster. Shades screamed in his ear, their hum a deafening howl. Arrows streamed through the clouds, cutting through the creatures. A heavy shadow formed in the fog; the door loomed in the distance.
Deckard called for the others to slow as they barreled closer.
The shadow grew darker and more solid. The edges sharpened into the rectangular frame and iron face.
Skidding to a stop, Deckard slammed his hand against it.
A vibration tingled through his palm and up his arm. The lock disengaged with a clunk.
The second the door opened wide enough, Deckard slipped through, turning to pull Evylin with him.
A final howl from the Shades ricocheted through the Keep, following them through the door.
Thom, Ilain, Ethenn, Auden, and Rafferty piled in.
Then the iron door shut, sealing them into the shocking contrast of the hall’s silence.
They stood there, catching their breaths and collapsing against the wall.
Deckard dropped his head back against one of the stone arches. They’d made it out of the Keep. They had a fourth Relic. Now, they had to return to camp and ride hard until they left the Reach. A task that would require him to work with Auden to shroud the entire team, horses included.
Despite how well he’d managed his use of magic within the Keep, his body ached. He was tired. Even if he used the Night Relic, he feared he’d fail to hold on long enough to get them out safely.
“Take a few minutes,” Deckard told the troop. “Rest. We have a long night ahead of us.”
14TH OF CHRONOS, 1574
They emerged from the Wind Keep’s antechamber a mere quarter of an hour later, sprinting back to the horses.
They needed the cover of night to aid their passage through the checkpoint on the border of Sutterlund Reach and Wauld.
The twin moons shone overhead, the ivory one glittering half full and the shadow one a beaming gibbous.
In the depths of the night, they had another five hours at most. It would take them at least half that time to reach the gate at a full gallop. Crossing through under a shroud would require more stealth, which meant more time.
They mounted up, hurrying away from the coastline to the main road. None of them spoke. They were of single-minded purpose, riding through the darkness.
The soft sea breeze tickled Deckard’s face beneath his hood.
It was gentle, almost comforting compared to the wind of the Keep.
It whispered through the trees and over the grass.
Crickets chirruped and fireflies twinkled like the stars.
The stillness of the night was tranquil and soothing after their harrowing experience.
Warmth spread across Deckard’s skin to the base of his skull.
He pushed it away, recognizing the signs of magic attempting to grab hold of him.
After exiting the Keep, he’d felt the magic ease back.
His body relaxed, and his mind grew less alert.
He felt shaky without the magic, but he preferred that, knowing it meant he was experiencing humanity.
That was what he’d now come to understand after the Wind Keep. Magic made him less human. Less vulnerable. Less feeling and more apathetic. He lost morality when magic came over him. It gave him clear-minded logic and near-divine abilities, but it took away the man he was at his core.
He hated it.
They had to slow their flight as Ilain’s exhaustion caught up with her.
At one point, she nearly toppled from her horse.
Ethenn rode up to catch her just in time.
Thom came forward then, offering for her to ride with him.
It would force them to reduce their speed, since the weight of two individuals was too great for his horse to maintain the breakneck pace.
Still, they all agreed it would be for the best.
Two hours later, the stone walls between the Reach and the Waulden kingdom peeked over the trees.
Deckard slowed his horse even more, ready to guide them off the road so he and Auden could set the shroud in place, a skill he hoped he could achieve.
The others reined in their horses, their cloaks turning them into hulking shapes in the night.
Deckard opened his mouth to direct them when, without warning, a giant gust of Wind crashed into them.
The surprise attack threw all but Evylin and Ethenn to the ground. Deckard slammed into the muddy terrae, his horse sidling nervously beside him. He rolled away from its stamping hooves as a mass of dark figures stepped out of the murky forest on both sides to encircle the road.
Evylin and Ethenn, secure on their horses, had their Relic bows already drawn, arrows flying. A host of Wind Mages raised their hands, catching the arrows with magic and sending them off course. Evylin cursed, shifted the Night bow into a sword, and spurred her horse toward the left side.
Deckard scrambled to his feet, reaching for his sword.
Roots grew out of the mud, wrapping around the hilt and blade.
Instinctively, he knew it was Terrae magic.
Another gust of Wind struck Deckard, dragging him back to his knees.
The Mages surrounded them, drawing closer.
The roots encircled their ankles, trapping them in place.
The horses whickered in fright as the terrae worked to imprison them too.
The magic kept all but Evylin and Ethenn trapped, but even the Warriors couldn’t bear up under dozens of Mages.
Deckard cursed inwardly. They’d expected an ambush at the Keep. They hadn’t considered one at the gates into Wauld. Blount had outsmarted them.
Rafferty cried out, hand to his face. A line of blood marred his cheek. Deckard frowned, confused at what had hit the man when, suddenly, he was struck too.
A needle-like pain pierced his shoulder. He gasped as it jerked him back, sending him sprawling into the mud. The distressed cries of his team rang through the night as he realized the Mages were attacking them with sharp bursts of wind, so concentrated they wounded like the slash of a blade.