CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR #2
As a cluster of limbs with only Deckard and Ethenn capable of defending themselves, they slowly worked back to the entrance.
Too slowly. Deckard didn’t know how they’d manage to fight their way through the Keep.
How could they keep seven people linked and fight wave after wave of Shades? It didn’t seem possible.
As they progressed, a Shade tackled Auden, sending him tumbling through the air. Ethenn’s arrow struck, the Shade crumbling to dust, leaving only Auden suspended as he languidly began to descend.
Near enough to reach him, Ilain tugged on Evylin’s arm, pulling Deckard with them. She drew Evylin’s hand to rest on Ethenn’s shoulder before releasing her hold. Then she slipped under Evylin’s arm, one hand still gripping Ethenn’s collar as she reached out to grab Auden’s ankle with the other.
“Wait!” Evylin warned too late.
The second Ilain’s hand touched Auden, his speed met theirs, and he crashed to the floor, taking the rest of them with him. They fell in a heap of limbs and sand on the glass, Shades scrambling toward them on every side. The singular benefit of the mishap was that they were all touching each other.
Ilain, free of the need to hold onto anyone, threw up her hands. A billowing cloud of fire seared through the air, and the remaining Shades burst into sand and glass.
Freed of the first wave, Deckard scrambled to stand while Ilain explained the situation to Auden.
Evylin kept a grip on Deckard’s sleeve, but she adjusted her hand into his so that he could help her up, too, the press of her palm warm against his skin.
Carefully, the five of them rose to their feet.
They placed Auden in the center, one hand on Evylin’s shoulder and the other on Ilain’s.
Deckard and Ethenn maintained the sides.
They moved for the staircase where Thom and Rafferty stood, the men slightly off-kilter from the relentless attacks of the army of Shades.
The first up the stairs, Deckard and Ethenn put their hands on their shoulders, ready for them to jump into action.
Nothing happened.
“Thom,” Deckard said, tightening his grip. He shook his brother. Still, no response.
“Why aren’t they moving?” Ethenn asked.
“They don’t have magic,” Evylin said behind them.
Deckard looked back at her, realization dawning. Thom and Rafferty couldn’t connect with Time magic because they weren’t magical. They were stuck, frozen in time.
The hum rose again, harkening the next wave.
“Shades were still attacking them,” Ethenn said.
Ilain’s eyes went wide. “They’ll kill them if we don’t take them with us.”
“We can’t,” Evylin said. “We can hardly fight as it is. We can’t carry them too.”
Deckard grimaced, knowing she was right. He turned back to Thom, his brother’s gray-blue eyes staring back at him, unseeing. Fear stung his heart. He wouldn’t let him die.
Reaching behind the men, Deckard struck the Keep’s iron door. It rolled open.
“What are you doing?” Auden demanded. “We have to keep going.”
“Yes,” Deckard agreed, then turned to Ethenn. “But they can’t come with us.”
Ethenn understood. He tightened his grip on Rafferty, and, in time with Deckard, they shoved both men back into the waiting antechamber.
The instant their feet crossed over the threshold, they sprang to life. Unable to catch themselves in time, they landed on their backs, grunting from the fall. Rafferty let out a long string of expletives as Thom scrambled to stand. “What are you doing?” he demanded.
“I’m sorry,” Deckard said, then stepped back as the iron door to the Time Keep rumbled closed.
“No!” Thom yelled, but he couldn’t get to the door fast enough. It slammed shut between them, leaving the men behind.
The hum increased as Deckard turned, facing their troop’s dwindling numbers. He couldn’t worry about Thom and Rafferty or their long wait. The five of them had to make it through the Keep alive. And, at the moment, that task was a seemingly impossible feat.
Shades began to form, their hordes dashing for the stairs. Ethenn readily opened fire with his magical arrows, but Evylin turned to Deckard. “What do we do?” she asked. “We can’t keep holding onto each other like this. I need to fight.”
Staring across the vast distance to the Chamber’s entrance, Deckard tightened his jaw.
The Shades were growing in number despite Ethenn’s efforts.
Ilain had adjusted her stance to join his defense.
But Evylin was right; they couldn’t keep holding onto one another this way.
They all needed to use their skills if they wanted to survive this Keep.
Deckard sheathed his sword. “We have to split up,” he said. “And I have to use my magic.”
“Split up?” Auden asked dubiously.
“Two and three?” Ethenn suggested between his shots. “You and Evie go together. I’ll help the Calders.”
Deckard gave Evylin the opportunity to object. Instead, she took his hand and pulled the Night Relic from around her neck. It beamed a brilliant purple, a tremor of power threading through her hand and into his as it shifted into a sword.
“We run,” Evylin said.
Without another word, Deckard and Evylin rushed down the stairs, slipping past the Calders and Ethenn, stepping immediately into their own timeline together.
They charged into the fray of Shades, bolts of Day shining past them.
Auden’s magic moved at a fraction of a second behind Deckard and Evylin’s pace.
Fire twisted around them, flying along with silver arrows.
The warmth of magic spread over Deckard’s skin, and he grabbed hold of it, sending its power surging through his veins.
Hours of training with Auden had honed his connection with the resources.
While he still struggled to access Day or Time magic, as the highlord wished he would, he had found himself readily accessing the steady and expansive thrum of his primary resource—Night.
Now, it whispered in his ears, urging him to access the well of power within him.
Deckard didn’t fully grasp how he knew how to wield the resource. It wasn’t something he thought should be natural. However, he leaned into Hewitt’s training so long ago: “You don’t think about it. You do it.”
So without bothering to consider his actions, Deckard let the magic flow through him.
The very edges of his vision darkened as he sent a single spiral of crystalline magic into the mass of Shades.
The onyx-like shadow swirled and separated, piercing through three Shades at once.
Ivory sand tumbled onto the glass floor.
Meeting the army of Shades, Evylin slashed through one and swept the legs out from under another before cutting it down too.
She had to bend backward to avoid the attack of a new Shade.
Deckard slammed his tricep into the Shade’s head, dazing it as Evylin regained her balance and drove the Night sword into the creature’s chest in a brilliant arc of violet light.
Deckard returned his focus to his magic, sending individual shadows in a sweep of glittering shards through a whole line of Shades.
Each shadow dissipated too quickly. Without the ability to use both of his hands, the gestures felt weak and disjointed, as though he were fighting at half his strength.
Evylin’s fingers tightened on his, sending a tingling sensation up his arm. She wielded her sword with choppier thrusts than usual, her movements more erratic than graceful. As much as Deckard couldn’t help but enjoy their contact after so long apart, it hampered them both.
“On your left,” Evylin said but didn’t wait for him to heed her warning. She lifted their hands above her head, spinning under them as though in a dance. Then she lunged in front of him, the Night sword’s vibrant purple glow slicing up into the Shade only inches from his side.
Deckard thought to thank her, but all his effort was focused on maintaining the small bursts of his power he was able to send forth into the fray.
“I need both hands,” Evylin said, shifting her feet as she struggled to defend.
Unable to assist her, Deckard twisted his free hand, guiding his dampened magic. “So do I.”
A Shade leaped at them, and Evylin swiped it down. Sand crashed into them both at its death. “Then we take turns,” she said and released his hand.
For a fraction of a second, Deckard moved more slowly than Evylin. Then her hand hit the middle of his back as she stepped behind him.
Time resumed its fast pace, and a fresh wave of focus hit Deckard. Heat coated his body, the magic filling him with its voracity. It murmured in his ears excitedly. The world turned a shade darker, and he raised both hands.
A powerful wave of magic broke forth, creating a wall of shimmering black crystals with a tinge of purple in their facets. A mound of sand was left in its wake.
With the Shades destroyed, Deckard looked for the Calders and Ethenn. They had made it much farther ahead in the Keep, Ethenn standing between the two Mages, sending off flurries of arrows. Fire and Day flashed around them as they made quick time toward the Chamber.
“We’ve got to catch up,” Deckard said.
Evylin’s hand dragged across his back and down his arm. “Hold onto me,” she ordered.
Forgoing her hand, Deckard placed his hand on her shoulder to allow her as much range of motion as possible. “Go,” he said, and they set off at a sprint.
The Night sword’s radiant amethyst glow reflected off the stark white glass of the room as she tore through oncoming Shades. Deckard’s dark shadows, weaker once more, aided where they could. They shuffled over the sand of fallen opponents, careful not to slide over the slick surface.
The hum of their attackers pounded in Deckard’s head, the steady clanging rhythm jarring. He clung to his concentration, letting Evylin’s steady presence guide his focus. Darkness severed dozens of Shades as his hand guided the shards through the air.