Chapter Eight #3
It was amazing how nature’s wrath could unite everyone in a common goal.
Pel wondered if it was the goddess’s way of showing her displeasure about what was going on.
He certainly couldn’t envision anything else that would have stopped the fighting.
But they were far from out of danger. The shield was getting buried in rock, and—
Pel sucked in a shuddering breath, his whole body tensing. Was the shield going pink? He stared fixedly, and the longer he stared, the more certain he was. The shield wasn’t pure white anymore. It had taken on a pink tinge.
Everyone knew the danger of this, even Unremarkable who had so little magic that it was practically impossible for them to endanger themselves.
Pel had only ever heard of it happening in the war, and he still didn’t understand what Unremarkable had been doing that had caused them to use their magic in a dangerous way.
But it had happened to everyone during the war, Unremarkable, Illustrious, and Extraordinary.
They were fine when the magic was pure white. When it began to go pink, core magic was beginning to be used, the center of their being. The magic would grow darker and darker until it went blood red. Using the last of the core magic was fatal. Every time.
Everyone knew that as soon as you saw pink tingeing your magic, you stopped what you were doing immediately. The magic would recover with time and rest, but you couldn’t keep using it.
“Tor!” Pel said urgently, and his eyes snapped open. “You’re using too much magic.”
Tor gave him a strained smile, the reality of what they were facing stark in his blue eyes. “I know.”
Because Tor wasn’t going to stop. He wasn’t about to bring down his shield voluntarily. After all, what was the alternative? Putting up a tiny shield around Pel and Tor and letting everyone else die? Picking a small group who got to live?
Tor wouldn’t do it, and Pel knew he wouldn’t.
He wouldn’t save himself at their expense.
Pel swallowed thickly. He understood. He would unquestionably make the same choice.
And yet he couldn’t bear the thought of watching the other man sacrifice himself trying to keep everyone alive—especially people who’d been trying not that long ago to kill one another.
Pel was going to punch Sir Cloril in the face the next time he saw him. And King Forex. If they hadn’t been so pig-headed, none of this would have happened.
He could feel frantic energy building in him, the desperate need to do something… when he was completely powerless with nothing to do. His brain flitted from thought to thought, desperately trying to come up with a solution, a way to help.
“Tor,” Pel said urgently. “Can we move everybody out? What if we all move to the far side and you do what you did to join them, just expand in that direction?”
Tor blinked, focusing on Pel with what looked like difficulty, like he was carrying a tremendous load that none of the rest of them could see.
After a long moment, Tor shook his head, a short, painful-looking motion. “No, I can’t restructure the shield that much. I barely managed this one because it meant dropping down to just one shield. That’s easier to maintain. If I try to modify this one again or create another, I’ll lose them.”
All right, that was out. What else? What else?
“Can the Illustrious Mantle your shield?”
Tor’s brow furrowed. “It doesn’t… really work like that.”
“But they can Mantle things they’re touching, can’t they?”
“Well, yes. But not magic.”
“Will it hurt?” Pel demanded.
Tor shook his head. That was good enough for Pel.
“Illustrious!” he yelled, startling most of the people nearby. Whatever. They’d get over it. “You can Mantle what you can touch. Touch that shield and give it more magic.” Everyone stared at him. “Do it!”
And slowly, here and there, guards and exiles reached up their hands to the shield, and Pel saw little bursts of white magic where they joined their magic to Tor’s.
Maybe it was Pel’s imagination, but it looked as though the pink was fading in those areas, at least momentarily. But it also brought into stark relief just how vast the shield was and how much magic Tor was expending.
Pel had never seen a more clear display of how strong an Exceptional was versus an Illustrious or Unremarkable. Tor had a phenomenal amount of magic—but Pel feared it wasn’t enough.
The little boy was back, tugging urgently on Tor’s tunic this time.
“Hey, mister, if somebody is taking too much magic, you gotta get away from them.”
Tor’s eyes focused slowly on the child, looking so perplexed that at any other time, Pel might have laughed. Unfortunately, just at the moment, all he wanted to do was cry.
“This is all me,” Tor told the child. “If I let the shield down, we’ll get hit with the rocks.”
The boy frowned at him. “But if you die, won’t we get hit with the rocks anyway?”
Tor’s smile was strained. “We need to pray that this won’t last much longer. And I’m trying to do something I haven’t done in years. And never from this far away. So how about you pray, and I’ll concentrate on my hard thing, and we’ll try to stop the rocks?”
The boy considered him suspiciously for a moment, and then abruptly nodded his head and started to pray—out loud—to the goddess and ask her to stop the rocks.
Pel really hoped Tor’s “hard thing” didn’t involve too much concentration.
He’d closed his eyes, though, and it honestly looked like he was far away from all of them, so maybe he wouldn’t even notice the child’s loud prayers.
Pel had no frame of reference for measuring how much effort this was taking Tor, but the terrible pallor of his skin and the slowly darkening pink of the shield told its own story.
Pel had never felt more useless, a hot clench of despair in his gut, but he was in the same position as the vast majority of the people here, Unremarkable and capable of no more than that small child.
Goddess, please get us out of this alive. Please protect Tor. Please protect all of us.
He had no idea how much time had passed, but he suspected it was probably a lot less than it felt as they waited second by agonizing second.
Please stop the landslide. Please keep Tor’s shield going. Please protect us all.
Pel became aware that the other man was muttering, “Come on, come on, come on,” over and over under his breath. He swayed alarmingly, and Pel, Cavun, Beluna, and the exile who seemed like he might sort of be in charge made sure to support him from all sides.
They could still feel the impact of the rocks and earth and rain on the shield. Would the landslide never end? What would happen if Tor passed out? Pel supposed it would probably be quick.
Tor stiffened in Pel’s arms, going abruptly and alarmingly rigid. He straightened to his full height, no longer supported by any of them, and his eyes snapped open, the blue practically glittering in his pallid complexion.
“Finally,” he breathed. “Thank you.”
There was a moment where it seemed like no one was breathing, and then there was a sudden burst of light.
Between one blink and the next, the shield was as brilliantly white as when they’d started, and it was no longer pressing down upon them, close enough for the Illustrious to touch. There were cries of astonishment all around.
Tor flashed a blinding smile at Pel, who had no idea what was going on. Magic didn’t do this. It wasn’t possible. But it had happened right before Pel’s eyes.
“Now I can move the shield,” Tor said confidently. He raised his voice. “This way! Everybody back this way!”
They all stared at Tor in stupefaction, Pel included. He shook himself, rallying. He didn’t know what had just happened, but that wasn’t the priority right now.
“Come on! You heard Prince Torex!” Pel announced loudly.
“Time to move, people. I’m going to count to three, and then we’re all going to march in the same direction together.
We’re heading away from Filon and further into Tond.
The landslide is coming from our left. We will walk with the landslide on our left.
Understood?” They all looked at him blankly.
“Come on, turn in the right direction and tell the person ahead of you. Not everyone can hear me!”
After another stunned moment, people started turning and doing as he directed. Pel waited until a count of twenty. He wasn’t sure how long it would take to tell the people furthest away, but hopefully they’d figure it out, because the shield would be moving in that direction.
And then, at the top of his voice, Pel yelled, “Three, two, one. March! March! March!”