Page 79 of The Demon Tide

Noilaan’s dome-shield.

So large it makes the runic dome encasing the Amaz city of Cyme seem like a mere market basket tossed facedown over their valley.

Fear shivers through me as I’m struck by the image of Vogel striking down the dome over Chi Nam’s Vonor with one quick swipe of his Shadow Wand.

The rune skiffs patrolling the border’s apex come into sharper view, the sapphire border wall enlarging as we soar nearer. A tent city hugs its base, its darkness broken only by dots of firelight, the lack of light on this side of the border standing in stark contrast to the dazzlingly illuminated city.

I remember the words of the soldier in the purple woods—Go back to where you came from. Border’s closed.A chill snakes down my spine. “Where are the Vu Trin bringing the survivors of the kraken attack?” I ask my brother.

Trystan angles his head toward the dark encampment in answer.

Urgency swells. “Trystan, the small family I traveled through the Dyoi Forest with...two of them arereallysick. They need to be quarantined with physician careimmediately.”

“Ren, a quarter of that tent city has the Grippe,” Trystan grimly counters. “It’s part of the reason the Noi want to keep them walled out.”

A horrified rush stings through me, my illusions about the perfect Eastern Realm crashing down. This has the feel of the Western Realm all over again. I remember Olilly’s Red Grippe–encrusted mouth and reddened amethyst eyes before I snuck medicine to her in the university kitchens. The sick Smaragdalfar refugees who Professors Fyon Hawkkyn and Jules Kristian were helping to smuggle east, many of them young children. The disturbing rattle of little Tibryl’s advanced cough.

“I made a promise to the three of them,” I say as the border’s sizzling tang of runic energy wafts over us. “IpromisedI’d help get them to safety.”

“Give me their names,” he offers. “I’ll send someone to find them. Tonight.”

I nod as we descend, only partially mollified.

What about all the other people stuck on this side of the wall?

But there’s no time to dwell. The border rises in front of us, half as high as the mountain range to our backs. As its details come into sharper view, my awe of Noi runic sorcery increases. It’s constructed entirely of luminous, rotating runes, stacked on top of each other and slowly revolving, like a colossal gear system.

Strands of my pale gray hair whip at my face as Trystan angles our skiff toward the border’s apex, a daunting number of military rune skiffs patrolling it. They’re piloted by Vu Trin soldiers, their sides marked with the same ivory dragon stamped on Noilaan’s sapphire flag. The wall’s apex is partitioned into segments delineated by large, floating runes, a single military rune skiff hovering inside each segment.

Trystan swerves right and makes for one of the skiffs.

As we draw near, the skiff flies toward us. A slim rod of sapphire light telescopes out and connects with our skiff’s base in a flash of blue light. Multiple plate-size runes fluoresce into existence, orbiting our skiff.

“Stay low, Ren,” my brother directs as he reduces our speed.

I hug the skiff’s floor while we slow to a motionless hover. Pulse thudding, I dare a glance at the skiff gliding in. It’s piloted by a young soldier, her short, spiky black hair streaked with silver and purple. Her sharp, dark eyes swing toward me and narrow in swift appraisal before her gaze lifts to Trystan’s.

“Where have you been?” she demands, seeming relieved and troubled at the same time. “Vothe’s been lookingeverywherefor you. You’re not authorized to pilot that skiff without him.”

Bam bam bamgoes my heart.

“Minyl, she’s badly injured,” Trystan replies with formidable calm. He gestures toward me. “I can’t worry about Vothe right now. I need to get her to Wrenfir for care.”

I give a start, surprised at his mention of the uncle I’ve never met.

The woman frowns and leans in, lowering her voice. “Trys, you know I’m not supposed to let you through without Vothe.”

“Her leg’s broken in several places,” Trystan cuts in severely. “You know she won’t get proper care on this side of the border.”

“That’s a Red Level transgression.”

“Does she look like the Black Witch, Minyl?” Trystan asks harshly, and my anxiety ramps up.

Minyl’s lips tighten as she deliberates, her dark eyes tensing. “I’ll let you through,” she finally bites out, surreptitiously scanning the surrounding skies before flashing Trystan a hard look. “Butfind Votheas soon as you can and report back.”

“I will,” Trystan promises as I wonder who this Vothe could possibly be.

Minyl lifts a rune-marked disc and the runes orbiting our skiff blink out of sight. Then she turns and pilots her skiff into motion, Trystan following suit, both crafts rapidly accelerating. We follow her toward the rune border, pivoting upward to soar toward her apex-segment, then clear over it. Minyl’s skiff noses straight into the runic dome like it’s made of water, an arc-shaped hole rippling open that we follow her through.

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