Page 150 of Skalterra By Nightmare
Maybe Galahad would hear me. Maybe help would come.
The electricity passed, leaving me out of breath and weak under Caitria’s arms.
“There’s a good girl,” she growled. “Now sit still. This will be over in a second. Ferrin?”
Ferrin approached with his blades, and I struggled feebly against Caitria’s hold.
“It was a pleasure, Miss Warrender,” Ferrin said softly. “I wish you could’ve seen things my way.”
He held a blade over my neck, and I mustered enough energy and feeling into my legs to buck under Caitria. It was the same move Ciarán had used on me on the frozen lake, and it proved just as effective now.
Caitria flipped overhead and shrieked as she tumbled out the open window.
Ferrin cried out and brought his swords arcing downwards. I grabbed each one in a clawed fist and forced my way to my feet. His face contorted behind the green glow of his weapons.
“Galahad forced me to work for the Riftkeepers because he knows I’m stronger than you,” I snarled. “You can’t beat me. That’s the entire reason I’m here.”
“Nightmares have their limits, Just-Wren.” His boot collided with my stomach, and I staggered backwards. “Even you.”
Silver sparks flickered and died in my hands when I tried to arm myself. Galahad’s magick had dried up, and the connection between us was still stoppered.
Ferrin, meanwhile, geared up for another attack, merging his dual swords into a single massive blade.
I drew magick from the one avenue I had left. The connection was weak, and the stores of Skal there were low, but the magick buzzed like electricity in my fingertips.
Orange fire erupted between us, flaring bright and hot enough to force Ferrin to abandon his attack. He stared at the orange skalflame, his expression unreadable under his goggles.
Then he grinned at me through the neon light of Ciarán’s borrowed Skalmagick.
“Wren Warrender, you wonderful idiot. You’re bound to the Grimguard?”
The orange fire dissipated as I leapt through it to grab Ferrin by the collar of his vest and pin him to the floor. The spikes of my left arm skewered Ferrin’s right, and he grunted in pain.
The heavy doors of the hall slammed open, ripping my attention away from Ferrin. Galahad, leaning heavily on Iseult and with Tiernan as his side, stood in the doorway with the pool of Skal lighting him from behind.
“You want to tell me why you’re trying to kill me a second time tonight, Nightmare, pulling my magick away like that?” he demanded.
I had done it. I had won. Help was here. Ferrin would—
“Help!” Ferrin cried out beneath me. “Galahad, she’s trying to kill me!”
“What? No!” I gawked between Ferrin and Galahad.
A golden throwing knife whistled through the air and lodged in my shoulder. I fell off of Ferrin, tearing his arm open as I did. Tiernan’s knife felt like fire in my flesh, and I ripped it out.
“He’s going to kill Orla and Fana!” I threw the knife at Ferrin, and he backpedaled away from me, clutching his injured arm to his chest. “He’s working with Caitria!”
This couldn’t be happening. They needed to believe me. Theyhadto believe me.
“Caitria is dead, Wren Warrender.” Galahad limped forward.
“She’s not. She was here!” I looked between Iseult and Tiernan, but they regarded me with the same cold anger as Galahad.
“We have to kill her, Galahad!” Ferrin scrambled across the polished floor to join them. Tiernan helped him to his feet, and Ferrin pointed his uninjured arm at me. “The Grimguard knows her name. She’s compromised.”
“No.” I shook my head at Galahad. “Don’t listen to him.”
“She found him injured in Vanderfall,” Ferrin gushed. His goggles slipped down his face to hang around his neck. “She took him in, treated his wounds, and gave him her name.”
