Page 110 of Prisoner of Darkness and Dreams
I try to turn, but the stabbing sensation in my stomach stops me. I have to wait, instead, as the thunder of hooves is upon us, and I can look up to see the diversion team riding into action—Stratton, Hyllus, Harman, and the others. Some of them are sharing horses, and they all look bruised and bloody, but their swords are drawn and their magic primed.
I want to cheer, or do something else stupidly enthusiastic, but thankfully my wound stops me from making any sudden movements or sounds.
It’s for the best, because as I follow their charge into the battle, I spot another sight: several figures marching down the road from the opposite direction, wearing flashes of purple and white in the writhing sea of red.
Chapter 36
Leon
Icut a cleric in two, his blood flecking my cheeks as I charge through the battleground. A gust of air tries to unseat me from my horse, but I find the aesteri in question and shatter the ground beneath his horse, making the animal’s legs buckle.
The air burns in my lungs, full of the smoke of incendi fire and dust from geostri exploding stones and earth around us. But I’m at home here on the battlefield, and I have one goal.
I need to get to that carriage.
The children are still huddled inside, miraculously unharmed—so far—despite the battle raging around them. I suspect there’s more than a few protections on the carriage itself, or else a stray spell would’ve surely sent it up in flames or shattered it to pieces by now. Lafia’s by the open door, trying to coax the children out, but they’re too terrified to budge, and she can’t carry them alone. There are too many passing spells and flying weapons around the carriage to pull them to safety with magic.
I spare a glance for Ana, watching her break in her whirl of sunlight and flying weapons to tend to Wadestaff. As always, it’s hard to look away from her, but I force myself to anyway. Damia’s there, she’ll watch Ana’s back, and besides, I can feel her through the mooring. When I can sense everyspike of pain or fear, I don’t need to constantly watch her to know that she isn’t in immediate peril.
But perilison its way. We’ve already lingered too long. We need to get the children and get out.
A shout rings down the street. I squint, making out the faces of the riders galloping toward us, and my spirits lift.
It’s the others, battle-worn but blessedly alive. Hyllus has a nasty cut on his shoulder, and Harman looks like his left leg has been scorched on one side. But despite their injuries, they bring fresh hope with them. The reinforcements lift the morale of our group, and the rebels throw themselves into battle against the clerics with renewed force.
I hail the newcomers as they join the fray. Their sudden arrival forces half the clerics to turn and defend their backs against this new threat. I watch with satisfaction as Stratton hurls one of his projectiles into a small clutch of clerics, who immediately flee from the explosion of boiling water.
Steam rises up from the spot, and through that mist, a scream cuts me to the quick.
“It’s him!” Lafia points a shaking finger to the road behind the carriage, where a group of red-robed figures are marching toward us. But the figure in the center of their group, flanked by two bearers, isn’t wearing red. Instead, he sports a long, white cape.
Caledon.
Rage surges through me. I’ve only laid eyes on this man once before, and no matter how badly I wanted to kill him then, I had Ana to save first.
Things have changed, but not so much I don’t still have people to protect.
I look to Caledon’s hands hanging by his sides. One touch from those, and your life is snuffed out, which means we can’t let him get too close. If he gets within reach of any of us, all gloam is going to break loose.
“Close ranks!” Harman shouts as Alastor clears the rebel leader’s way, hurling small sand clouds into clerics’ faces. “Don’t let them get the children!”
I focus on the stretch of ground between us and the approaching Grand Bearer. A quick rift should at least slow them down.
But as I reach into the earth to separate the dirt in front of them, I hit up against something solid—a force holding the ground in place, hardening it like stone to fight back against my power. I search the chaos around me, looking for someone focused on the same spot as me. There’s a geostri around here somewhere, blocking me with counter magic.
When I can’t immediately see them, I push harder, throwing more force behind my spell. The ground shifts a little, the particles of dirt reluctantly pulling away from each other, but it’s like my magic is wading through mud. The process is going so slowly there’s no way I’ll create a big enough obstacle in time.
Looks like I’ll have to go to them.
“Hyllus,” I say, barely raising my voice. I know he’s listening. “Get Stratton. I’m going after Caledon.”
They’re beside me in an instant, swords drawn.
“We aim for the Grand Bearer,” I say. “Kill anyone who gets in your way.”
“That’s what I love about you, captain,” Stratton grins. “You never overcomplicate things.”
Then we charge, plowing through the clerics with outstretched blades, cutting a way through them. As I slice and stab, I keep an eye on the Grand Bearer, ensuring he’s still where he should be: away from everyone else.
