Page 111 of A Fate Unwoven
A fierce nod, and then Maia was moving, shooting her next arrow in their direction. A blast of magical energy knocked it aside, sending it snapping uselessly against the ground.
“Dammit!” Maia frowned.
“Go find a vantage point!” Dimas blocked another blow, his teeth gritting as the force of steel against steel vibrated through his bones. Ears ringing, Dimas danced back and swung his sword out in an arch. It made a clean slice through the cultist’s stomach. “Korvus, distract the channelers; Finæn and I will cover you.”
As one, they moved, Maia rushing off behind one of the pillars and out of sight. Casimir began zigzagging through the remaining cultists, heading straight for the channelers at the bottom of the dais, Finæn close at his heels. Dimas didn’t let himself think as he ran after them, sword slashing to block incoming blows and deal ones of his own. Blood coated his sword. His hands. Someone caught him just below the ribs with a dagger, the pain white-hot and blinding. But he didn’t let himself falter. Arrows flew from somewhere above, hitting those Dimas did not have time to get to. And then they were less than ten feet away from the channelers. Dimas grunted as a wave of magical energy crashed into him, Finæn, and Casimir, sending them stumbling to their knees.
“We can’t win like this!” Finæn groaned. “We need to weaken them somehow.”
“The sigils on the pillars!” Casimir whispered sharply. “They’re the same as the ones on their palms; that must be how they’re channeling their magic!”
Dimas followed the Verlondian’s line of sight. There was a single symbol engraved into the stone pillar a few feet to their left, one that began to glow at the exact same time as the symbols on the cultist’s hands.
“You go for the channelers,” Dimas whispered back. “I’ll deal with the sigil!”
Casimir and Finæn didn’t respond. They simply forced themselves to their feet, weapons raised, and lunged. The channeler’s attention fixed on them immediately, their hands ready for another blow. Dimas used the distraction to run toward the body of the axe-wielding cultist. To pry his weapon from his hands and head for the pillar.
There were only two other cultists left now beside the channelers and the ones on the dais, and, thankfully, Maia’s arrows were keeping them at bay.
Dimas reached the pillar just as the symbol flared.
You better be right, Korvus,Dimas thought.
And then he swung the axe into the center of the sigil.
The stone cracked, splitting the sigil in half. The three cultists standing before Casimir and Finæn faltered, the lit symbols on their hands flickering.
“Now!”
An arrow flew past Dimas’s head. One of the cultists waved his hand, clearly expecting magic to knock the arrow aside. The blast of energy that came from him was weak, barely stronger than a small gust of wind. The arrow veered slightly off course, hitting the cultist in the shoulder instead of the head. But it was enough to distract him so Casimir could throw one of his knives into his neck. Finæn took on the female to the right, sliding the sword he’d picked up clean through her chest.
“Enough!”
Iska’s voice pierced through the cavern. The pillars around her and the cultists performing the ritual were still intact, the sigils carved into them glowing brightly. She lifted her own hand, smiling when Dimas’s gaze landed on the sigil inked upon her pale palm.
Dimas braced himself for a blow. For his body to seize up like it had in Næbya’s Church. But Iska wasn’t directing her magic towardhim. She was staring at the same door the reinforcements had come through. At the Corrupted now creeping through it.
There were three of them. A wolf-like creature Dimas hadn’t seen before, flanked on either side by two of the monsters that had been in the lower city temple.
“They must not interrupt the ritual!” Iska spoke directly to the creatures. They paused for a moment, and then, in unison, moved to form a line before the dais, blocking Dimas’s path to his cousin. Dimas cursed silently. With Lenora unconscious, they stood no chance against them.
“Those arewrecen,” Maia spoke up, a fierce determination in her eyes. “In Lena’s stories, they were felled by a dagger through the heart.” She looked to Finæn. “And the one in the middle is the same kind we faced in Forvyrg. It’s called awylfen.”
Something like pride shone on Finæn’s face. “Do you remember how we can kill them?” Finæn asked.
Maia gave a sharp nod. “I think the hero in Lena’s tale defeated it by cutting off its head.”
“Oh, so it should be easy, then,” Casimir remarked.
Dimas tried not to think about how close he’d need to get to thewylfen’s fangs in order to decapitate it. Or about how low their odds were. If Lenora were awake, if she’d learned how to control her abilities properly, she’d be able to use her power to change the threads of fate in their favor. Without her, there was only one person Dimas could put his faith into.
Himself.
Years of battle strategy lessons ran through Dimas’s mind. “Maia, Finæn, you take the one on the left. Casimir, the one on the right. I’ll take thewylfen.We go on three.” Dimas took a deep breath. “One, two …three!”
FORTY-EIGHT
LENA
