Jermayan, Shalkan, and Vestakia—not the monsters—who appeared between the rocks that guarded the entrance to the path. They took a stand just between the tall rocks Kellen had passed through. The stones formed a natural gateway to the cairn, and one that could be defended.
As the Seven defended that pass?
He saw Vestakia snatch Jermayan's bow and quiver from his shoulder, and nock an arrow on the string, and fire.
Kellen hesitated, on the verge of turning back to help them. But he had no weapons, no armor, only the keystone in his hands.
It could be that this was what the Demons wanted him to do—turning back to help his friends would certainly doom them, for unless he placed the keystone on top of the obelisk and triggered the spell, all was truly lost.
He trembled in place, almost physically torn in two.
—Longing to run to join them as a Knight-Mage should.
—Knowing his duty as a Wildmage and a Knight-Mage lay in finishing the task he'd begun.
A Wildmage's honor lies in betrayal. Finally I understand.
With a bitter cry, he turned away from the sight of his friends, blinking hard against sudden tears.
They were going to die. Jermayan was wounded, Shalkan and Vestakia were poisoned by the emanations of this hellish place. The three of them could barely stand. How could they fight?
Go on. Don't make them die for nothing.
He took a second step, then a third, up the grey stairs. And then, he began to run.
'HOW long?' Vestakia asked in a small voice, watching Kellen walk away from them.
'As long as it takes to climb the tower and set the keystone into position,' Jermayan answered shortly. He took a step forward, leaning heavily on his sword as he peered after Kellen. His wound—or the hell-spawned magic of this place—must be affecting his vision. The boy seemed somehow insubstantial, as though he moved through mist. But no. The rocks around him were as sharp as ever to Jermayan's sight. It was only Kellen who had taken on the aspect of unreality.
He darted a suspicious glance at Vestakia, but the sight of her obvious misery was enough to make even Jermayan think twice about accusing her.
'Where he goes now, even you cannot follow, Elven Knight,' Shalkan said. The unicorn sounded utterly weary, and pressed close against Vestakia, as if seeking comfort there.
'Will he die?' Jermayan asked, putting his greatest fear into words.
'We will all die if he cannot do this,' Shalkan said flatly. 'We three. Sentarshadeen. The Wildwood. Even Armethalieh and beyond. If they cannot be held here, the trickle of gravel that heralds the avalanche will have begun.'
When Jermayan looked again, Kellen had nearly reached the rocks surrounding the cairn, moving toward the natural gateway in the stone ring. Yet he could not have gone so far at the slow pace he'd been making in the short time since Jermayan had last looked. Jermayan shuddered. This was a horrible place. Nothing was as it seemed, but all of it was evil, polluted, and vile. The pain of his wounds was a wholesome thing compared to the crawling sense of uncleanness that seemed to fill the very air, and Jermayan was neither Wildmage, nor Demon-bred, nor creature of magic. How much worse must it be for the others?
There was nothing to do but wait.
Slowly it grew darker.
'Ah, Good Goddess save us!' Vestakia cried in a high terrified voice, jerking away from Shalkan. 'Something is coming!'
Jermayan whirled, swinging his sword up and taking a defensive stance, though the movement made him feel as if someone had plunged a red-hot poker into his side. For a moment he saw nothing, then his keen Elven eyes detected a flicker of shadow at the edges of several of the boulders.
Without thought, he grabbed Vestakia's hand and ran.
The stone ring—they're after Kelien —
