the sudden cold. He might as well have crashed into a rock wall. The impact rattled his body, made him see sparks, forced the air from his lungs. He sank deep into the dark, quiet water, his body already turning numb from the frigid water.
Around him the water lightened then glowed brightly as the flaming guardian spirits knifed into the sea and floated toward them. Bubbles and steam boiled away from the flaming guards' forms as they descended, the holes of their eyes fixed on Nix.
Nix kicked his legs and recoiled, going deeper, until his back thumped against the rocky bottom. And still the guardians came, diminishing with each stroke as the water claimed more and more of their forms, but performing their vengeful duty even as it destroyed them. They descended closer, closer, and a flaming hand reached for Nix's face… and surrendered entirely to the sea before reaching him. The flaming bodies died out, dissipated with the faint echo of Afirion curses.
Nix's lungs burned. His clothes were soaked, weighing him down. He had no idea how deep he was, though he could perceive the filtered light of dusk. Panicked, he pushed off the bottom with what strength he had left and made for the surface.
Water, unending water. He needed to breathe, and the instinct to gulp air became overwhelming. He was lightheaded, failing.
A hand seized him by the cloak and jerked him to the surface. He broke the waterline into the gray light of twilight, felt cool air on his face, and drew it into his lungs in greedy, heaving gulps.
'Breathe,' Egil said, gulping air himself and keeping Nix afloat. 'Breathe.'
Nix could not speak. He nodded, gasping, coughing. Egil held him by the collar and kept his head above water.
The waves surged them back and forth, driving their wounded, burned bodies into rocks, pushing them toward the cliff. Nix did not have the energy to resist the water's will. He and Egil just fended off the rocks as best they could with their legs and arms.
'Good,' Nix said after a time. 'I'm good.'
'Anyone else get out?' Egil said.
'I don't think so,' Nix said.
They called out, hoping to hear a response over the rush and hum of the surf. When they heard nothing, Egil uttered a short prayer to Ebenor, wishing the guards' souls a safe journey into the spheres of the afterlife.
'Let's get out of the water,' Egil said. 'We'll die of cold.'
'Aye,' Nix said.
'Got the horn still?'
A moment of panic seized Nix at the thought he might have lost it, but the strap hadn't broken. The horn still hung around his neck. For good measure, he felt for his satchel of magical and mundane paraphernalia, his weapons. He had everything. Except the men he'd come in with. Damn.
Abn Thuset's final ward had gotten some good men, but she hadn't gotten them all. Somewhere under him, he knew, the stone face of the wizardqueen's statue looked up at him with ire.
'You have a lovely home, milady,' he said to her.
They fought the waves and their wounds as they tried to make for the distant beach, further exhausting themselves. They swam, floated, and sputtered along the cliff face toward the shoreline. By the time they made it, Nix felt as though he had swum a league. His arms hung dead from his shoulders. He was giddy when he felt a sandy bottom under his feet. He and Egil stood in the chest-high water and waded in, assisted by the rolling surf. Nix's body ached all over. He was burned in places, and he'd wrenched his right leg. He favored it as the water grew shallower, stumbled often.
Beside him, the priest looked slumped, bedraggled, his mustache, beard, and ruff of hair sodden. Burns pinked his face, forearms, and his tattooed scalp.
'Hurt the leg?' Egil asked Nix. 'Can you walk?'
'Barely,' Nix said, limping on the wounded leg. 'Must have twisted it fleeing the flames.'
Gulls flew around them, cawed irritably. Shouts sounded from their left, from atop the cliff. Nix saw figures there, and raised a hand to hail them, but they must not have seen him. More shouts from behind the rise that hid the beach from the plains. Sounded like Jyme.
'Here,' Nix tried to call, but his raw throat mustered a poor shout. He stripped off his cloak and shirt as he plodded through the surf, wrung them out. Egil did the same. Both of them shivered in the cool air.
'Anything?' Nix said, holding his arms out and turning a circle so Egil could see his back.
'An unimpressive physique and a few burns, but nothing that'll kill you,' Egil said, and held out his own arms and turned. 'Me?'
Nix eyed the priest's broad back. 'How am I supposed to see anything through all that back hair? No wonder you didn't get burned. You've a pelt.'
'Fak you.'
Nix chuckled. 'No wounds that I can see through the thicket, save minor burns. You're good.'
'I wouldn't say that,' Egil said, and sagged to the sand. Nix did the same. He felt like he could have slept a week. They sat there shivering, too tired to stand. A few gulls approached, eyeing them warily.
More shouts from over the rise. Jyme was getting closer. Startled by Jyme's shouts, the gulls cawed and flew off.
Halfheartedly, Nix said, 'Maybe we should kill Rakon now. What do you think?'
The spellworm rewarded his words and thoughts with a bout of nausea. The discomfort felt almost quaint after the pain of fire.
Egil clutched his stomach, grimaced against the pain of the worm. 'Tempting, I admit. But I figure he was just aiding his sisters. We all do things to help those we love, right?'
'Right,' Nix said, thinking of the Vwynn he'd killed to save Egil.
'We can't kill him just because he's a prick, can we?' Egil asked. 'We make that our rule and our blades will be bloody until we're graybeards.'
'Plenty of pricks in Ellerth,' Nix agreed. 'And yet… the sisters he seeks to help are witches.'
'And he's a sorcerer,' Egil said thoughtfully. He looked up. 'Perhaps we should kill him, do the world a service.'
The words made Egil groan with pain, the worm vexing him. He punched himself in the stomach.
'It's worth it, you fakkin' worm.'
'I think we'd have to kill Baras and Jyme to get to him,' Nix said. 'I've no stomach for that.'
'Baras, maybe,' Egil said. 'Not Jyme. But what if the Lord Mayor somehow learned we'd killed his Adjunct? We'd never be able to return to Dur Follin.'
'I do sort of like it there,' Nix said. He sighed. 'Well enough. You make fair points. We let him live. I was just trying on a thought, is all. I get irritable when my flesh is nearly consumed in fire. Another time, maybe.'
'Another time,' Egil agreed.
Jyme's shouts sounded nearer.
'Over here!' Nix called, managing a creditable yell.
Jyme appeared atop the rise that overlooked the beach, his eyes wide, his face wearing an expression of shock.
'Gods, men! There you are! We saw that fire! Hells, the whole hill vibrated!' He shouted up at the cliff. 'My lord! Baras! I've found them! They're here! Over here!'
Baras's shout answered from atop the cliff.
'On our way!'
In moments Rakon and Baras were hurrying down the hill, leading the horses.
Jyme hurried toward Egil and Nix, stumbling in the sand as he ran. 'Where are the others?'
'It's just us,' Nix said.
'Shite,' Jyme said. He made the symbol of Orella with his hand.
'Aye,' Egil said. 'Shite. They were good men.'
Nix stood and pulled on his shirt, wincing from various pains. Egil did the same.
'Is that it?' Jyme asked, nodding at the horn Nix had placed on the sand. 'The horn?'
Nix had almost forgotten about it. He picked it up and examined it more closely. It felt heavier than it should,
