“Adair, you have to get up. Come on.”
He complied, wheezing, as Marquis supported most of his weight. More lights flared as they ran, the underground room expanding much larger than Adair had thought. The world shuddered, and Marquis pulled him down, hard.
Gravity pulled their weight, and they slipped through a small crack. There was a compressing darkness, and then the wind howled fiercely as they freefell into a different world. Snowy mountains enraptured by a starry sky was all Adair saw when they plummeted toward the ground.
Their screams were lost in the wind, snow, and ice. Adair blinked, as they were sucked in faster, the scene changing with the heavy scent of iron. The sun beamed now, a rolling sea of green below them with flowing plains. The scene changed again, and they were falling through dense clouds, moisture clinging onto their skin.
Squeezing Marquis’s hand tighter, they continued to fall.
Adair snapped his eyes shut as the tang of magic rattled in his bones. He opened them, just in time to see the golden floor rushing up to meet him. Slamming into it, the coppery tang of blood filled his mouth and lacing pain shot through his body. Marquis lay still beside him, his deep emerald hair rumpled.
The floor shuddered just as Adair took in the oozing, black fog coming up to meet them.
No.
Through the pain, his blood and tears, Adair lunged forward, grabbing Marquis’s hand. Screaming in frustration, he threw his body weight back, dragging the prince with him. Darkness filled his senses, as he watched the poisonous fog rush at them, wanting to tear through them, to bring them back to Gortach’s lair. His blood pounded a vicious beat, and he snarled at the unconscious prince.
“Adaiiiir.”
Somehow they had defied logic, having fallen through time and space, ending up in the original room they had started in. Cursing, he moved faster, the golden floor turning an opaque black at the sound of Gortach’s voice.
The once silver walls started to crack, debris falling and shattering all around them. It felt like fire splintering through the marrow of his bones.
Yelling, he dipped into that well of ability, begging internally for some hidden strength. He could feel the magic of Gortach looming behind them, wanting to pull them back down into his depths. Slipping in his own blood, he didn’t stop. The archway was maybe ten more steps. Their freedom was just beyond that door.
Guttural growls escaped from him, and he lunged, black spots threatening to overtake him.
Don’t stop.
The floor trembled, and Adair heard the shrieking crack, like nails scraping against stone.
Don’t look back.
The floor tipped, gravity clawing at them, to pull them down. Adair screamed, throwing his weight forward, scrambling at the doorknob.
A deep throaty laughter echoed behind him, panic choking him. The floor gave way entirely just as Adair leapt through the threshold, dragging Marquis behind him. They plummeted back into the woods, and Adair slammed the archway door shut just as he saw the translucent claws break through the swirling smoke.
Sweat dripped off his nose, and he let go of Marquis. In one motion, he had his backpack in front of him, and he shakily ripped it open. The books and jerky spilled out, as well as his sheathed knife. The archway remained, the oak door shuddering from the force behind it.
Move.
Throwing the book open, his eyes flicked over the passage about closing the gateway to the ancient realm. His gaze flicked up to the two blood rubies. He didn’t delay.
Shooting quickly toward the passage, his body screamed at him to stop.
Jumping, he swiped the two jewels from their perch, just as the oak door was thrown open. Gortach stood there, his withered, rotting body shaking with rage as the gateway was shielded. He couldn’t pass through.
Adair bared his bloodied grin as the arch melted like fired metal, cutting off their world. They were finally safe.
Once the arch was nothing but dust on the wind, he quickly lurched to the side, emptying the contents of his stomach. Inhaling hard through the bitter taste that coated his mouth, Adair looked down to where the blood rubies had been clutched in his hand. In their place, blackened liquid ran through his fingers, dripping onto the forest floor beneath him. The same putrid smell that had come off Gortach filled his senses.
He watched as the substance ran down his forearm, mixing with his own blood, his breath coming in fast gulps. His skin turned cold and clammy, his stomach churning. He looked at Marquis, his still body starting to look uncharacteristically like Gortach’s. Marquis’s body churned into a nightmare until the world spun, and the forest floor rushed up to meet him, as he collapsed.
Chapter Ten
Memphis
Memphis hated traveling by horseback. His legs were numb, his pants having chaffed burns onto his inner thighs. His shaking hands gripped the reins as his steed followed the breakneck pace, the hooves around him rolling like thunder.
Brokk rode beside him, looking worse than he felt.
The hours had quickly bled in to having no meaning. The scenery was a churning organism of blurred colors, rolling hills, dense forest, and more rolling plains. It was wild and unbound, the cool wind pricking his skin into numbness.
His breaths came out in misty puffs as the sun quickly sank into the horizon. The chill in the air sank into the marrow of his bones, and Memphis could practically taste the change in the air. Arching his shoulders inwards and gritting his teeth against the wind, every tactical training class and lesson kicked into high gear within him.
Because as much as Brokk liked to turn a blind eye to the facts, being able to protect innocents meant being prepared to handle situations like this one. Being able to beat men like Cesan meant being a talented soldier.
Mud flecked his mount’s side, and they ploughed through soft earth, chunks flying around them. Brokk raised his eyebrows as he steered his mount closer to his left side, their
