“I have to go back.”
“There isn’t time.”
“Gramps, I have to. You taught me to always help others.”
“But, Maria—”
“No, Gramps. Those people need my help.”
Gramps sighed. The worried look on his face morphed into one of happiness and pride.
“You’re right, Maria. Let’s go.” Shaking his head, he said, “So much like your mother, you are. You would’ve made her proud.”
Maria smiled back. Not the time to cry, Maria. Stay strong. Stay strong.
Frieda popped her head into the large doorway. “What’s the hold up?”
Below her, Gelbus stuck his head in, and below him, Sherlock stuck his head in.
“I’m going back to free the prisoners,” Maria announced.
“And I’m helping,” Gramps echoed.
All Frieda could do was shake her head.
“Go on,” Gramps said. “We’ll be there shortly.”
“Not a chance, Ignatius,” Frieda replied. “I’m helping, too.”
“I suppose I am as well,” Gelbus sighed.
Dammit, Sherlock said. Why can’t you guys be normal and only care for yourselves?
Maria grinned at Sherlock.
Fine. But don’t you ever threaten me with an all-veggie diet again.
“Never again,” Maria promised, putting her hands up.
They headed toward the other cells. Frieda’s palms sparked, and a small flame wavered there.
Sherlock hunkered down and whined at Gelbus.
Gelbus, his eyes wide, put a hand on his chest. “I’d be honored, my newfound canine companion.” He crawled onto Sherlock’s back.
Maria led the way again, this time toward the chaos.
Maria gripped the bars. A dirty-faced woman wearing a cloth over her head like a nun’s habit reached for Maria and the other wanderers. “Please,” she begged. “Please, save us.”
“I am,” Maria answered. The first cell housed about fifty people inside, all looking beaten and broken—their clothes streaked with mud, their eyes puffy from crying. They were hardly able to make any noise. “I’ll need you to stand back from the door.”
The woman nodded, a grateful smile growing on her face. She backed up with her arms fanned out wide, catching the others who were trying to make their way to the bars.
Gramps was behind Maria, working on the other cell. Frieda was next to him. Sherlock and Gelbus went into the guards’ quarters, and Sherlock was sniffing for the keys. There were about five cells to unlock, each one containing a number of what was left of Ashbourne’s citizens—anywhere from fifty to eighty people.
Maria closed her eyes. She reached for the magic deep inside the planet’s core, and the kindling deep inside of her own. There was not much she could grasp, and the little that she could grasp hurt her, but she pushed through the pain. She had to.
Beneath her palms, a spark ignited. She smelled acrid smoke and hot metal. People gasped in the cell, but the sound was distant, seemingly across worlds. Reality around her bent and took a deformed shape. Her legs quivered, tightened, quivered again. She cried out as the power surged through her. When she stopped and opened her eyes, she saw that the bars she had gripped were gone, leaving behind a fist-shaped hole on each side of the door.
With one last burst of effort, she gripped the solid bars of the now freestanding door and pulled with all her might. It gave easily enough, crashing to the floor with an earth-shaking clang.
Her head spun. Her heart beat frantically. She almost passed out—probably would’ve, if not for the many hands reaching through the doorway to grab her and hold her upright.
Dimly, voices washed over her; faces swam in and out of her vision. “Thank you! Thank you so much,” they said.
Once the haziness and exhaustion lessened, Maria saw that a few of the prisoners had come to her rescue.
“I’m okay,” she assured them gratefully, and they let her go. “Go toward the exit. Our time is short!” she shouted.
Shorter than we realized! Sherlock’s voice hit her from a distance. She snapped around and saw Gramps tapping his wand against the lock. The metal was charred and blackened where the wand came in contact with it. Sherlock and Gelbus came around the corner. Gelbus was running of his own accord.
“Dragon Tongue!” he shouted.
“Go! Go!” Maria urged the citizens.
They looked to one another, unsure of what to do.
Maria shepherded them in the right direction, but the dirty-faced woman wouldn’t budge.
“Go! This is no time for hesitation,” Maria told her.
The woman shook her head. “This is my city, I’m the mayor. The name is Penelope, pleased to meet you. I’m not going anywhere.”
Maria was about to protest when the Dragon Tongue burst onto the scene. She gipped the hilt of her sword tighter and pulled it free.
The Dragon Tongue wanted a fight; she could see it in their burning eyes. So a fight she would give them.
She bent her knees and assumed the stance she’d stolen from the Jedi of Star Wars, preparing to battle…even if it meant her death.
A jet of flame exploded down the corridor, so fast that it tore up the brick and left a deep divot in its wake. Maria grabbed the mayor roughly by the shoulder and jumped out of the way. They made it, just before the fire could hit her.
“Halt!” It was Macran.
The other guards, including the one who’d shot the flames in their direction, stood down. The corridor was quiet now. Maria could hear the panicked footsteps of the fleeing townspeople faintly in the distance.
“Bold of you to come back,” Macran was saying as he rounded the corner, his own footsteps heavy on the stone floor. Frieda and Gramps had taken up position on each side of Maria, their knees bent and heads cocked. Behind her, slightly hidden by a fresh pile of shattered wall, was Gelbus on Sherlock’s back.
“Get out of here, you two,” Maria whispered, looking at them out of the corner of her eye.
I’m not leaving you again. I learned my lesson in that cave.
“I’ll be right behind you. Lead the townspeople toward safety.” She allowed the magic to course through her, though she was still weaker than she would’ve liked. “This
