Galanör waded through the water at speed to join his friend. “Don’t touch—” His advice was moot when Gideon pulled the dagger free and tossed it away.
“I’ll be fine,” he groaned, placing a hand over the wound.
“That would kill any man,” Galanör warned, fearful for his friend’s life.
“Then it is a good thing I am not any man,” Gideon quipped. “Ilargo’s strength will see me heal quickly.”
Galanör wanted to ask him what strength he spoke of, but now wasn’t the time. “Let’s get out of here,” he said determinedly.
Keeping Gideon between them, the companions back-tracked through the tunnels, ever wary of ripples in the water. Only once did Galanör question their direction, but Gideon confidently directed them, proving his mind remained sharp despite his blood loss. For how long that would last was a bridge to be crossed when they got to it.
Any lingering doubt on Galanör’s part was eased when his glowing orb cast light over eight dead bodies floating in the water. The ranger navigated the corpses until he found the young savage who had leapt out from the wall at him. He moved the Darkakin, pushing the body further up the tunnel, before getting on his hands and knees. The tunnel floor was rough and layered in loose stones and debris - he could have touched the crystals and never known it.
Groaning in frustration, the elf rose to his feet. “I could search this one patch of ground for a hundred years and never find even one of the crystals.” He held his hands out, keeping them close together.
“What are you doing?” Aenwyn asked, though her judgmental tone suggested she already had a good idea about what he planned to do.
“I need to use magic.”
“You will need all of your magic to get us out of here,” she corrected.
“I can do it,” he reassured. “Besides,” he added, glancing at Gideon leaning against the wall, “we don’t have time.”
Galanör parted his hands and with them went the water around his feet. The waterspout gradually expanded, revealing the hard ground. The crystals were easy to spot, their glistening exterior exaggerated against the black stone. The elf reached down and snatched them both up before the water rushed in once more. He secured one of them in a pouch he knew wasn’t torn or compromised.
“Galanör…” Aenwyn’s dark eyes were set over his shoulder, but he knew what she was looking at.
“We’ll keep them off,” Gideon told him, sighting the Darkakin himself. “Open a portal back to the surface.”
As Aenwyn took up her position in front of Galanör, the old master stood his ground behind him, Mournblade braced low by his hip. The ranger clenched his fist around the crystal and tried not to think about the peril that closed in on them. He needed to focus. While the orb had done little to deplete his reserves of magic, the waterspout had taken a part of what he had recovered after the first portal. Now, at such a crucial moment, he could feel that hollowness that always accompanied taxing magic.
As Gideon took his first swing and Aenwyn unleashed her first arrow, Galanör shut his eyes. He sharpened his power to a single point, directed through his body and into his hand. So much of him began to go numb, including his attention. He was barely aware of the body that dropped at his feet. Aenwyn cried out in pain, chipping away at his discipline. He could hear the effort in Gideon’s breathing every time he raised Mournblade.
The elf scrunched his eyes and gritted his teeth. The heat building in his hand was like a naked flame. His heart thundered in his chest. It wasn’t long before the muscles in his arm began to seize and he feared he would be unable to release the crystal from his iron grip.
Aenwyn called out his name, though the words that followed were lost on the ranger. Everything he had was pouring into the crystal, preparing to tear through the fabric of reality.
“Now,” he uttered, his voice just more than a whisper, but he couldn’t be heard over the violence around him. “Now,” he repeated, sure that the crystal would explode in his hand if he didn’t release it soon.
Finally, Galanör’s eyes snapped open and he called on the last ounces of his strength. “NOW!” he growled.
Unable to lift his arm and launch the crystal, the ranger used what control he had to simply drop it at his feet. Magic tore through the world and ripped open a portal from one place to another, taking Galanör with it. He fell through the hole with gallons of water and landed hard on the ruined ground of Davosai’s surface. He tried to keep his eyes open under the deluge and crawl away from the portal fixed in the air above him.
Seconds later, Aenwyn and Gideon dropped through the portal, though only Aenwyn managed to stay on her feet. The old master rolled aside, narrowly missing the Darkakin that followed him through. An arrow from Aenwyn’s bow caught the savage in the side of the head and ended the threat.
Galanör could only watch as the portal snapped closed, to be replaced by Ayda’s night sky. Not far away, he saw Gideon rest his head against the ground and close his eyes, his midriff red with blood. He desperately wanted to reach his friend but his limbs refused to move.
Aenwyn rushed to the ranger’s side, her face framed by stars. The ranger tried to speak, to encourage her to tend to Gideon. Instead, the words died on his lips and his vision fell prey to an enclosing darkness.
45
’Tis Life
Vighon’s eyes snapped open only moments before Sir Ruban entered his tent. The captain’s expression was enough to inform the king that calamity was upon them. Already dressed, it took no time at all before
