Spurring her horse, Slanya crouched in the saddle and leaned forward. She pushed the mare faster and sped down the short slope and across the grassy distance toward the line of pilgrims. The blue magic advanced from pilgrim to pilgrim, inexorably approaching the apex of the arc from both sides. A smalland shrinkingsection of the line — remained untouched.
Slanya aimed for that opening. She needed to reach Duvan. She needed to make sure he was all right. Everything depended on it.
The mare broke into a gallop beneath her. The beat of the hooves synchronized with the rapid thumping of Slanya’s heart in her ears. Wind rushed past as she rode. Heated air bristled with magic and set the hairs on her exposed skin on end.
Closer.
Slanya took shallow breaths to avoid retching from the stink of sour orange-stuffed rotting flesh. Just ahead, the line of spellplague-touched pilgrims loomed, towering above her into the sky. She focused on balance and speed, trying to ignore the massive wall of disconcerting chaos she was speeding toward.
Ahead of her, the fire continued its consumption of pilgrims. Two by two by two. The arc was almost completely engulfed now, but Slanya could see a narrowing section where the spellplague had yet to catch hold. She needed to reach the line before the circuit completed.
Closer.
Slanya caught sight of one of the Order of Blue Fire Peacekeeper guards, patrolling the line. But he was too slow to react. Slanya approached with such speed that he did not even notice her until she was upon him. He could not have been expecting a single rider moving at such velocity.
Slanya went shooting past him.
Closer.
As she raced directly toward the line, she watched in apprehension as the gap narrowed to five pilgrims. The stench and heat from the blue fire, so close, made it hard to breathe. Then the gap was only three pilgrims wide and closing rapidly. Slanya fought back the urge to retch.
The last pilgrim to ignite was a small human woman. Mousy brown hair blowing in the hot wind, but her delicate features calm. She seemed to be waiting for rapture.
Closer.
The mare leaped into the air at the last second, narrowly avoiding crashing into the pilgrim. As the horse jumped, Slanya teetered on the edge of losing her balance. Flying through the air, her training came and her quickness to her rescue, She adjusted in time and did not fall off the leaping mare.
And then she was through, and the tendrils of spellplague snatching at her failed to gain purchase. The horse came down on level ground and did not stumble. Slanya dropped back down in the saddle and gripped tightly with her knees. She’d made it completely inside the perimeter.
Thank Kelemvor for this mare, she thought.
Behind her, the circuit was complete, and already a palpable change hung in the air. Would this whole area be inside the Plaguewrought Land soon? Not if Slanya could help it.
She aimed the mare toward the spot where she had seen Duvan fall. She needed to get to him. She needed to make sure he was all right. And more than that, she needed his help.
She just hoped there was still time to stop the ritual. If Vraith had completed her magic, perhaps it was already too late. And even if the blonde elf wizard had not finished the ritual, Slanya’s plan might not work.
She needed so many things to work exactly right. Lacking any one of them would result in failure.
Duvan might be dead. She might not be strong enough. It might be too late in any case.
As she galloped ahead in the direction where she’d seen Duvan land, Slanya put doubt out of her mind. She’d know soon enough. Everyone would know soon if she succeeded…
Or if she failed.
CHAPTER TWELVE
artially encased in ice, Duvan slammed into the ground. He felt the jolt in his skull and ribs. He heard the snap and crunch of bones breaking and frozen flesh shattering. The pain, however, seemed to be muted and far away, numbed by the cold.
The ice shattered around him, breaking away as he impacted the ground. Once, he bounced high into the air. Twice, spinning and sliding, and the bounce was lower this time. Thrice, until he finally skittered to a stop near one of the abandoned bonfires. Frozen and rigid, he skipped like a chip of crystal across the trampled grass.
As they broke free, the shards of ice peeled away the outer layer of the skin on his face and scalp. It felt like a scab being ripped away across his entire head, and he imagined huge chunks of his hair torn away in the ice.
Darkness closed in. His chest frozen, Duvan couldn’t pull in any air. He desperately needed to breathe. He was drowning in ice. Flares and sparkles flickered in the closing blackness at the edges of his vision.
“Duvan! Duvan!” Slanya’s voice came faintly to his ears.
He couldn’t answer, couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.
“Duvan!” Horse hooves thudded next to him, growing louder by the moment. And then Slanya was on the ground, cradling his head. Her hot touch burned his raw skin.
“You’re so cold,” she said. “Can you breathe?”
He struggled to pull in a breath. He failed.
She pressed her mouth to his. She breathed warm air into him, and it seemed like she was filling his lungs with broken glass.
But the chill in his chest melted ever so slightly and he could move again. He gasped and sucked in a breath of crystalline air on his own power.
“Good,” she said, pulling back and looking into his eyes. “Now I need you to watch over me. So don’t die; I need your protection.”
Duvan grimaced. “I can’t even protect myself,” he said.
In the field beyond the line of pilgrims burned with blue-white fire. It was a beautiful and frightening sight. The circuit was complete, Duvan saw. So bright was the fire that Duvan could hardly see the individual bodies of the pilgrims. They had become one entity. Vraith’s ritual had transformed them into a wall, a new barrier of souls.
“I think you and I can fix this whole thing together,” she said.
Duvan didn’t know what she was talking about. Feeling was trickling into his flesh, most of it burning and painful. He looked up into her face, tried to ask her what she meant, but no words would form.
Slanya’s eyes were filled with wild urgency. The thin line of her mouth was set with determination. She seemed ready to jump into the fires of chaos. In a way, she already had, he knew. By coming inside the arc, she’d risked death.
How can we stop this? he thought. We are so small.
Above him, the border veil flickered. Dark perforations formed on the oily surface, and at each hole, the fabric of the curtain weakened. The perforations spread rapidly, each one like an eruption of thousands of black ants eating away at the veil.
Soon the border would lose cohesion, and the Plaguewrought Land would claim this area. Many souls were going to be trapped inside. Stay close by me, he tried to say to Slanya, but his mouth wasn’t working.
Off to his right, Duvan Caught sight of Tyrangal’s massive form, stirring as she lifted herself out of the deep furrow created by her impact. Melting ice sluiced off the sides of the huge dragon as she got to her feet and stretched her wings.
She was still alive, thank the gods.
But as Duvan watched, the veil behind and above Tyrangal went completely dark. The eldritch light from the massive curtain flickered one last time and was extinguished. The border shifted, snapping to its new location along the line of burning pilgrims.
Tyrangal, too, was trapped inside.
Duvan watched as the plagueland rushed out to fill the void, like water released from a broken levee. And
