This was all in her mind as she trudged the endless corridors. And Reeth, of course. It felt like an age since they had last seen each other. She had no real fears about him being able to look after himself, but she longed to set eyes on him.
That was the last coherent thought she had for a while.
Reaching the section where the apartment was located, near one of the fortress’s external walls, but still a brisk walk away, she turned a fateful corner.
No sooner had she entered the corridor than it was bathed end to end in a flash of blinding light, followed soon after by an ear-splitting explosion.
The floor bucked like a living creature. Doors imploded, windows shattered, chandeliers fell. Bricks and timber flew in all directions. There were clouds of smothering dust. Then the roof came down.
Something, a number of somethings, pelted and pummelled her. And at the last she was on her back, unable to move, covered by a barely tolerable weight. Instantly, all of her fears about being trapped in a confined space became horrible reality. But the mind is a strange and wondrous thing, and no more so than in extreme situations. Instead of panic occupying her consciousness, she could only dwell on the question, who did she think the Resistance had stolen the dragon’s blood idea from in the first place?
Serrah’s assumption was substantially correct. Out on the plain, and on the tops of a few low, flat hills not far off, the invaders had set up giant catapults and massive glamour launch tubes. They were using a mixture of rocks the size of houses and magical munitions in their bombardment. It was one of the latter that had struck the part of the redoubt Serrah was in.
Caldason ran for the fortress as fast as he could, heedless of any in his path. Well behind, Kutch and Wendah, hand in hand, dashed after him. All the while, the barrage continued. Massive jagged projectiles ploughed into fleeing islanders and crashed through roofs. Hex shells fell like hail, spreading the pestilences of fire, vitriol and noxious gas.
Inside the redoubt, people were already working frantically to clear debris and free the wounded. Several dead bodies were evident. In the chaos, Reeth spotted Kinsel. He had no way of knowing about his loss, and took his dazed appearance to be a result of the carnage.
‘Have you seen Serrah?’ he demanded, catching his sleeve.
‘Reeth! Yes. That is, I came to look for her when I heard the-’
‘Do you know where she might be?’
Kutch and Wendah arrived, panting.
‘She was heading back to our apartment,’ Kinsel explained. ‘But they say that’s where the main strike was.’
‘Stay with your kids,’ Caldason told him. He ran in the direction of the collapse, bowling people aside and cutting a path for a breathless Wendah and Kutch.
There were few people in the area of the worst roof fall. Rescuers had yet to arrive, and anybody there at the time of the strike likely had problems of their own.
Caldason surveyed the downed walls and mounds of debris. The dust was still settling. Shouting Serrah’s name might have been an option if there wasn’t so much echoing noise already. ‘Where do we look?’
‘We can help,’ Kutch said. ‘Or Wendah can, rather.’
‘Can you, Wendah?’
‘My skill’s similar to Kutch’s but not the same,’ she said. ‘I could see things for Praltor, find things.’
‘Could you find Serrah?’
‘I can try.’ She started to wander into the wrecked corridor.
‘Be careful,’ Reeth warned.
A couple of minutes later she stopped at a pile of twisted junk no different to any other. ‘There,’ she said, pointing at it.
‘Are you sure?’
She nodded.
Caldason cupped his mouth. ‘Serrah!’ he called. ‘Serrah!’
There was a muffled response three or four paces away. Caldason began sifting through the wreckage, and Kutch came to help him. They kept calling, and narrowed their search by the responses. At last they came to a door, lying embedded in rubble. They heaved, Wendah adding her modest strength, and at last managed to shift it just enough to reveal a hollow beneath. The pasty white shape they made out in the darkness there was Serrah’s face.
‘Thank the gods,’ she said.
Caldason went down on all fours and stretched his hand into the hole. He touched her face, and she kissed his hand.
‘Afraid I can’t return in kind,’ she explained. ‘I can’t move a limb. Can you get me out?’
‘Of course we can, my love. Are you all right? Anything broken?’
‘It’s hard to say when you can’t move. I don’t think so.’
A shudder ran through the whole of their side of the building. Plaster and small bits of masonry bounced around.
‘This stuff on top of me isn’t very stable,’ she told him. ‘I can feel it shifting. And if it shifts the wrong way…’
‘We’ll get you out,’ he promised. ‘Just stay calm. We’re right here and we’re working on it.’ Then he looked about and saw the enormity of the task. There were pieces of stonework in the way that a dozen men would struggle to move. The sheer quantity of wreckage was daunting.
There was another shift in floor and walls. Serrah cried out. He scrambled back to the hole.
‘It’s getting tighter down here,’ she complained. ‘If you’re going to come up with something, soon would be good.’
Caldason reassured her again. His frustration was starting to find an outlet; as in combat, he felt the creeping onset of a berserk. He couldn’t see that being helpful in the present situation and tried to calm himself. He turned to Kutch and Wendah. ‘How? How are we going to get her out of there? At the best of times it’d take a small army to clear all this. And at any minute the lot could slip and crush her.’
‘You’re going into one of your tempers,’ Kutch said. ‘I know the signs.’
‘I’m trying not to.’ He added crankily, ‘What the hell has that got to do with it anyway?’
‘No, no, no,’ Kutch replied, ‘it’s good. I mean…not good good but maybe it’s good for this situation.’
‘I’m not following this, Kutch. Does it have a bearing?’
‘We’ve discussed it, Wendah and me. Your rages are due to the Founder bit of your parentage, so it could be the best way to connect with that part of you.’
‘Why would I want to?’
‘Because of what happened in the stables today,’ Wendah told him. ‘Tapping whatever Founder magic you’ve got in you could help get Serrah out of there.’
‘How?’
‘We don’t know,’ Kutch admitted. ‘But we do know the Founders had really powerful magic. Who can say what it might be capable of? Surely it’s worth a try?’
‘I can’t believe I’m saying this but…yes, it’s worth trying. What do I do?’
‘Ah. That we’re not entirely sure about.’
‘Oh, great, Kutch.’
‘No, wait a minute. You’re already halfway to a berserk, so that kind of puts you in the right frame of mind. Now we need some kind of catalyst.’
‘What?’
Kutch shrugged.
‘Damn it! I’m out of my depth here, boy. If this was a swordfight I’d know what to do.’
‘That’s it.’
‘What is? You want me to attack this mess with a blade?’
‘Do you remember the times you talked to me about the no-mind technique you use in fighting? That’s a particular frame of mind, like the berserks. If you could combine them-’
‘I see where you’re going, but I’m not sure how easy it’d be trying to reach a meditative state while a
