A Sky of Spells. Morgan Rice

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      “Finally,” O’Connor said, “we’re safe.”

      Centra shook his head.

      “Only for now. Those Faws are smart. They know the river bends. They’ll take the long way, run around it, find the crossing. Soon, they’ll be on our side. Our time is limited. We must move.”

      They all followed Centra as he sprinted through mud fields, past exploding geysers, navigating his way through this exotic landscape.

      They ran and ran, until finally the mist broke and Reece’s heart was elated to see, before them, the Canyon wall, its ancient stone shining. He looked up, and its walls seemed impossibly high. He did not know how they would climb it.

      Reece stood there with the others and stared up with dread. The wall seemed even more imposing now than it had on the way down. He looked over and saw their ragged state and wondered how they could possibly scale it. They were all exhausted, beaten and bruised, weary from battle. Their hands and feet were raw. How could they possibly climb straight up, when it had taken all they had just to descend?

      “I can’t go on,” Krog said, wheezing, his voice cracking.

      Reece was feeling the same way, though he did not say it.

      They were backed into a corner. They had outrun the Faws, but not for long. Soon they would find them, and they would all be outnumbered and killed. All of this hard work, all of their efforts, all for nothing.

      Reece did not want to die here. Not in this place. If he had to die, he wanted to die up there, on his own soil, on the mainland, and with Selese by his side. If only he could have one more chance to escape.

      Reece heard a horrific noise, and he turned to see the Faws, perhaps a hundred yards away. There were thousands of them, and they had already skirted the river, and were closing in.

      They all drew their weapons.

      “There’s nowhere left to run,” Centra said.

      “Then we’ll fight to the death!” Reece called out.

      “Reece!” came a voice.

      Reece looked straight up the Canyon wall, and as the mist cleared, there appeared a face he at first thought was an apparition. He could not believe it. There, before him, was the woman he had just been thinking of.

      Selese.

      What was she doing here? How had she arrived here? And who was that other woman with her? It looked like the royal healer, Illepra.

      The two of them hung there, on the side of the cliff, a long and thick rope coiled around their waists and hands. They were coming down quickly, on a long, thick rope, one easy to grasp. Selese reached back and threw the rest of it down, dropping a good fifty feet through the air, like manna from heaven, and landing at Reece’s feet.

      It was the way out.

      They did not hesitate. They all ran for it, and within moments were climbing up, as fast as they could. Reece let everyone else go first, and as he jumped up, the last man up, he climbed and pulled the rope with him as he went, so that the Faws could not get it.

      As he cleared the ground, the Faws appeared, reaching up and jumping for his feet – and just missing as Reece climbed out of reach.

      Reece stopped as he reached Selese, who waited for him on a ledge; he leaned over and they kissed.

      “I love you,” Reece said, his entire being filled with love for her.

      “And I you,” she replied.

      The two of them turned and headed up the Canyon wall with the others. They climbed, higher and higher. Soon, they would be home. Reece could hardly believe it.

      Home.

      Chapter Four

      Alistair sprinted her way through the chaotic battlefield, weaving her way in and out of the soldiers as they fought for their lives against the army of undead rising up all around them. Moans and shrieks filled the air as the soldiers killed the ghouls – and as the ghouls, in turn, killed the soldiers. The Silver and MacGils and Silesians fought boldly – but they were vastly outnumbered. For each undead they killed, three more appeared. It was only a matter of time, Alistair could see, until all of her people were wiped out.

      Alistair doubled her speed, running with all she had, her lungs bursting, ducking as an undead swiped for her face and crying out as another scratched her arm, drawing blood. She did not stop to fight them. There was no time. She had to find Argon.

      She ran in the direction she had seen him last, when he was fighting Rafi and had collapsed from the effort. She prayed it had not killed him, that she could rouse him, and that she could make it before she and all her people were killed.

      An undead appeared before her, blocking her way, and she held out her palm; a white ball of light struck it in the chest, knocking it backwards.

      Five more appeared, and she held out her palm – but this time, only one more ball of light emerged, and the other four closed in on her. Her powers, she was surprised to realize, were limited.

      Alistair braced herself for attack as they closed in – when she heard a snarling noise and looked over to see Krohn, leaping beside her and sinking his fangs into their throats. The undead turned on him, and Alistair found her chance. She elbowed one in the throat, knocking it over, and ran.

      Alistair pushed her way through the chaos, desperate, the ghouls increasing in number by the moment, her people beginning to be pushed back. As she ducked and weaved, she finally emerged into a small clearing, the place where she remembered seeing Argon.

      Alistair scanned the ground, desperate, and finally, between all the corpses, she found him. He was lying there, slumped on the ground, curled up in a ball. He lay in a small clearing and clearly he had cast some sort of spell to keep others away from him. He was unconscious, and as Alistair rushed to his side, she hoped and prayed he was still alive.

      As she came closer, Alistair felt enveloped, protected in his magic bubble. She took a knee beside him and took a deep breath, finally safe from the battle all around her, finding respite in the eye of the storm.

      Yet Alistair was also struck with terror as she looked down at Argon: he lay there, eyes closed, not breathing. She was flooded with panic.

      “Argon!” she cried out, shaking his shoulders with both hands, trembling. “Argon, it’s me! Alistair! Wake up! You have to wake up!”

      Argon lay there, unresponsive, while all around her, the battle was intensifying.

      “Argon, please! We need you. We cannot combat Rafi’s magic. We do not have the skills that you do. Please, come back to us. For the Ring. For Gwendolyn. For Thorgrin.”

      Alistair shook him, you still he did not respond.

      Desperate, an idea came to her. She lay both palms on his chest, closed her eyes and focused. She summoned all of her inner energy, whatever was left, and slowly, she felt her hands warm. As she opened her eyes, she saw a blue light emanating from her palms, spreading over his chest and shoulders. Soon it enveloped his entire body. Alistair was using an ancient spell she had once learned, to revive the sick. It was draining her, and she felt all the energy leaving her body. Getting weak, she willed for СКАЧАТЬ