Page 172 of Commanding Flame and Shield
“August—” It was one breath. That’s all I had. One last wave of terror tore through my body in agonizing clarity, and the earth surrendered. The shuddering chasm swallowed me whole, and I slammed my eyes shut. I didn’t want to know. Didn’t want to see.
Except…I didn’t fall. Instead, I levitated. Hovering just below the edge of the cliff, and I looked up to my hand to see what bound it to the mortal world. August was laying down, one forlorn arm outstretched into the gulch. In a reckless heartbeat of courage, he dove further forward, and his other hand grasped my forearm, long fingers digging into the flesh of my elbow, and mine desperately clinging back onto the strong muscles that lined his bones. Air forced into my lungs in an excruciating surge, and the world, and all its pain and fire, vanished.
SEVENTY-SEVEN
WAITING
AUGUST
I dug my fingers into Alvara’s elbow, the skin slick with blood. The metal scales long-since burned or sliced away.
The reading took her. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and my hand clung on even more desperately.
“Alvara!”
Her eyes were twitching, a frantic seizure. She didn’t have the strength left for this. Not now. Not after everything. A cry tore from her, piercing my heart, and her arm went limp against mine.
“No!” I roared as she slipped inches away. Deeper into the chasm. Aren’s weight landed on my legs, arms wrapping around them. I threw my other arm over the edge, digging my fingers into her limp arm, feeling her wrist threaten to dislocate under the weight of her slack body. Her head lolled back in an unnatural way, and something deep within me cleaved in two.
In a great heaving pull, I hoisted her body up over the edge of the crevice. Like a rag doll, her body draped over mine, and great hands grabbed our clothing, rolling our bodies further from the edge. As gingerly as I could manage, I placed her on the ground and tore my arms away from her skin. She stilled and slowly turned onto her side. She coughed out a gush of blood and collapsed into the cold ground below her.
Aren was bellowing for the healers, barking commands at warriors that had finally arrived to aid the last of their standing hierarchy.
I pushed myself back, pulling my body away from any exposed skin. Alec dove forward, attending to her wounds. He pulled a small blade from its sheath and stabbed through her battered pant leg to free the wounded flesh there. It wasn’t as bad as I expected—the image of Aren’s poisoned wound still vivid in my mind—but she had lost a lot of blood. Alec freed a stab wound on her chest, tearing through the suit, and laying the scraps aside. There was another on her ribs, and several across her shoulders, stained dark red. Those had scabbed on their own.
Saraya appeared, her face grave and marred by the carnage of battle. It soaked her trembling hands, and by the smell, it was not of any one individual, but the many wounded behind us. She took in the sight of her, and fell to her knees, hurrying between each injury, swabbing some magic healing balm along them one at a time. The injury in her leg was the deepest, by some miracle. Saraya stitched it up with expert motions, Alec acting as her assistant.
“It’s her magic. After all that exertion, her visions drained her.” I didn’t say it as a question, but as a knowing. Four sets of narrowed eyes set on me, but they all nodded, lips pressed thin.
“Anybody got anything left to give?” Aren looked between us. My hands were still shaking from casting my force to her. I closed my eyes, searching the hollow well inside me, but it felt bone dry.
Alvaraneededme.
There had to be something.
A flash of light drew my attention, and when my eyes opened, Alec’s hands shook above her, glowing with white magic. Saraya joined him. Aren slowly knelt beside her and placed his expert hands over her heart. I noticed the wound in his own side had already roughly stitched together when his power returned. His face was pinched with effort as he closed his eyes and pulled his power forth for her.
I took a heaving breath and stretched forward just as Freya knelt too. Together, we placed our hands over her wounds, and breathed our energy into her.
In unison, our magic fluttered out like an old light bulb. Aren loosed a heavy breath, and rocked back to sit in the mud, bowing his head into his hands. The rise and fall of Alvara’s battered chest steadied detectably, rain slowing while we attended her wounds. I turned my face to it, welcoming its icy pelts to wash away the death clinging to my skin. Alec did the same, his jaw still clenched. Only Freya kept her eyes trained on Alvara, unblinking. Unyielding as a lady in waiting, before her Queen. The thought resonated in my heart, and then swelled with a truth within my soul. So many questions. And the answers would come. Just not yet.
It was Alec that finally gained the courage to ask the question we were all petrified to speak. A single word all he could muster, and his voice cracked in the middle of it.
“Grayshell?”
Aren’s eyes were consumed by shadows, his lips a tight line, and he gave one bleak shake of his head. Ice curled a tight fist within my chest.
“No one was able to make it back. I have no idea what’s come of it.”
“The injured?” I asked.
“Are being attended to,” Saraya whispered. But there wasn’t the confidence in her voice my heart starved for.
Grayshell. So many souls left behind—healers and sentinels. Leaving those souls nearly defenseless. Sarah had warned us the hierarchy was poised to fall, and still, it crumbled right below our noses. Shame and anger flared in my chest, but no more power ebbed there. There was nothing left to draw forth, the last glimmering sparks had been surrendered to Alvara. Returning my focus as the rain finally ceased, I focused on the rise and fall of her exposed ribs—marred by livid purple bruises. As the air returned and left in soft sighs, I allowed my muscles to relax.
I peeled what was left of the linen tunic—the thin layer that had been below that armor—from my body, to wrap it around hers. She felt too exposed, laying there vulnerable, half naked in front of us. Aren and Alec bowed their heads, guilt twisting their minds for not having guarded her sooner.
“Even if,” my voice was husky, and the burning returned to my throat when I spoke. “The dimension fell, it is alive in all of us who have survived. We will not let it fall in vain. In the meantime, we are to assume it still stands. That the wardings held. That the spell closed us off from it, and nothing more.” Raking my nails through my hair against my scalp, I willed it to be true.
