Page 80 of Runaway Magic
“Sekt wouldn’t do that. He loves me. He needs me! Stella isn’t enough for him, she—” Hester broke off, suddenly very interested in fiddling with the restraints on her hands.
“She what, Hester?” Sterling shouted. “She won’t give him the sweet loving you can? What the hell is wrong with you?”
Cym ignored the argument and stared down into the dark, dust-filled pit that had swallowed Fourteen. He tried to find a way to climb down, searching for a second ledge he could safely land on, a conveniently placed bundle of roots, hell, even a slanted bit of wall he could chance sliding down would do, but all he saw was impenetrable darkness. For all he knew, it might only be ten feet deep. If that were the case, he could hang off the edge of the chasm and jump the rest of the way. Or it could be a hundred feet deep and he would die, but if it was that deep, the likelihood that Fourteen had survived the fall was slim.
Cym’s heart skipped a beat at the thought, and suddenly he was screaming Fourteen’s name like a madman without conscious effort. He made to swing his legs over the edge of the pit and came against Sterling’s shield as it shrank down and nudged him away from the hole.
“Let me out, Sterling. I need to get down there,” Cym snapped angrily.
“Sunny…” Sterling’s eyes were pained. “I know I’ve messed up in the past, but I don’t think letting you get yourself killed is a good way to make things up to you.”
“Indeed it isn’t.” A deep, lightly accented voice with Middle Eastern overtones interrupted their debate.
“Sweet Vis! How did you get through my shield?” Sterling fell over in surprise and scrambled backward toward Cym and away from the intruder.
Fires raging in the distance framed the outline of an enormous man. With the flames behind him, it was hard tomake out his face, but his size alone intimidated the shit out of Cym. How were they supposed to fight this new guy off?
Hester’s only reaction to the newcomer was to draw her legs further into herself.
“Dreamwalker.” The man poked himself in the chest as if it were an explanation.
It must have meant something to Sterling because his face went from shocked to hopeful. “The Guard is here?”
The Guard? Despite what he’d told Fourteen about them, Cym hadn’t been entirely convinced the Guard was anything more than the dreams and wishful thinking of children. He’d never seen any evidence of them before now and was instantly pissed off. If they were real, where the hell had they been while Cym was running for his life? His chin came up stubbornly.
The man nodded and said, “Some guardians are here but not enough for this shitstorm. I’m here to rescue you lot—heroically and quickly—so I can get back to where I’m needed. So follow me and don’t lag behind.” When nobody moved to obey him, he sighed. “I do have the right group, yes? Missing heir-who-doesn’t-exist and guests?”
Cym’s teeth ground together hard enough to hurt, and he snapped out, “Yes, that’s us, but we aren’t all here.” He pointed to the hole behind him. “One of us is down there, and we aren’t leaving without him.” Mythical hero or not, Cym wasn’t taking orders from this guy.
“Of course you aren’t. And there’s no reason you should,” The man muttered. “Okay, let’s have a look.”
He sauntered over to where Cym stood, acting for all the world as if a battle wasn’t raging all around him. An exploding flash against Sterling’s shield illuminated the man’s face showcasing impossible rainbow colored eyes.
Time slowed, and Cym had the sensation of falling into their depths. As he continued to fall, he swore he could see stars. Dizzy, he averted his gaze.
After he was free, he realized he couldn’t have described the experience properly if his life depended on it. It also occurred to him that the man seemed as unaffected by Cym’s aberration as Fourteen.
The guardian craned his neck, and Cym saw his brother’s shield ripple as the man’s head passed though the edge of it and peered down into the hole. “Ah, there he is. I see your soldier boy, kid. He’s down about ten meters or so. He’s moving, but it looks like someone really rang his bell.”
After looking into the man’s eyes, Cym didn’t question how he could see so well in the dark. Instead Cym asked, “Can you get to him?” He found his anger toward the Guard receding. If this guy got Fourteen back, all would be forgiven.
“I’ll see what I can do. My friend will be here soon—be nice to her. She bites. The name’s Jack, by the way.” Then he stepped over the edge of the hole and disappeared.
Cym blinked, bemused, but before he managed to form any words a woman dropped down beside him.
“Gods, you people have to stop doing that!” Sterling grabbed his chest. “I’m too young for a heart attack.”
“Nice to meet you too, I’m Adelle.” The woman said wryly. Her honey-gold hair draped elegantly over one shoulder, looking pristine. With her dark, form fitting clothes, she looked like she belonged on a runway rather than a warzone. “I suppose you’ve met Jack.”
“He’s down there helping my Fourt—ahem, my friend.” Cym pointed, beginning to feel a bit like the host of the hole.
“Fair enough.” Adelle walked over to Sterling and crouched down. “This is a nice shield you have going, but you don’t look sohot. How long have you been holding it?” She put a hand on his forehead.
For the first time, Cym noticed the sweat glittering on Sterling’s face and saw that his hands were shaking.
“Not too long. I’ll be fine,” Sterling said, obviously trying to sound tough.
Adelle patted his head. “Moron. Here, this should help.” She closed her eyes, and Cym saw the world around the woman and Sterling shimmer with a faint orange glow. When she opened her eyes again, she gave Sterling an appraising stare. “Well, that explains how you got the power to hold the shield in the first place. In any case, that should let you hold it for a bit longer. As for you”—in a smooth, fluid motion, Adelle shifted and settled in front of Hester—“you are a nasty little piece of work. You and I are going to have a talk later. That I can promise you.”
