Last Stand (The Black Mage #4)(93)

I couldn’t move.

Something hard clipped my side—Darren. It was all the warning I needed.

I started to run. Darren was already sprinting toward the western tunnel. The dark passage led to gods only knew—a dead end or escape.

It didn’t matter either way.

My mission was to kill the king. Wherever he went, I followed.



*

We were still running as thunder rained down from above.

Large spirals of ice plummeted like daggers to the ground, tearing their way into the earth. Snow and rock followed, splintering the walls.

We skidded along the passage as fast as we dared. Bleeding knees and crippled hands made every leap harder than the last. We ducked and dove in a maze of ice with a palm of light to guide the way.

The pain in my head was almost blinding. Again and again, I had to cast enough force to blast the parts of the ceiling that were seconds from crushing my limbs. And from the labored gasps up ahead, I could tell Darren wasn’t faring much better, if at all.

My legs ached. Every muscle was on fire, and I could barely feel my lungs save for the flames eating my chest from the inside.

The rebels had set an avalanche in motion, and it was only a matter of time.

Parts of the passage were colder, darker, impossibly narrow with jagged bits that reached out like jaws. My shoulder caught against something sharp, but I didn’t dare stop. I kept running with my arms tucked close to my sides, dripping blood.

And then, finally, just as I was ready to collapse, we reached a wide berth. A frozen riverbed scattered with bits of rock and ice that had already started to drop in the catalyst that set about the glacier’s descent.

Unlike the frozen pond from before, it wasn’t skylight that showed me the way.

There was a crevice in the wall across the pond. It was real.

We could live.

Darren sprinted across the stream, and I wasn’t far behind.

The whole place was crumbling down. The walls shuddered and groaned. Bits of ceiling crashed to the floor as the wind howled against my ears. And still I ran.

So close.

No more than two hundred yards…

My bootstrap caught on a rock.

I lost my footing.

And then I went down, crying out as my palms hit the ice. I landed on my bandaged hand and the world went red.

The ceiling above gave a terrible moan.

Get up. Move. Run. My nails dug into the ice, but I couldn’t get enough traction to stand. Panic and pain were making it impossible to project.

And as the shard came plummeting down, I shut out the world. My senses screamed, but, gods, if I were going to die, it wouldn’t be because I failed to cast.

The world spun as I reached down deep—to the girl who’d spent countless library nights in meditation and binding magic to her will. The girl who had almost won a Candidacy and beat Darren’s lightning head on. She had control. She wouldn’t fail me in this moment. She would control the pain.

And then that boulder-sized glacier exploded right above my head; I’d won.

Seconds later I was on my knees, coughing up blood.

A second explosion sounded just behind my back.

I spun, righting myself as I stood.

Darren was hunched over, his fist still in the air. And there was another bit of fallen ceiling, easily twice the mass from the first, yards from where I had fallen on the ground.

My gaze flew to the king and something twisted in my lungs. Did he just save me?

Darren turned on his heel and started to run. I limped after him. The cavern was still well on its way to collapse.

The king was only ten yards ahead of me when the closest pillar fell. I didn’t see at it first because my eyes were glued to the ceiling straight ahead.

The Black Mage must have missed it too.

By the time the noise drew our attention, the structure had ripped free of its foundation and was starting to fall.

Darren threw out his hands and a spark of violet flared out across his palms.

But then it flickered and stopped.

Why…?

My heart stopped in its tracks. He had used up his magic.

I stopped breathing as my feet took off and my casting went hurtling out.

“Nooooooo!” I couldn’t even hear my scream.

The column rammed Darren’s side and chunks of ice and rock exploded the second my casting hit the edge. But it wasn’t enough.

I was too late.

Darren went down.

His black robe flapped out like wings as his body hit the floor. He didn’t even try to rise.

My pulse beat so loud I could no longer hear the room’s collapse.

All I saw was the boy and the wall’s crevice fifty yards away.

This was it. The Black Mage had fallen. And I would live.

I wouldn’t even need to use a blade to take his life.

Run.

Run, Ryiah, run. My mind was screaming at the top of its lungs. The walls were quaking all around. Run.

Tears streamed down my cheeks as I stood, caught between the boy and freedom, between my life and everything else.

He’s a monster.

He’s not yours to save.

He’s dying.

He’ll never make it out.

Run.

My lips moved, but there was no sound. I was doing things with my hands, and then I was stumbling forward but not toward the wall.

There was a flash of light.

A violet hue as an amethyst globe appeared above us both. My casting quivered but held.