Warrior Witch (The Malediction Trilogy #3)(90)
“I think we’re going to need some rope,” I said.
* * *
I spent the bulk of the journey with my eyes squeezed shut and my face pressed between my gran’s shoulder blades. It wasn’t until Chris poked me in the side that I risked a glance downward. The sight of the hundreds of islanders surrounding the walls was as alarming as the distance from which I was seeing them. Gran had seemed confident we’d be able to help, but watching people desperately climb over one another in an attempt to breach the wall, I didn’t see how.
Nor did I see any hope for the citizens of Courville, who were packed into skiffs across the open water of the bay, the other city only barely visible in the distance. The skiffs appeared to be floating on thin air, but I could see where the surf broke against the magic, froth and foam soaking those it supported.
Melusina circled the city, and the three of us all gazed down the coast of the bay, past Trollus, to where Tristan and Roland still warred. The earth was razed for miles in either direction, clouds of black smoke filling the air, broken by the occasional gout of fire or steam.
“Land us on the castle tower,” I shouted at the dragon, my stomach rising into my throat as she plunged. The castle grounds teemed with soldiers running frantically to their posts, hands gesturing skyward; and as we dropped, a cloaked figure stepped out onto one of the towers, concealed face tracking our progress. It was Marc.
But my elation was short-lived. Melusina shrieked and pulled up as the air charged, all of us sliding to one side, barely holding on.
“Marc,” I called. “Marc, it’s us!”
The dragon screamed again, then dived, and I was sure we were done for. That Marc had pulled her from the sky. Then her wings snapped wide, and my spine cracked as she pulled up, hovering above the tower. With birdlike delicacy, she carefully took hold of the battlements and closed her wings to her side.
“Cécile?” Marc demanded.
“Get us down!”
I rested on the icy stone of the tower to regain my equilibrium before staggering to the edge to look out over the water. The magic road trembled and shook, countless people falling into the sea. Swimming. Drowning. “We need to help them,” I said, and no sooner were the words out of my mouth then the ground shook.
And all the skiffs plunged to the water.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Tristan
My plan to let Roland hammer away at my shields for the next hour vanished out from under me. I wouldn’t last another ten minutes.
Blocking his next blow, I dived into the woods, rolling behind a pile of boulders. The air whistled, an invisible blade slicing through the trees so cleanly that they didn’t topple, remaining upright until a gust of wind sent them falling like a series of dominos. A line of glowing red bisected the boulder next to me, molten rock dripping from where it was severed mere inches above my head.
I pushed out a wave of heat, lighting the forest on fire, and set a barrier above to hold in the smoke. Under the choking cover, I ran blind, tripping over rocks and debris even as I ducked under Roland’s attacks, using magic only when needed, conserving my strength. But I couldn’t keep it up for long. Angoulême would realize I was buying time for the citizens of Courville to get across and would start drowning them or worse to lure me out.
Killing Roland might be possible. He was more powerful, but I had years more training. Except there was every chance he’d rip the magic bridge out from under their feet in his death throes. I might be able to catch them, but I’d still have Lessa and the Duke to contend with. My only other option was to find Angoulême, kill him, and pray Roland wouldn’t turn to violence the second he was freed.
They were terrible plans, every one.
A massive tree, roots and all, flew over my head, crashing into the foliage where it was soon joined by another. Yet another hit home against my shield, exploding in a spray of splinters. Over my shoulder, I saw Roland had given up pursuit for the moment and was instead standing on top of an abandoned stone building lobbing everything in sight my direction. It was the chance I needed. Obscuring myself with magic and smoke, I sent an illusion of me running off in one direction while I turned back to where I’d last seen Angoulême and Lessa. The trick would only last as long as it took for Roland to land one of his projectiles, so I had to make every second count.
They were gone by the time I reached the clearing, but I’d expected that. Keeping myself concealed, I looked for tracks, but the heat of the battle had turned the ground to a slushy mess.
“Where are you?" I snarled, eyeing my surroundings. He’d need somewhere he could see the action without being exposed to the fallout of the battle. Somewhere nearby.
But there was nothing. The ground was rolling, but none of the slopes were high enough to give him the vantage he needed. Turning in a circle, I glanced out at Roland’s bridge, and noticed an old lighthouse sitting on a cluster of rocks about a hundred yards from shore. The roof was caved-in, but it was still tall enough to provide the vantage the Duke needed.
Sure enough, a shadow passed one of the narrow windows. Clever. But not clever enough.
Smiling, I walked down to the edge of the sand and built an invisible bridge of my own over to the tiny island.
It was harder to hide oneself in the brilliant sunlight of midday, but only someone watching carefully would see the distortion in the air caused by my illusion as it crossed over the water. And the ruckus Roland was causing as he searched for me was a substantial distraction.