Yet, I still await you beyond the barrier. If you can escape.
Another boom sounded, so close that it hurt Vorik’s ears. And light flashed, revealing… by the eyes of the moon, there were not only people ahead around the lift cage, but there were alotof people. Swimming and wielding weapons, they battled each other and also shot wary glances toward a magical wagon larger than the one that had floated away. It was also floating but seemed under control, like a ship with a wheel. Tibby stood aboard, one hand on an orb that glowed with power and one… She was the one throwing explosives.
“Get away from the lift, you savages!” she called.
Two sodden Kingdom soldiers knelt on the wagon with her, a new pair that she must have acquired along the way after Jhiton killed the others. They gripped maces and kicked or swung at approaching swimmers—those were Vorik’s people trying to climb aboard to destroy the wagon and stop Tibby.
“How do we get to the lift cage and out of here?” Fel swam close to a pillar, pulling Syla with him, and gripped it to pause their advance. “Don’t call out,” he warned Syla.
She’d lifted an arm, probably trying to get her aunt’s attention, but they were in darkness and too far away. Besides, Tibby was getting ready to throw another explosive. The people treading water around the cage lift were fighting, as if not even aware of her threat. Were they trying to kill each other? Or just get into that cage and escape the mine?
Vorik stared bleakly, realizing that was it. They weren’t fighting to kill each other; they were fighting for space. Four people had gotten into the lift cage, and they were pushing out enemies who tried to swarm in while simultaneously trying to pull in allies.
Though Vorik wanted to help his people—and also wanted to make sure Syla escaped—he followed Fel to the pillar and anchored himself on it, not sure what to do. He couldn’t release Abrya, nor would he be as effective a combatant as usual whileswimming. Meanwhile, the water kept rising. Whatever the solution was, he didn’t think it was asword.
Splashes came from behind him, and Tems cursed. Vorik turned in time to see someone swimming away, someone with silver hair. Lesva.
At first, he thought she’d woken enough to figure out what was going on and meant to take her chances fighting through the people around the cage and try to escape. But she swam back the way they’d come. Deeper into the mine.
Syla watched her go. “Is she going to try again to get into the shielder chamber? Those tunnels weren’t very high. They’ll be flooded by now. And she doesn’t have a moon-mark.”
“I don’t know,” Vorik said.
“Should we go after her, sir?” Merimoth asked.
“No.”
“Some of the stormers are climbing up the chains.” Fel pointed above the cage toward men slithering up into the darkness of the shaft.
Vorik nodded, encouraged. Everyone could escape that way if they worked together—or even simply ignored each other—for twenty minutes.
Syla wiped her face. “I think they’ll get captured. I’m talking to Wreylith. With her help, Lord Oyenar’s troops have reclaimed the area around the entrance up there.”
Someone who’d disappeared into the lift shaft tumbled back into view, knocking another climber off the chain as he fell. With a heavy thump, the man landed on top of the lift cage, not moving. An arrow protruded from his neck. It was one of Vorik’s people.
He closed his eyes. The Kingdom troops weren’t going to let any stormers out. Even a strong and capable fighter couldn’t spring out of a hole fast enough to defend against arrows from archers who stood all around it.
Another body fell into view, an arrow driven into the top of the man’s skull.
Syla wiped her face again, a shake to her hand. She couldn’t approve of such grisly means, but she probably couldn’t stop them. Except through Wreylith, she couldn’t communicate with anyone up there.
“Syla!” Tibby had spotted them, and she maneuvered her floating wagon toward them. A few stormers tried to intercept her, but she hurled another of her explosives. It struck one of the men in the head and blew up.
Vorik had never felt so helpless in his life. He was on the verge of leaving Abrya with Fel and Syla and swimming over to try to gather his people, to bring order to the chaos, but he didn’t know how. Two more bodies fell out of the shaft. The cage lift started clanking upward, a surprising mix of stormers and Kingdom troops inside, their backs to the bars, their weapons pointing at each other, though they must have made a truce, whether spoken or not, because they didn’t attack each other.
Those left behind shouted and splashed in dismay.
“Climb aboard,” Tibby said when she’d maneuvered the wagon close.
Syla and Fel didn’t hesitate to do so, and they reached over for Abrya. She’d woken at some point but hadn’t fought to get away from Vorik, and she groped now for the wagon.
“What areyoudoing here?” Tibby asked Vorik in exasperation.
“Regretting that I disobeyed orders,” Vorik said.
“We’ll all have a lot of regrets after tonight,” Syla said.
“That’s the truth.” Tibby grunted, then in a softer voice, the words meant for Syla, added, “That was the last of my explosives. Do you have any more?”
