“I’m afraid not.” Syla reached for Vorik, waving for him to climb aboard with them.
He did and looked back to his two men, but they were swimming toward those around the bottom of the lift shaft instead.
A distant boom came from above. Cries of alarm and pain came from the shaft, and the lift cage tumbled back into view. Warped and no longer attached to the chains, it plunged into the water, landing on people who’d been swimming underneath.
“Wreylith said the archers up there have orders not to let any stormers out,” Syla said.
“Some of our own people were in that cage.” Tibby gawked at it.
“I think… they have orders not to letanyoneout. Whoever is in command is willing to sacrifice his own people to ensure as many stormers as possible die.” Syla shook her head and met Vorik’s eyes, as if to apologize, to say she never would have given that order.
“The queen willnotbe sacrificed,” Fel said.
“I’d prefer not to be either,” Tibby said tartly, then eyed the orb that controlled and powered the wagon. In a softer tone, she murmured, “Maybe I can rig this to explode.”
She’d turned the wagon toward the crowd of swimmers. A single chain still dangled down from above. Vorik could climb it, but if he would be shot at the top…
The moon-mark on Tibby’s hand glowed silver as she rested it upon the orb, manipulating it with magic. How would making the wagon explode help them? Maybe Lesva hadn’t been crazy to swim away from this group.
“How arewegoing to get out, Syla?” Fel asked, as if she had a plan.
Syla held up a finger.
Puny humans,Wreylith boomed, her voice directed to everyone.Back away and allow the queen to arise from the water tomb, or I shall slay you.
“That’s how.” Syla pointed at her aunt. “Get us over there. The lift is destroyed, so we’re going to have to climb.”
“Oh, of course,” Tibby said. “We’re so agile and lithe that it’ll be easy.”
“To get out of here with my life,Iwill carry you.” Fel told her, waving at the ever-rising water.
“A minute ago, you were leaning on Syla,” Vorik said.
“For this, I can summon reserves.”
“Can you carry Lady Abrya, Vorik?” Syla asked. “I think I can climb out on my own.”
The statement surprised him until he remembered that she ought to be gaining strength from her dragon link by now. She nodded, as if she knew his thoughts.
“I can, yes,” Vorik said. “Especially if it means I’m allowed to depart without an arrow in my skull.”
“I should be able to arrange that,” Syla said. “OrWreylithwill.”
“I’d rather depend on you. Wreylith doesn’t adore my charm as much as I’d like. And she definitely doesn’t adore my dragon.”
“I think she’s warmed up to him slightly since he bit her.”
“Dragons are odd.”
“Yes. Uhm, Aunt Tibby.” Syla pointed toward the swimmers they were approaching, many still with weapons in their hands.
Faces contorted with anger, they looked like they wanted to take their frustrations out on the wagon and its occupants. If the stormers recognized Vorik, it wasn’t apparent.
Tibby sent more of her power into the orb. It started throbbing, and a clunk sounded as she removed it from its mount.
Realizing what she would do, Vorik shouted to the stormers, “Swim away from there. Get out of the way!”
Tibby didn’t object to his warning, and Syla didn’t either.
