“But the others,” she says, spinning around in distress. “Where did they go?”
I take hold of her arm. “It doesn’t matter, Briony. They’ll find their way there. Come on.”
I call to the other shadow weaver students in earshot, and then I’m pulling Briony back toward the academy and the towers, the others following us.
And it works. Shadow weavers from the Empress’s army chase after us. I can hear their feet on the pathway, racing along the academy pathways. I see Kratos’s father leading the charge. Right behind him are several people I recognize from the Empress’s Council, those who were there that night at the banquet in the palace.
Shadow magic soars in the air above us. Fire-bolts explode. Bits of masonry and timber tumble to the ground. We dodge and weave through it all, and just as we’re reaching the towers, we find Professor Cornelius looking confused and dazed out on the pathway ahead of us.
Briony shakes off my hold and runs to greet him.
“Come on, Professor,” she says, taking his arm in the manner I’d just taken hers. “This way.”
As planned, we take the path in the direction of her old tower, the other students splintering off to climb different towers. The old man finds the pace hard work.
“Leave me,” he says. “I’m hindering you.”
“No, you’re not,” Briony says, tightening her grip on his arm.
“I am, Miss Storm. They’re closing on us and you can’t afford to be caught.”
“Thorne!” she screams at me.
I come and take the professor’s other arm. Between us, we pull him along as best we can. But the old man is tiring, becoming slower and slower, heavier to haul along, and the footsteps behind us grow ever louder.
“Stop. Please. Let me go.”
I look to Briony, who shakes her head, but the old professor has his shadow magic firing against our hold before we know what’s happening, and both of us can’t help but release our grip automatically.
Then he’s darting backward, away from us.
“Go,” he says. “I’ll hold them at bay. You get up that tower.”
“But, Professor,” Briony begs, the distress clear in her bewildered eyes.
“I know what I’m doing. I’ve known it from the beginning. Now let me have a little bit of fun.”
He turns to face the oncoming army, laughing as he sends his shadow magic streaming toward them. For a moment, we’refrozen, watching as it slams into Kratos’s father, who’s sent flying backward onto the ground.
But then I shake myself out of my trance, grab Briony, and we start running again.
“Shouldn’t we help him?” she says, still uneasy about this decision.
“That’s not what he wanted, Ni–,” I say.
But I don’t quite finish the words. Because an almighty explosion sounds behind us, like the earth being ripped in two. We both spin around despite ourselves.
It’s one of the old, solid towers – the thing toppling and then slamming to the ground in a roar so loud it shakes the path beneath our feet. We watch in horror, too slow to act, as brick, timber, stone, and masonry bury the old professor and the score of shadow weavers who had been gaining ground on him.
All of them are gone in an instant, crushed in the brickwork.
Briony screams, her hands flying to her mouth. She moves as if to race that way, and I yank her back again.
“We have to help him,” she says. “We have to save him.”
“Briony.” I shake her. “He’s already dead.”
“He might not be. He might be under the stone. We need to move it and?—”
