He’s terrifying. How can he keep going likethis?
Angelique’s nails chipped and her fingers bled as she climbed the wall, wedging her feet in crevasses between the giantstones.
She slipped, banging her knee into the wall, and more than once the rocks were slippery with her ownblood.
But she reached the top. Even though her lungs burned and her eyesight briefly wavered, Angelique swung her legs over the lip of thewall.
On the other side, the river foamed. It was flowing swiftly—not at the speed of rapids, thankfully, but fast enough that if she wasn’t careful, she’d half drown herself from the cold and her fadingstrength.
The black mage roared behind her, finally having reached the base of the wall after stabbing the shapeshifter escolta in theshoulder.
Angelique reflexively threw up a defense shield, blocking the black arrow he flicked ather.
The black mage threw himself at the wall, his words dripping with fury. “I’m going to make yousufferforthis!”
Without hesitation, Angelique flung herself off the wall, landing in the river with a tremendous splash. The water was as cold as she feared. As she sunk deep, sharp bits of slushy ice jabbed herskin.
The shock reflexively pried her mouth open, almost choking her on icyliquid.
When her feet hit the bottom of the river, she shoved off it, breaking the surface with a sputteringcough.
She weakly swam for shore—which was dusted withsnow.
The war mage breeched the top of the wall and flung another dagger atAngelique.
She dropped to her knees and threw a defense shield up, but her grasp of the spell faltered; the dagger punctured the spell, the very tip of the weapon scratching hercheek.
A bolt of angry lightning struck the wall, narrowly missing the war mage—a warning from the escolta toleave.
The black mage flung himself into the river as Angelique tried to move, but found she couldn’t feelanything.She hastily twisted her magic into a heat spell, which returned feeling to her limbs and dried herclothes.
She left a magic trap behind her and ran—or jogged, really, as her strength was starting to failher.
The war mage burst from the river and walked straight into Angelique’s trap. The ground beneath his feet swirled in a magic sort ofquicksand.
“Blast you!” the war magehowled.
Angelique grinned and glanced back over her shoulder. She almost stumbled over her own feet when she saw him dragging himself out by grabbing the pole of a long spear he had fashioned from shadows and wedged into solidground.
Angelique only made it a few more paces before he pulled himself entirely free and limped afterher.
He’s not self-trained—he’s too good atthis.
Angelique’s only consolation was that the black mage seemed as frustrated with her as she was withhim.
“Why won’t youdie? He’s been in our grasp for years—you should be an easy mark! You’re soweak!” The black mage growled in irritation and flung half a dozen daggers ather.
Angelique skid to a stop, and for a moment time froze. Her fear fell away and her painfaded.
“He’s been in ourgrasp.”
Could itbe?
She extended her hand, and the mage’s tarry daggers halted a finger’s width from Angelique’sbody.
Slowly—painfully—she turnedaround.
Her muscles trembled, and her breathing was ragged, but her magic lashed angrily around the black daggers, humming withpower.
