The ground gave a terrible shudder. The crack beneath them in the floor spread, its edge racing ahead of them. From above came an awful groaning of stone, followed by a shower of grit and mortar.
Tabitha had bound her spell to the very stones of this place – and Isobelle had shattered that spell.
The tower was falling.
35
Rescuing damsels is all part of the job
Gwen was on her feet before she could think. Her hand closed over Isobelle’s and hauled her up, and she was grateful for all the hours she’d spent training in fifty pounds of armour. Together they raced back across the great hall, their shadows sprinting ahead of them. From behind them came a crash and a splintering shriek as a stone fell and smashed through one of the long tables. The light of the fire flickered and winked out in a showering waterfall of rock, thrusting them into darkness.
They skidded around the corner into the entrance corridor, momentum half carrying them off their feet. The doors at the end of the corridor were still open, and only the faintest light from the stars and moon outside showed them where to go.
Then, suddenly, therewasmore light. Gwen looked up, swore, and shoved Isobelle against the wall as part of the ceiling rained down where they’d been. She coveredIsobelle’s body with hers, and felt herself stagger as a boulder the size of her head glanced off one armoured shoulder.
Isobelle grabbed for Gwen’s arm and tugged, getting her dazed champion moving again. The ground seemed to stretch out between them, making it harder and harder to cover the distance – until Gwen realised the ground was tilting, slowly but surely.
Isobelle had noticed it, too. She gave a cry of wordless anguish, and Gwen answered by getting her feet under her properly and making a leap for the other side of a giant crack opening in the floor. On the other side, the ground was level again – she reached back for Isobelle’s hand, and felt Isobelle’s weight dangling, her feet scrabbling for purchase as the floor slid away from her.
Then, both feet braced against the stone and groaning with effort, Gwen hauled Isobelle up over the edge. A moment later that section of floor tipped and crashed down into the dungeon below.
They lay sprawled, panting, searching the ceiling for signs of more imminent collapse.
The only sound was the crash and groaning of rock as other sections of the tower collapsed. Gwen flinched, trying to get up to her hands and knees, gasping air into her burning lungs. And then, from behind her, a much fainter sound – a subtle scrape of rock somehow different from the sound of the tower’s ruin behind them. A quiet, sly sound that triggered all Gwen’s instincts.
She drew her sword. At Isobelle’s questioning gesture, she shook her head and placed a finger to her lips. She crept around the edge of a fallen stone, body tense and ready, and then halted.
It was Tabitha, or at least her top half. Her legs were trapped in some way under a pile of fallen debris. She was digging and shoving at the rocks in a way that told Gwen she was relatively uninjured, though pinned to the spot. As Isobelle rounded the boulder and stopped with a squeak of surprise, Tabitha looked up at them, her eyes wide.
‘How—’ she croaked, staring first at Gwen and then at Isobelle. ‘She should still be asleep. How did you—’ She gave a bitter, coughing laugh. ‘I suppose I must address you as sister, now.’
Gwen noted with a grim, distant interest that Tabitha already knew, deep down, that Isobelle had been the one with the power to break her spell. Not for a minute did she think Gwen had wriggled out of her nightmare on her own.
‘I had help,’ Isobelle said quietly, her gaze troubled. ‘Your mother was only one of the witches whose spirits linger here. You shouldn’t have used the tower in your curse – they didn’t like it.’
Tabitha’s gaze flashed with a wrenching mix of chagrin and fear. She shoved at the rock wedging her leg again, panting with effort, but nothing shifted.
Isobelle looked at Gwen – Gwen looked back at her, offering up a wry smile. They didn’t need to discuss the faint question in Isobelle’s gaze. They were both already decided.
‘Rescuing damsels is all part of the job,’ Gwen muttered, and was rewarded by a tired but true grin from Isobelle.
They moved together, Gwen crouching to put her back to the larger stone and Isobelle darting in to begin trying to wedge smaller rocks underneath it, hoping to raise it so Tabitha could slip out.
‘What are you doing?’ demanded Tabitha, white-faced, her eyes round and luminous with tears of pain and frustrated fury.
‘Digging you out,’ grunted Gwen, her vision sparking white with effort, her feet sliding against the floor as she pushed with all her might.
‘But …’ One of Tabitha’s tears spilled down her cheek and landed on the rock beneath her cheek. ‘But I hated you. Betrayed you. Manipulated you. Used you. Why … why would you help me, of all people?’
Gwen tried to speak, but could only let out a groan as she repositioned her feet.
Isobelle answered for her, and far better than she would have done anyway. ‘You watched them take your mother away from you. You were angry, and hurt … and scared.’ She took a breath, and Gwen felt her gaze shifttowards her. ‘We don’t leave people behind because they were scared.’
Tabitha shut her eyes, a few more tears escaping. ‘You should go – there’s no point getting me out. I’ll just hunt your Order friend down. I won’t stop because—’
‘Any movement?’ gasped Gwen, feeling her heart slamming in her own ears.
Isobelle hesitated. ‘No. We’ve got to think of something else.’
