Beyond the Shadows - Brent Weeks [200]
Only as they destroyed the second pulley did Vi realize that she’d just seen Garuwashi’s trap defanged. Garuwashi had feigned the rout to draw the Khalidorans into the river where he meant to drown them. But the Khalidorans had known. Why else would they have concealed the presence of six Vürdmeisters? Now Garuwashi had just had his trap turned back on himself.
“Feir!” Vi shouted. She turned and was surprised to see he was right behind her, the dread in his eyes telling her he understood. “Can you protect me?”
His eyes flicked to the Vürdmeisters, who to Vi’s eyes looked all the same. “Three seconds, two thirds, and a sixth shu’ra. Shit. Maybe?”
One of the younger Vürdmeisters laughed, turning his head over his shoulder to say something. Vi lashed out, grabbed the hem of his robe, and yanked. If Vi had thought about it, she wouldn’t have tried. She couldn’t reach that far. She never had.
The man was halfway down the gorge before he screamed.
Feir’s eyes were huge. “Nice grab.”
“This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done,” Vi said. With her Talent, she pushed men aside right and left. The dam’s walkway was a good thirty feet out and twenty down. She ripped off her robes.
“Distract them. Now!” she shouted.
The battle magae complied, flinging dozens of fireballs.
Vi ran through the space she’d cleared, a few quick steps taking her to a full sprint. She leapt into the void, barely remembering to shield herself. The jump was perfect. She landed with both feet on the middle of the walkway, splashing water every direction, then her momentum carried her into the wall of the dam. Her shield helped, it was still a twenty-foot fall. Vi crunched into the wall and then rebounded. She clawed blindly and felt stone under her fingertips for a brief instant, then she was flying into space.
Stupid, Vi, stupid.
She imagined she could hear Nysos laughing. She hadn’t thought of the god of potent liquids in months, and here she was, killed by water.
She tensed for impact, but it never came. Vi opened her eyes and couldn’t see anything through the torrent. Then she was clear of it. She saw a thick rope of Talent knotted around her and extending all the way back to Sister Ariel, who was grimacing with the effort. In another moment, Vi was next to one of the chains. She grabbed it and Sister Ariel released her.
Vi was instantly swept off her feet and spun by the force of the water, but with effort she regained her feet. Above her she saw the Vürdmeisters—there were only three now—throwing fiery death toward her, but nothing came even close. On the Cenarian shore two hundred women glowed like torches with Talent: her Sisters. They were protecting her, and nothing could stop them. Vi’s heart swelled to bursting. These women would die for her. For the first time in her life, she belonged.
She was crying and laughing even as she found the other chain. She stood with one chain in each hand, each link as long as her forearm. She heaved, but without the pulleys it was just too heavy.
She moved back a step, out of the dam’s shadow into the sun. It wasn’t quite noon. She felt sunlight drenching her skin and she opened herself to it, opened herself until it burned, until it filled every pore with heat.
Then she heaved again. At first, nothing moved, and then she felt as if deep within the dam mechanisms were threatening to give way, protesting deep in their iron throats, and finally . . . turning. Her Talent extended beyond her arms, gripping the chains like half a dozen hands, grabbing, pulling, and grabbing again. Hissing filled her ears, and she opened her eyes. Something was glowing, blindingly bright. It was her. She was luminous. Vi glowed like the Seraph herself. Steam rose in great hissing billows where the water washed over her limbs.
The sluice gates cracked open, three on the left and three on the right. Vi pulled, feeling her strength waning. She had to finish. She pulled one more time and felt the gates lock open. The water pouring over the