Strange Attractors - Kim Falconer [23]
An’ Lawrence took a fraction of a second to still his mind, releasing the conflicting thoughts. He drew in his breath and with it he called on the four Elementals—Fire, Gaela, Air and Water—filling his body with sparks and snaps of energy from each. He contained its building mass until an arrow fell just short of his foot. It was too soon to release the spell. He knew it instantly. Cut loose now it would lack the volume needed to bowl over this many, but he was out of time. He let the spell rip, like an invisible shock wave radiating out from his centre. As it sped away, he turned to race up the cliff to the portal. He didn’t bother to look back and see the results. He could tell from the shouts and hoof beats that the effect was minimal.
You knocked down the front row, and tripped up the second. Teg’s report was not encouraging.
And the rest?
They come. Run!
An’ Lawrence scrambled up the cliff face, his sword sheathed as he made his escape. Arrows fell around him, one grazing his hand as he reached high to pull himself up the incline. He was nearly there. One more foothold and a clasp of Teg’s outstretched hand and they’d be safe.
Quickly, Rowan. The arrows! Scylla’s voice screamed in his mind.
To the portal, lovely, he commanded his familiar. I follow.
You’re nearly there, Teg said. Keep climbing!
An’ Lawrence heard the whiz and thwack before he registered the pain. His hand slipped out of Teg’s grip. Run, both of you! Get away!
A searing cold snaked its way from his leg, up his spine and to his head. He wanted to scream but he fell to the ground instead, sliding down the length of his hard-won advance. He tried to connect to Scylla but his mind blurred. He lost all sense of where he was, what he was doing and whom he was with. He slid further down the embankment before he felt the hands clutching at him, grasping and dragging. He was hoisted like a sack of feed, but he couldn’t tell which direction he was taken. He opened his eyes. Dull shapes surrounded him, blurring into darkness. There were voices in his head, but the language was foreign. He made one final attempt to struggle free but it was feeble, a child’s fist against a warrior’s chest. He gasped at the pain as something struck his head. Scylla screamed and he passed out.
Teg had managed to get the horse through with only a few scrapes. He’d worried when the animal stumbled to his knees but the stallion continued on without a limp, thank the goddess. Amarillo’s heart, it seemed, was as golden as his hide. He slapped the warhorse’s rump as he sent him through the portal, hoping the Entity would keep him safe until he returned with An’ Lawrence. He hadn’t had time to warn Rosette that the beast was charging in but he didn’t dare wait. The Sword Master was about to be ambushed.
There was no way An’ Lawrence could do much to slow the Corsanon warriors in such a short time. He wouldn’t be able to conjure a potent enough spell in the few moments it would take for them to be in range. Even if Teg contributed, the arrows would be on them soon enough. Sooner. The archers fired, their stings landing not far from the mark.
He watched the wave of energy emanating from the Sword Master. He’d released it too soon. It was a ripple over the top of a pond when what they needed was a tidal wave. Teg scuttled down the embankment, greeted by arrows clanking to the ground. They’d gone wild with that blast, small as it was, but the archers would refit their bows. Nothing would stop their accuracy the next time.
Teg was desperate to shift into wolf form, but he needed his human hands to help An’ Lawrence up the cliff. He anchored himself to