The Dark Remains - Mark Anthony [258]
The word down turned into something of a yelp as Falken abruptly dropped a dozen feet, then stopped. A second later the rest of them did the same, and Travis nearly succeeded in biting off his tongue as he jerked to a halt. In several more fits and starts, the rubble-strewn floor grew successively closer. The final drop was no more than five feet, although Travis managed to land rear-first on a decidedly pointy chunk of stone.
He was still in the center of the Etherion, the others about a dozen paces away on either side of him. He didn’t know which group to move to first. Then he saw Vani stand, and Beltan helped Grace to her feet, her face smudged with dust. A warmth surged in his chest at the sight of them. They were alive; they were all alive.
“Travis!” Beltan called out.
Grace held on to the big, blond knight for support. She looked up and grinned. Vani stood beside them, hands on hips, her golden eyes gleaming.
Travis wasn’t certain of much in his life. He still didn’t know why Jack had chosen him, or who Brother Cy really was. For that matter, he didn’t usually know right from left. But at that moment he knew beyond any doubt that these three people meant everything to him. Grace was the closest friend he had ever had. And he knew now that it didn’t matter whether he could love Beltan because he did, loved him body and soul. Then there was Vani—and what Travis felt when he gazed at her he didn’t know, except that it felt like …
It felt like fate.
But you’re not supposed to have any fate, isn’t that right, Travis?
Chalk that up as one more thing he didn’t know. Impossible that he had never really found love in his life, and now he had found it twice. He started to pick his way through the rubble toward the trio.
“No!”
The cry came from behind him, along with the sound of sliding rock. He halted, turned around. Lirith bent over a pile of rubble as Durge hurried to her. The two began pulling at the stones, heaving them aside.
“Goodman Travis,” Durge called out, “we require your assistance. Quickly.”
Then Travis understood what it was the two were trying to free from the heap of stones.
Sareth had vanished.
Travis shoved Sinfathisar into his pocket and broke into a run, pawing his way over piles of stone.
“What happened?”
Durge’s face was grim, white with rock dust. “The heap of stones on which he fell was not stable. It collapsed as he tried to climb down it, covering him. I imagine that the worst has transpired.”
Lirith opened her eyes. “No, he’s alive. But he doesn’t have any air. We’ve got to get him out.”
Durge began heaving stones from the pile with furious efficiency. Lirith pulled at the rubble, hands bleeding. Travis started to push aside a rock, then stopped. There was a better way to do this.
“Stand back,” he said.
Knight and witch gaped at him.
“Now!”
He was surprised at the metal in his tone, but there was no time to wonder at it. The two obeyed, and Travis gathered his will. He laid his right hand on one of the stones, then spoke a word echoed in his mind by a hundred other voices.
“Sar!”
The stones knew their name, and they obeyed.
The rocks flew away from the heap, whistling through the air. Lirith and Durge were forced to duck to keep their heads from being knocked off. With resounding crashes, the stones fell harmlessly to the floor dozens of feet away. Where the stones had been, a figure stirred and sat up. Pebbles fell from his clothes, and he blinked dust from his eyes.
“Sareth!”
Lirith flung her arms around him, then seemed to think better of it and moved away. Sareth’s dark eyes were suddenly thoughtful in his dusty face.
“But you are not crushed to a pulp at all,” Durge said, sounding surprised and perhaps a little disappointed. “Not even your head.”
Sareth grinned. “I had something to prop the stones up with.”
The Mournish man held up a length of wood, and Travis wondered where he had found the prop. Then Sareth screwed the piece of wood back onto the end of his leg, solving the mystery. Durge helped him to stand.
Sareth grinned at Travis.