Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Nessa laughed. “You definitely fit in here.”
“Thanks!” Fred did that body nod again. “Yeah, I think I’ve found my people!”
“Me too,” Nessa said with glassy eyes.
“Fred, hey.” I put my hand on her shoulder. “I wanted to say thank you on behalf of all of us. If you hadn’t joined our team, we wouldn’t have been able to grab the mages, and we’d ultimately have gone down a dangerous road because of that. You very likely saved all of our lives. I’ll obviously give you a big bonus, but…thank you.”
Fred’s mouth dropped open. She looked around at the others, who were all nodding. “Whoa. That’s heavy.” Her eyes rounded. “This magical stuff is intense. But, you know, I just followed Niamh’s directions. She was the maestro. But thanks, yeah. That’s pretty surreal to hear.”
“Speaking of…where is Niamh?” I asked, cluing in to her location. Ah—she was in the building’s sitting area, just inside the lobby doors. She probably didn’t want to brave the chill. “And Sebastian?”
“Sebastian is sorting his potions and notes,” Nessa said. “He wanted to pack them a little better for travel.”
Mr. Tom bustled through the door of the building with a deep frown. “That insufferable woman is sitting in there with that god-awful cooler. Could we look any more unprofessional?” He scoffed. “Miss, the alphas are coming down now and expect your line to be pristine. Kingsley’s words. I think that’s some sort of joke, but it’s hard to tell with such bland, straight-faced humor.”
Honestly, I couldn’t be bothered. Instead, I went into the building to see if Niamh had anything with which to make a mimosa. We were all back together again. It was time to celebrate before danger once again reared its ugly head.
EPILOGUE
Tristan
Tristan’s team of powerful guardians colored the crisp blue sky. Mountains rose up to either side of them, creating a sort of channel that fliers had to use or else be subjected to the unpredictable winds higher up. A couple miles in front, nestled into a large, mostly flat slope between two ridges, rested the Gimerel cairn.
The cairn had been established ages ago for its defensive capabilities. The winds were too turbulent to drop down from directly above them, and only one road wound up along cliffs and tunnels to reach the town. To access this remote place, a flier would have to take the route Jessie’s crew currently flew. Slowly flew.
So damn slowly.
He had to carry Jessie off and on to give her tiny wings a break.
This speed of an advance would make it look like they were incredibly confident in their team’s prowess. Robust guardian teams did this for smaller cairns and production facilities. It was a gargoyle’s version of “being fair.”
But that wasn’t why Tristan had advised this tactic. He wanted to keep Nelson’s eyes on the sky. He and his people probably had their binoculars out right now, determining who was advancing and looking at Tristan’s flight pattern. Guardians would be organizing, while garhettes scurried around, dressing up or dressing down, depending on whether they wanted to be grabbed by an attacking guardian—that is, if they wanted a speed-dating situation that started with a “kidnapping” and ended with the garhette choosing either to stay with the attacking cairn or to free herself (usually violently) and head home. It was a tradition that existed to allow garhettes to get the hell out of their towns without having to break off engagements or make excuses or sneak out in the middle of the night. Odd, but there it was.
With the cairn in a flurry of activity, all watching Jessie’s team advance, they’d miss Alpha Steele’s team working their way up the mountain. Jessie didn’t run a cairn—she co-led a convocation. It was important that all their team get to participate. Jessie and Alpha Steele were just about to show the gargoyles how effective magical unity could be.
Jessie tilted a tiny bit to the right, her telltale sign that she was starting to tire but would try to stick it out. Tristan swooped down and grabbed her around the waist. She pulled her wings in and slumped in his hold. The female of the species wasn’t made for extended flight. She couldn’t even soar properly.
He wondered why they’d evolved like that. Nature baking in a single weakness, perhaps? They didn’t seem to have any others.
Jessie pointed, her claw gleaming in the noon sun. “Cooo.”
He wasn’t sure what she was trying to say. Cool, maybe?
Two weaknesses, then.
Scores of little dwellings surrounded the large stone fortress of Gimerel’s main hub. It was a cool sight, he had to admit. Formidable, even. Ancient. But dank as all hell. Its bowels weren’t exactly pleasant. He’d always hated to spend much time there.
The structure rose three stories into the air, backed against a cliff face. Gothic spires topped two of its towers, host to several lookout windows. Once upon a time, the structure had showcased the pride and joy of Gimerel, a multi-gem bracelet with decent artistry. A statement of wealth for their cairn.