Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73154 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73154 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Over the next hour I’m able to help three more. I’m drenched in sweat, my fingers numb and blistered.
I glance at the cliff. Golden vines unravel at the sides, and immediately new ones surge up the rock on another wave of spice. I taste the bitter scent of exhaustion and my heart hammers.
We have to move faster.
I direct the teacher to move those who can now be moved to the pier, and to make teas with Frederica’s herbs to tip into my mouth.
Another hour passes, five more patients seen. The golden vines are losing their glow; water stains have turned the white rock grey; more bitterness hits the back of my throat. He can’t hold on much longer.
No more time for intricate spells. I resort to pain relief on the last patients, and cruder techniques. Tight bandages, splints to support broken limbs. The vines are a dull, dying yellow as we haul the villagers to the last boat out.
I help a patient off my horse, carefully bring her onto the boat and settle her on a bench. “She’ll need to see a vitalian when you get out of here,” I tell her family.
An elderly man, the grandfather of the young man I saw first, cups my hand in both of his, settling a stone on my palm. “Take this. Our thanks.”
I glance down at a beautiful glimmering opal, and try to hand it back.
“It’s been passed down for generations. Full of magic.”
“That’s much too precious.”
“Please. For saving our Coralus.” He curls my fingers over the opal.
“Everyone on board?” the boatman calls.
I snap my head towards him. “One man is still coming.”
He looks to the hills, worried. “We might have to—”
I lurch across the deck. “We’re not leaving anyone behind.”
He stares blankly at me. “We can’t risk all these lives for one man.”
“Without that one man”—I jerk my hand towards the yellowed vines, sagging from fatigue only to be stubbornly pushed up again—“None of us would have survived.”
Around us the earth shudders. Trees shiver and the boat rocks viciously, banging against the side of the canal.
Patients cry out and steady themselves, and I do the same, slipping the opal into my cloak for safekeeping. The boatman signals his crew. “Go, now. Leave the animals.”
Aklos loose the ropes holding the boat to the pier, and I rush towards them. The vines on the cliff are unravelling faster than they’re being replaced. I shove my way through, the gap between the boat and the pier steadily growing.
“Jump,” the boatman calls, “and you’ll be another man we leave behind.”
I don’t care. I’ll find us a dinghy—anything that can float.
“Can one man be worth it?”
I jump, landing hard on the wooden pier. Quin might be difficult, proud, frustrating, but he came here and risked his life to save these villagers. He’s still here, giving us time to get away.
I haul myself up on aching legs, and leap back onto my horse.
Quin is still in his saddle, arms trembling with effort as he channels vivid, crackling energy. His magic clings desperately to the massive cliff, barely holding back the bulging dam. The closer I ride, the more detail I get: Quin sagging under the weight of his spell, sweat dribbling down the back of his neck, the overpowering scent of fatigue. Tendril after tendril, shrinking. Water sluices down the crack and thuds to the ground, splashes misting over him.
My horse whinnies as I slow to his side. Quin’s head quirks a fraction in my direction, but otherwise he is motionless, unaffected. His eyes are closed, his breathing steady under the torrent of magic running through him. “Why are you here?”
“The villagers have been evacuated. We need to find a way—”
The ground jerks sharply, spooking the horses. Quin’s rears upwards, breaking the connection of his spell; he hastens to regain control. His magic sticks to the rockface, but it’s dimming. “Quick!” He turns his mount, and I whisk mine into a frenzied retreat alongside him.
An ominous CRACK splits the air, and I make the mistake of looking over my shoulder. Water surges from the dam like a pack of beasts bent on devouring all life, spitting chunks of rock ahead of it. It chases us, giant twisting waves, pounding down on the earth with a deafening roar.
No way to outrun it.
Quin’s horse swerves sharply, nearly unseating him as water surges beneath us, lifting our steeds off the ground. In an instant, he’s out of the saddle, his body colliding with mine, dragging me into the violent current. Panic surges through me, and I cling to him.
The world becomes a chaotic swirl. I choke, the icy flood filling my lungs as the current drags us down. But then a blinding light bursts around us—Quin’s magic, forming a protective bubble that evades the flood’s deadly grip. We sink to the ground, Quin atop me, eyes closed in concentration as his magic anchors itself, leaving a dome to protect us. My unsteady breaths skate over his shoulder, and my fingers dig into his waist as water rushes over the dome, vicious and treacherous with debris.