Cast in Wisdom (Chronicles of Elantra #15) - Michelle Sagara Page 0,166
Baltrin. Illanen carried the book in his left hand; his right was free. Baltrin continued to hold his staff. In the odd light cast by Candallar’s magic, both men looked different to her eye.
She was watching them as they lifted their right arms; watching as those arms fell. In Baltrin’s case, that was a literal description. His right arm fell away from just above his elbow as something cut or pierced it. She thought it was because of the cracks and breaks that Candallar had reintroduced to the library by his arrival.
No.
Mandoran had arrived. She saw him flicker in place; saw the glint of his sword; saw him disperse. He had not spoken a word, and his expression was...not an expression that normally adorned his face.
Baltrin cried out, the spell that he intended to cast forgotten; Candallar turned toward Mandoran, and purple fire exploded in exactly the place he’d dispersed from. But this wasn’t simple invisibility. Had it been, Mandoran would likely be dead.
He reappeared behind Annarion, and Kaylin saw that he’d lost hair. The black drape of Barrani locks was now a jagged, diagonal line that started somewhere below his shoulder and reached to his waist.
Annarion said nothing; Mandoran, sword readied, back to Kaylin, stood his ground. Sedarias’s sword cut the wave of purple flame meant to keep them all at bay, and it traveled to either side of her—and to either side of Annarion.
Androsse stepped out of thin air, placed a palm on Annarion’s bent head, and whispered a series of words that tickled Kaylin’s hearing. The syllables were faint; she couldn’t resolve them into language—but they set up a buzzing on the inside of her ears that she could feel travel along her spine.
She pushed the healing, surprised at how much damage Starrante’s body was sustaining. All she could see was the webbing, and the speed at which he arranged it—and nothing in that was obviously damaging.
Starrante pulled the webs tight, a sudden motion that strained every muscle in his body. She was half-afraid his limbs would break or snap; the webbing was heavy, and it resisted. “Androsse!”
Kavallac snapped into place. Kaylin could feel it because Starrante could feel it; the weight of the webs abated, and the Dragon Arbiter dwindled into her human form. “About time,” she said, her words and voice clear. She was in front of Starrante, but they now existed in the same slice of library space. “Androsse!”
“I am somewhat occupied,” the Arbiter replied.
“The occupation would be unnecessary if you could join us.”
“A moment, please.” He placed both hands on Annarion’s head, and once again spoke. “Speed will be of the essence unless you wish to sacrifice our allies,” he said without looking up.
“We will sacrifice everything if you do not hurry. Your eyes in this space are not what they should be!”
Androsse then turned to close the gap between Starrante and him, leaving Annarion, Mandoran and Sedarias to hold the ground steady for as long as it took. Bellusdeo, lightning sparking, was deflecting the incoming magical attacks, but those attacks had a momentum, a force, that drove her back. Emmerian was her wall. Kaylin saw the moment his legs—or his feet—transformed; his boots tore, as did the legs of his pants. He dug claws into the stone as Bellusdeo found her footing.
Androsse had reached a midpoint between Starrante and Kavallac; he reached out with both hands. Starrante reached out for his right hand; Kavallac reached out for his left. She could see Kavallac clearly, Androsse in profile; Starrante she could sense because she hadn’t lifted her hand. To her surprise, Starrante bent a limb in a way that implied it was broken; he wrapped it carefully around Robin.
All three of the Arbiters began to glow. Kaylin didn’t have a word to describe the color of that light. It felt golden to her. It felt very like the light her marks sometimes shed. Those marks were silent and still; the Arbiters were likewise silent and still.
But in that stillness made of odd light and silence, she heard the sound of stone cracking—but backward. They were asserting control over the library, and it was a delicate, perfect control. She wondered if books had been lost to the breaking of the space the Arbiters called home, but didn’t ask. The only lives that had been lost were the lives of Arcanists who had come in search of Kavallac and Androsse, and no part of Kaylin could regret that.