Cast in Wisdom (Chronicles of Elantra #15) - Michelle Sagara Page 0,173
bark orders, and those orders seemed to dim the screaming and the shouting.
Who’s teaching this class? she demanded.
Larrantin.
She could briefly breathe again. She turned to her shoulder ornament, and he squawked, pushing himself off her shoulders as they approached Candallar at a dead run. Severn was armed, a blade in each hand.
Kaylin had a dagger.
Candallar turned as Severn covered distance, his obsidian eyes widening. There was no fear in his expression; his right arm shot out, and purple fire left the heart of his palm, heading toward Severn—and Kaylin, who ran behind him. Severn’s blades came up, bisecting the fire as if it were a living limb. It passed to either side as he cut a path through it. There were benches and chairs in this hall, and the fire devoured them instantly, leaving not ash but an oily residue in their wake.
Candallar was forced back by Severn’s weapons; he raised hands, and swords of purple flame came to them. He parried the strike that would have removed half his throat, but the solidity of the flaming swords buckled as they met Severn’s blades. Around Severn’s waist, the weapon chain was glowing faintly.
Two steps, three, and then the edge of those twisted blades caught Severn’s arm—it was a glancing strike, but purple fire took root instantly in the fibers of the cloth.
Kaylin shouted a warning as Severn retreated; she came in from his side, using the retreat to cut Candallar’s wrist. It was the wrist of the hand that held the book; her blade made contact with skin. But the skin had the consistency of a grinding stone; she felt the resistance and saw the lack of a wound in its wake.
An invisible wave threw her back; she hit Severn in retreat. They had Candallar’s attention now.
The person who didn’t—the person who leaped through the door and above the fog that now covered the floor in front of it—was Nightshade. He was armed, and his sword—his sword did not strike invisible stone.
Candallar’s left blade rose to parry. Kaylin heard the crackle and hiss of fire as Nightshade’s blade hit Candallar’s—but Candallar’s sword was a thing of magic, an emergency measure. It had buckled under Severn’s attack. It was bisected by Nightshade’s. The parry was enough to save Candallar’s life—but the sword was gone, and he did not have the time or concentration to reform it in the wake of Nightshade’s attack.
If you can, Nightshade said, enter the classroom.
Kaylin looked at the floor.
Enter the classroom, he repeated, attempting to force Candallar farther from the door.
She passed the message on to Severn. Severn’s initial attack had driven Candallar out of the frame of that door; he stood maybe two yards from where he’d chosen to make his attack. Nightshade’s attacks drove him toward the wall, between two long wooden benches that were otherwise unadorned.
Kaylin grimaced as Severn asked her wordless permission. She nodded. Facing the open door at an angle, she tensed into a running leap that would, with luck, carry her over the mist on the ground. If it was the same as the one Candallar had used in the chancellor’s office, missing her mark by a few feet would be deadly.
She landed, pushed herself immediately off her feet, and entered the heart of the classroom.
“No—she’s one of us!” Robin shouted, as the hair on her arms and neck stood instantly on end. “So is he! Don’t hurt him!”
“I can hear you, Robin, there is no need to shout.” Standing in the group of assembled students—away from what looked like the blood and the limbs of those who had been closest to the door, and the back of the class—was Larrantin.
Chapter 30
Larrantin’s hair was salt-and-pepper gray. Age didn’t have that effect on Barrani. His skin was flawless, almost luminescent, as Kaylin met eyes that were a familiar shade of indigo.
“Do not just stand there. It is very taxing to protect a larger area than I am already protecting. Honestly—this is the first class in which we have fully advanced our subject in what feels like centuries. You felt a need to interrupt it today? No, do not step there. Come to the right. Immediately.”
Robin was grimacing behind Larrantin’s back, his eyes a bit too wide. Kaylin and Severn obeyed Larrantin; the moment she saw that Robin was uninjured—blood-spattered, but uninjured—she sagged. Severn had torn the arm off his shirt; his skin was reddened and puckered in a ring where the purple fire had taken root.