growing warmer than the world around me, faintly radiating heat. I could feel the powerful muscles of his back working as he climbed. It was amazing that he never seemed to feel tired.
Around us, snow whipped through the air and gusts of wind rushed over the wall. The cold stung my cheeks even as Marroc’s body exuded warmth. While freezing trickles of melted snow dripped down the back of my neck and between my shoulder blades, my breasts and stomach were deliciously warm. I could smell Marroc’s scent, a mix of wood smoke and burned sage. Even though we were nearly a thousand feet above the ground, I felt safe.
When we finally reached the edge of the parapet, we paused, hiding behind the crenellations. I hadn’t been able to communicate with Marroc the whole time because both his hands had been occupied.
“Do you need to rest?” I asked.
He shook his head.
“You’re not tired?”
He took out his pad and pen. No. My body is untiring. I was giving you time to recover.
“Well, I’m not tired either,” I lied, standing quickly. I wasn’t about to admit that my forearms throbbed from simply hanging on to his neck. “Let’s get moving.”
We crept through the blowing snow, retracing our steps until we reached the Well of Wyrd. This time, the amphitheater was completely deserted. Snowdrifts gathered on the benches and steps. As quickly as we dared, we made our way to the bottom.
Strangely, no snow had accumulated on the top of the well. Like an inky eye, it seemed to stare up into the stormy sky. Suddenly, a voice cut through the storm.
“I thought you might return,” shouted King Gorm from the top of the amphitheater, as above us a phalanx of giant moths descended from the clouds. I heard the sound of wands being charged, and moments later, spells began to sizzle into the snow around us. I started to run, but Marroc caught my wrist.
Crouching over me protectively, he reached into the pocket of his jacket and withdrew a small sphere. It gleamed with an unearthly light in the darkness.
“Don’t!” I shouted, but he’d already tossed the anti-magic bomb onto the center of the well.
For a moment, it rolled across the glassy surface. Then it detonated with a tremendous explosion. Above us, hexes fizzled and snuffed out in little puffs of light. Elven riders screamed as the magical bindings of their moths snapped and the beasts thrashed wildly under their weight. And, directly in front of us, the magical surface of the well shattered into a million pieces.
Marroc growled. I barely had a chance to brace myself before he grabbed me and leapt into the swirling mix of snow, flailing elven riders, and flapping wings of newly freed moths.
“No!” As we arced over the yawning chasm, I realized that our trajectory would not allow us to reach the other side. We were supposed to climb down the wall, not dive straight in. Marroc might survive a gravity-based trip to the bottom, but there was not a chance in Helheim I would. The lich had already gotten me killed.
Then we slammed into a moth. The insect struggled, its wings beating the air frantically, but Marroc clung to it like a limpet. With one hand, he grabbed one of the moth’s antennae, forcing the bug into a sharp downward spiral as he pulled himself onto its back. Terrified, I clung to the fur of the moth’s body, until Marroc lifted me up so that I sat in front of him.
He gave an unnatural, rasping growl, which I took to be a sort of affirmation. Then he reached over my shoulder and grabbed the moth’s other antenna. Gently, he pulled the terrified creature out of its dive.
My stomach clenched. We’d already descended deep into the well. The walls rose around us claustrophobically. Seaweed-green moss clung to the gray stone, and the sound of water dripping came from all angles.
I looked up. The entrance to the well was far above us, a circle of light that grew smaller even as my eyes focused on it. There was no sign of any High Elves. They, at least, had the sense not to descend into the abyss.
The air was cold, and I shivered at the chill. Behind me, Marroc shifted, moving himself closer. Warmth emanated from him, and without thinking, I leaned into his chest. He stiffened for a moment, and I thought I heard a low growl rise in his throat, but it might have just been