Mist's Edge (The Broken Lands #2) - T.A. White Page 0,139

brighter and steadier than it had been on the torch she’d created.

“Well, Lodi’s battle was waged with magic and sword. When it became clear that he was going to lose, his magic users cursed his men to become terrible beings that would haunt these caverns, keeping those that meant his people harm from passing.” Shea looked over at Trenton, concerned about his labored breathing. She might have to leave him somewhere after all.

“Magic?” he scoffed. “I’m surprised to hear that from you. You’ve always struck me as too practical to believe in such things.”

“I’ll admit that most events that are ascribed to magic have perfectly logical and natural explanations.” Shea tilted her head in thought. “But I also know that magic is very real. I’ve seen it. Some say magic, or rather the war over its use, is what caused the cataclysm and the world as we know it today.”

Trenton’s face was skeptical as he made his painstaking way through the cave. “I’ve never seen anything but a few tricks that could easily be explained by sleight of hand.”

Shea shrugged. “The major magics have been gone for a long time, but echoes still remain. Even among the Trateri. Take Chirron for instance.”

“His healing isn’t magic,” Trenton said.

“You are correct. Most of what he does isn’t magic, but have you noticed how his patients seem to heal faster than they should? I bet people prefer him over another healer. Even when he does the exact same thing as others, it is more effective when coming from him. Take the wound on my head for instance; that should have taken weeks instead of days to heal and left a scar.” Shea touched the spot in question. “Instead, it’s all but disappeared.”

“Maybe it’s all in your mind.”

“Maybe.” Entirely possible, but Shea didn’t think so. There had been a brief moment when he’d had his hands on her head where she could have sworn a numbing coldness had spread through her. “No one is sure if it’s the original soldiers, their descendants, or beings that had nothing to do with Lodi and his battle, who haunt this place.”

“Great. Another mystery. Is there anything in these lands that isn’t mysterious and deadly?”

Shea shot him a grin. “What would be the fun in that?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

“FORM A LINE. Spearmen at the front, archers to the rear,” Caden ordered. “Don’t let any of those creatures inside.”

The cavern they had sought shelter in protected them from aerial attacks, but any of the beasts could follow on the ground. Several of his men had already lit torches to see what might be lurking inside that could attack their rear. The light illuminated a chamber so big and vast that Fallon could fit his entire army in it and still have room leftover. The ceiling was so high above them that the torches did little to penetrate the shadows.

They needed to keep the winged beasts out or they’d have similar problems as before.

One of the torches’ light reflected off wooden panels carved with strange symbols.

“Stop,” Fallon told the man holding the torch. He advanced toward him, taking the torch and holding it up to the wood. It was a door, one nearly as tall as the chamber they stood in. Caden, seeing what Fallon was interested in, grabbed another torch from one of the men and crossed to the other side of the entrance, illuminating a similar wooden panel.

“They’re doors,” Witt said, his voice surprised and full of wonder.

“That they are,” Fallon said.

Braden called a retreat from outside and the Trateri that had covered Fallon’s escape poured in. Fallon grabbed several men.

“Get these doors closed,” he ordered, putting his shoulder to the one closest to him. Braden fell into place beside him. Gawain and Zeph put their shoulders to the door on Caden’s side.

With a scream of protest, the wood slid forward.

“Again,” Fallon shouted.

His men heaved at the doors, as the archers filled the mouth of the cave with volleys of arrows, the pikers defending the line from any creatures that got too close. The heavy doors resisted for a long moment, the centuries they had stood in the same position making them stubborn, but Fallon’s men persisted. With a groan they began to slide shut.

Eamon called for the men to retreat as the opening narrowed. They backed up in an orderly fashion, the last few slipping inside as Fallon and the others got the doors closed. He stood back, grabbing the metal bolt next to him and sliding it into