Through Stone and Sea - By Barb Hendee & J. C. Hendee Page 0,137
punched. Blood ran from the man’s nostrils across his mouth.
“Chane, get out of the way!” Wynn shouted.
The line of fire raced toward the gathering at the entrance, steam shrieking off the wet stone in its path.
He glanced quickly beyond the bloody guard blocking him. The duchess and the elf stood in the way. There was not enough time to get through them, let alone get the staff to Wynn. The fire was coming too fast.
“Shade, free Wynn!” he ordered, hoping the dog understood.
Chane shouldered sideways into the young guard and charged toward Wynn.
Reine stiffened as the fire streaked between through the cavern. Blood ran freely down Danyel’s face, dripping off his chin, and Tristan stared at the oncoming flames.
“Everyone out, now!” she commanded.
Then the wolf leaped at Saln.
He stumbled aside, fending it off, and lost his hold on Wynn. Chane slammed into Wynn, pushing her back against the wall, and he grabbed for the wolf’s scruff. He tried to pull them both behind his wet cloak.
Reine took a step, and Chuillyon’s light hand fell upon her shoulder.
“Be still,” he whispered.
She spun, ready to grab him and flee, but faltered at his soft voice.
“Chârmun . . . agh’alhtahk so. A’lhän am leagad chionns’gnajh.”
Chuillyon’s large amber eyes closed as his other hand flattened over his heart.
Reine’s Elvish wasn’t good enough. All she caught was something about “grace,” as if he’d whispered a prayer. She grabbed his robe’s belt to pull him, but his grip on her shoulder closed slightly.
Chuillyon sighed, and a shallow smile spread across his thin lips.
When Reine turned her head to call the others, Tristan kicked the staff aside before he tried to leap clear. Onrushing flames raced over his boot, licking up his shin. He hadn’t been wearing his cloak in Frey’s pool, and the dry hem ignited. He ripped it off, letting it fall, and stomped on it. The stream of fire reached Saln, sending flames up his legs.
“Saln!” Reine cried. “Drop!”
He did, rolling on the floor as he screamed.
Reine backed against Chuillyon, shoving at him. Try as she might, she couldn’t force him into the passage.
Sau’ilahk watched with glee as Stonewalkers scattered. But holding conjured fire upon wet stone while keeping his thin bond to his servitors became too much. His remaining energy was quickly draining away.
He savored only an instant of satisfaction as Chane abandoned the staff and ran to shield Wynn and the wolf. Frustration followed as the tall captain kicked the staff aside. Flames caught in his cloak. As he ripped it off, another guard was hit full on by the fire. That one cried out in pain, steam and smoke rising from his damp pants and boots.
But the white-robed elf just stood there.
He pulled the duchess back, calmly closing his eyes. His lips moved, but whatever he spoke was too soft to hear.
Sau’ilahk was sick of the unknown, from mystical dwarves and Wynn’s two companions to some white-robed dabbler with the duchess. With a clear line of sight to his target, he jerked his hand from the cavern floor, releasing his hold upon the fire. He rose, preparing to blink across the cavern and snatch the duchess, for the others would trade anything for her.
Sau’ilahk halted with a shudder of disbelief.
Wynn pushed at Chane, shouting, “The staff! It’ll burn!”
“Be still!” he said, holding her tight. “Stay beneath my cloak.”
Wynn bumped against Shade as she craned her head halfway around Chane’s shoulder. She saw the captain kick the staff aside and then gasped as fire raced over his other foot. It struck another guard dead on. Then the twisting snake of flames shot toward the duchess.
The staff lay not far from the captain’s smoldering cloak.
Wynn shouted in Chane’s ear, “Let me go!”
His body felt like an immovable wall.
Wynn watched Reine cringe against Chuillyon, pushing on him. The tall elf foolishly held his place with eyes closed. There was nothing Wynn could do but shout at them, “Get out!”
The fire ended in a sudden splash.
Barely a yard before the duchess, flames fanned into the air, and Wynn couldn’t help a small gasp.
Fire licked and crawled, but it advanced no farther. Red-orange flickers spread over some unseen barrier. Where flames danced, they vanished, as if eaten away into nothing, until the fire’s trailing end rushed in.
It fueled one last surge and then dissipated in the air, and the cavern dimmed instantly. All that remained were heated drifts of steam rising from wet stone as the burned Weardas lay gripping his legs and moaning.