Adept (The Essence Gate War, Book 1) - By Michael Arnquist Page 0,92

that wall!” he ordered as he shoved the Wyrgen toward the panel nestled on the side wall of stone.

Darting out of the chamber and onto the broad stairway, he knelt by Amric. The warrior was unconscious and bleeding from countless minor wounds, but was still breathing. He slid his hands under Amric’s arms and heaved, dragging him from beneath the panting combatants. Wicked talons reached for him from amid the press, and Halthak flinched away without relinquishing his grip. They never landed, however, and when the healer looked again the severed arm was rolling on the flagstones nearby, still twitching. With a surge of effort, the Half-Ork pulled the man free and started up the stairs.

Behind him, the vibrating rumble of ponderous machinery began, and the enormous glass wall began its slow descent.

Too early, Halthak thought as panic rose like ice in his chest. After all it had taken to revive the stricken Wyrgen, he had now triggered the wall at the worst possible time. He threw a glance over his shoulder to see Grelthus leaning against the side wall, watching the battle on the stairs with an unreadable expression. Bellimar was behind the lowering portal, standing poised and rigid like he meant to throw himself into the fray. The Half-Ork looked up to the clear sheet of diamond-hard material, several feet thick, rumbling its way downward to the floor. His gut twisted as he realized he was not going to make it. The wall would come down before he could reach the safety of the chamber, burdened as he was, and it would either seal them without or crush them under its weight.

“Hold the wall!” he cried.

Grelthus tore his eyes from the battle to meet the healer’s gaze.

A slow, malevolent smile spread across the savage countenance, and the wall continued to descend.

Halthak shouted a warning to Syth and Valkarr, but the warriors were locked in battle and could not turn away to help or even to escape themselves. He gritted his teeth and heaved with all his might, dragging the limp form of the swordsman up the steps. Certain death awaited them out here. He had no choice but to beat the descending wall. He resolved not to look back again, but instead to pull for all he was worth, and he and Amric would either live or die together. He reached the top of the stairs and lunged backward, grunting with the effort. His head struck the edge of the glass wall. He ducked under it and tightened his fists in Amric’s chain shirt, sinking his claws into the link to retain his grip. He wrenched back, pulling desperately at the warrior, sick with the knowledge that he had not been fast enough, but unwilling to abandon their only chance.

With a squealing groan of protest, the wall’s descent came to a sudden stop.

Halthak’s mouth fell open in disbelief, and he turned wide eyes upward. Bellimar stood above him, eyes glowing red like searing pinpoints of flame, pale hands straining under the edge of the wall. The old man’s back was bowed and his frame shook with the effort, but somehow, impossibly, he was holding up the titanic weight of the wall.

“This may look easy, healer,” Bellimar gasped through clenched teeth. “But I pray you will hurry, nonetheless.”

Halthak scrambled into the chamber, dragging his charge behind him. Amric groaned and began to stir. The Half-Ork looked under the wall to where Valkarr and Syth were still locked in combat with the Wyrgens, and he shouted to them, beckoning them on with repeated, frantic gestures.

He saw Valkarr risk a look back and then shout to Syth, “I will turn them back one last time while you run for the wall!”

“I’ll not leave you to die in my stead,” Syth snarled back, his gauntleted fist smashing out with a cracking report to cave in a grizzled skull.

“There is no time to debate it!” the Sil’ath returned. “Go now, and I will be on your heels.”

The warriors locked gazes for a split second, and Halthak witnessed some grim understanding pass between them. Then Valkarr plunged forward in a blinding whirlwind of steel, uttering a battle roar. The horde swayed back from the savagery of his assault.

Syth lashed out to send another Wyrgen reeling, and then hesitated as he watched the swarm close around the frenzied Sil’ath. Then he wheeled and bolted up the stairs. He dove under the massive wall in a rush of air, rolling smoothly to his feet inside the