continued, his voice a ringing pronouncement of doom. “The time has come for you to join your people.”
The Wyrgen sprang at him, launching his powerful form through the air with jaws frothing and curved talons outstretched. Amric lashed out with one hand, palm forward. The brutish creature was struck in midair by some invisible force and swatted aside like an insect. Spinning and twisting, Grelthus was hurled across the terrace edge and out of sight, his howl of rage dwindling away.
The swordsman strode over to where the glass wall had been. He bowed his head and spread his arms. As if in response, the Essence Fount leapt skyward, surging and swelling until it nearly filled the amphitheater. It thrashed violently, spinning like a cyclone of flame and sending tendrils of blazing energy curling about the colossal stone columns in the vast circular chamber.
One by one, the pillars shattered and exploded, crumbling into ruin. As the last of them fell, Stronghold itself shook in protest, quivering in the throes of its agony. With a rumbling roar, the great domed ceiling of the chamber split and fell. Ton after ton of rock poured into the chamber. The Fount was obscured as the avalanche continued and the very heart of Stronghold collapsed in on itself.
Bellimar, still kneeling over Valkarr, gaped in awe. On impulse he brought up his Sight and tried to look upon Amric’s aura. His vision filled with intense, flaring white light, and he fell back with a startled cry as his eyes were nearly seared from his head. He dropped his Sight, flinging up one arm to shield his tightly shut eyes.
Long seconds later, when he could see once more, the deluge of rock had ceased. The Essence Fount was lost to sight, and the vast chamber housing the experiment that was the demise of the Wyrgens was filled with stone. A rippling cloud of grit and dust carpeted the viewing chamber, causing everyone to cough, and fragments of stone skittered and danced upon the partially exposed stairway outside as the mighty fortress still trembled.
Syth stood over the men attending to Valkarr, shifting from one foot to the other as his wide-eyed gaze bounced from Amric to the now solid core of Stronghold.
“Remember all that talk of wanting to fight you, swordsman?” he said fervently. “Forget every last word of it.”
CHAPTER 13
Amric stepped into the courtyard under a star-speckled sky. He inhaled deeply, savoring his first breaths of truly clean air in over two days.
Syth brushed past and hurled himself to the grass, rolling back and forth with a gleeful howl. Amric looked back at the brooding fortress out of reflex at the man’s careless commotion, but the darkened apertures in the sheer stone face remained as empty and lifeless as the eye sockets of a skull.
In fact, the entirety of the flight from Stronghold had been a study in contrast to their frenzied arrival. On the way in they had been harried and hunted and at the mercy of their deranged guide. On the way out, no other living creature had stirred to obstruct their exit. Before, the hush of the fortress had been like the bated breath of a crouching predator. Now it was instead the cavernous silence of the crypt. Amric did not know whether the Wyrgens had all perished in the collapse of the Fount chamber and the innermost core of Stronghold, or if the survivors had fled to remote corners of the place in the aftermath. In the end, he did not care much which was the case, as long as the foul creatures kept their distance.
Amric drew another deep breath and smiled. Let Syth revel in his regained freedom, anyway. After his months of captivity and his courageous actions during their escape, he had well earned it.
Halthak emerged from the corridor at his back, hollow-eyed and leaning upon his staff. Valkarr appeared beside him, and the pair descended the stairs to the courtyard with slow, deliberate movements. Amric felt a stab of worry at the way the Sil’ath warrior swayed on his feet, but he let none of it show in his tight smile. His friend was too proud and stubborn by far to let the others see the full depths of his fatigue, and any display of concern would only discomfit him.
The warrior’s insides twisted as he considered how close he had come to losing them both. It had been a near thing indeed, according to Bellimar; Halthak came so close to following