The one mage other than Myron who was able to recharge the wands was assigned that duty, while other wizards pulled down yet more neighboring structures, hurrying now, crushing and piling them into one monumental wedge. This new wall extended back around both sides of the opening, keeping the water from pouring back into the tunnel through which Dally and her company had to escape.
This wedge sheltered Dally and her company now. The massive wall of rock and rubble was magically protected, the wards held in place by a mage who only halted in her work long enough to turn and wave a greeting. To either side of their tight little island flowed the new overland river. The ruined tower formed a peak to their unnatural divide, around which two rushing currents invaded the capital city.
They clambered up to the top of their barrier and gawked at their handiwork. The flood filled one street after another, a massive torrent that rendered half of Port Royal under water. The sound was monstrous, a sucking growl that rushed with constant fury through the ever-widening gap in the city wall. Dally reflected that the nicest part to all this clamor was how it erased her ability to hear the magical bell. But she knew it still resonated. She could feel it in her bones.
Alembord shouted to be heard over the din. “We must go!”
Under Edlyn’s tutelage they began fashioning a bridge. Dally did not understand the magic being used, so she first reduced the dogs to their normal state, then helped the young female wizard in recharging the wands. The bridge was a rambling concoction of whatever was at hand—wood and condensed rubble and stonework and doors and window shutters. Stairs were fashioned, and together they began to climb. They clambered above the surging rivers, then higher still to where they could look down upon the ruined wall and drowning city.
At Edlyn’s signal, the rearmost mages released their wards upon the wedge, and instantly the water’s fury began eating away the barrier. They then heaved as much debris as they could manage into the hole, blocking the tunnel, keeping all the invading waters overland.
The bridge was little more than a thin stone line. Dally had not realized just how much she disliked heights until that moment. Her limbs were increasingly weak, her steps feeble. She kept her eyes pointed straight at the next step, which aided breathing somewhat. Every time she glanced up she watched as Edlyn continued to build the bridge out of nothing. Then through the rain she spotted their destination, a steep-sided ridge that formed the lake’s natural outer boundary. Four waterfalls gushed down, feeding ever more water into the swollen body below.
And still the rain fell.
Though she no longer carried a sack, Dally’s clothes weighed almost more than she could bear. Every step became a trial. She could now hear little else than her own gasping hunt for another breath.
Slowly, slowly, they approached the ridge. They were so high now the lake was lost to the storm. Dally was surrounded by the grey shroud of mist and the waterfalls’ ceaseless thunder.
It was almost tempting to think of slipping over the edge. Giving up and falling away. The dragon’s elixir had long since worn off. Dally battled against herself. She could think no further than the next step. And the next.
Then she realized the surface upon which she walked had changed. She smelled a grassy earthiness and cried aloud.
She did not fall so much as allow the ground to rise up and greet her.