111: RESCUES

(Talea’s story)

Xivan pulled Talea to her feet. “I know it hurts, but we have to go.”

“You need to stand still for a damn minute, that’s what you need to do.” Therin rushed over and immediately started looking at Talea’s wounds. “Let me stop the bleeding.”

Talea blinked away tears. “Go where?”

Xivan pointed to the platform. Even from this distance, Talea saw several figures standing there. No, not standing: fighting.

“Is my son up there?” Khaeriel said.

“Probably,” Talea said.

“Can you carry her?” Khaeriel asked Talea, pointing to Xivan.

“Yes?” Talea answered, but then she understood. “You can fly.”

“Close enough to it. Hold her in case that sword dislikes my spell.” Khaeriel walked over to Therin and put her arm around his waist. “Apologies, my love, but this will not be gentle.”

He smiled grimly. “Sometimes I prefer it that way.”

She laughed, just once, caught off guard by the gallows humor. Then Khaeriel began casting.

Talea picked up Xivan. “I know this isn’t dignified…”

Xivan smiled and buried her head in the crook of Talea’s neck. “Don’t care.”

Talea contemplated the possibility that if they sailed through the air toward the platform, some archer who’d survived this long would find that temptation too much to resist.

She rubbed the coin in her hand. “For luck.”

An incredibly strong gust of wind sent everyone hurtling into the sky. It wasn’t exactly flight. For one thing, Talea had no control whatsoever over the trajectory. Wind pushed her and wind slowed her, and the whole time, she could only hope Khaeriel wouldn’t let them fall to their deaths.

No one fired at them, though.

When they landed, Talea saw Kihrin, desperately trying to survive a sword fight with the Goddess of Death. Thaena was taking her time killing him. He had several cuts on his cheeks, his arms, long, shallow cuts along his legs, chest, and stomach. All of his wounds were bleeding.

Needless to say, Kihrin was losing.