The creatures that rose up from the dark crevice in front of Zollin attacked, but those to either side moved past him as if he wasn’t there. The bodies of the creatures began to pile up, their combined weight on the ruined rooftop making the building sway toward the crevice uncertainly.
“We have to get out of here!” Zollin shouted to Offendorl, but the elder wizard did not reply.
Zollin could smell the burning flesh of the bodies around him. But where his attacks seemed to stop the creatures cold, Offendorl’s fire wounded more than killed. The creatures kept coming at the master of the Torr. Then the castle shifted again, and Zollin climbed up onto the crenellated edge of the roof. More of the vile creatures were coming toward him, but he had just enough time to glance over toward Offendorl. The elder wizard was like a maelstrom of living fire, but two of the closest creatures stabbed through the fire with their scorpion tails, their stingers piercing Offendorl’s ancient body.
The elder wizard’s scream sent chills down Zollin’s back. He didn’t hesitate anymore, but leaped from the edge of the rooftop that was leaning more and more toward the giant crack in the earth. He used his magic to see that he landed safely on the broken cobblestone street below. As soon as his feet touched down, he could feel the vibrations in the ground, but he didn’t have time to ponder why the ground seemed to continue to shake. Two of the creatures had followed him down and were almost on top of him.
Zollin let his magic blaze up, a single crooked bolt of magic lancing out from each hand and striking the creatures, one in each chest. The magic killed the creatures, but didn’t stop their momentum. Zollin was forced to swat them away with a powerful wave of magic that also hit the royal castle. The half of the massive structure that Zollin and Offendorl had been on collapsed, crumbling into the abyss with a crash so loud that it made Zollin’s ears ring.
Dust flew up and hid Zollin from view for a few seconds, allowing him to catch his breath and try to calm his heart rate a little. His magical containment was glowing hot from the amount of power he was using. He knew that if that magical containment broke down, the drain on his physical body from using magic would soon overwhelm him. He needed to get out of the Grand City, or what was left of it, but he didn’t know how. All around him the buildings were breaking down. If they hadn’t fallen from the violent movement of the earth when the crevice appeared, the horse-like creatures seemed to relish knocking them to pieces as they passed by. Zollin looked up and could still see Gwendolyn and her destroyer demon in the translucent ring of fire. Two of the centaur-like creatures were holding up Offendorl before Gwendolyn by their tails. Offendorl was writhing in pain as he hung in the air. Zollin wasn’t sure what the witch had in mind for the master of the Torr, and the thought went through his mind that perhaps the wicked elder wizard deserved it, but Zollin didn’t want to give Gwendolyn the satisfaction. He reached out with his magic, but it was once again repulsed by the ring of fire. Then Gwendolyn looked down at Zollin, obviously alerted to his presence when his magic touched her magical boundary.
Zollin didn’t wait to see what she would do-he simply turned and ran. He jumped over mounds of crushed stone, hurtling beams of timber that stuck out at odd angles like broken bones. Occasionally he supplemented his physical strength with magic, levitating himself over larger mounds of debris, but he tried to use as little magic as possible. He didn’t want Gwendolyn tracking his movements through his magic and he wanted to save as much of his magical power as he could.
He could hear the whirring of wings behind him and he glanced back to discover a small horde of the creatures coming for him. He knew he couldn’t outrun the creatures, so he ducked behind a small pile of fallen stones and shot energy back toward the creatures. One was hit-it spasmed in the air then fell dead in the street.
Zollin knew that blasting the creatures down one by one was not the best use of his magic, nor did it give him much hope of surviving the attack. There were at least a dozen more creatures rushing toward him. He let his magic flow out, and suddenly he realized that the tower of the Torr still stood. The mighty bastion of magical power had survived the earth-shaking crevice that had split the city in two and toppled most of the buildings in the Grand City. Zollin sent a spell flying up that smashed the already ruined roof of the tower. Then he threw up a magical shield around himself and covered his head with his hands as the debris began to fall around him.
The creatures were caught unawares by the falling stones and timber beams. Most were killed from the impact, but two survived, although they were both wounded. Zollin had just enough time to look up and see the creatures struggling out of the rubble, blood pouring from wounds they had endured.
It was then that Zollin realized the creatures were real. Perhaps they were conjured by dark magic and controlled by the witch, but they were flesh and blood. They could be killed. Gwendolyn may have wreaked havoc on the Five Kingdoms, but Zollin realized in that moment that she could be stopped. But he still had to find a way to get out of the city if he was going to lead the fight to destroy Gwendolyn and her destroyer demon.
Chapter 34
King Zorlan had almost made it back to the gatehouse when the lightning began. Fires erupted around the city as buildings were struck with the violent bolts of ragged, white energy. King Zorlan and his officers stopped running. Sweat was pouring off the overweight king, his face red from exertion and his chest heaving as he gasped for breath. The king had a sharp pain in his side and his legs felt like stone, but fear had kept him moving until the lightning started. Now, Zorlan felt naked and exposed. Only the roofs of a few buildings stood taller than the city’s outer walls.
Then the fireball descended from the black clouds above. It was radiant and captured the king’s attention, along with everyone else around the city. King Zorlan watched as it slowed, and his heart seemed to squirm in his chest like a restless puppy. He knew the display was magic, knew the fear that was making his heart race was magical, yet that knowledge did nothing to settle his nerves. He stood watching the distant rooftop of the royal castle as the light faded. Then the darkness set in so heavily that he could no longer see the wall beneath his feet.
“Light!” he bellowed. “Someone light a torch or lamp or something.”
“Sire, we’ve no materials.”
“I don’t want excuses,” Zorlan shouted. “Find a way to get me off this wall now!”
The darkness seemed to press down on King Zorlan. Then he heard the scream as one of the men around him fell from the wall. The scream chilled the king’s blood. Around him the officers fumbled about blindly. Zorlan got down on his hands and knees, crawling forward, determined to find the gatehouse and escape the terror of the city. His hands were rubbed raw and his knees aching with pain, his trousers torn and soaked with blood, but Zorlan didn’t stop. It was so dark he could only just make out the surface of the wall at arm’s length.
Then there was a crack so loud it made Zorlan cover his head with his arms. The king began to sob uncontrollably. He just wanted off the wall, he thought over and over. Then the ground began to shake and the sounds of buildings crashing made him feel like death was about to squash him under its boot heel at any moment. When the dark crevice reached the outer walls, it sent a shockwave through the stone that tossed King Zorlan into the air. He crashed back down, landing on his left side and jarring his shoulder. The horrible rending sounds continued, but Zorlan was moving again, his pain forgotten as he scrambled on all fours toward the gatehouse.
Then the rumbling of thousands of wings filled the air. Despair filled the king’s heart until he realized that he had reached the gatehouse. He searched frantically for the winding staircase that led down to the courtyard below. The sound of the thunderous wings grew more intense until King Zorlan was on the verge of panic. Finally he found the trapdoor and pulled it open. The stairwell was pitch-black, but the king didn’t hesitate. He scrambled to his feet and then, using his hands to steady himself against each wall, he hurried down into the darkness. A few moments later he was outside again, but this time he was on the ground. He couldn’t see, but he could hear the sound of something approaching and he didn’t want to be in the city when it arrived.