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Stoon was tempted to suggest it was a little early to celebrate, but he managed to hold his tongue.

When the first of the Federation soldiers crept out of the corridor across from where she was hiding, Aphenglow was ready for them. Her magic summoned, she let the first three attackers get clear of the opening and then stepped into view. The soldiers reacted at once, bringing up their weapons and rushing at her. But the Druid magic slammed into them and threw them back against their fellows, clogging the passageway with screaming, cursing men.

She didn’t wait for them to untangle themselves, but went after them immediately. Shielding herself with magic spun from one hand, she attacked with magic thrown from her other—a heavy, weighted blow that crashed into all the soldiers she could see and flattened them in their tracks. The corridor became a madhouse, the shock of what had happened stopping the advance completely, forcing those still able to retreat. Those at the forefront of the strike yelled to their comrades to fall back. There were more doors farther down, Aphen knew, but at least they were farther away from the west gate.

Fair enough.

She went out the tower door, stepping into the open courtyard beyond, searching for the help she expected to find.

No one was there.

She stood where she was for a moment, shocked and confused. Where were Paranor’s defenders?

Then she heard shouts and cries from somewhere on the other side of the Keep, and realized that the real battle was being fought elsewhere. She wanted to rush over to find out what was happening, but that would mean abandoning her defense of the west gate, which she knew would be a big mistake.

She would stay where she was needed.

She was making her way down the interior of the wall toward the next tower when its door was flung open and the rest of the Federation advance force poured out into the courtyard.

She stopped where she was. She could tell at once that she was too far away to stop all of them and with her damaged leg could not move quickly enough to remedy that. Changing her plans, she began crossing the courtyard toward the Inner Wall of the Keep, flinging shards of magic at the men who were coming at her. She took down a few, but the rest came on. They were ignoring the west gate, intent on reaching her instead. She dropped into a crouch, summoned the broadest strike she could manage, and unwrapped it like a sheet of hammered steel across their path. They were blocked and for the moment could not get through. She spun out the magic then folded it over them, cutting off their air.

Struggling to break free, they began to choke and gasp.

She knew the magic would not last long, but it gave her the chance she needed to escape. She could not stand against so many without aid. She hastened as quickly as she could for the safety of the Inner Wall, and with her back turned she only just managed to catch sight of the lean, swift figure coming up behind her. She swung back around just as her attacker dropped to one knee and sighted down the length of a long blowgun.

Reacting solely on instinct, Aphenglow managed to throw up a protective shield. The blowgun darts disintegrated on contact, the brightness of their poison exploding in red bursts against her shield as they did so. Aphenglow had risen and begun running once more, limping noticeably, when her attacker used the blowgun a second time. Even though she was ready for the attack, she stumbled and went down, the darts skimming past her head, black missiles in the bright morning sunlight.

This time when she rose, she went after him.

But her attacker had anticipated her and was already running the other way. She sent an entangling magic after him and brought him down in a jumble of arms and legs, his blowgun flying away. She would have done more, but by now the magic that had confined the Federation soldiers had collapsed and they were coming toward her anew.

There’s no time for this, she thought.

Using magic to slow them—a tripping incantation that ensnared their feet—she began backing away once more, keeping an eye on both soldiers and the blowgun artist. But her efforts had drained her, and she was beginning to stumble badly. Holding back her attackers was sapping what remained of her strength, and she was still fifty feet from the safety of the Inner Wall.

They were almost on top of her when Bombax appeared.

He surged out of a haze of smoke and brume and flew across the ramparts with a roar, charging down the stone stairway and leaping into the courtyard, black robes flying out behind him. He was screaming at the attackers to draw their attention, challenging them to come for him. The Federation soldiers turned away from Aphenglow, caught sight of the black-clad apparition across from them, and fled at once. The blowgun artist was already gone.

Aphenglow called out to Bombax, and he raced toward her, his dark face intent, his eyes wild and dangerous. Fresh attackers were appearing all about them, coming through courtyard doors and down off the ramparts. They seemed to be everywhere. Somehow the Federation must have breached Paranor’s defenses in more than one place. Aphen kept backing away toward the Inner Wall, still using her magic, rallying against this new threat, trying to protect Bombax as he was protecting her.

He reached her while still on the fly, swept her off her feet without slowing, and raced for the closest doorway. Using his magic as he ran, he released the locking devices so that the door sprang open. Spears and arrows flew all around them, and Federation soldiers, howling in rage, closed in from three sides.

But by then they were through the dark opening of the Inner Wall entry and the door had slammed shut and locked itself behind them.

Stoon, bruised and battered and furious with himself, stumbled back down the corridor tunneling through the Outer Wall to the door that had let him in and pushed his way back outside again, heading for the surrounding forest. Behind him the fighting was intense, raging all along the Outer Wall. He didn’t look back to see what was happening, having lost interest in being involved in any way. He was lucky to be alive, and he knew it.

He was almost to the trees when Drust Chazhul rushed out to meet him.

“What are you doing? You were supposed to stay inside and bring out the girl!”

Stoon waited until the other was right in front of him, and then said, “You want the girl, Drust? You go in and get her. I’ve seen all of her I care to see. I didn’t sign on for this.”

Drust seemed to catch the look in his eyes and backed away. “All right. Someone else will bring her then. But I can’t believe you let …”

Stoon was right in his face. “Don’t say it! Don’t even think it! You didn’t see what happened in there, but I’ll tell you this. If you get your hands on her, you better kill her fast.”

He swung away dismissively, looking back toward Paranor’s walls and the sounds of battle. “What’s going on in there? Your men were everywhere! The advance force didn’t have time to open the gates. How did the rest of them get in so fast?”

Drust handed him an aleskin and waited for him to drink from it. “Your man managed to give us a second way in. The Druids and their guards were so busy watching for us from the south and then rushing to stop us from the west that he managed to reach the east gate unnoticed. Once it was open, we rushed a contingent of men over from the south to hold them. The Trolls fought to retake them, but couldn’t manage it. Now we’re inside. It’s only moments until the Keep is ours.”

“Ours, is it?” Stoon sounded doubtful.

“What can they do to stop us? We’re inside their main walls. We can find a way to breach the Keep. You didn’t see any strange magic stop us from getting through the gates once they were opened from the inside, did you? No, we’ve got them! Our right to finish them off is clear enough. They attacked us first; they brought it on themselves. That’s what we’ll tell everyone. There are plenty of witnesses to corroborate the story.”