The Elixir

~Betrayal

 Xara swallows her gasp and lunges for her friend. Lysabel tumbles out of sight and Xara's hands and arms scrape against the rough stone. She doesn't let the pain distract her, instead pulling wind like spools of thread from her fingertips. Owain and Derald rush to her side, concentrating with taut expressions.

Lysabel's cries echo as she falls, slowed by Xara's gales. Derald's arms shift and sway like the movement of water as he uses his magic to draw water from the lake to support her fall. Vieva is unable to help, restrained by the limits of her power. Xara dimly hears her frantic footsteps behind. Her mind is clear and determined, focused on the wind. She feels Lysabel's thin body in the wind and commands it to mold itself around her like arms. She feels as Lysabel becomes suspended in the air, held in place by the wind.

Relief blooms, but she doesn't let herself stop and relax. Her arms shake and tremble, and sweat dots her brow as the magic slowly starts to strain.

"Pull!" she bellows to the boys on either side of her. With a grunt, Owain heaves his arms up and the lake plants replace where Xara's wind had held up Lysabel. Owain steps back slowly, unsteady on his feet, jerking and twisting his arms.

Xara nearly collapses from exhaustion and relief when Lysabel's head comes into view. Her face is still frozen in terror, paralyzed, but her eyes slacken and empty as she realizes that she isn't going to plummet to her death.

"Thank the Founders," croaks Xara, pulling Lysabel into a tight, breath-squeezing hug. Lysabel's frail body folds into the hug and she alternates between sobbing and sighing with repose. Derald and Owain clamber around Xara and Lysabel, but don't crowd, though Xara can see from the corner of her vision as Owain sags from the strain. She too can feel the weight the magic has left on her and it feels as though she's dragging herself through quicksand with every movement but she holds onto Lysabel.

Tears prick in her eyes and the monotone darkness mesh into one. Xara pulls away, still keeping Lysabel at an arm's length.

"Are you alright?" Lysabel shakes her head mutely.

"We have to go." Vieva says, voice heavy with guilt for having to make them move so quickly. But she places a hand on Lysabel's shoulder as she does, squeezing gently. Lysabel seems numb with shock. Xara guides her friend to her feet.

"Vieva's right, Lysa," says Xara softly. "We have to get across before the Warlord does."

Lysabel nods. She still hasn't said a word. Derald bobs his chin at Xara, agreeing to move forward.

Xara doesn't peek over the edge; it'll make her stomach whirl.

"We need to figure out which bridge is the right one."

Vieva gives her a 'duh' look, which Xara promptly ignores. Glancing once at Lysabel, who still hasn't moved, Xara lopes to the right.

"Vieva, aim a blast at this one." Vieva complies, conjuring a fireball the size of her face.

"Careful," warns Derald. "We don't want you to burn out." Five seconds later, he snickers at his unintended pun. Then promptly shuts up at Vieva's lethal glare.

With a soft grunt, she hurls the flaming ball at the bridge. The fire comes in brief contact with the bridge and it withers away, as if it were never there.

Xara signals with her hands. "Guys, split up."

Lysabel attempts to follow but Xara prevents her. "No. You rest. We'll handle this. Just keep a lookout for us, okay?"

Lysabel looks like she wants to complain, but instead sits back down. Xara feels a twist of pity for her friend, who has endured so much more than she'd probably wanted to.