The Fragile Tower - Book 1 of the No.1 magical fantasy series

The Fragile Tower Chapter 30 - The Shield

As she curled into the ground, it became cold and yielding, and when she blinked, she saw that she was lying in a field of snow. It was like the dream Ruidic had sent her, but her limbs were cold and heavy and the pain in her head was still overwhelming.

A bitter wind blew up, and she looked into it and saw the mage walking towards her. She tried to close her eyes, but they were frozen open and she could only stare at him.

His huge, booted feet made crunching, cracking sounds as he walked, and as he came closer she saw that he was walking over the frozen forms of people. They lay in the snow, their faces and mouths still open in terror or pain.

It's a dream, she thought. A dream. Don't believe it. Open your eyes. Open your eyes, Grace!

But he was right over her now, his huge form above her.

You can't hide, he said.

But then she felt someone lift her up, and hold her, his strong fingers running through her hair.

Afi, she thought.

The mage lifted his booted foot over her head. Its huge shape blotted out her vision, and she felt snow and mud and blood fall from it onto her face, into her open eyes. She tried to cry out as he brought it down towards her. But instead of a crushing blow, there was a light brush on her forehead, a kiss, and she was suddenly in the garden at the top of the tower.

She lay on soft grass, with his arms around her, his face as large as the boot as he leaned over her. He whispered, "Hold on, Grace."

With a rumble, the sunny garden started to crack apart, and something happened to Afi's face. His blue eyes turned a sickly green, dark magic pouring into them, and she tried to scrabble away from him. But his grip became iron-strong.

"This boy?" he asked, disgusted. But his voice was the tearing, booming roar of the mage. "This is what you believe in? A boy without power? I could crush him with a thought."

"No," she said, and then she screamed as the face of this Afi opened in a yell of pain and he fell backwards, dropping her to the grass. The ground opened up and she was falling, down the outside of the tower; falling endlessly.

"I'm still here," she heard, and it seemed as though the sky and the clouds were talking to her, but she knew it was still him. She wasn't falling any more, she was floating. As she looked towards the tower she saw the threads of the link still tied to her.

With a huge effort of concentration, she turned her mind to Roschan, realising that only a handful of seconds had passed since she took her mind away from him. He and a dozen men and women were crouched next to a small door in a wall of the tower, and he was signalling silently to them all.

This one?  the voice roared in her head, and then it laughed. Do you think he can help you?

Grace felt her own hands move beyond her control, making the symbol for fire.

No! she said, realising what he was trying to do.

She flung herself away from him, through the stones of the tower and out to where his army had descended into a disorderly, snapping and hissing mass of creatures. Her hands stopped moving, but she finished the spell for him, and hurled it towards where the mace lay, gleaming malevolently.

I'm going to help him, Grace told the mage, as the fire swept through the nearest of his creatures, burning and destroying them. She sent a blast of air after it, scattering the vaporous evanescents and leaving his army a fraction smaller.

Roschan, go now, she said, but she had no time to see if he made it to the mace. She felt herself hurtling through the air to land hard on the floor of the huge front hallway. She clambered to her feet, and saw the exhausted and the wounded clustered there, all in vivid palace scarlet and gold. Between them stood the bronze statues, still and silent and immovable, seeming to mock the soldiers all over again by being absolutely untouched.