Shatter Like Glass-Cinderella Retold

Part Forty-Seven

          The third floor was, in fact, the most heavily guarded. When Ashen and her brother reached the top of the stairwell, they were immediately faced with five Weavers. Ashen tightened her grip on her hilts, then charged the nearest two guards. One sent a blast of ice at her chest. She criss-crossed her swords in front of her. The enchanted glass absorbed the attack. The Weaver had a moment of shock before Ashen slashed at him. Blood blossomed from his chest as he stumbled backward. Ashen whirled around and kicked the second guard. He fell against the wall. She pressed the tip of her second blade to his neck.

"Where is my father?" she snarled.

"Traitorous rick," he spat back. She drove her sword into his skin. Blood trickled past the edges of the blade. The Weaver did not flinch or squirm. He gave no physical sign he felt pain at all.

"Where is Captain George?" Ashen demanded. The Weaver's eyes darted to her right. She turned too late to stop a blast of ice. The attack sent her sprawling. As she fell back, her sword slashed the neck of the Frost Weaver she'd threatened. He collapsed to the ground.

Ashen pushed herself to her feet. Gasping, she angled her blade at the woman who'd attacked her. The Weaver formed a sword of ice in one hand and created a shield with the other. Ashen snarled and ran towards the Weaver. They parried, ice clinking against glass. Ashen thrust the sword in her right hand beneath the woman's outstretched arm. The Weaver lowered her shield to deflect the blow. Ashen swung for another attempt. Before she could make contact, a force knocked the Weaver off her feet. The guard slammed into the wall. Ashen heard a crack, then the guard slid motionless to the floor.

Ashen turned in the direction the force had come from. Markael stood over two dead guards. He had a nosebleed, more likely due to his use of magic than an injury. Ashen noticed a similar crimson stream coming from his ear.

So it had been raw magic he'd used on the guard.

Absentmindedly wiping away the blood with the back of his hand, Markael glanced down the hall. Ashen craned her head and heard approaching footsteps. She gritted her teeth. Peder could be dead; Jag might've already been dead. She needed to find George soon.

Seemingly sensing her impatience, Markael said, "You find George. I'll take care of the guards."

"I can—" she started. He cut her off.
"You hesitate to kill. I can make quicker work of the guards without you and you're less likely to let a fight distract you from finding our father."

"Fine." She turned and ran down the corridor. Markael followed. When another round of guards rushed them, Ashen tried to push past them. One grabbed her wrist and twisted. Frost began to spread over her skin. She tried to turn her arm so she could impale her attacker. Ashen grimaced. The guard's grip was too strong. She'd just thought of another defense when Markael flung a dagger into the head of her attacker. The Weaver died almost instantly. His fingers slackened around her arm.
Ashen pulled free and took off down the hall. Only one guard pursued her. Her lips moved in a strength spell. She whirled towards the guard. The Weaver lunged at her, an ice dagger in hand. Ashen blocked his blow with her arm. She then thrust her sword into his gut and drove it upward. The guard slumped against her. Shoving him aside, she withdrew her sword. Both blades were coated in blood. Ashen made a face, then continued to look for George. Jag was right. Most cells were empty. Actually, every cell had been empty. She frowned. So many guards for a nearly desolate prison.

Sheathing one of her swords, she called, "George! George!"

No reply. Not wanting to accept the possibility he might not be somewhere on that level, she yelled his name twice more.

"George!" she exclaimed. "George, where are you?"

"Ashen!"

The reply was faint. Even so, she recognized his voice at once.