Allayria hits the floor in a heap of dust and stone, light fracturing in between the cracks of her fingers as she coughs, choking on the stale, clogged air. There's a ringing in her head, and as she pulls her hands away from her face she feels Ben's grip on her arm, pulling her up.
She staggers to her knees and his arms come around so his back shields hers.
"Keep low: someone's here," he says, and she sees he has the knife in hand. The bow must be still slung on his back. "I heard Iaves a moment ago. I think there are other Skillers."
Allayria slides the strip of metal out of her pocket, fashioning it into a thin blade.
"We need to leave," she says, and then the vines pummel through another part of the wall.
They hear Iaves shout somewhere below and they both turn toward it, but Ben's hand grips her shoulder, pushing her toward the stairs.
"Go up—get outside. I'll get him," he shouts. "Meg is outside. Find her."
She turns to shout something else, something stupid and sentimental, but he's already bounding through the hall, and too far away to hear.
Allayria's legs feel like nothing as she stumbles up the twisting staircase, clutching onto the walls as the steps crumble beneath her. She flings herself through the door, hitting the soft earth with a thwack as she tumbles over and back up onto her knees.
She sees Meg first, wide-eyed with blood streaming down the side of her face, and then the woman, gray-haired and inked in a sea of tattoos.
They move at the same time, Allayria flinging the plate of metal at her as the woman throws the knife with one hand, her other—
Allayria feels the impact of two massive paws on her shoulders before she's flung down. Her hand whips out and she twists around enough so that the sparks shooting off her fingertips fly into the face snarling above her. She earns a yowl for her effort and the thing—the big, black, rushing thing—rolls off as her shoulder crunches into the ground.
Pain, lattice-like and throbbing, shoots up her arm, but there's no time to think about it; she scrambles to her knees, feet digging into the earth as she heaves herself up, pulling the shield across to deflect the sudden rush of birds and then whirling around, flinging without hesitation the now solid metal spear at the woman crouched on the sidelines.
It catches her across the side, causing her to stumble, and the thing from before lurches into view, barreling down on Allayria, and it is a cat, a huge, black, cat all muscles and roped tail.
Allayria throws up another shield and stumbles down as the panther impacts it, the metal fissuring back toward her. She flings up a stream of fire, shoving herself up again so she can run, run blindly—
The door blasts open again and the wolf and the others skid out. Ben has the bow off his shoulder now, an arrow loosely notched and he shoves Iaves with his elbow as his eyes connect with Allayria's.
"RUN," he shouts, and the other four do just that, racing farther up the hill, away from their attackers. Allayria hears another bang as they clamber over crumbling rock and vine.
They reach firm ground: a wide, flat clifftop that sprawls ahead of them, out and over the churning dark waves below. Wind whips up, sharp and icy, and tendrils of black hair swim across Allayria's face as she turns around to see the three pursuers also break their climb.
"Meg, Iaves—take the woman," Ben shouts, and he pulls the bow taut. "Allayria, stay with me."
Ben sends an arrow flying but a chunk of rock suddenly shoots out of the ground punting it off course as the man rushes at him. He doesn't wear armor, and when he looks up out of the gray tangle of hair and beard Allayria sees a familiar face.
YOU ARE READING
Paragon - Book I
Fantasy*COMPLETE* There are whispers across the kingdoms that the Paragon, that strangely gifted person who can wield all four Skills, has been found. They're wrong, of course. No one has caught the Paragon. Allayria should know: she's it. But Allayr...
