Sons of Ironstorm - Book 4: Griffon's Stand

Escape!

His teeth already grit in frustration, Ciradaan remained silent at the urging, choosing instead to finish his sweep of the space beneath the staircases for the second time. Where in the Maker's holy name was this filthy last piece? So far it had eluded him, despite searching every hand span of space on the lower floor, walls and beneath the stairs. He was beginning to fear it wasn't in the chamber after all and he'd be forced to look elsewhere. And that, unfortunately, would most likely result in the Wielders being recaptured. Already they struggled to keep themselves free of the continuing press of shadows against them, the exhausted Wielders' strength visibly failing. They couldn't hold for much longer.

Fighting the urge to oath out loud, Ciradaan swung back to his right, intending on searching the space beneath the other staircase once again, just in case he missed something there. And in doing so, he quite accidentally caught sight of a strange, skittering motion down the wall, close to the floor about three paces from where he stood. Eh? What was that? 

Stepping towards it, Ciradaan marveled to find it belonged to a square-looking midnight black beetle, like the kind that rolled dung in the desert. Despite its awkward appearance, however, it was moving quite quickly across the wall's pale surface, intent on the shadows opposite where Ciradaan had been searching.

Ciradaan frowned as he followed the insect's progress, the creature no larger than his thumbnail. A beetle, here? In this dead and bland place? Could this be the missing piece? A piece that moved to keep itself hidden? Drawing his sword, Ciradaan determined to find out. Stepping close he readied his sword and measured the beetle's motion. Then, at the right moment, he stabbed forward, pinning the creature against the wall at the same time he split it in twain.

Immediately the chamber echoed to yet another shriek of tortured sound, almost as great as the one launched by the cage's death. Then first Patrik then Shawn were dropping onto the floor behind him to sprint towards the pool.

<<Nicely done, Ciradaan,>> Shawn declared as he smoothly dove into the water, parting the dark fluid with nary a splash. His brother was a heartbeat behind him, the two vanishing before the astonished elf's eyes. Startled into motion by the brothers' appearance, he too sprinted for the pool even as the shadows boiled down the staircases, intent on intercepting him.

The Sword of Aesthegon went into its sheath and in almost the same motion Ciradaan was diving forward into the cold water, pulling hard for the depths as soon as he was completely submerged. And, even as he felt the darkness close in on him as it had the first time through the strange passageway, he could feel the multiple shocks of the shadows hitting the water's surface behind him, their flailing strokes pulling them swiftly after the fleeing humans and their elf guide.

That spurred Ciradaan to even greater effort and, swimming like he had never before swum, he pulled for the darkest spot before him. It was as he reached into that ultimate darkness ahead that he felt something grasp his outstretched hand and he was pulled rapidly ahead, quickly outdistancing the swimming shadows behind him.

As it had before, a light appeared out of the darkness after an indeterminable amount of time, the force propelling him through the wall dragging him directly towards it. Then he was bursting free with a gasp, a surge of relief washing through him when the glade blurred into sight all around him. Taking hold of the basin's firm edge, the wiry elf pulled himself free and rolled over the turf several arm lengths away from the pool, dragging him out of reach of the shadows he knew still pursued. From where they had waited, a number of the fairies darted in close to take a look at the heavily breathing elf, their brilliance filling Ciradaan with hope.

Maker, they had actually done it! Somehow he had penetrated the Deceiver's prison and had freed the spirits of the captured Wielders and, despite the enemy's efforts, had managed to escape. 'Frost me, we might just win this thing yet,' Ciradaan silently mused.