Nineteen – 02

[This post is from Marin’s point of view.]

It felt like claws were digging into my flesh, like a hand was wrapping around my throat and squeezing. Breathing became hard. I struggled against it even as my vision continued to dim, as whatever was undermining the wards pressed hard against my shields, inside them and at the same time not.

One of my hands tightened around the haft of my bow, the fingertips of the other pressing hard against the concrete and brick of the wall. The tactile contact helped ground me, helped me focus. I could stay grounded—and draw power from the world itself, if I had to.

Whatever or whoever you are, you’re fucking around with the wrong person. This doesn’t end well for you, not today.

I sharpened my will into a blade and stabbed it at whatever was attacking me, feeling the point slam home into something.

In the distance, I heard a shriek of pain and the pressure began to fade. I hadn’t recognized the force attacking, but there was at least a faint and passing familiarity to it.

A mystery for another time.

My eyes snapped open as a loud crack of thunder shook the walls. Somewhere nearby, a camazotzi screamed.

My fellow archers loosed another volley. The wind picked up. The rain lashed at all of us, feeling like tiny, ice-cold needles on the wind.

“Get them inside!” Seamus shouted. He wasn’t looking out over the field. He was looking down.

The gates were open. Sif was still motionless in Thordin’s arms. My stomach flipped over on itself.

“We need J.T.,” Matt barked as he turned to help bar the gates again.

“Can’t do it,” J.T. shouted from behind and above me. He was still in the watchtower. “A little busy up here.”

My stomach dropped. Paul seemed okay, which could only mean—

Thom.

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