Aleira Brightleaf's Arc

Chapter 12 of 18

The chanting grew louder through the fresh gap in the wall. Aleira counted shapes in the smoke: robed figures, too many to fight in the open. They spread wide across the crawling rubble, and that was the problem. If they came at her from every side, she was finished. She needed them stacked in one line, one narrow gap she could hold. But the tower had two broken openings now, and no wall left to force a single door. Morwenna clutched her staff. "They'll surround us. They come through both holes. Two ways in. We can't watch both. We can't." Aleira looked at the leaking lava behind them, still crusted where Morwenna had cooled it. An idea landed hard. "We don't watch both," she said. "We close one." She turned to the young witch beside her. "Hazel. The old breach. I need it gone." Hazel raised her wand, then hesitated. Her aim never went where she pointed. Every spell she cast landed somewhere else. "I'll try. But you know I'll miss." "I'm counting on it." Aleira pointed her at the sturdy inner wall, far from the breach. "Aim there. Right at the stone." Hazel bit her lip and fired. The bolt swerved wide, exactly wrong, and struck the ceiling above the old breach. Stone cracked and fell. A slab the size of a cart dropped across the gap and sealed it shut. Dust rolled over them. On the other side, muffled voices shouted. Half the necromancers were cut off. "One way in now," Aleira said. The new breach stood alone, a single narrow mouth in the wall. The remaining robed figures pushed toward it, funneling into a line because the gap allowed nothing else. They had no choice but to enter one at a time. Morwenna understood. Her white eyes fixed on the crusted lava. "The fire," she whispered. "I pushed it back. I can let it go." "Only where I say." Aleira gripped her shoulder. "Hold it everywhere but the breach. Let it run there." Morwenna raised the skull staff. Green light flared. The crust she had built stayed firm along the throne, but at the narrow gap she released her hold. Lava surged forward and poured into the opening. The first necromancer through screamed and fell back. The molten flood filled the only door and sealed it with fire no robe could cross. Silence dropped over the chamber. The chanting outside broke apart into panic and retreat. Hazel sat down hard, shaking. "We did it. We really did it." Aleira did not smile. The lava blocked the breach, yes. But it also blocked the only way out, and the crust behind the throne groaned under fresh pressure. She had traded an army for a rising sea of fire, and now it sat between her and everything below. She looked at the throne she had bled to reach, then at the glowing wall climbing toward it.