Arcemis's Arc

Chapter 11 of 16

Dawn came gray over the temple. The barrier still held, but it flickered now, thin as smoke. Amira slept inside, her breath slow, the dark shadow curled beneath her skin. Archadious leaned on his staff by the door. His light blast had saved them once. It had also left him weak. "The temple is known to him now," the old monk said. "When Rhademus returns, he will bring more than hounds. This place cannot hold." Arcemis looked at the woman he loved. "Then where do we take her? Move her too far and Gaia's sleep may break. Move her at all, and we carry her toward whatever waits." He had no answer. There was no safer ground left to run to. Marina came to his side. Her shell staff dripped soft water light. Once she had loved him. Now she spoke to him plainly, like a soldier to a captain. "We have run since the forge, Arcemis. We ran here. We cannot keep running with her asleep in our arms." Tybore crossed his huge arms and grunted. The orc's brass knuckles caught the pale light. "Aye. Run again and he chooses the ground. Stand, and we choose it." He glanced at Arcemis, gruff but steady. "You decide, mentor. I'll break whatever comes." Freyo dropped from the roof on a curl of wind. No jokes on his face now. His bow hung ready in his hand. "We're not moving anymore," he said, voice low and hard. "It's time to take charge, Arcemis. Stop guarding a door. Set a trap and end this here." Circe closed her spellbook with a soft snap. The quiet of her made everyone still. "He wants her badly," she said, each word slow. "A hungry man walks into any bait. Let the barrier fail on purpose. Let him think the wall is broken and the way is open." Her purple eyes did not blink. "Then we close the door behind him." Arcemis felt the plan settle in his chest. Running had cost them everything. Now he chose to stand. "We make the temple the trap," he said. "Circe, let the barrier thin where he can see it. Freyo, high with your arrows. Tybore, Marina, you hold the inner doors. Lira mixes what she can. When he comes for Amira, he comes into us." They worked fast. Circe bled the shadow wall thin on the north side, a false weakness. Freyo climbed. Tybore braced the doors with his shoulder. Marina fed water light into the trap's edges. By dusk the temple looked wounded and open, a ripe fruit waiting. Arcemis knelt by Amira one last time. "No more running," he whispered. "I end him here, and you wake." He stood and drew his sword. Gold light climbed the blade. The chase was over. Now Rhademus would come to them, and Arcemis would be waiting to finish the war he had fled for too long.