Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Three: ‘O, rending union...’
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The ground rumbled again, this time with enough force that Emiliana had to stop moving so she didn’t trip. How her unconscious father managed to keep his footing with so little help from her, she had no idea.
‘Almost there,’ Chergoa assured her.
They’d descended a staircase already and fought their way through more invisible assailants, along with a few not-so-invisible ones. Emiliana didn’t know what prompted the change, but she wasn’t about to complain. It hardly seemed to make a difference to Zeff, either way. It was enough to make Emiliana wonder just how far these “instincts” or whatever extended.
Finally, they found Asad. The Sandlord was holed up in the middle of a large chamber--the remains of a gallery, perhaps. The globular design with balconies all above them didn’t exactly seem ideal. Emiliana felt like enemies could pour in from almost any direction, and perhaps Asad felt similarly, because it took him a moment to recognize them.
“Zeff?” Asad said, coming closer. He had a bag tied around his waist.
“He’s not--” Emiliana wasn’t sure how to explain. “He’s not quite awake.”
Asad put a hand on the Lord Elroy’s shoulder as he searched his sleeping face. “I’m glad you’re all safe,” he said after a moment. “This is not the best place for you, however. You should--”
‘Incoming!’ Qorvass warned.
Fire and explosions rained down from the ceiling, and in an instant, a blanket of sand and water extinguished them before vanishing into thin air.
Emiliana expected more attackers to fall through the smoke, but none did. Instead, another big tremor shook the gallery, followed by silence.
‘Looks like Dimas got them,’ Chergoa informed her privately. ‘Not sure why he isn’t joining us.’