I turn toward Mandollel. His mouth is working, and his eyes stare at the Kertharians. He stutters the syllables haltingly, opening his mouth like a fish on dry land. I grab hold of his arms, turn him toward me. His eyes swim in his head.

"Mandollel!" I shout. "Forget it. Stay with me!"

His eyes creep slowly to focus on me. He licks his lips. "Fol-ke," he says, slowly, almost like in apology.

His face jerks and goes red, eyes squeeze into slits. Veins and muscles in his neck pop out as he bares his teeth. His face presses forward, and he tries to bite me, growling and snarling.

I wrench my head. His teeth clamp together with a snap. He grabs my arms. He's too strong. He pushes toward me, pressing me back easily. I hear the first beats of the Kertharian howl as he screams it at my face.

I let myself stumble back. He loses his balance as he holds on to me. I kick my heel on his foot, grabbing his hair and yanking down with my left hand. Twisting to the left, I slam my elbow into his ribs. I can't make myself do it as hard as I could. Can't hit his throat instead or jab my fingers into his eyes.

I just can't.

He keeps howling, even if there's not much air behind the shout. He falls on his knees, one hand on his ribs. The Kertharians in the camp start howling.

Finna will hear it. She will activate the device. I kick Mandollel, stomping on his back with all my weight behind my boot. The yell is cut short by a grunt.

I run.

He'll live. We'll save him. But I don't want to spend the next 30 years frozen next to him.

I can't believe how long the way back is to where Rworg and Finna are. I jump over rocks and push my way through branches, scraping my face and hands. I trip on a root and slam down, but push myself up. A blue glow shines through the trees from ahead.

It feels like there are blades stuck between all of my ribs, and I'm ready to throw up, but there's no time for any of that. I leap another rock, press my arm to my chest to keep my lungs from bursting their way out through my flesh.

"What the hell!" Finna screams at me before I even see her. The Kertharians wail behind me. I left them behind, but they are going to reach us soon. Especially him.

"Do it! Flip it!" I croak, stumbling onto the path.

Rworg stands, sword held in both hands. His jaw is tense. "Where is the elf?" he asks.

I lay my hands on my knees and draw in air through clenched teeth. It feels like I've already been stabbed, pain slicing through my chest. I've never pushed myself that hard, never been that afraid and panicked. Of all the people, why him? I look up at the device. It thrums and throbs, as blue light is being sucked into it from above. It's hard to breathe as the smell of ozone is so thick. The air feels acrid and thick in my mouth and on my eyes.

Finna stands up, brushing her hands on her trousers. "I activated it the moment the screaming started. Do you think I'm stupid? Now, where the hell is the Peacock?!" She shouts the last words, panic creeping into her voice.

"When is that thing going to be ready?" I ask, squeezing out the words.

The device splutters. The last of the blue light slips into it. The path is plunged into darkness. A beam of pure white light shoots up from the device. I see the distortion in the air before the wave of force hits me, similar to what the mages caused above the third stake, but much stronger. I fall on my back. Trees rustle and bend away from the device, showering leaves and needles and pinecones on the ground. Finna is lifted in the air and flops on the path after the force throws her a couple of steps away from the device. Even Rworg takes a step back.

The wave of force spreads into the surrounding forest. The Kertharian cry stops for a moment, then begins again. It's close. Whatever the device is doing, it's not ready yet.

"We have to get out of here," Finna says. She throws herself up from the ground and grabs the device. She wraps her arm over it, balancing it under one arm.

"Leave it!" I shout.

"And the gem? No way, the elf would kill us!"

There shouldn't be a long way to reach the border. We have to get on the other side, or otherwise we'll get frozen with the Kertharians. And even if that wouldn't be an issue, they are chasing us right now. Once again, the forest rings with their wailing, but there's one voice in the mix that doesn't fit. Clear, and strong like a bell, ringing out higher than the harsh screaming of the small group of Kertharians.

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I listen to it, hoping Finna and Rworg don't have time to put together what happened. I don't know what would happen. Maybe they would try to stop and reason with him, maybe they would just break down. Both equally bad options.

I saw his face. The way he looked when he realized I was on a Ride was nothing compared to the unfettered hate that devoured any other emotion, left him frothing. It was pure luck we were so close to each other and I could get a few hits in. Pure luck he didn't have his sword drawn. Getting close enough for an unarmed brawl won't happen again. Next time he sees us, he's going to burn us, skewer us, or shoot us full of holes with the white darts.

"I can see the border!" I shout. The white stones jut out of the ground, marking the area of forest that we left from, so long ago. The effect shouldn't reach us if we get to their other side.

The whole forest swims in blue light, a matrix of white lines drawing itself onto the sky. They spread out from the place the device shot the beam into the sky, moving east into Kerthar with breathtaking speed. Something struck down from the brilliant cloud of light occasionally, a lightning bolt without the thunder, yet even brighter. The shocks washes over me, thrumming my guts.

"I'm going to throw up," Finna says, after one strikes near us and the wave hits.

Rworg is the first to cross over to Velonea. His long strides carrying him faster than either of us can move. He turns around and brandishes his sword, ready to hold the line for us.

Finna throws the device from her hands and jumps. "Out of the way!" she shouts, as she sails through the air to the other side of the white rocks.

She thumps on the ground and rolls on her back, arms and legs splayed. The device lands into the underbrush and comes to a soft halt.

I can't believe we're going to make it, but it sure is starting to look like that.

I cross over to Velonea's side. There's a clear shimmering divide in the air. It goes in an exact sharp and straight line, like someone drew it on a map using a ruler. At least I don't have to worry about one of the stones being in the wrong place and being frozen for decades for standing in a wrong place.

"Any time now," Finna says, lifting her head up to look at the shimmering field.

Mandollel bursts out of the forest, screaming with arms spread wide. He has his sword in his other hand. It draws a shining arc into the air, crackling and sparking like crazy, its magic interacting with whatever is going on the other side of the field.

"Oh no," Finna says. "No, no, no, no."

"Stand back," Rworg says. "I will hold him." He steps into the field, holding his sword before him, arms reached out. He moves carefully, more wary than when fighting any of the Kertharians.

"You'll get stuck!" I shout.

"Better we both than the alternative," he says, eyes locked on Mandollel.

Finna jumps up, daggers appearing into her hands. "What the hell happened?"

"He heard them chant the war cry. Saying or hearing it must cast some kind of spell."

"Even I know there are no spells you chant!"

Steel rings on steel, and keeps ringing. Mandollel has reached Rworg and is pushing him back. Maybe Rworg holds back, or then Mandollel is just that fast and strong. He rains blows at Rworg, his slender sword poking and cutting high and low, faster than I can follow.

Rworg parries and blocks, using the massive size of his sword to his advantage. He's fast—much faster than what I could believe possible. They are equally matched, but Rworg concentrates only on defense. Mandollel, on the other hand, cuts and cuts, focusing only on trying to kill Rworg. His voice has started to crack from the yelling.

"When is it going to work?" I shout, looking to the sky above the treetops. I have my bow and an arrow ready, but there's no opening.

Mandollel feints to the side, swinging his blade high. The blade tears at the mana field they are fighting in, and a brilliant blue spark lands on Rworg's face. He flinches. Mandollel swipes his blade down, cutting a shimmering arc through Rworg's calf.

Rworg stumbles and grunts, falling on one knee. A huge red gash stains his trouser leg red. Mandollel jumps and kicks off from Rworg's back, sailing over him. He lands between me and Finna, on this side of the shimmering field.

I curse and pull back the arrow. Mandollel takes a step toward Finna, but stops as the string creaks and twangs. He leans back, slapping the arrow aside from the air with a swipe of his sword. The move is familiar, but his face is not, mouth wide in a roar, brow furrowed in rage.

Finna circles around him, moving toward Rworg. He's pushing himself up on his sword, shouting something in Kerthar to Mandollel.

Mandollel turns his head around. He seems to be debating whom to attack. I hope it isn't me. I have no way to defend myself if he decides to come at me with his sword. At least he hasn't started casting anything. Maybe he's too angry for that.

Finna throws a dagger at him. He deflects it almost lazily, the dagger shot high to spin in the air. He leaps at Finna, flicks his wrist down. The tip of his sword moves too fast to track. Finna's other dagger is sent flying from her hand. She yelps, dodging to the side and rushing past Mandollel back toward me. Finna elbows him in the ribs as she goes past. This time, something cracks. She didn't hold back like I did.

Rworg hobbles to this side of the border. He bleeds and leans on his sword, its tip shoved into the earth. We all know what it would mean to be on that side when the spell takes effect. When is that going to be? Right about now would be perfect, with Mandollel holding his ribs on the other side, the howl turned into a wheeze.

Despite his rage, he still seems to understand what the magic around him means. The haze is getting thicker by the second, almost hiding him from view. He raises his sword high above his head and wrenches it down, as the light flashes. The flash blinds me. His shout cuts out.

I blink, trying to clear my eyes. After the brilliant flash, it's pitch black. All the light is gone, as is the sound. After a moment, I start to see the forest, and birds start to sing. I note idly that birds don't usually sing during the night. Mandollel stands in place, arm reached out, hand pointed forward. His face is frozen in a grimace, other side of his lips high, baring perfect teeth.

The sword is not in his hand.

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