She knew the magic would not last long, but it gave her the chance she needed to escape. She could not stand against so many without aid. She hastened as quickly as she could for the safety of the Inner Wall, and with her back turned she only just managed to catch sight of the lean, swift figure coming up behind her. She swung back around just as her attacker dropped to one knee and sighted down the length of a long blowgun.

Reacting solely on instinct, Aphenglow managed to throw up a protective shield. The blowgun darts disintegrated on contact, the brightness of their poison exploding in red bursts against her shield as they did so. Aphenglow had risen and begun running once more, limping noticeably, when her attacker used the blowgun a second time. Even though she was ready for the attack, she stumbled and went down, the darts skimming past her head, black missiles in the bright morning sunlight.

This time when she rose, she went after him.

But her attacker had anticipated her and was already running the other way. She sent an entangling magic after him and brought him down in a jumble of arms and legs, his blowgun flying away. She would have done more, but by now the magic that had confined the Federation soldiers had collapsed and they were coming toward her anew.

There’s no time for this, she thought.

Using magic to slow them—a tripping incantation that ensnared their feet—she began backing away once more, keeping an eye on both soldiers and the blowgun artist. But her efforts had drained her, and she was beginning to stumble badly. Holding back her attackers was sapping what remained of her strength, and she was still fifty feet from the safety of the Inner Wall.

They were almost on top of her when Bombax appeared.

He surged out of a haze of smoke and brume and flew across the ramparts with a roar, charging down the stone stairway and leaping into the courtyard, black robes flying out behind him. He was screaming at the attackers to draw their attention, challenging them to come for him. The Federation soldiers turned away from Aphenglow, caught sight of the black-clad apparition across from them, and fled at once. The blowgun artist was already gone.

Aphenglow called out to Bombax, and he raced toward her, his dark face intent, his eyes wild and dangerous. Fresh attackers were appearing all about them, coming through courtyard doors and down off the ramparts. They seemed to be everywhere. Somehow the Federation must have breached Paranor’s defenses in more than one place. Aphen kept backing away toward the Inner Wall, still using her magic, rallying against this new threat, trying to protect Bombax as he was protecting her.