Blocking his next blow, I dived into the woods, rolling behind a pile of boulders. The air whistled, an invisible blade slicing through the trees so cleanly that they didn’t topple, remaining upright until a gust of wind sent them falling like a series of dominos. A line of glowing red bisected the boulder next to me, molten rock dripping from where it was severed mere inches above my head.

I pushed out a wave of heat, lighting the forest on fire, and set a barrier above to hold in the smoke. Under the choking cover, I ran blind, tripping over rocks and debris even as I ducked under Roland’s attacks, using magic only when needed, conserving my strength. But I couldn’t keep it up for long. Angoulême would realize I was buying time for the citizens of Courville to get across and would start drowning them or worse to lure me out.

Killing Roland might be possible. He was more powerful, but I had years more training. Except there was every chance he’d rip the magic bridge out from under their feet in his death throes. I might be able to catch them, but I’d still have Lessa and the Duke to contend with. My only other option was to find Angoulême, kill him, and pray Roland wouldn’t turn to violence the second he was freed.

They were terrible plans, every one.

A massive tree, roots and all, flew over my head, crashing into the foliage where it was soon joined by another. Yet another hit home against my shield, exploding in a spray of splinters. Over my shoulder, I saw Roland had given up pursuit for the moment and was instead standing on top of an abandoned stone building lobbing everything in sight my direction. It was the chance I needed. Obscuring myself with magic and smoke, I sent an illusion of me running off in one direction while I turned back to where I’d last seen Angoulême and Lessa. The trick would only last as long as it took for Roland to land one of his projectiles, so I had to make every second count.

They were gone by the time I reached the clearing, but I’d expected that. Keeping myself concealed, I looked for tracks, but the heat of the battle had turned the ground to a slushy mess.

“Where are you?" I snarled, eyeing my surroundings. He’d need somewhere he could see the action without being exposed to the fallout of the battle. Somewhere nearby.

But there was nothing. The ground was rolling, but none of the slopes were high enough to give him the vantage he needed. Turning in a circle, I glanced out at Roland’s bridge, and noticed an old lighthouse sitting on a cluster of rocks about a hundred yards from shore. The roof was caved-in, but it was still tall enough to provide the vantage the Duke needed.