ILARIO WATCHED SPARKS OF LIGHTNING flow from Lucia’s sword, around her armored body, back into the blade, and then out toward the hovering mass of water. “Lucia!” He slid beside her, panting, his knees scraping against the desert floor. He dropped his sword and put his hands to her cheeks. “Lucia, you’re going to be all right!” Her body writhed. She struggled to breathe. No air came in or out. Ilario pressed against her breastplate, hoping to awaken her stunned lungs. A tortured sound escaped her throat, followed by wheezing, then choking breaths. “I’m okay,” her pained voice lied. “Stop their sages. Go find Caio.” She squeezed her eyes shut and grimaced. “I’ll follow. Go!” Ilario grabbed his sword and stood, his heart slugging his ribcage. Lucia’s suffering filled his mind with red rage. He wanted to stay with her, but he knew she was right. The warpriests would protect her while he searched for Caio. With duty focusing his mind like the edge of his blade, he pushed his muscles to their limits and ignored the burning in his thighs.
