Jarrod searched his mind for a spell that would carry them both down safely while his thoughts reeled with the implications. He didn’t doubt for a second that the woman was indeed the Goddess, lost to them for a thousand years. Not entirely lost. Someone had known she was there. Had kept her in an enchanted sleep. “Jump!” Freya said again, her tone insistent. Was she mad? But she didn’t wait for him. Pushing past, she leapt into the open space. Without allowing himself to think, Jarrod closed his eyes and launched himself after her. He held his staff out and whispered a spell. For a few seconds, it held them, slowing their headlong fall. Then he sensed the combined will of the warlocks in the courtyard below, and the spell broke and they hurtled through space. Was this death? He wanted to shout to her but the wind tore the words from his mouth and scattered them.
