Magister Eroniel came a step forward, his cold gaze taking in the scene, and exclaimed, “Fools! What have you done? The King cannot have missed that. Now he will surely come! Unless—” He swept up his hands, filled with pale light, and turned sharply toward Cort. Keri leaped to her feet and put herself between them, and the sorcerer extended a hand to sweep her out of his way, and Lucas started forward, lifting his staff, and Cort, groaning, got an elbow under his body and began to pry himself off the floor—much too slowly—and Tassel was hurrying to help him, but she wouldn’t be in time, Keri saw that, and she had no idea what she could do against Magister Eroniel—nothing, she could do nothing, he had her magic and Cort’s magic, and she had nothing—her efforts had been for naught after all— And then, before Eroniel could take another step, color washed suddenly all around them like a breaking wave of warmth and light—crimson and gold and orange like leaping flames—and they were surrounded by warmth and by the colors of fire.
