Thirty
The scuffle is so quick, my eyes barely follow what happens: Dash flings his magic; Roarke twists away while hurling a crackling mass of power at me; Zed launches himself in front of me, cries out, and drops to the ground. By the time my useless gasp is out of my mouth, the action is over. Dash now holds a protective layer of magic in front of the two of us, and Roarke’s raised hand suggests he’s doing the same thing. Zed, who took the full force of the magic Roarke tried to attack me with, lies unmoving at our feet.
“Is … is he—”
“Not dead,” Dash says, his eyes trained on Roarke. “Stunned.”
“Yes,” Roarke says. “And the two of you will soon be in the same position.”
“I don’t think so,” Dash answers. “We have the portal right behind us now, and it’ll take you far too much time t
