Tarkyn glanced at his friend with a slight frown but set off a dead run, saying over his shoulder, “Don’t worry. We’re all right so far. No wind.” Even as he spoke, a sharp gust of wind struck them. His eyes widened, “Oh no. She’s faltering. Waterstone, if you can flick the last few yards and grab her, do it.”
They ran up the slope and curved around to follow the edge of the cliff. As they crested the top of the rise, Hail glanced at Tarkyn and then, standing with her arms wide, slowly, very slowly, fell forward over the space beneath her.
“Ka Liefka,” bellowed Tarkyn. A bronze shaft of power shot forth, and held her horizontal, above the yawning darkness. The sorcerer’s bronze beam lifted her and swung her body upright, away from the cliff’s edge and back over solid ground. The shaft re
