his long days of training—at the convent,
under his commanding officers, on his own during his street days—and
it was all destruction. There was no clerical magic that would create
such a racket. I
don't want to fight, Magus
thought to himself, but
if the palace—the knights—are under attack, then I will! I'll
fight for them! The
sound of a sudden heavy crash shook the ground beneath him, so that
he nearly tripped over his feet. The rumbling that ensued brought
rockslides to mind, but of course it wasn't a rockslide. Magus' heart
skipped a few beats. He closed his eyes and let himself be overtaken
by the wind around him. The gusts picked up, growing faster,
stronger, and he became one with them. They picked him up off of his
speedy legs, and he was flying. He forced himself ahead, openinghis
eyes. The world was laid out beneath him now, and in spite of the
circumstances, it was quite a pleasant feeling. He had used the power
of flight to evade capture many times, and he was so quick about it
that no one ever noticed his escape. So
why didn't I just fly away when the knights caught me? As
soon as the question entered his mind, he knew the answer.

When Magus finally caught
up with the knights, he let out a cry. Only four—Ion, Troy, Alicia,
and Morgana—were still fighting. Eluani and Lovisa had been thrown
to the ground like forgotten ragdolls, and there was no sign of
Sanjaia or Rodin. Fury rose inside of Magus as he took in the sight
of his friend, pathetically sprawled out on the grass and struggling
to lift her head. Everytime