"The Circle will rescue us."
"The Circle evacuated an hour ago!"
"I don't think so," he told me nastily. "We're war mages. We don't simply abandon our colleagues."
"Then what are you doing in here?
He glared at me. "That's none of your concern! The point is that you're wrong."
"You'll figure out otherwise in about twenty-five minutes," I said. "But it'll be a little late."
"Fuck that." The red-haired woman I'd noticed earlier had come around. She crossed to the other side of the corridor and started working on the ward imprisoning a tall Asian woman. "I'm not dying today."
The corridor shook again, and the war mage gave a start. He noticed the missing blocks, and for some reason, they seemed to shake him. "The external wards are down. Why?"
"Because they're being crushed from above by a few thousand tons of rock!"
The older balding man had slipped to one side and was trying to pull himself up on shaky arms, but they kept collapsing. "Are you okay?" I asked.
"I'll be all righ'," he slurred. "'N a minute."
"The longer you're in stasis, the worse it gets," the redhead told me as her friend collapsed into her arms. "What's the date?"
I told her and she nodded with no visible reaction, but the war mage gripped my arm. "You're lying!"
"Yeah, because that's what I feel like doing when a mountain is about to drop on my head!" I told him, exasperated. "Lie about trivialities!"
"It isn't trivial. If you're telling the truth, I've been in here for over six months!"
"And you're going to die in here if you don't move your war mage ass," the redhead told him. The corridor was shaking pretty much continually now, the situation deteriorating every second. It seemed to do more than her words to convince him, and he staggered to his feet.
The balding man was also up, although he looked like death—gray faced and slack-jawed. But he stumbled over to a cell and started working on it.And the Asian woman was already on her feet and working furiously beside the redhead.
"If the way is blocked, how did you get in?" the war mage demanded, starting on a nearby cell.
"I'm Pythia."
He blinked, taking in my damp, ragged outfit—now liberally smeared with dust—and my frazzled hair. "What happened to Lady Phemonoe?"
"The same thing that's about to happen to us! Minus the crushing thing. Does it matter?"
"No, no." He looked confused. "I apologize, Lady. I didn't realize who you were. Peter Tremaine, at your service." And he actually bowed.
I stared at him. A courteous war mage. The world really was coming to an end.
And then Pritkin ran back around the corner followed by half a dozen groggy people. He glanced at the cells that still had to be emptied. "You aren't done yet?" he demanded.
The world righted itself.
"Commander!" Tremaine came to a pretty good approximation of attention, considering that he was still swaying on his feet. "We are proceeding apace with the extrication, sir!"
I blinked at him and then looked at Pritkin. "Commander?"
"Later. Get the rest of them out!"
"We'll be done in a minute," I told him. Half of the freed prisoners were now lucid and working on the cells.
"We don't have a minute!"
"Find a way to get us out of here and leave the prisoners to me!" I said, exasperated.
"The prisoners are the way out." He gazed up at the ceiling for a moment, where half of the wildly swinging lights had now gone dark, and then his gaze shifted to the floor. "The upper levels are gone; we'll have to go lower. And to do that, I'm going to need magic users—strong ones."
"And then what?"
"And then we blast a hole through the floor. With the outer wards down, the only thing standing between us and the next level is a ton or so of rock."
"And you can move that much in the next few minutes?"
"I can move that much in the next few seconds, with the right people."
"Point them out to me." We went down the corridor, pausing at each cell, Pritkin muttering under his breath about this one or that one. I got the impression from a few of his comments that most of the people I was releasing weren't in Tremaine's category. Pritkin was looking for power, not politics or moral persuasion. I only hoped he could control them.
"That should do it," he finally said as I shifted out with the last one. Which was good, because I was about to have to tell him that no way could I do even one more jump. I was having trouble just focusing my eyes. Fortunately, Pritkin had something else to worry about. "We can't do this and shield all of you as well," he said.
"Clear this hallway and get everyone around the corner," I told Tremaine, who jumped to obey. Damn, I could get used to this.
A couple minutes later, we were ready to make the attempt. I was crouched around the corner with most of the prisoners, while Pritkin's crew positioned themselves at the end of the first passage. I'd assumed he was going to do a countdown or give some kind of warning, but I'd barely gotten into place when a massive explosion rocked the floor beneath our feet and brought half the ceiling tiles down on our heads. Somebody screamed and someone else cursed and I knew this was the end.
Only it wasn't.
The rocks behind the ceiling tiles remained in place, the walls continued to bow but not break and there wasn't even that much dust in the air. I peered cautiously around the corner, leaving sweat-smudged fingerprints on the concrete, expecting the worst. What I saw instead was a huge hole in the once solid floor.
Pritkin hopped up out of the hole, covered in red dust like an Indian in war paint. "Again," he ordered. I drew my head back just as another huge explosion rent the air.
The reverberations from it hadn't even worn away when a mass yell came from his group. "We're through!" I heard someone say, and then I was hugging the wall to keep from being trampled as the crowd surged forward.
"Cassie!" Pritkin's arm found my wrist and jerked me around the corner. "Hurry up! Even if Caleb succeeded, we're running out of time!"
"Exactly what is he trying to do?" I asked, but didn't get an answer.
Everyone was shoving and jostling, and those getting stepped on were screaming. Some of the tougher crowd were literally running over the older and weaker prisoners in their way. And that was a problem for more than one reason. Because the hole the mages had cut was big enough for only two, maybe three people at a time. And a logjam caused by line jumpers could block the whole thing.
Pritkin pulled a gun and fired a couple of shots at the remaining ceiling. "In order," he barked.
Most people stopped and looked up, the terror fading from their eyes slightly at the sight of someone taking charge. But a big guy in the middle of the line wasn't so docile. He had a red ponytail and beard stubble that almost matched his florid face.
"I helped cut that thing!" he told Pritkin. "I'm not waiting in line to see if I live long enough to use it!"
"Don't," Pritkin warned him. The man's response was to throw a slighter man out of his way and start pushing forward, sending the crowd back into panic mode. And Pritkin shot him.
I didn't even realize what had happened for a few seconds. Until the man stumbled and fell to one knee, a bright spot of color appearing on the tail of the white T-shirt he was wearing. Then he slowly toppled over onto his side.
"I said, in order," Pritkin repeated calmly. The crowd quickly rearranged itself into a nice, straight line.
I stared at the fallen man, stunned. No one tried to help him, and a few people even stepped over him so as to not lose their place in line. I started to move forward, but a heavy hand fell on the nape of my neck.