Free Within the Hollow Crown by Daniel Antoniazzi Page B

stables.
    Halmir fired another candle spell. The next Guard went down shielding the Prince’s body with his own. Vye saw that Halmir’s focus was fully committed to the Prince. She started to sneak up on Halmir, letting her feet rest on the soft grass of the summer.
    She stepped closer and closer as Halmir fired yet another Candle, killing yet another Guard. Only one Royal Guard remained, but they were only a few paces from the stables. Vye, likewise, was only a few paces from Halmir. Tip-toe, tip-toe, tip-toe, Swing!
    But Halmir showed himself to be more aware of his surroundings than he let on. He turned and parried the attack, just in the nick of time. Or was it planned that way? He was too good for Vye to be sure one way or another. Vye and Halmir once again started dueling, allowing the Prince and his Guard to get into the stables.
    The masters matched swords. Left undercut, right feint, left foot shift, right cross swing. Up, down, and around. Halmir could see that, if nothing else, Vye would save the Prince’s life just by using up time. He had to do something drastic. He swung his free hand out to the side, as though conducting the violins to crescendo.
    The ground shook. The soil crumbling upwards, like the ground had failed to keep down a very bad meal. The dirt rose, in a way dirt was certainly not supposed to, and formed into the shape of a large, stone hand. The key word being large. It was easily six feet across the palm.
    Vye swung at the monstrosity, but the dirt she cut away was quickly replenished. The hand grappled Vye, closing its fist around both of her arms, restricting her.
    And then it started squeezing.
    Halmir tur ned and dashed off at a sprint. The Prince and his last Guard were mounted now, but he could still get a clear line of sight if he could make it around the gate before they cleared the courtyard.
    But Vye wasn’t aware of any of this. The very ground was tightening around her, crushing her lungs. Her arms were pinned. Breathing was out of the question. Her vision was going red...
    Halmir caught a glimpse of Prince Nathaniel as he turned the corner. But a glimpse was all he needed. He fired one more Candle Spell at the Prince. The Heir to the Throne was enveloped in the white hot, crackling energy of the spell. He screamed.
    And he died.
    Vye didn’t know the fight was over. She was wriggling, twisting, gasping, trying to get loose. But she was out of breath, and she was almost out of fight. She would have passed out if it weren’t for that painful snap. Most likely one of her ribs, she figured. A second later, two similar snaps.
    It didn’t seem fair to her, to die in the hands of… well, a stone hand. This stupid, stupid, stone hand. Crushing her. She thought about the fact that it was just a bunch of dirt and pebbles. She thought it shouldn’t be causing this much trouble. She imagined it all falling back to the earth, inert and lifeless as it was supposed to be.
    And then it did. It crumbled around her. She collapsed, gasping for air and panting heavily. Every breath was a shock of pain from her ribcage. Now she was going to hyperventilate. She felt like a loose collection of bones and skin, with a layer of dry dirt coating her. She felt like half a person.
    Her eyes tried to find focus. When they did, they could only see one person moving. It was the Turin man, walking casually back to middle of the south courtyard. He just needed some clear space.
    Vye lifted herself to her knees. How much longer could she keep up the fight? The pain of breathing alone was going to knock her out in a minute. To say nothing of bruises, internal bleeding, external bleeding, a broken rotator cuff, and utter exhaustion.
    And then she saw Flopson, the jester, ambling across the courtyard in his comic waddle, juggling three acrylic balls . Flopson was in his late thirties, though if you had a conversation with him, you would insist her was just an older-looking child of eight. You would also insist