Page 54 of Rory

“That’s not going to be an issue, mi vida,” Esme said.

He looked over the armorer’s shoulder and saw the arrows dissolving into the same black viscous liquid as the faceless men had. “Their weapons dinnae hold together.”

“Does that mean the MacBren and his killers could do the same thing?” she asked, and then reached for Rory as he groaned and tried to get up. “No, no, you’ve still got arrow holes in you, manito.”

“I cannae remain here,” he whispered to her, and then grabbed hold of Darro’s arm. “’Tis the day of the final siege. The spell trap, ’tis collapsing. Like the arrows in my back, everything the enchantment does to recreate the day shallnae long last.”

“Some of those the MacBren slew in the past that returned, they’re vanishing,” Darro said, and saw him nod. “Shall they return again?”

“’Tisnae enough magic left, I reckon.” He reached out and touched the stone wall, into which his fingers sank as if it were clay instead of rock. “The stronghold, ’tis weakening as well. This world soon shall come apart, Chieftain, and I dinnae ken how to stop such.”

Darro saw fear in his eyes. “What may you do to aid us, Armorer?”

“The MacBren’s faceless men.” He struggled to stand, and swayed on his feet for a moment before he steadied. “I shall slay them all, but first I must find Harper. Help Alec and the garrison with the revenants.”

The big man lumbered down the stairs, leaving Darro alone with his woman.

“Hold this.” He pressed a dagger into her hand and then embraced her for a long moment. “I must go to the lists. ’Tis too many there for me to protect you. Can you go back to the stronghold and aid the defenders?”

She nodded and kissed him. “Stay alive, mi vida.”