Roman rode into the room on his essence, basking beneath the blue sigil, his heart beating. He felt the warmth of its light and spread his wings so that they too could relish the cerulean wave of warmth.
“I am sorry, Father.”
“I’ll accept that apology only if you get us out of here.”
Suddenly, they heard a deep rumbling sound, and the chamber started to shake. The sound grew louder and dust rained from the ceiling. The statues in the room teetered. Cracks began to appear on every surface. Then the Pride statue fell from the ceiling and crashed to the middle of the floor, rupturing into fragments. As more brick poured on them, Roman shielded the priest with his wings. He thought of backing out of the chamber and trying to escape, retrace the route he’d used entering, but he didn’t want to risk it. For all he knew, the entire bridge was coming down. They’d never make it out that way.
As the statues fell around him, Roman looked toward the rear of the chamber, at the back wall, and Father Purgeon followed his gaze. The priest saw that the sigils were gone. Every marking was gone. Roman saw that there were large fissures in the wall and that the river outside was starting to come through, trickling into the chamber. He knew how they would be leaving the Coven of the Bridge.
“Come, Father. We have to hurry.” Without waiting for an answer, Roman ran to the back of the chamber, the priest trailing after him.
Roman balled his hands into fists and began to bash at the wall, hoping to enlarge the fractures. “Stay under my wing, Father!” Roman said as bricks shattered beneath his fists. Father Purgeon did as Roman said, covering his face with his hands as smaller pieces of masonry pelted him. Roman’s hands blurred as he crashed through the black stone. His wings joined in the demolition, looked like pumping pistons drilling though the brick. Within seconds, what water had been trickling in, began to spurt and spit into the chamber. Soon, those spurts turned into streams.
Larger chunks of granite crashed about them, louder than the sound of Roman bashing through the stone. But Roman ignored everything around him. He was almost through.
A thunderous groan erupted within the room just as the wall imploded and the river rushed in. Roman was already wrapping his wings about Father Purgeon. He clenched his fangs as he felt the priest’s blood burn his chest. But he took the burn and dealt with the pain. With the priest secured within his winged cocoon, he leapt through the opening and left the flooding coven behind.
Get ready, Father, Roman said in the priest’s mind. Gather a breath.
They cleared the wall, the priest gulping in a mouthful of air and holding it, just as Roman’s wings unraveled. It took Father Purgeon a second or two to get his bearings before he eventually determined which way was up. He chose the path that promised more light than not and made his way toward the surface.