The black glass shook like a bronze bell buried under the earth. The runes pulsed faster with every beat. The light swept over the granite pillars, and the air tasted of copper and sulfur.
Ling stepped back to the shield line thirty paces away. At his signal Yan waved the spare crossbowman over from the entrance and withdrew behind the others.
“Keep walking!” Yan screamed from behind them. “Take the chain to the center. Ground the main channel or I turn the crossbows on you.”
Four disciples leveled their crossbows at the captives. The carpenter at the front stumbled onto the second tier. He’d spent twenty years working his way to Layer Two. His straw sandals caught fire.
“My feet!” he screamed. “It’s burning through!”
He tried to let go. The heat had stuck his palms to the iron. When he tore one hand free, he left skin on the link. The press of bodies behind him pushed him forward.
The line twisted. People pulled in opposite directions. Two fell to their knees on the glass, their clothes burning. They caught at the legs of the people behind them and dragged them down.
At the end of the chain, Pei Jing still stood on plain granite. He’d padded his hands under his sleeves back in the shelter. The iron rested lightly between his fingers. He could feel the heat through the linen now.
