Unholy Sundering
Page 25
Andre uprooted a nearby tree that must have been fifteen feet tall and wide. He tossed it at Ryma, who quickly stopped it and then sent what had to be a Soultorn onto the tree. The man or demon jumped on the tree, maneuvering it with an inhuman skill, and headed straight for Andre.
Andre stopped the Soultorn a foot away, forcing him to the ground. While Andre dealt with that, Ryma’s other soldiers surrounded Andre and Jemi, who protected his back. Was that all who was left?
Jemi fought hard, reaching forward to slice a man straight across his stomach. Her fierceness shone through her small frame. Magic radiated off her, paralyzing some until she could cut them through. But the soldiers kept coming, pushing Jemi back. One of Leon’s men fell next to Jemi. She didn’t have time to spare him a second glance as she fought the next man.
Becca sprinted towards her. A man turned and swung out at Becca. She slid to the ground and turned, slicing the back of his knees. He hollered and crashed to the ground. A demon would never cry out like that.
Jemi whipped around, gun in hand, and cut off his scream with a bullet. “What are you doing here?” She turned to meet the next assailant.
Becca reached out to a man headed towards her, hoping to take control of his brain. He was protected, but she tried anyway, then threw her knife straight at him in hopes of a distraction.
She never saw if it met its mark as another person struck her with magic. She fought off the physical attack in front of her, while people came at her with knives and guns. In the midst of chaos, she struggled to stay afloat. Fighting what felt like an endless onslaught. No time to think, just fight.
As she turned to take on the next assailant, something exploded. A weightless feeling carried her away. The roaring in her ears blocked out all conscious thought.
Silence permeated the forest for a moment as every person, tree, and blade of grass was forced down in a wave of deafening power.
A buzzing noise filled her brain as she pried open her eyes and struggled to her feet. What was that? Bodies littered the ground around her, a few moaning in pain. She searched among the injured.
Jemi.
Becca crawled towards her. Blood painted the front of her shirt. It looked like a gunshot. Numbness traveled down Becca’s arm as she checked for a pulse. Nothing. Anger, rage, and regret boiled inside of Becca, which helped her to rise to her feet.
A man nearby stumbled to his feet, one of Ryma’s men. Becca grabbed Jemi’s gun and shot him. She didn’t feel a thing.
Her fury had turned to numbness as her body moved through the motions, almost disjointed from her mind. It knew what it had to do to survive.
“That was for you,” Becca told Jemi.
She searched for Andre. He lay on the floor merely feet away, unconscious.
“No.” The word came out as a whisper. It couldn’t be over.
She dropped next to Andre. His eyes were bloodshot, searching for something unseen, and blood dripped from his nose. He was alive, but not for long.
“Run,” he managed to whisper. “Get them out.”
“They’ll be taken care of.” She’d already defied his orders once, so he may not find her words comforting, but she wasn’t giving up.
Placing a hand on Andre, she lifted her gaze to find Ryma. He stood alone in the midst of a smooth, dusty circle, no stone or blade of grass visible. The explosion must have emanated from him. A bold move, killing some of your own people to eliminate your enemy, but to Ryma, people were expendable.
With the gun in her hand, she steadied her shields and walked towards him. She remembered Jemi’s words when it came to her power. “Don’t shove your way into someone’s mind. Slide in the back door. Give them something they want to believe.”
The scar on his shaven head stood out, pulling awkwardly as he grinned at her.
Becca lifted the weapon and fired. It did nothing. She continued firing, emptying the magazine and tossing it aside.
Shouts sprang up in the forest behind her. Somewhere nearby, a fire burned.
Focusing on her magic, she didn’t attack at first but spoke to him in his mind. Can you imagine the Soultorn this leader would make? You could raise Lucifer himself with this man.
“You think you can tempt me so easily.” He smirked. “Not everyone comes back like your sister.”
The blaze grew, blocking off the others from Becca. The fire pushed towards Ryma as if Darion was controlling it, but it didn’t reach the magician. Grateful for Darion, she pushed out the thought of him. She couldn’t let herself get distracted.
Then with a wave of Ryma’s hand, the flames grew. “Trust me. I can take the heat more than you.”
She continued to focus on his mental shields, to convince him he needed Andre alive more than dead. If she could keep Andre alive, and give him time, they may have a chance.
In a flash, the world around her changed. Then the heat of the flames pressed down on her. Sand covered the ground as far as she could see. The other people disappeared, and only Ryma stood in front of her, his clothes billowing around him.
“You want in my head, little girl?” His chagrined smile tightened. “Well, let’s have a little trip, shall we?”
He assaulted her mind with a speed and viciousness that left her no time to prepare a defense. She fell back onto the forest floor. Her body was frozen as memories flashed in front of her. Her parents burning house. The disgust of her uncle’s heavy hand. Her escape from Ryma’s estate. Her encounter with Bael.
“Interesting.” His voice curled around her mind. “You freed your sister and met Bael. Quite a task for such a novice. And she’s a seer. Lovely.”
Becca built wall after wall in her mind, trying to block the image of her sister. Her frail frame hiding in the caves. No, not her! But his penetrating gaze pierced through her defenses, seeing everything.
“Take me,” she pleaded. “A willing sacrifice must be worth something.”
“I’ll take them all for the grief you have caused me.” He stood directly in front of her. His hand cupped her cheek. “And when we’re done, you will be willing.”
The images he sent her next were of his own creation. The torture of her and those she loved threatened to break her sanity’s last straw. Had she come to this field only to let Ryma kill them all?
You’re not alone. Her sister’s voice pushed through the hell Ryma had created for her. At the same moment, Becca registered the smell of smoke, of Darion.
He won’t touch us, Becca. You won’t let him.
Becca embraced the rush of power, Liz’s power flowing through her.
Becca didn’t bother fighting his touch or the images he pushed at her. Embracing the demented images and leaning into his touch, she pushed down her repulsion and gave in to her fears. She focused her power to crawling into his sick mind and destroying any physical shields he had. Counting on that smell of smoke, that hope from Darion and the others to do the rest.
Ryma’s head jerked suddenly, and his arms tightened around Becca. An arrow pierced straight through his throat.
Though his death appeared imminent, he somehow kept hold of Becca, blocking her sight of the world around them. He mouthed something, and strangled sounds of a dying man escaped his bloodied lips. Becca’s world morphed into something unnatural as darkness gathered at the corners of her vision. Something or someone continued to pull her under to an abyss devoid of life.
Becca couldn’t have said how much time had passed when she heard her name, over and over. At first, she couldn’t tell where it came from or who was speaking. Warmth seeped into her body, and she realized just how cold she’d been. Someone held her, grasped onto her as if she may float away. Soon, she recognized the voice, the heat, the body: Darion.
“Stay with me, Bec,” Darion said. He then spoke in a different language. The pain in his voice struck her.
Ryma’s visions echoed in her mind, and she clung to Darion, her rock, her base. Liz’s presence also guided her away from the ghost of Ryma. Their ma
gic seeped into her soul and helped gather those pieces of herself that threatened to shatter completely.
Becca slowly regained consciousness cradled in Darion’s arms. Smoke and ash permeated everything.
“Is it over?” she croaked, blinking to clear her eyes.
He kissed her forehead and then leaned back slightly. “Yeah, Bec, He’s dead.” Tears stained his soot-covered face, and a smile shone through the tragedy. “It’s over.”
She thought she’d be elated that they’d won, that Ryma was dead, but something in the pit of her stomach couldn’t celebrate when so many lay dead and injured.
CHAPTER 38
G ratitude hung heavy in Becca’s heart as she helped tend to the injured and collect the dead. Twenty-eight. That was the number of people from their community dead. Freedom shouldn’t come at a such a steep price, but it always did.
The only silver lining: Andre wasn’t one of them. Weakened from his battle with Ryma, he couldn’t walk on his own, but it didn’t stop him from tending to his people. Andre relied on others and used what power he could to draw back the ocean.
In the afternoon light, Nikki, Doc, Caleb, and several others moved the injured to the med unit. The children, women, and others returned from the hideout and began moving back into the cave. Wrapped in a heavy blanket, Liz refused to go back inside, but remained on the beach with Becca.
Andre also refused to go back in the caves, demanding he stay until the dead were taken care of. Perched on a raised rock, he remained on the shore watching over the dead. His gaze rarely strayed from their bodies.
Darion, with a few other magicians, worked on restoring as many of the shields to the compound as they could. In the end, they knew they couldn’t stay. Everyone knew it, even though no one said it. Too many got away, including Peter, and that meant another force would come.
As the sun finished setting, Elizabeth leaned into Becca as they both sat on the damp sand waiting for the graveside service. Becca kissed the top of Liz’s head and felt almost guilty in her happiness. There was so much loss today, but Becca didn’t have to part with her loved ones.
Leon approached, limping heavily on a makeshift crutch.
“Should you be up on that?” Becca asked.
Leon brushed off her worry. “I’m fine. It went straight through. I came to tell you, there’s a meeting in Andre’s office tonight at nine. Be there. And bring Darion.” He didn’t wait for her reply, but turned around and went back to work.
The burials turned out not to be burials at all. They didn’t bury their dead, concealing their bones for scavengers or magicians to find later. They sent them out to sea, aflame like the Vikings of old.
Twenty-eight rafts sailed out to sea that afternoon. Jemi’s petite form that always had so much life and strength now looked small and still. If it wasn’t for Jemi, Becca wouldn’t be alive. They may not have always got along, but she owed Jemi her life. It was one debt she’d never get a chance to repay.
Lance also had a wooden raft that carried his lifeless body. Somehow, he’d broken free of her bindings and took his own life. It broke her heart to know he had hidden such heavy secrets behind his fun-loving personality. As their rafts drifted out to sea, silent tears slid down Becca’s cheeks.
Standing on the beach near Leon, Darion reached out a hand and set the bodies ablaze. Beautiful flames of life that carried to the great beyond. Everyone watched the light sailing into the darkness until the flames disappeared. Then they slowly filed back into their caves, their home that would never feel the same again.
In the medical unit, Nikki directed Becca to place Liz in a bed in the back. The room buzzed with injured people, and Nikki had more than enough help. There were even some new faces.
Becca wasn’t surprised to find Nevada in one of the nearby beds, though he looked drastically different from the last time she’d met him. Gone was his grandeur; now it was replaced with pain and curiosity as he watched everyone around him. Caleb caught her up on what had happened.
Becca motioned Nikki aside. “Caleb told me what you did with Nevada. I’m glad you saved him. You saved a lot of lives with what you did.” Nikki had proven herself in more ways than one.
“I didn’t do any more than anyone else.” Nikki’s eyes showed great pain. “Even less than what some gave.”
“True…” Becca had barely gotten to know these people. Nikki had grown up with some of those who’d given their lives in this fight. “Thank you.”
“Thank you for saving my father.” They clasped hands, forging something that neither would soon forget.
Becca nodded and walked out the door. Her body felt numb from the events of the day, and her mind spun, wondering what came next for all these people. Months ago, she couldn’t have cared, but now…Well, maybe she should make a dent in the debt she owed Jemi.
Mostly everyone headed to their rooms, but a few sat in the cafeteria drinking coffee. In the bunk room, the majority of the women were asleep. Becca found solitude in the shower, and finally allowed herself to break down in the freezing water. While tears slid down her cheeks, she scrubbed off the dirt, dried blood, and Ryma’s stench. His touch and control of her mind scarred her more than any other physical wound she had received. Her body began shivering, and finally the cold drove her out.
While she dried off and put on clean clothes—sweats were the only thing left in the extra closet—her mind began to churn. What did the future hold for them? Searching for a new home? Hiding from the next threat? As much as she finally felt at home here with these people, she was tired of hiding.
After sneaking some dried fruit from the cafeteria, she headed to Andre’s office. The large room felt cramped with the big men—Andre, Leon, Greg, Seth, and Caleb—but there was still one missing. Jemi’s presence would be greatly missed. She’d pushed Becca and many others to grow, to make them stronger. Jemi had helped her to survive.
Becca stood next to Darion near the bookshelves and leaned into his shoulder. One of the antique books lay on the counter, and she traced a finger down the spine. These books helped Andre only so much, but it wasn’t enough. An empty silence settled on the group as everyone focused on Andre, sitting at his desk. He held an old compass in his hands.
He cleared his throat. “Jemi gave this to me as a present last Christmas.”
No one spoke. His words floated to the ground. Darion squeezed Becca’s hand, and she leaned against him.
Andre twirled the compass in his hands. “She was trying to convince me to leave, to find a new shelter where we’d be safe. She even suggested the islands. But it took her death and the death of our family members to convince me.” He looked up now, a dark strength returning to his eyes. “We can’t stay here. It’s not safe. Others will come for us. The word will spread to maybe even Lazaro himself. Any coven not bound to his people he’ll view as a threat.”
“Let everyone rest tonight, and we’ll begin evacuation plans tomorrow,” Leon said. “We have prepared for this.”
“We should fight,” Darion interjected. “We could take over the city, have our own protections. You’re strong enough to run it how you wish. We never found Peter’s body. I know he won’t give up.”
Andre shook his head. “Maybe, but I will not bow down to Lazaro, and we’re not an army. These people are my family, and we’re just trying to survive in peace.” He turned to Becca and Darion, the pain still evident on his face. “I invited both of you to ask you to help Leon in preparations. We lost many good magicians, and we will need everyone for this move forward.”
Darion looked to Becca. She knew he was more than ready to help Leon, but he waited for her reply. He mouthed the word she was thinking: Together.
Andre turned to Becca, awaiting her answer.
“Yes, I will help, but Darion has a point. They’re never going to leave you alone.” The thoughts from Becca’s shower had collected into an idea as she’d watched Andre grieve.
“I’m not—” Andre started.
With a heavy sigh, he nodded. “Okay.”
“We’re not safe here. You’re right. I don’t think the city is safe, either, not for anyone. We’ll never be safe. We can run and hide, but someone will find us or hear of us. Especially if you continue to take in people, which is what your community is all about.”
“Then what do you propose?” Andre asked.
“We close the portal.”
Andre dropped the compass on the desk, confusion creasing his features. The loud clang echoed through the room as all eyes turned to her.
“Is that even possible?” Leon asked.
“I don’t know, but I got the idea from your books,” she told Andre. “The one Darion was translating. It talks of how the dimension was opened. Introducing magic and demons into our world through the temples of old in the south. If it can be opened, why can’t it be closed?”
Murmurs of surprise and disbelief filled the room.
Becca let go of Darion’s hand and stepped towards Andre. “You say knowledge is important. Well, why not start at the source. Darion and I can travel to the southern countries. He’s fluent in enough languages to get by. It may be the only chance of returning this world to what it once was.”
“There’s no guarantee that’s even possible,” Darion said.
“We’re getting pretty good at the impossible. Look at Elizabeth.”
“That almost killed you.”
“But it was worth it.” She didn’t back down. She couldn’t. “If we have the smallest chance of ending this, we have to try.”
“There is much we don’t know about magic,” Andre said, his voice silencing the others. “We’ve only been taught what they want us to know, only what Lazaro brought back with him thirty years ago. There may be answers.”