by TR Cameron
Cali pushed magic into her muscles as she ran to assist Fyre. They had assumed that she would face the strongest of the enemies and their planning had taken that into account. Once the barriers fell, they’d agreed to gather at the centermost position to support each other. She realized that no one was running from Tanyith’s position almost at the same moment that she noticed the two bodies on the grass. A brief internal struggle over whether to go to his aid ended when she saw his arm raise while his opponent remained immobile.
She focused on the battle ahead of her. Fyre had landed hard, entangled in a lightning net. His foe now stalked toward him with his trident raised as if he intended to stab it into him. Not while I’m alive, buddy. She feared his armor might be the magic-absorbing kind and didn’t want to risk finding out. Instead, she snatched and lobbed a grenade and gave it a gentle push with a force burst as it landed. She followed it with the prototype Kayleigh had given her, this one targeted to land near Fyre.
The flashbang exploded almost at the man’s feet and the trainer staggered. The disc sucked away the electricity from the net and Fyre surged upright. She was about to follow her sneak attack with a better one when a burst of pain bloomed at the back of her left shoulder and radiated down her arm and into her torso. The shock of it tripped her, and she stumbled and toppled to twist at the last minute and take the impact on her good shoulder rather than her face.
The Draksa snarled and barreled at his foe. The wild swings of his enemy’s trident seemed more like reflex or desperation than real violence, and he closed the distance between them quickly. The trainer’s armor started to glow and he blasted the man with frost in hopes of stopping whatever he attempted. It took only moments to fully encase him, and Fyre smiled in satisfaction as he admired the ice statue.
Unfortunately, the pleasure was short-lived. The ice melted and the figure stepped forth, steam rising from the still-glowing scales of his armor. He held that trick back. Clever. Fyre easily dodged the fire darts the man launched from the tips of his trident and whipped his tail in the fierce attack all Draksa shared. His foe’s clumsy attempt to dodge was a testimony to the lingering effects of the grenade, and the swipe cut his legs from underneath him. The trainer landed hard and his head smacked against the grassy earth as his weapon fell from his hand.
He, Cali, and Tanyith had all agreed they’d kill only if they had to, but he now faced a quandary. The glowing armor seemed to prevent him from icing the man and he didn’t have much else to use to restrain him. He looked over to check on Cali’s progress because she had zip ties and saw her splayed on the ground with another enemy closing on her position. That made his decision for him.
The Draksa lined up with the man’s skull and made a forward flip, landed on his back, and drove his tail down on the figure’s helmeted head. The trainer’s still form didn’t react. It was possible he’d killed him but maybe not. At any rate, he wouldn’t be up in time to join the fight. A claw along the throat would have been a surer route. He rolled to his feet, his wings unfurled, and took flight toward Cali.
Tanyith had downed both the healing potion and an energy potion before he was able to struggle upright. Remembered pain from the wounds lingered, and he shuddered at the reality of what had happened to him. He bent to check on the woman he’d fought, but she was beyond saving. He regretted the necessity but not the choice. Extreme times call for extreme measures. Besides, she was doing a really good job of killing me.
He picked his weapons up and slotted them into place before he raced to the other side of the field. Fyre leapt skyward, traveling away from him, and he hoped Cali wasn’t in trouble. The thought made him laugh, even at such an inappropriate moment. When is she not in trouble?
Cali continued her roll to avoid the man’s attempts to stamp on her. Every time her wounded shoulder touched the ground, she gritted her teeth against a scream. Damn it, I think I’m in trouble. She scrambled to her feet and managed to bring Defender into play, focused only on blocking while she got her bearings.
She mentally asked the sword if it could heal her, and the matriarch’s voice in her head sounded regretful. That is beyond our ability. We can give you power but you would have to do the healing yourself. She grimaced as the pain from a deflection rattled through her. He’s even stronger than he was. To counteract his enhancement, she pushed more magic into her muscles and her shoulder throbbed in agony. Her left hand was virtually useless as that was her damaged arm, but she tried to pull the flap that held her potions open with it anyway.
Fyre saved her. He flashed into sight from above and his claws slashed at her enemy’s face. The man dodged with a yell and almost managed to tag the Draksa with his sword as he whipped past. A lightning attack followed quickly, but Fyre was canny enough to already be turning for another pass. She sent a thank you to him, stabbed Defender into the dirt, and swallowed a healing potion and an energy potion in quick succession. After a moment to allow their effects to kick in, she surged into her next assault.
He spun to face her faster than she’d ever seen anyone move. She halted and backpedaled, thrust his sword away with Defender, and summoned her left stick to catch the attacks she wasn’t swift enough to intercept with her other hand. With a frown, she reached deeper into the sword, which responded readily to her call. Everything slowed and she was almost able to sneak in an attack now and then. She reached out to Fyre, and the Draksa lent her strength, which allowed her to push her muscles harder. When she managed a riposte, she knew the odds were turning in her favor.
Her relief was short-lived as his speed increased to match hers and grew faster still. What the hell? Defender revealed it was privy to her thoughts as the patriarch replied, He’s pulling magic from somewhere. She cursed inwardly. So that’s what the extra six jerks on their side are for. Imagining Styrris’s smug smirk at the trick infuriated her, but she pushed it down. Two can play at that game, scumbag. She extended her magic to find Tanyith and tugged gently at his power, not knowing if it would work or not. A thin trickle came back. It wasn’t much but more than she’d had. She sensed Fyre landing somewhere distant from her position to crouch on the ground, and the flow of energy from him increased dramatically.
She countered her foe’s attacks but again, couldn’t gain an advantage. It was inevitable that he’d win if she didn’t do something more. Cali fumbled a block and shouted, “Scield,” and the shield charm burned away as it saved her from a fatal blow. She used the protection to launch her attack, and he deflected it with ease. Her thrown stick missed his head, which seemed to jump from one place to another as his speed increased even more.
Backpedaling, she threw her grenades one after the other, trying to get some distance as she pushed all the magic her muscles could hold into them. She let some trickle out from her hand to coil into a lightning whip, and when he emerged from the smoke with singed armor and tears running from his eyes from the gas, she snapped it at his neck. He snarled and arced his sword in a sharp slice to sever the strand of electricity. The feedback surged through her, and she shouted in a mixture of pain and frustration.
Cali registered that voices clamored for her attention, but she’d been too distracted to hear them before. Let us help you, the first Leblanc matriarch told her. Stop resisting. She frowned as she hadn’t tried to resist the sword. But maybe I do it automatically? She certainly had a natural aversion to relinquishing control. With a deep breath, she focused inward and let herself submerge into Defender.
Time slowed to a crawl, but she couldn’t move to take advantage of it. Numerous voices welcomed her one by one, while an argument took place in the background. She tuned in to the conversation that included three voices, each making the case as to why they were the best answer to her needs. She couldn’t tell anything about them from their voices and no visual reference was available. Finally, they came to an agreement, and with a tone of good humor, she heard, Hold on, Caliste. This will be fun.
Things snapped into their recent insanely fast
tempo but now, her body seemed like it had learned much more about fighting with a sword. She was still in control—or at least it felt that way—but every move she made was a little more precise and thus a little more effective. One part of her brain babbled about possession, remembering Nylotte’s warning from what seemed an age before, but the rest of her merely gloried in the thought that she might survive and win freedom for her brother. It hadn’t seemed all that likely a few moments before.
She’d taken the offensive and now, her opponent was the one who backpedaled instead of her. His deflections were enough to keep him safe as her sword scraped along the metal plates of his armor but it was apparent that he wouldn’t last through a lengthy battle. He seemed to acknowledge that reality after a particular blow almost caught his neck, and he stopped moving and discharged a torrent of lightning from all over his body. The plates acted as conduits or something and the magnitude of the magic was stronger than she’d ever seen. It reached out for her and he pushed in, planning to skewer her while she was distracted by the stunning sneak attack.
The anti-magic deflector crystals exploded on her chest with the intensity of punches but in the face of his rush, she barely noticed them. Unbelievably, he’d left himself open. She crowed within as she whipped Defender at precisely the right angle to shatter his sword, which broke with a strangely beautiful chime. Her momentum allowed her to pivot so his effort to stab her with the broken section that remained attached to the hilt missed, and she drove a force-empowered hook punch into the side of his head. He sagged and fell and didn’t rise.
Cali turned to look for other dangers, but only found her teammates, who stood nearby and looked at her like she was an alien. Time resumed its normal pace, and she asked, “What?” Cheers and boos issued from the stands as she walked to her friends.
The man shook his head and turned to Fyre. “She’s some super-swordswoman now. We’ll never hear the end of it.”
The Draksa nodded. “There’s no coming back from this. She’ll be so annoying.”
She laughed and wrapped them both in a hug. When she broke the embrace and looked toward the royal box, it was empty. With a growl, she ran to the Malniet side of the field, only to discover that what she feared had occurred. The patriarch and his entourage were gone and with them, the prize that had been the whole point of the conflict.
Tanyith put his hand on her shoulder and stepped beside her as Fyre leaned against her legs from the opposite side. “Don’t worry. We’ll find him or we’ll rip his family, his mansion, and anything else he owns apart until we get what you need.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Ozahl and Danna had viewed the battle from among the crowd but had positioned themselves at the top so they could leap from the structure once the results were known. If Styrris had won, they would have eliminated anyone in the Leblanc mansion and claimed it as their own. But with the patriarch’s loss, it was time to finish their attack on the Malniet family.
He had set up a signal for the people they’d hired—a scarlet firework to move against Leblanc and a green one to move against Malniet. Now, he launched the latter into the air, where it reached almost to the top of the dome before it detonated to send streamers of light through the pseudo-night sky. Together, they ran toward their agreed destination and used magic to fuel their endurance so they’d arrive fresh and ready for what lay ahead.
All across the city, mercenaries removed the rest of the Malniet family, those who had been located but they hadn’t been able to deal with ahead of time. Their previous efforts had been limited to those on the edges whose absences wouldn’t be noticed. But now, the gloves were off and they didn’t need to worry about restraining themselves.
They lacked enough hired guns to handle everything, though. And honestly, even if there had been sufficient numbers, Ozahl knew Danna shared his desire to put an end to the Malniet line in person. Not that it was personal, as such. Any house would have done, although this one was probably more deserving than most. Rather, it was a case of wanting to be the author of the final act of the story of their rise to nobility.
They slowed as they neared the mansion. The front gate was open and his people—the mercenaries he trusted most—were in position in front of it. He nodded a greeting. “What’s the situation?”
The merc leader, a woman with a notably more muscular build than his own, replied, “The immediate family is inside, along with anyone else who might have been in there when we arrived.” The black-uniformed woman and her compatriots would have moved into the area shortly after the Malniet procession left for the arena.
“Excellent.” Personally, despite her fitter form, he thought the black uniforms he and Danna wore were more attractive. They had no symbols and no decorations and were merely heavy cloth that blended with the night and belts to hold objects of violence. They even sported the same severe slicked-back hairstyle for the evening. “Did you have to turn anyone away?”
The woman grinned. “A few. They’re in your warehouse.”
Ozahl nodded. He’d set the mercenaries up to portal any Malniets they found into another warehouse in New Orleans that he had prepared. People he’d hired there would use sedatives to keep them out of trouble until he was ready to deal with them. He hoped most would select exile. Some, like Styrris, wouldn’t have that option because they were too dangerous to control.
“Again, excellent. We’ll take care of the folks inside the mansion. Maintain the perimeter. No one comes in, including anyone who says they’re our allies unless it’s the Champion of New Atlantis.” Usha was keeping an eye on House Cormier at the head of a small squad of hirelings in case Brielle’s family made the poor decision to rally to the aid of their recently added relatives.
Danna led the way to the front door, which opened at a gesture when she was six feet away. She accelerated and dove into the room, and a series of magical attacks rocketed into the doorway where the attackers had judged she’d be. He ran in after her and hurled force bolts with both hands to catapult two of the four people on the stairs into the walls and down the staircase. Calmly, he conjured a shield to protect himself from the other two’s assaults.
His girlfriend had already summoned and thrust her ice spear through one man in a Malniet guard uniform. He recognized belatedly that those he fought also wore the black and silver outfits. She yanked the weapon free, twirled it to intercept a blast of fire from one of the family members, and launched it at the other woman. Her foe looked at the spear in shock before Danna dispelled it and the Malniet fell with a hole through her.
“No fire in my house, you bastards,” she shouted and jogged out of the main room.
He banished his shield, blasted the two remaining guards on the stairs, and asked, “This floor first?”
It took them less than fifteen minutes to clear the mansion, but they knew a few people were still missing. Styrris, for one, his bride if she had accompanied him, and the heir, one of the patriarch’s children from a previous marriage. Ozahl remembered vaguely that it had originally been a daughter but that something suspicious had happened to her and now, the position was held by a son. If he weren’t about to obliterate their house, it was a circumstance he might have cared about. Worst case, it’s one more reason to kill Styrris.
They’d returned to the entryway, where Danna folded her arms and shook her head with a frown. “We’ve looked everywhere. We know they didn’t portal out because we have people blocking. We know they didn’t leave through any of the doors because our mercenaries are watching. Which leaves the important question unanswered—where the actual hell are they hiding?”
The exasperation in her voice was so her that it filled him with affection that escaped in a laugh. “Don’t worry, love. We’ll find them. No way we’ve come this far to fail.”
“So what do you propose?”
“We’re looking for a rat, so we need to think like a rat.” He considered where the Malniets might have put a safe room and decided that if he were doing
so, he’d probably think of under the house first. Of course, he’d continue to think, but he guessed they would be satisfied with their first inclination. He strode forward down the long hallway and into the big living room, where one of the Malniet cousins was tied to a chair with a gag in his mouth. Two mercenaries stood in separate corners with crossbows aimed at the prisoner. Even if the man had been stupid enough to try some magic to escape, the guards would have shot him.
Ozahl pulled the gag from his mouth. “So, where are the stairs?” The oaf in front of him was not a trained intelligence person capable of keeping secrets. He’d faced several of those and learned how to break them, which made him significantly overprepared for this situation. The look on his subject’s face confirmed the existence of the stairs, and the way his eyes flicked left but frantically darted right told him where they were. He patted the man on the cheek. “Good boy. Thanks,” he said as he stuffed the gag into the prisoner’s mouth again.
He turned to where the captive had first looked. A tall cabinet stood there, filled with expensive-looking sculptures and other art objects. He used telekinesis to tug gently at it, and the large piece of furniture swung out from the wall to reveal a staircase. Danna stepped beside the opening and peered down. “I’ll wager you any amount you like that it’s trapped.”
The mage shrugged. “No bet.” He raised a hand and gestured, and the captive Malniet and the chair he was bound to slid across the floor. Their captive screamed into the gag as he tumbled down the stairs and the seat broke under him. Halfway down, lightning sizzled from both walls and intersected at his body. When he reached the bottom, spikes erupted from both sides to turn him into a pincushion. “Not bad, honestly. The physical trap was a nice touch.”
His full-body shield positioned an inch away from his skin all around, he led the way down the stairs. Danna followed and employed the same precautions. Their path was blocked by a heavy-looking wooden door, and he decided he’d had enough of subtlety. He attacked it with the biggest burst of force he could muster and it flew inward, plowed into a wall a couple of feet away, and fell forward. He strode onto the door and into the hallway and turned to where Styrris and Brielle sat in comfortable chairs, seemingly unmoved by his entrance.