by Charley Case
Penny took her hand away after a few seconds and petted Mila’s head affectionately.
“Thanks,” Mila said, meaning it.
She turned to head up the stairs to see what was happening but stopped when Danica barreled down the steps and sprinted for the boathouse. “We have to get out there and help,” she yelled over her shoulder. “He’s going to be overrun, and the twins are in the water without comms! Come on, there’s another four-wheeler in the boathouse.”
“So much for staying behind,” Mila shouted as Danica ducked through the door. Mila followed on her heels.
The open garage door gave them a clear view. The color drained from Mila’s face when she saw all the snowmobiles racing across the lake toward Finn. Danica motioned for her to drive, hopping on the back of the ATV and leaving space for Mila between her long legs.
“You drive, and I’ll use my bow,” she said to Mila. “Though I don't know how accurate I’ll be from a moving vehicle.”
Mila climbed on in front of her friend. She did a quick check and felt her gun and Gram in their holsters, along with two healing potions in their hard pockets.
She started the four-wheeler and dropped it into gear, but Penny landed on the gas tank, wedging herself against the ATV and Mila's stomach. “Shir!” She held up a hand as she watched the snowmobiles close in.
“We can't wait. They’ll be on him in no time,” Mila said, but Penny was insistent.
“Chi chr shee,” she explained, and Mila understood her tactic.
She directed Mila to swing in from behind and flank them. That way they could take out a few before they knew what hit them. Mila gripped the handlebars, her thumb twitching to hit the gas. As soon as the last mercenaries’ backs were to them, she let loose and rocketed out of the boathouse. The metal cleats on the tires dug in and they were soon catching up to the pack.
The cold wind whipped at Mila's face, making her squint to see. Unlike the snowmobiles, she had to dodge around occasional drifts of snow. Even then, within seconds, they closed on the tail end of the group.
“Can you hit them?” Mila shouted over her shoulder when they were thirty yards from the last pair.
Danica stood on the foot pegs, leaned on Mila's back, and let loose. The man on the back of the snowmobile crumpled to the side with an arrow between his shoulder blades.
The driver glanced over his shoulder after his passenger fell and saw them. Instead of pulling up his rifle, like Mila expected, he formed a tight bubble of magic in one hand.
Without thinking, Mila drew out the Ivar, took aim, and pulled the trigger.
A bright white streak of energy shot from the gun and sliced through the mercenary before impacting the vehicle and sending it into the air in a flaming wreck.
The pain hit her again, and her vision dimmed, but she shook it off.
“Holy fucking shit, Mila. What the fuck was that?” Danica shouted over the wind and engine noise.
“I think the gun is faulty or something. It keeps taking way more power than it should. My head is killing me.”
Penny stared at her.
“What?”
The tiny dragon shook her head.
Mila glanced up to see five of the snowmobiles now coming for them.
Unlike the the last guy, these had guns out and opened fire.
Mila activated her armor before she felt the impacts. The armor made them feel like solid punches but that was it. Behind her, Danica fired another arrow, hitting a driver in the throat. He slumped into the handlebar and sent the vehicle into a roll, throwing both driver and passenger.
Mila veered around a snowdrift and punched the gas.
Penny tapped her on the arm and pointed at the shack. “Chi.Chi.”
Mila nodded. “We’ll keep them away.”
Penny gave her a thumbs-up, then launched into the air and winged toward the little structure.
“Where’s she going?” Danica yelled as she let another arrow loose.
“She has to be there when the twins get back so she can overload the rod.”
“How do you know that?”
“She told me,” Mila shouted before turning hard and sending them into a power slide around another drift.
Finn watched as Mila and Danica took out the first snowmobile. He recognized the magic that came out of Mila’s gun and refused to believe it. It was impossible. She would have to be a direct descendent—
A barrage of bullets struck the ice all around him.
He snapped out of his stupor. He figured there were twenty two-man teams on the fast-moving vehicles. He had no chance in a stand-up fight, not out in the middle of a lake anyway. He needed solid ground under him to use effective magic.
Pivoting, Finn ran to the four-wheeler he had detached from the shack earlier and jumped on. He started it, and the chain-covered tires shewed into the ice. He gunned it for the closest shoreline.
Bullets peppered the ice, and a glance over his shoulder told him he was outrunning them, yet still not out of gun range. He swerved in random patterns to make a more difficult target.
Finn was thirty feet from the bank when something hit the back of the ATV and exploded. He flew into the air and into a snowdrift, hitting the ice hard. He rolled to keep from breaking anything and slid at speed toward the snow-covered shore.
A glance revealed the four-wheeler on its side as the pursuers closed in. Finn put a hand to the ice and felt for the magic in the earth. The water was still deep even a few yards from shore, but he kept focused as he slid.
He felt his connection and opened his eyes, which were now gray and full of chilling power. “Balla cloiche.”
The earth under the frozen water bucked, then a wall of stone erupted through the ice, sending foot-thick ice shards into the air.
The two lead snowmobiles slammed into the wall of rock and exploded in a shower of parts and tumbling bodies.
A snowbank stopped Finn, and he scrambled to his feet. His pursuers had slowed to go around the wall, but were now gunning it his way, some opening fire while three of them shot bubbles that transformed into fireballs.
Finn dove to the side, the fireballs slamming into the snowdrift behind him, sending up churned ice and earth and gouts of steam.
After scrambling to his feet, Finn ran up the short slope and into the tree cover of the forest. The snow was up to his calves, but his strength pushed him forward at a full run. He went to take cover behind a fallen tree when a bullet ripped through his shoulder and spun him to the ground.
Mila whipped around another snowbank and they were on a clear section of the lake, the wind having blown most the snow clear for hundreds of yards around.
“Shit! Danica, take out a few more of these assholes. I don't think I can fire this gun again without passing out.”
“On it. Hold steady.” She stood and tapped Mila on the head. “Duck.” Mila did, and Danica swung her leg over Mila's head so she faced the opposite direction.
The bow let out successive, rapid thrums as Danica sent one arrow after another flying. Gunfire answered back, and Mila weaved the vehicle.
“Got one,” Danica shouted. A second later added. “Wait, more than one. They’re down to three snowmobiles and looks like five guys. Fuck! Turn, turn, turn!”
Mila jammed the handlebars to the left and the spiked tires dug in, sending them up on two wheels. A fireball sizzled past, burning through the space they had just occupied. The flaming ball hit the ice and splashed out in a steaming fan shape, leaving a noticeable divot in the thick ice.
A single snowmobile and driver appeared to their left. He lifted one hand, and Mila saw the telltale sign of a spell forming. He let the bubble fly, and Mila swerved the other way, avoiding the spell and watching it pop into a spray of acid that hissed and spit on the ice.
Danica fired, and Mila couldn’t believe they hadn't been shot yet.
“How’s it going back there?” Mila shouted as she ramped them over a small drift, then she slid the ATV in a wide loo
p.
“Good news and bad,” Danica shouted. “I took out the caster, but I’m also out of arrows.”
“Shit! What are we supposed to do now?” Mila searched for anything that might help them out, but all she saw was open ice.
Danica did the leg over her head thing again to turn back around. She leaned into Mila’s ear. “Turn and head straight for them. I have an idea.” She held up the stone skin ring.
“What idea, exactly?”
Mila got distracted by a small ball that zipped past her head and skittered in front of them. Her eyes widened and she jerked the handlebars, putting them on two wheels again as she steered.
The grenade exploded and a concussive blast threw the ATV onto all four wheels. The ice bucked as a huge chunk blasted downward, sending a geyser of water into the air. Spiderweb cracks appeared on the ice and more water sprayed up through them.
“Hold on, this is going to be close.” Mila dropped a gear and gassed it, speeding them away from the rippling ice. She was sure they would fall through, but the ATV kept in front of the chain reaction.
“Keep turning! Go right between them,” Danica shouted while grasping on to Mila's ribcage so tight it hurt.
“Okay.” Mila decided she would get one more shot off. “You go for the right, I’ll go for the left.”
The gap between them and the snowmobiles closed fast. Mila barely had time to get the pistol up and aimed before Danica leapt off the back of the four-wheeler.
Mila pulled the trigger and a brilliant blast of white magic slammed into the two men on the snowmobile. They exploded. Pain consumed Mila, and she closed her eyes. The sudden odd sensation of flying through the air made her open them. The ATV tumbled away below her in a surreal moment as time slowed and everything came into crisp detail.
Mila must have passed out and lost control, which sent her flying. Below, Danica hurtled toward a snowmobile, her stone skin body tucked into a cannonball. She slammed into the soldiers and crushed them with their own momentum. A cracking sound filled the air, like stone shattering under a hammer, and blood splashed across the ice and snow.
The last thought Mila had was how pretty the bright red looked against the pristine white. Then, she hit the ice and all the colors turned black.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Dizziness washed over him, and his ears rang.
Finn used his good arm to push himself onto his back. His left arm felt hot, and it hurt to put pressure on it. Glancing over, he saw bright red blood smeared across the fallen tree and soaking the snow around him. It had been long since Finn had been shot. He forgot how shitty it felt.
The roar of snowmobile engines filled the woods and grew louder.
Shaking his head to clear it, Finn reached and unsnapped the compartment on his harness. He withdrew one of his two healing potions. He thumbed the cork free and lifted it to his lips.
“Freeze, asshole!”
A soldier stood less than twenty feet away, his white coat splashed with muddy water. He had his rifle pointed at Finn. “Put the potion down. Now!” The man stepped forward and aimed at Finn's face.
The rage cracked its neck.
Sucking in a deep breath to keep his emotions in check, Finn stuck the tube of healing potion into the snow, making sure it didn't spill, and raised his good arm.
The man stepped up next to him and kicked the bottle over. “You won’t be needing that.”
Finn would have let the rage loose and broken the guy’s leg, but he needed to be smart. Instead, he dug the fingers of his injured arm into the snow until he felt the pine needle strewn ground…and focused.
“You shouldn’t waste healing potions. They’re pricey,” Finn said with a casual tone.
“You think I give a shit abou—”
“Spìc cloiche.”
A stone spike shot from the ground and impaled the man’s crotch all the way up and out through his shoulder. He never knew what hit him.
The sound of snowmobiles shutting off told Finn he only had seconds. He pulled out his last healing potion and downed it, sure to get the full dose before tossing the bottle away. He took up Fragar, whispered the power word, and the axe unfolded. Finn got to his feet.
A dozen men on the other side of the fallen tree stared in horror at their impaled comrade, still twitching. Finn let the rage flow. He roared and sprang over the tree.
Two of the mercs formed bubbles of magic. The rest raised their rifles. Finn pushed the rage to its full potential, free from constraints. His vision turned red. His muscles tightened with ferocious power.
Bubbles came at him like missiles, whistling through the air. Finn didn't dodge, relying on his rage to mute their effects. Instead, he launched himself at them. He held Fragar over his head with both arms, the healing potion having fixed his shoulder—or perhaps the rage muted the pain.
At the peak of his jump, the missiles struck him. Fire and acid splashed his body, yet Finn slid endured no more than a singed beard. He burst from the twin explosions and chopped down on a merc in front of him. It was not a pretty swing, just a savage blow that split the man in two. Gunfire popped all around. Finn ignored it, stepping to the side and chopping the legs out from under a man, then leaping onto the next, smashing his fist into the merc’s face and riding him to the ground.
Stronger than he had any right to be, Finn embodied the battle, a blur rendering severed limbs and unleashing animalistic roars. At one point, he pulled someone’s arm off and used it as a club, limb in one hand, Fragar in the other.
Trapped inside his own mind while a demon used his body, Finn knew the rage kept him alive. Being this far in the bloodlust was dangerous. Other berserkers got lost in the rage, having to be put down, unable to return from the madness.
Finn recited a mantra. “The rage is in me, but it does not control me.” He said it over and over as he slaughtered his enemies. A knife sunk into his thigh. He grabbed the stabber’s head in one hand and threw him into another merc, sending them both rolling down a hill. He pulled the knife from his leg and threw it into a third man’s chest.
Finn screamed his mantra as he wrenched a rifle from someone, smashing the butt end into the man’s neck and breaking his spine.
“The rage is in me, but it does not control me!”
He’d killed at least ten. A dozen still remained, yet several tripped over the dead in their haste to get away from the screaming dwarf. He chased them down and sent them on their way to whatever afterlife would take them.
A set of fireballs hit Finn in the chest. They were as ineffective as the last. He turned and saw the caster had put some distance between them and was forming another set of spells. Finn dropped to one knee, planting the palm of his hand on the ground, and reached for his magic.
To his surprise, it was there.
“Spìc cloiche.”
Two factions warred for dominance of his mind. In the end, a spike of stone shot up at an angle and pierced the caster through the heart.
Finn had done it. He had cast a spell while in a full rage. It was a battle, yes, but he had won.
Spinning, he spied five mercs left, three pointing guns at him, two running down the hill, their weapons abandoned. Finn faced off with the three. He growled and tightened his grip on Fragar, then charged, kicking up snow and covering the distance as they opened fire while backpedaling. Most of the shots went wide, although one hit him in the thigh and another below his ribs on his side.
Finn threw Fragar at one of them, then dove onto the second, pressing his palm to the man’s face. “Gunna salainn.”
A blast of rock salt shot from his palm and tore through the man’s skull.
The third man fell backward to get away. He pulled the trigger. The gun clicked empty, and he scrambled to change out the magazine.
Finn pulled a knife from the belt of the man he’d just killed and threw it. It stuck into the last living man’s chest, and he became still.
Finn retrieved Fragar, then stumbled on his injured
leg. He dare not let the rage recede, not yet. The pain would cripple him, so he stoked the fire while controlling his breathing. A wash of energy gave him the ability to break into a stumbling jog down the hill.
He was a dozen yards from the ice when he stopped and leaned on a tree. He took a second to catch his breath and fix his hold on his rage. Then he looked up, and his heart skipped a beat. Out on the ice, Hellena, her black aura roiling off her pale skin, her delicate face twisted in a snarling visage, held someone by the front of their coat.
Mila. Her limp body like a ragdoll.
Beyond the Dark Star, Finn spotted Danica, her skin and unmistakable hair like white marble, cradling her arm to her chest. An arm that ended at the elbow. Shards of stone were scattered across the ice, along with two bodies that looked like they’d smashed against a wall at high velocity.
“The game is over, Finnegan!” Hellena’s voice carried in the still afternoon air. “Come out now, and I won't rip your little friend’s head from her shoulders!”
Chapter Thirty
Penny landed on Finn’s shoulder.
“Chi! Shir, shee,” she started, then placed a hand on his temple to help tame his rage.
He gently pulled her hand away. “I’m fine. I have it under control,” he said, staring at Mila’s limp body. “Did the twins get back yet?”
Penny pointed, and he looked to see Regan’s and Ronan’s heads peeking out of the hut. Between them was the three-foot-long canister containing the fuel rod.
“They got it.” He gave a grim smile.
“Chi.” Penny gazed at the Dark Star and their two injured friends. “Squee shir?”
Finn thought for a second. “I have to go out there, but we can't let her have the Anthem. Go to the shed and overload the rod. Drop it down the hole. Then, you and the twins make a run for it. I’ll get Mila and Danica.”