by Jim Stein
“I told you not to touch it with magic!” Manfred yelled though gritted teeth.
Crap! My last spell had grazed the doorjamb as I was thrown through. The elemental rose up—and up—until it topped the buildings to either side. Those golden eyes turned on me, and it looked angry.
29. Quinn’s Peril
“W
HY ARE they so angry?” Quinn handed the binoculars back to Shawn.
“Hungry,” Shawn said as he studied the scene below.
Quinn didn’t like how this engagement was going. So far, the Brights kept the Grims at bay using illusions and nasty traps set up on the first floor of the hostel. But now the street filled with these horrible little people.
At first she thought they were forest sprites, but they carried short spears and dressed only in loincloths—even the females! The Grims retreated to the end of the block. She didn’t blame them. The newcomers fell on the first few Grims unfortunate enough to go down in snare traps along the alleyway. The traps weren’t deadly, but the swarm of dwarves were. Their vantage on the building’s roof let them see entirely too much. Shawn was right; they were eating the fallen Grims.
“Have Trinity get the smokers ready,” Quinn called over her shoulder. “We can’t let this mob inside.”
A young girl standing with Anna nodded before darting down the steps. Smoking was another little trick from the weaker Brights that worked with Fire. They’d discovered it trying for fireballs when a few only managed anemic little flames that coughed and sputtered. But the flames didn’t snuff out like normal fire. The thick billowing smoke drove everyone out of the practice area with eyes streaming. Quinn couldn’t imagine the enemy rushing past smokers without sacrificing a lung or two.
“When the smoke runs out—” A sort of psychic roar cut her short.
The oily dark pressure lasted only a second. Everyone looked to the center of the ruins. Fading sunlight glinted off exposed metal girders of the tallest buildings. She turned away just as dust plumed up between two distant structures. Quinn grabbed the binoculars from Shawn, but saw only clouds rising in front of the brickwork parapets. Then the top of a new building rose into view. It was of rough-hewn stone with a rounded roof and gold spiral eyes.
“That’s impossible.” Quinn scrubbed her face, but the massive head stood clearly visible in the dwindling light.
“What the hell?” Anna stepped to the railing, eyes wide.
“You both see it?”
Shawn and Anna nodded. At least she wasn’t going insane. Anna shrieked and slammed against the waist-high railing. Shawn grabbed the girl as her top half pitched over the rail. She fought him, trying to jump—except she clutched the iron railing in a death grip. Shawn wrapped his arms around her waist and heaved, straining to pull her back onto the roof.
The shadowy cord of energy they followed to the bronze door pulled tight at the girl’s chest. Darker than ever before, the binding hummed like an over-taut bass string. Then it snapped, tearing a scream from Anna as she and Shawn flew backward onto their asses.
The severed cord whipped at Quinn. A cold knife sank through her chest; icy fingers clenched above her heart. She staggered and reached for Spirit to push the thing away. The slamming beat of Chevelle’s “Take out the Gunman” rose to forge the magic into a brutal strike and—faltered. The power swelled, refused to merge with her music, and drained away.
“No!” She clawed at the shadow cord snaking from her chest, but the magic disappeared down its length.
“What’s wrong?” Shawn untangled himself from Anna in time to catch Quinn as she staggered.
“Get me inside, quick! Don’t let me leave.”
The pull goaded her toward the ruins. She released the song as Shawn dragged her down the stairs. Her Spirit energy sank back, the binding only having sipped of her essence. The pull and compulsion eased, but the ghost of that binding cord twisted away to disappear into the cracked wall of the apartment they used for planning. The cozy living room was too hot, its walls too close. Quinn gulped down honey-thick air as shivers took hold.
The witch had used compulsion, greasy fingers in Quinn’s head twisting reality and making her obey. So similar to the icy hand now clutching her heart. Quinn clawed at her top, nails passing through the shadow to rake her skin. Not again—she couldn’t.
“Oh sweetie, I know.” Anna’s hand felt small and warm on her back. “It’s like a cold cancer. Here, drink.”
A glass pushed into her hands. She cupped it and sipped cool water.
“Try to ignore it. We’ll get Max.”
“Sure, and have him tear up a few pygmies on his way in.” Shawn stuck his head into the hall to grab a passing Bright. “Tell us the moment the smokers start flagging.”
“Sure thing, boss.” Claude gave the room a haggard wave. “Defenses are getting pretty thin. Trinity says you’re up next.”
“Tell her I’ll be down before the smoke clears.” Shawn glanced back at the couch. “We won’t need water from the firehose. I think it’ll just be me.”
“Trinity says she won’t burn the building down if you promise not to drop it on our heads.” Claude smeared the dirt coating his face around with his right hand.
“She worries too much. Gather the other shakers in the second-floor atrium. I’ll pick them up on my way.”
“You got it.”
Shortly after Shawn left, the room came alive. The blinds clacked and swayed, dishes rattled in the cupboards, and the furniture jumped a foot to the left. Screams erupted from the street. Quinn slipped out from beneath Anna, relinquishing the couch to the sleeping Bright. The girl was exhausted by her ordeal and barely stirred as the building continued to shake like a wet dog.
The hallway smelled of burnt rubber, the stairwell even more so. Quinn plodded on, gaining speed as she negotiated the swaying steps. She swung around the next corner, taking them two at a time, gravity and a burning need pulling her down ever faster.
Time was short. She had to get there soon. Why remained fuzzy as she hit the first-floor fire doors. Clutching in her chest…something dreadful awaited if she didn’t hurry. She blinked into the setting sun and stumbled toward the plume of dust rising from the ruins.
***
“Get them out!” Manfred took a determined step toward the giant.
I herded the Brights across the intersection to get them clear of falling debris. Old cement and rusting metal crashed to the ground around boulder knees. If it stood up fully…a crash drew my eyes upward. The guardian’s shoulder sank into the building on its left. Glass and bricks rained down, an avalanche tearing strips from the face of the old bank.
A bronze circlet anchored to the granite brow with rivets gleamed above eyes bright with anger. A similar band encircled the thick neck. I sneezed and coughed as dust coated my throat.
“Why are you still here? Get moving.” The cascade of rubble forced Manfred back to where I stood gawking at the creature. The key smoked in his outstretched hand.
“Those bands…” My magic hadn’t enraged the guardian. It had activated the bronze collars. “I think I can quiet them.”
“Don’t you dare!” Manfred couldn’t take his attention from the key long enough to do more than curse as I reached out with my senses.
I probed the stone and metal high above. The collar and headband clamped down, inflicting incredible pain and punishing the guardian for misusing its power. The agony extended beyond physical. Hot magic pulsed against the elemental’s being, demanding it yield and resume its station. The guardian let out a mental howl of anguish. It clutched at the band around its throat as a bus-sized foot rose from the ground, slammed down, and sent us stumbling backward.
The giant tried to stand. A massive surge of energy burst from its shackles. Such pain. The guardian swayed and crashed back to its knees, knocking the building on the right off its foundation with the brush of a shoulder. The stone and metal fell away in slow motion. Hot, dusty wind had me choking, and I clamped my strea
ming eyes shut against the plume of dirt. So they liked it rough.
I clenched my fist, dredging up the memory of a driving lead guitar. The collars were keyed to Earth magic—negating, controlling, punishing. I focused on the hurt. Crackling Fire wrapped around grungy chords and a snare beat. The rivets drove deep into neck and forehead. There was no way I could remove them all. One on the right of the neck shone brighter than the rest, controlled the others.
The guardian roared again, palms smashing flat and shattering the street surface. I honed the song and Fire into a lance focused on that one link. If they wanted pain, I’d give them “Pain” by Three Days Grace. I kept the spell tight, allowing the flames only one target. Unable to spread, they surged forward eager and hungry. The controlling rivet smoked as the fire roiled in on itself. Rock melted into slag, leaving a gaping hole in the guardian’s neck and exposing a glowing spike the size of a baseball bat. The overheated metal screeched and gave way with a crack. The white-hot spike slid from the collar, bounced down the guardian’s side, and stabbed point first into the intersection.
The pavement melted with the stench of burnt tar. The spike settled deeper and shifted from white to glowing orange as it cooled. I scrambled back from the heat and the rage in those swirling golden eyes. The elemental grasped the headband with its right hand and collar with its left and tore away the restraining devices. Rock splintered away from the metal, raining shards down on the square.
“Shit!” Manfred dropped the blackened key and blew on his hands.
I backed to the Brights, urging everyone to their feet. But the giant didn’t rise, didn’t come at us. Instead, it sank back down. Stone fragments and molten rock dripped from the gaping wounds. The granite chest settled back to again form the hill. That stony face turned to me, eyes sparkling with an intellect I hadn’t noticed. It gave a little nod and sank to its chin. The swirling golden eyes, craggy nose, and mouth faded. The stone smoothed and changed until a plain bronze door once again sat on the hill, though it no longer had bands at top and bottom.
A contented sigh swept down the hill as the guardian’s essence moved beneath our feet and out into the city. Free at last.
“Is it gone?” The young Bright’s dark hair was plastered above wide blue eyes, and I struggled to recall his name.
“Yes, Nate.” I faced the disheveled group we’d rescued. “We should—”
Cindy screamed and pointed behind me. The door stood open and hordes of Teihiihan poured through. We turned and ran, careening down the street toward the bistro. I didn’t have the time or energy to throw a spell over my shoulder. A spear clattered against the wall to my left, and I zigged right after the fact.
Manfred cursed and split away from us. If he’d meant to draw off the pursuit, it didn’t work. The dwarves ignored him. Another spear skewered the rusting heap of a car ahead of us, but most of our pursuers kept hold of their weapons. They needed us alive.
The first six through the door were fast and ran a block ahead of the main force. I turned with baton raised, determined to buy my slower group time. A black-clad figure shot from the alley behind our pursuers and slammed a knife into the slowest. The dwarf crumpled to the pavement, and Manfred danced over it to close with the next dwarf. Seconds later, the road manager rejoined us, leaving six small bodies in his wake.
“Manfred…” I gaped at his blood-spattered clothes. “…Manny, thanks.”
“Time for that later. Move!”
The Brights didn’t take much encouragement. Nate darted on and we all followed. Darkness closed in hard. Everyone stumbled and tripped as we moved. Lights from the strip gleamed three blocks ahead, but slapping feet closed in from behind.
“We can’t lead these things to the hostel.” I clutched my side. The drain on my magic had me panting as we ran.
“You want to stand and fight?” Manny shook his head. “I can’t handle that many.”
At least a dozen dwarves trailed us down the last straightaway, and more continued to pour around the last corner.
“Not sure if I can dredge up a spell, but we’re out of options. Nate, head for the hostel when we hit Main Street. We need reinforcements.”
“You got…” Nate slowed to a stop, which forced us into a milling cluster.
I jogged around to the front, Manny at my side. Nate stared at the lights ahead. Small figures swarmed along the storefronts, spreading out to cover the entire street. Heads bobbed against the light that now seemed so distant.
“How the hell did they get ahead of us?”
“Doesn’t matter. Make for the side street.” Manny pushed us all into action.
Halfway to the oncoming horde, we hit the intersection of Freedom Avenue, according to the reflective lettering of a rusting street sign. We rounded the corner and pulled up short. Hope vanished. More tiny forms rushed from the side. In fact, they poured in from both ends of so-called Freedom Avenue.
“Keep going forward,” Manfred said. “Might as well try for the hostel.”
There were at least as many coming at us from that direction as behind, but I couldn’t argue. If we concentrated on one side, we might break through. I reached for Earth and was rewarded with a knife through my kidneys. I dredged up a pinch of power up and wove it into a battering drumbeat.
“This is it.” I gritted my teeth against the strain of holding the spell. “Magic if you have it. Left side. Don’t stand and fight, just get through and head for the hostel.”
We ran in a tight group with me in front, Manny on the right flank, and keeping the wall of boarded-up stores on our left. The two lead shadows swung to meet our charge, one the outline of a giant wolf, the other a killer dwarf. A fault running between road surface and sidewalk would help focus the shockwave and clear our path.
The wolf came first, a dark outline against the Main Street lights. A small rider brandishing a stubby weapon clung to its back. Teeth gleamed in the shaggy black muzzle, and the tiny rider pulled back his arm and let fly. The knife tumbled end over end toward my face.
I threw my arm up, the blade thudded into my palm, and my fingers closed out of reflex. The knife didn’t hurt as it drove home. In fact, it felt sort of soft and crinkly. I opened my hand and blinked down at…a candy bar?
30. Unlikely Allies
T HE ABSURDITY of being attacked by chocolate barely registered before the wolf slammed into me. My feet tangled, and I went down under the furry mass. Teeth flashed and a big wet tongue slapped my cheek with a wave of familiar dead-fish breath. The tongue darted again catching me between the lips.
“Max!” I sputtered, pushed my exuberant dog aside, and discovered Ralph clung to his neck.
“Hold your fire!” Manny hauled me to my feet.
The mobs coming from Main Street and down Freedom converged on the intersection. Hundreds of small figures watched us with shining eyes—wonderfully green eyes. The forest sprite running alongside my dog had messy dark hair and an emerald tunic. The last time I’d seen him, he had fallen off my roof and barely gotten a scratch.
“Dwain?”
“Pina’s in trouble. She sent little Ralph to find us, but it looks like you could use help too.” He stepped up and put a hand on Ralph’s shoulder, having to stand on tiptoe to reach. The imp grinned from astride his canine steed.
“Ralph talks?”
“Not like the rest of us,” Dwain admitted. “But he has ways.”
“Chitchat later,” Manny said. “Here they come!”
“Let’s go, everyone.” Dwain’s words didn’t sound terribly inspirational, but the sprites surged past us with angry shouts. A few carried weapons: a couple bows held at the ready, knives, and branches. But for the most part, Pina’s people rushed bare handed to meet the vicious dwarves.
“Not you.” I grabbed Max’s collar as the imp urged him to join the charge.
Dwain and the others smashed into the dwarves with shouts and screams. Spear tips glinted and sprites fell. Others danced in close and leveled their weapons.
The action was difficult to follow in the darkness. Nearby sprites spun and twisted, sending dwarves flying. Super strength or not, many didn’t get back up. The forest peoples’ martial arts did considerable damage, but the battle was nowhere near one sided. The front line surged and ebbed as more on each side fell.
“We have them outnumbered.” Dwain appeared by my side, panting and grinning.
I believed him, but the fighters were largely indistinguishable from our vantage point. As if in response to my thought, the streetlamps flickered to life. A taller figure strode toward the knot of undersized combatants. Chestnut hair swayed and shimmered under the meager light.
“Quinn!” I ran to intercept her before she joined the battle.
But she wasn’t here to fight. Her eyes were unfocused, staring into the distance like she was sleep walking. I snapped my fingers under her nose, shook her shoulders, then slapped her. No response.
A spell had hold of her—I was sure of it—but there didn’t seem to be any magic. Quinn’s skin burned hot under my fingers as I pushed her chin left and right looking for clues. She lifted her face and leaned close. Our lips met, lingering and soft, then hungry. Lights came on behind her eyes, and she pulled away as color darkened her coppery cheeks.
“Ed? What are you doing here?”
Quinn turned as she finally noticed the fighting. Dwain gave a wave and nod. He’d fallen back to see to the wounded. A good dozen sprites lay prone. The race was amazingly tough, but several weren’t moving.
“Trying to survive. How are the Brights doing at the hostel?”
“Holding their own…I think. We were on the roof, Anna had an episode, and then we went inside. I don’t remember how I got down here.”
“From the look of things, you walked.” I hesitated, but she deserved to know. “You were in a kind of trance. We’ll talk about it later. Looks like the dwarves are falling back.”