My foot tapped nervously against the ground. I shoved my fists deeper into the pockets of Loken’s jacket.
I jumped in surprise as a series of beeps issued from Loken’s comm at my waistband. The numbers on the main screen blinked red, no longer a solid readout. The time counted down from fifteen minutes. My stomach lurched, and I fought hard to keep my breathing steady.
It was clear to me now how Ethereals were the most powerful practitioners. I didn’t need to manipulate any other element. I could open up the ground and crush any Mage who attacked, just like that blonde Mover had done when we’d killed the female Mage. The ground was made as much from ether as it was from dirt. The same went for water, fire, and the other elements too. I could kill every one of these Mages, and I wouldn’t even break a sweat.
I’d do it for Rey. It would mean never seeing him again if I succeeded and the rewind got called off. But that was a sacrifice Rey would have happily made. In fact, he had made that sacrifice.
Lined up facing north, the practitioners segmented in groups, each staying near its transport. My gaze darted to one group as they all piled back into their vehicle, zipped out of sight, and returned a minute later.
Then another group of practitioners did the same thing. Followed by another. Each time a group of practitioners arrived back in the area and exited their vehicle, they grew more and more restless, pacing and glaring at one another.
My eyes narrowed as I watched this process. What are they doing?
The people near me moved toward our transport. I rushed to join them, since I had to look like I knew as much as they did. I couldn’t bring attention to myself.
We zipped in a wide circle around the Council building. Everyone’s face pressed to a window. When we arrived back, we piled out and took our positions back on the hill. The cluster of practitioners to our right moved toward their own vehicle for their turn.
That’s when it hit me: They don’t know if or where the Mages will show.
This was just one of their best guesses. Loken had said the practitioners would be split into three groups. The other two clusters of transports must have stopped elsewhere, in case the Mages reached their positions first. The practitioners in my group waited here, while scouts—the ones who took turns circling—searched the area just in case the Mages managed a different route to the Council.
I grew more restless as each minute passed. My gaze darted across the horizon, first to the east, then to the west. I turned a circle and examined the southern horizon as well. As each transport returned from its trip around the Council building, my stress level rose. To get my mind off the anxiety, for just a moment, I imagined the way Loken had looked this morning, his solid body naked and resting on the cot.
Forgive me, I asked silently. If we get through this.
I wondered what he’d say if he were here with me, as I waited to put myself on the front lines. That was easy; he wouldn’t say anything. He’d toss me over his shoulder and march me back to my cell or somewhere else that he deemed safe. But if he didn’t do that . . . he’d remind me of all the information on Mages that he’d taught me. Remove the head, or permanently incapacitate. Distract. Run.
At the end of the day, a Mage will always be attracted to the most powerful thing in the area, Loken had said.
A smile tugged at my cheeks.
While all these people were worried about where the Mages would show up, and whether they’d be able to stop them from getting to the Council before the ritual was complete, I knew for certain that the Mages would come straight to us. I was a Mage-magnet. All I had to do was wait.
They’d come to me.
I blinked.
When I opened my eyes again, four Mages had rushed the west side of our line. Breathers—moving so quickly they looked like a blur of skin colors. The other, non-Breather Mages wouldn’t be far behind. I was positioned closer to the east side of the line. Before I could react, two practitioners dropped to the ground. One jumped back up into a fighting stance. The other lay still.
The Mages stayed in almost constant motion, blurring in one direction and then the other, stopping every couple seconds to strike blows. The practitioners, with their swords and their elemental talents, fought back. But they took damages in the process. Another practitioner fell and stopped moving.
Bloody wounds opened up on the limbs of those still standing to the west side of the line. My ears roared with the sounds of fire and flood, which slowed the Breather Mages in their progress—in their progress toward me.
My eyes followed the largest Mage, who weaved through the other practitioners in a blur. He was older, more focused. The other practitioners didn’t distract him.
I drew the sword from Loken’s weapons belt and held it in front of me. Each time the Mage stopped moving for an instant, his black eyes bored into me. He flashed over to my right. I twisted around to face him. Before I’d planted my feet, he stood on my left again. He moved closer every time he blurred into motion. Holding the sword, my hand itched to strike.
The big Mage appeared directly in front of me. My first thought was recognition; he was the largest one from the basement. My second thought was pain.
His arm struck outward, and an impact cracked into my chest. I rose into the air and flew backward. My grip on the sword released. My teeth clacked together as my body slammed into something solid. Pain bit into my back. I slumped against the trunk of the tree I’d hit. Colored spots danced in my vision.
My hood fell away from my face, but I couldn’t be bothered to cover up again. I struggled to keep my eyes open. If I passed out for even a second, this Mage would tear me to pieces. A second would be too long.
I scrambled to my feet, clenching my teeth as my back scraped against the tree trunk. He appeared in front of me again, trapping me between himself and the tree. His hand shot out and gripped my shoulder. His thumb pressed into the soft nook above my collarbone. A shriek tore up my throat.
I slammed the palm of my hand upward into the lower part of his arm, trying to dislodge his grip, but his fingers pressed harder. The colored spots swam faster through my vision. I smashed both fists into the sides of his face. He didn’t flinch. His soulless eyes glared. The eyelids drooped like he was almost bored. I slammed his head again.
I sensed the movement before it actually happened, and twisted myself toward his death grip on my shoulder. I cried out as my movement pressed his fingers deeper into my neck. But it was worth it. Where my head had been less than a second before, the Mage’s other fist crashed into the tree trunk. Bark sprayed outward. A fleck of it stung my eye.
Gritting my teeth against the pain, I twisted further into his grip. The sound of fingers cracking popped in my ear, and his grip loosened. I ducked beneath his arms to escape the trap between him and the tree.
I spotted Loken’s sword, just outside the main cluster of the battle, fifteen feet away. After only a few steps, I knew it was mistake to head toward it. I couldn’t outrun a Breather.
Before I could develop another plan, my legs were swept from under me, and I tilted toward the ground. My hands shot out to catch me, but my elbow collapsed as I hit. My forehead bounced off the dirt. An ache bloomed and spread to the back of my skull.
The Mage twisted me around and pinned my arms at my sides with his knees. My head throbbed. I shouted, wriggling my body to try to free my arms. I refused to look into those black eyes staring down at me.
Why aren’t I dead yet?
The Mage pressed his hand against my chest. A burn traveled from his palm through my body. My breath caught in my throat, and immediately, sweat flowed from my forehead.
“Gods, help me,” I muttered. I didn’t want to die like this. I wrenched one of my arms from under me. Guided by some unseen force, my hand floated upward to the Mage’s chest. A still calm flooded through me. Quiet. Peace. Stop the pain. The Mage’s body exploded into a million particles of blue dust. They scattered to the ground and floated away on the wind.
For a moment I lay still, wide-eyed, my hand still raised in the air to the place where I’d touched the Mage.
I jumped to my feet. The world tilted beneath me at first. I felt weaker after my tangle with him. I blinked a couple times, shook my head to clear it, and the world righted again. The pounding in my head cleared. The sword lay on the ground to my left. I swept it up.
More Mages had joined us by then. Bodies lay scattered on the ground, most having faces I recognized—dead practitioners. A few of the bodies, headless ones, were oversized. Black pools filled the eye sockets of separated heads—dead Mages.
More practitioner bodies littered the ground than Mage bodies, but the numbers of the living were now close to even on the two sides. Soon, more practitioners would die, and the remaining few would be overwhelmed by these Mages.
I ran to what looked like the center of the fight, swinging my sword at a Mage’s head on my way. As I raced past, the head toppled to the ground. The body slumped next to it.
The Mages reeked of energy. It was easy to pinpoint them among the others. I threw ether balls into the battle around me. I spun in a circle, shooting ether as quickly as I could generate more energy at my hands. Each strike landed its mark. But my attacks were too weak. I didn’t have enough time to recharge in between.
I had to do this right. I had to move quickly. There could be no more avoidable deaths. No one else’s best friend would die today. Too many had died already.
Each ether ball did no more than push its Mage target back. But that would work for now, so I kept up the attacks. I hit them over and over, pushing them back.
As I struck, the Mages moved outward, toward the edge of the battle. They separated from the practitioners. They moved until they stood in a wide circle—and we were trapped in the center.