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Mistwing tried to twist her head and the rebound from the web nearly snapped her neck. A thrill of fear made her pulse pound behind her eyes, but she needed to check where the spider had taken Ace. The drakking bustwing had dragged him somewhere but it was hard to see. Her eyes stung and it wasn’t the web this time.
It was impossible to stop weeping but she needed to. Ace was still alive. He had to be. She couldn’t be useless and lost in grief when her love was in danger. She stopped the tears.
Fury surged to replace them.
Her eyes burned again but this time the spider became clear. It was a dark red shape, safe within its carapace, while the only vulnerable spots her battle sight highlighted were its eyes and leg joints. Ace lay sprawled at its feet and was far easier to see than the tank looming over him. He was an exploded firework of colorful organs, bones, and vital tissue. His blood gleamed like sunset but was spreading like the rising sun.
Mistwing made another mighty effort. She stamped her grief into the background and regained control of her temper. She had to stay calm. Going feral in a trap this strong would break her. Even a Beserk couldn’t escape such a web.
The enemy reared above Ace with its fangs clashing and Mistwing screamed. She didn’t mean to, but it was the only action she could take. She couldn’t just hang there while Ace was ...
She shrieked again—a piercing cry powered by grief and fury—and the spider hesitated. It took an uncertain step back, wrenching its hook free from Ace’s shoulder.
The splintering of bone carried over Mistwing’s roar. Her cry cut off as if her vocal cords had been severed. Tears threatened her sight again. She furiously blinked them away, tearing skin from her working eyelid when the web tried to pull tighter.
Ace didn’t make a sound, but somehow began inching toward her. He bent a leg far enough to push himself out from under the spider, so he was conscious and still had a fighting chance. Misty’s fronds were as trapped as the rest of her, but she tried to merge with her love’s mind anyway. She flung her thoughts out, desperate to share her strength with him, but nothing happened.
Drak you, Zak she thought bitterly, but had to admit that was unfair. He wasn’t the one who’d stopped being Together. This was her fault. In truth she’d never wanted to meld with their taciturn brother, and she’d never made it easy. She’d just wanted Ace.
Who was about to die.
The spider reared up again and Ace twisted onto his back. A knife appeared in his left hand. The monster jumped and he struck up at it, but the blade merely scored the black hide, before sliding off. This time Misty’s scream was silent. Something splintered deep inside. The chamber was utterly quiet while the spider settled over Ace in slow motion. It pressed its body across its prey to hold him in place and began biting.
This time, it was Ace who shrieked.
More blood flowed from his neck to spread across the rocky floor like grasping fingers. Misty sobbed, even when her eyes burned and the blood on the ground turned to silver streams. She twisted then arched and heard something snap.
It wasn’t the web.
She sobbed and shards of glass stabbed her lungs. Her ribs felt shattered. The world turned from silver to a dull haze of black and gray. She fixed her cold despairing gaze on Ace. Unable to look away.
All Mistwing could do was watch him bleed out.
That growing pool of red was the only color in an impossibly bleak world. Even her pain seemed to be leaching away. The spider stalked around him to stop on the far side. It looked up at her, staring hungrily as if somehow feeding on her too. Then it ducked its head to slice Jace’s neck once more, knowing she had a clear view of the fresh gash across his throat.
The monster started sucking.
Jace jerked his legs. He kicked feebly. Once ... twice ... that was all. Then he flopped limp and empty, his body jerking like a ragdoll, while the monster fed.
“No,” Misty protested, but her scream had become a whisper. She felt as flat and drained as her love. She was lost. She closed her eyes.
No, Mistwing told herself and she meant it.
She had conflicting responsibilities, but she had to learn to cope with that. She couldn’t afford to let the web break her body, yet she wouldn’t let it break her spirit either. She began to tense her muscles, slow and steady. Letting the power build but keeping it under control.
Something moved in the shadows behind the spider.
There was a whisper of sound and then a harpoon flashed from the dark. It skewered the spider, throwing it forward past Ace and onto its face. It gave a hissing cry and struggled to rise, pushing its body upward, but another spider-spear took it through the abdomen. It collapsed and silence returned.
Misty blinked. Her heart managed a beat. One ... two ... and then it was pounding.
Were the bustwings killing each other? A figure appeared from the depths of the cave, and she pushed harder against the web holding her. Pain made her whimper because there was still no hint of her berserker fire. She needed it right now, at her beck and call, not the other way round.
Gods drakkit. What sort of useless mother was she going to be?
Her eyes heated and the pain faded. The world started to slip to silver, but she held it there with a hint of color remaining. She braced her left leg and powered forward. What should have been a head-high kick was little more than a twitch, but the web moved too. It shifted before her targeted effort. A single strand pinged free.
Something crunched in Misty’s ankle when she drew her leg back again. She smiled over clenched teeth and the berserk frenzy she held fast inside helped. She could survive breaking a few more bones.
“Stop it,” a voice ordered from the darkness when Misty tensed to kick again. “Are you trying to kill yourself?”
She paused and squinted past flashes of pain. A wavering figure appeared. It seemed to be someone jogging. The stranger closed on her rapidly and she blinked again. A small stranger. Well, technically taller than she was, but clearly a child.
A boy trotted up to the web and frowned at her. He was panting and dragging a sack full of dismembered spider-harpoons and legs.
Misty glared back and his eyebrows shot up before his expression morphed into a dimpled smile. “Greetings,” he said. “I’m Haze and the bossy one with the good aim is Zak. We’ll be your rescuers today.”
“Get on with it, Haze,” a familiar voice called, and the boy dropped his bag of makeshift weapons. He pulled a serrated leg from it to begin sawing at the web around Misty.
“Thanks,” she rasped, but her attention was on the still form lying where the shadows swallowed most of the light. Ace didn’t move, and his blood was no longer flowing. Misty’s heart stopped again. There was no air and darkness grew around the edge of her vision.
The shadows stirred when another figure crouched beside her love. She saw the glow of a med field and her pulse was abruptly back. It truly was Zak, and he was helping. Thank the Seven-made-One.
Misty’s head fell forward. She swayed with the web while the boy sawed at it. One of her fronds sprang free and she jerked it forward at once, reaching for Ace’s mind.
There was nothing.
Misty braced herself to fight against panic but realized she didn’t need to. She felt more hopeful than terrified, and the source of her hope was obvious. It seemed that, at least when it came to saving Ace, she had a shocking amount of faith in Zak.
Me ... too.
The mind touch was so faint Misty almost missed it. Almost, but not quite. The familiar sense of Ace settled in her heart. She sent back a frond touch in acknowledgement but nothing more. She closed her stinging eyes and banished any tears with a surge of irritation.
She so didn’t need this. The fighting and dying were fine, but the heartache and worry were a bridge too far. She was going to give Ace hail when he recovered.
Misty fell. She arced free of the web and landed on her face.
Fortunately, the kid had dropped a med bed, so she felt more smothered than hurt. A hand patted her shoulder and she grunted. The hand pulled back fast, so its owner was a good interpreter. The world was briefly a soft and welcoming place. She hated it but lay there anyway. Glowering and struggling to breathe.
An extra med field was slapped onto her ribs like ... well, like a kick in the broken ribs. Misty lifted her head to glare at the teen crouched beside her. He flipped his hair to one side and smiled back.
“In case you were distracted by the giant spider and general mayhem, I’m Haze,” he said. “H-A-Z-E. You can find me at Rescuers-R-Us. All tips are welcome.”
“Don’t piss off Beserks.”
Haze blinked but his smile widened. “A good tip. Add a thousand credits and I’ll consider us even.”
Misty growled and dropped her face back into the med bed. “How’s my idiot fiancé?”
Haze gripped her shoulder again and she felt a pulse of [sympathy, encouragement] He’s still critical, but he’s tough and Zak’s the best. He’ll make it.
Misty was off the healing pad before Haze could add another thought. She staggered and the youngster braced himself under her arm. He offered support instead of trying to stop her, so he was a smart boy.
That walk into the shadows should have been agony. If she’d let her body have a vote it would have been, but Ace was alive and needed her. Her sad shuffle felt like flying. Every aching step was powered on by the growing strength of Ace’s mind. By the time she dropped to his side his eyes were open.
You look stunning, his mind whispered.
I think you mean stunned. Are you sure you’re not brain damaged?
He managed a goofy Ace grin. No more than usual. [delight, adoration]
He didn’t ask Misty how she was, so his brain was clearly working well enough. She almost relaxed.
“Can I help?” someone rumbled beside Mistwing.
Every part of her tensed up again but she refused to wince at the resulting pain. She glanced up at Zak instead and dipped her head once. She wasn’t sure whether her gesture was simple acknowledgement of what he was doing for Ace, or permission to do the same to her. Zak took it as both and pressed strong hands to the dressings around her torso.
Fortunately, her stupid body agreed with his assessment of her willingness and didn’t kill him. She snuck another look while he was busy. He looked as strong as ever. She amended her previous thought slightly. At least her stupid body didn’t try to kill him.
“Your ribs are a mess,” he murmured while his fingers walked through the med field, along with his mind. This time, nothing hurt, except the shame of needing help. Zak’s help. “Why did you fight the web?” he mused. “All this could have been avoided.”
And there it was. The overpowering urge to kill Zakareon. How long had it taken? The passing of four comments? Well, at least Mistwing was improving there, but she still had to grit her teeth to keep from going berserk.
“Now you find some self-control,” Zak murmured.
A strangled noise escaped Mistwing, but she didn’t dare relax her jaw enough for words. Zak knew that, curse him.
Warmth spread through her chest, and she realized it didn’t hurt to breathe. Her anger melded into some strange amalgam of resentment and gratitude. Why was the world’s best surgeon so incredibly painful? He was a cure that felt worse than the disease.
The boy ... Haze ... chuckled so Mistwing directed some silver his way. He stopped laughing at once, which was gratifying. She must be looking better. She took the risk of checking on Ace. He was sleeping with his eyes closed and his frond bristles tucked loosely around their main strands. That man could sleep through anything.
Mistwing realized she was smiling. Fondly! Her hair twisted in shame. She hoped Zak hadn’t noticed it writhing. She glanced his way to check.
“DON’T.” Her hand flashed out to grab Zak’s wrist and hold it fast. Too late.
Misty had stopped his com, but his mind had already moved further down to complete a scan of her body. He sat back on his heels and studied her solemnly. Drakkit. He knew.
Zak nodded and looked pointedly toward Ace. Panic clawed at Mistwing’s throat, but she kept it from her face. Hopefully, she looked calm, collected and totally sane. Her fingers tightened on Zak’s wrist. Don’t tell him. Please.
He nodded at once while his fronds underlined his commitment to Mistwing’s secret. She was his patient, so her privacy was guaranteed. She sagged back like a spider-meal drained dry.
It would all be fine. Somehow. Her eyes felt impossibly heavy, so she let them close. After that everything was quiet for a long time.