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AN IMPRESSIVE CREATION, the stolid barrier that protected the entrance to the dungeons. Pellus hovered at the edge of the battlefield assessing its structure, two layers of tightly knit polymers, their glowing green surfaces dulled by the ample particulate matter to be found in the Wasteland’s sand-filled air.
Polymers. A Borosen trademark. A way to trick the warriors into wasting their energy by pushing against the barrier, thinking that because it gives it will eventually break.
Intense ultraviolet light would render any polymer brittle, even one with this level of redundancy, but Pellus did not want to announce himself just yet. No one had detected him, even though he could not hide from the adepts. He suspected they simply were not looking.
When the adepts realize I am here, I must be somewhere beyond the reach of the enemy fighters so I will not have to expend energy protecting myself from them.
In a Guardian-blessed twist of fate, whatever astonishing thing the Stream had become since Barakiel’s return was generating an unusually high number of rifts. Pellus passed within and soon emerged among the red-rock cliffs above the dungeons. Tender leaves of hope pushed through his anxiety when he saw Barakiel and Zan slowly but surely cutting down adversaries on their way toward the first defensive line. Higher up in the cliffs, Remiel’s warriors crouched hidden. He located their energy signatures and thanked the Guardians the adepts had not detected them, focused outward as they were. He decided not to conceal the warriors now, given that in a pulse or two the adepts would be busy with the struggle to maintain the barrier. Balance willing, he would soon be following these patient fighters into the dungeons to join Barakiel in his search for Jeduthan.
The Wasteland Dungeons were carved into the face of the mountain known as Guardians’ Keep. Pellus spied a jutting rock below him, about fifteen swordspans above the section that framed the door. He jumped, thickening the air around him to gently land on the promontory.
All right, Borosen. The time has come for me to crack your polymer to pieces.
Thanks to the frenetic rift activity induced by the Stream, Pellus had plenty of ultraviolet light at his disposal. He surrounded the electromagnetic waves with his own wave, gathering, concentrating, and directing the light. With a searing flash, he released the light up and down the first layer of the barrier, heating the bonds of Borosen’s polymer, making them contract and grow brittle. With an exuberant flourish that had been missing from his labors of late, Pellus tamed the wind with his wave, pounding forceful gusts into the now fragile barrier layer, which cracked and then crumbled.
When it had fallen, he dispersed the detritus with an arc of electricity. Fluorescent green sparks fanned up and over the front of the dungeons, making their imposing thickness seem almost festive. Breathing the relief of his success, Pellus set to work on the second layer of the barrier as he fended off the other adept’s efforts to reconstruct what he had just destroyed. Thus far, only Borosen worked against him, but he did not think that would be the case for long. He needed to avoid an attack, but the chaotic Stream, the thick soundwaves of the grunts and clangs of battle, not to mention the particles comprising the ghastly odors of death, made it hard to sift through all the quantum noise to identify danger.
Sure enough, when he had nearly succeeded in destroying the second layer of the barrier, gamma rays shot toward him like a gang of venomous serpents. If they engulfed him, he would not die because he could shield his cells from the effects, but it would weaken him. He could not afford it. If another adept joined the fray with him in a weakened state, they would succeed in taking him out of the fight.
Nicely played, Borosen, to attack me with photons after I used them to destroy your polymers, but you will not prevent our rescue of Jeduthan. If I survive this day, I will kill you for your complicity in her suffering.
Pellus reached up then swept down, using the magnetic force of the jagged stone above him to misdirect the radiation. He pushed the gamma rays toward the warriors below him, who were, of course, impervious to their destructive penetrations. By this time, Borosen had reconstructed the first layer of the barrier, and judging by the speed with which he had done it, another adept had joined him, making this turn much more perilous for Pellus.
Demon take you, Borosen, and every other adept performing in service of the usurper. I had thought we were all made of nobler stuff.
So began the cycle of the deconstructed and reconstructed layers of barriers and volleys of quantum attacks from both sides. Pellus was outnumbered, but he remembered what Barakiel had said to him, which bolstered his fierce concentration.
You are the adept who imposed his will on Destruction.
While Pellus knew he helped Remiel’s warriors by keeping the adepts occupied—these cowardly adepts would not hesitate to violate Covalent Law by helping Abraxos’ troops in battle—it was maddening nonetheless, to spin his wheels while his mate might have a blade at her throat. His frustration eased a bit when he noticed Barakiel and Zan had penetrated the first defensive line, and then even more when the two of them shot off like a comet to weaken the same line so Remiel’s fighters could push through as well. Pellus could not spare much attention to see how they had done it, but he saw the resulting surge.
They have nearly punched through. It is working!
In response, Borosen and his helper applied themselves to the barrier with renewed vigor. Pellus spewed a rare string of expletives as he saw Barakiel and Zan close in on the wall of polymers. The plan had called for Pellus to eliminate it by this time so that Barakiel could signal the warriors waiting in the cliffs to storm the dungeons. All Pellus could do was try again as Barakiel slaughtered so many enemy fighters that those who remained fled to the shelter of the larger force. In a moment of calm, Barakiel raised the shining blue fire of his sword and called down the forces waiting among the cliffs. Then, to Pellus’ astonishment—and the terror of the other adepts, he was sure—the warrior who had vanquished Lucifer absorbed the energy of that huge wall of quantum power in no more time than it would take to guzzle a flagon of brunic ale.
In a few moments more, the dungeons’ enormous doors lay in the dirt as Remiel’s fighters streamed down the rock face on either side of Pellus, chanting Barakiel’s name and roaring with bloodlust, eager to finally join the fray.
Thrilled to his core, it took every shred of Pellus’ self-control to not abandon his post and follow Barakiel into the maw of the dungeons, but Remiel’s main force had not penetrated far enough beyond the first defensive line and he could not allow that barrier to go back up. The best way to ensure Jeduthan’s escape was for Commander Remiel and her fighters to reach the entranceway. So, he clenched his fists and braced himself for the onslaught from the enemy adepts. He honed his concentration, determined to stop them from reconstructing their wall of polymers.
On and on it went. Borosen and company would partially rebuild, Pellus would shatter, buckle, or topple, ever attacking them with new configurations, ever fending off assaults of radiation, wind, debris, electricity. In the heavy gravity and the brutal cold, Pellus grew weary, but he pushed his fatigue away with a rhythmic repetition, words in his head like a human mantra.
Save her Barakiel. If ever you loved me.