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JEDUTHAN. You are safe. At long last. How I have missed you. Yes, you are safe in Barakiel’s arms. Thank Balance, thank Balance. I cannot hold you, beloved. One last thing to protect you. One last thing before I touch you.
Alarm crowded up against elation as Pellus watched the incredible force of the blast from Zan’s weapon travel through the rock, prying existing fissures wider, weakening the steel trusses that kept the corridors intact and shooting upward to less sturdy portions of the dungeons. Soon, the frenetic energy would reach the bulk of Guardians’ Keep itself. The mountain would shrug and collapse the dungeons if Pellus could not lessen the force of that shockwave, diffuse it somehow. He wanted to feast his eyes on his lovely salt-and-pepper-haired Jeduthan—make sure her scrapes and bruises were minor afflictions—but instead, he kept them fixed on the shockwave, vibrating at a high frequency and shedding incredible heat. Despite his near-constant, arduous work for the last tenth-turn, Pellus was energized like he’d never been before. He could see the peaks of the wave, so close together they almost touched, that buzzing frequency that would shake the stone above to pebbles. With his heart as a vector, he gathered electromagnetic power—slight and near him at first, then stronger and wider, wider, outward like a vast cloak. He sent it upward, toward the blast energy, with as much force as he’d ever pushed. The peaks of his wave clashed with the shockwave at a ninety-degree angle, interfering with its frequency, sending it off in a hundred directions to run along the rock, up and away, until it lost itself in the massive mountain above. The sense-rattling roar faded to a distant rumble, like a summer thunderstorm in the Earthly Realm. Pellus barely heard the jubilant shouts of his friends. Instead, he heard Jeduthan’s soft voice as if she whispered in his ear.
“My brilliant Pellus. I knew you could do it.”
Pellus ran to her, gathered her up, covered her mouth with his own. No one interrupted their kiss despite the urgency of time. When they’d finished, Pellus placed his hands on either side of his mate’s head and gazed into her tearful black eyes. “I love you, Jeduthan.”
“And I love you.”
“Did you suffer, beloved? Are you injured? Weak? Shall I carry you?”
Jeduthan ran her fingers over his lips. “Do not worry. Nothing is wrong with me that some food, warmth, and rest will not fix.”
“Thank all of you for giving us that moment,” Pellus said, leaning with his forehead pressed to his mate’s, gratified by the sniffles and murmurs of joy he heard coming from the assembled company. “Now we must see how it goes on the surface.” He lowered his hand to grab Jeduthan’s and they set off down the damaged corridor at a rapid clip, dodging twisted and hanging bits of steel. He glanced back at Barakiel. “We must find Commander Remiel.”
“Agreed,” Barakiel said. “I will take Zan and exit as quickly as possible. Warriors, thank you for helping my mate, but I will leave you to bring Thanis to safety. Pellus, you should get to the nearest rift and go somewhere beautiful and warm with Jeduthan. You have done enough.”
“What has happened?” Jeduthan asked. She stopped and placed a hand on Pellus’ arm. “Commander Remiel? Did she help rescue me?”
“Yes, beloved. Remiel led a major offensive. Without her and her brave warriors, we would never have made it inside.”
“Another battle? Will it never end?” She squeezed her eyes shut. “And now, all of you act as if you have no time. Why? What do I not know?”
“We expect that Abraxos sent reinforcements from the city as soon as he learned of the attack. By now, they must be nearly here.”
“Then we must stay. You may be needed. We will not abandon the warriors who helped save me.”
Overwhelmed with love and inspired by Jeduthan’s resilience, Pellus seized her in a deep kiss once again. He vaguely heard Barakiel speaking. When he and his mate broke their kiss he raised his head to find Barakiel holding Zan in his arms.
“The sight of you has renewed our purpose, Jeduthan,” Barakiel said. “We will find Remiel and assist her warriors.” With a nod, he and Zan sped off. The three other warriors were left to stand there grinning, one holding the unconscious guild master.
“Are you ready, Pellus, sir?” one warrior asked. “We will protect you on the way out of the dungeons as Barakiel ordered.”
“We do not need your protection,” Pellus said, mounting the first set of stairs and once again holding Jeduthan’s hand. “I believe every prisoner in this section has been wrongfully detained. When we reach the higher levels, I will open all the locks. You must inform the prisoners they are liberated. If they are warriors, tell them to find a weapon. We may need them to fight. Balance willing, you all can escape with Commander Remiel to her remote base.”
“Barakiel will be angry if we do not protect you.”
“I assure you he will see the benefit of your actions. I will tell him. He will listen to me.”
The warrior glanced at his comrades. They shrugged. “Very well, sir.”
The group continued up the stairs, the only sound their steps and heavy breathing. When they reached a level with cell-lined corridors, Pellus concentrated on the locking mechanism of the nearest door.
Thank Balance these doors are simple.
Using pressurized air, he unlocked the first, then the next and the next in rapid succession, the clicks like falling dominos. The warriors ran down the corridor, Thanis in tow, bidding the prisoners emerge from their confinement. Pellus grabbed Jeduthan’s hand again and they resumed their mad dash upward, concealed now, on the off chance enemy fighters or guards still lurked in these halls.
I doubt it. I am sure they fled when the walls began to shake.
Another level, another series of locks, and another and another, all the way to the corpse-strewn rotunda in front of the entranceway. Pellus put his arm around Jeduthan’s shoulders, giving her a moment to compose herself. They had seen many dead warriors as they ascended, but the rotunda was worse and the battlefield outside would be even more horrific. He could hear the warriors below him, rousing the prisoners with admirable efficiency. He kissed his mate and whispered in her ear about the warriors’ progress so she could hold on to something positive. So she would know her imprisonment was not the only reason for the carnage. Pellus then disassembled the molecular structure of the debris in a corner section of the ruined arch. He and Jeduthan picked their way through, a barrier over their heads, just in case.
Once they were out in the twilight, Jeduthan gulped for air and shivered. Pellus immediately enveloped them both in a warm, oxygen-rich cloak and made sure they were still concealed. Jeduthan squeezed his hand, hard, her other hand to her mouth, reacting to the scene before them. Bodies lay everywhere. A miasma of blood, shit and mud hung over the battlefield. The breath of dying warriors created weak clouds of vapor and then was no more. The fighting had moved away from the dungeons, off toward the narrow passage through the russet foothills, the only path to escape for Remiel and her warriors. He heard faint shouts, the clash of swords. He could see the trajectory of a blast from Zan’s weapon in the distance and Barakiel’s energy signal racing back and forth along the line of fighting. Pellus assumed Remiel had given the order to retreat and Abraxos’ warriors were trying to make sure no one escaped.
Good. Perhaps the warriors will escape with Barakiel there to help. If only I could see better what is happening.
“Is it all right, beloved, if we travel through a rift to get a better view of the fighting? I do not want to tax you, with all you have been through.”
“Please do whatever is necessary. Thanks to you, I am warm for the first time in a half-phase.”
They made their way through a rift and emerged on a bluff overlooking the plain. Jeduthan could not choke off her sob. Only about two hundred of Remiel’s warriors remained, many of those wounded. As the decimated forces tried to navigate the narrow passage through the hills, a fresh battalion from the city rushed to cut them off. Pellus did not think their exhausted fighters would make it, even with Barakiel and Zan protecting their rear. They were out of time.
How did Abraxos get so close? What happened to the scouts?
“They will not make it, Pellus,” Jeduthan cried. “What can we do? We must do something!”
“I will attempt a barrier,” Pellus said, but no sooner had the words left his mouth, than he realized another adept was already at work. “Ravellen! It must be. She is nearby, beloved. She is working to block the battalion from the city.”
“Can you help?”
“I must find her.” Pellus had begun to scan for her energy signature when the barrier he had built to protect him and his mate was attacked. He could not survive in the Wasteland unshielded for long. As a scholar, Jeduthan would have even less time, especially given that she’d been weakened by her ordeal. He dropped his search for Ravellen to fend off the efforts of an unseen adept to expose them to the atmosphere, perhaps a new adept who had come with the reinforcements. It did not take long for Borosen, who had fled from the subterranean dungeons for fear of Barakiel, to join in the new adept’s attack.
Guardian save us. What if there is yet another adept just come from the city? I cannot risk Jeduthan’s life. Forgive me, Remiel. I am selfish.
He grabbed his mate and took off toward a rift. Jeduthan knew what he was doing and protested that he must stop, that he had to help the warriors. Though it caused Pellus great pain to defy her, he did not listen. In a pulse or two, they entered the rift.
Ah, to travel with my beloved! To feel this bond like no other, gauzy curtains of lavender and mauve, layer upon layer, an endless vista of warmth, comfort, and belonging, Jeduthan’s wisdom a golden frame, her serenity easing my frazzled mind. How I need you, Jeduthan! How it destroyed me slowly to be parted from you. I have to keep you safe. My heart will not let me do otherwise.
With his mate in his arms, Pellus emerged from the rift in a flash of ultraviolet light, only a half-block from Barakiel’s yard in Philadelphia. They dashed through the gate and then into the house. Jeduthan flopped onto the brown leather couch by the concrete fireplace. She hadn’t said a word since he’d taken them through the rift against her wishes. Pellus fell at her knees, gripped her hand.
“Jeduthan, please do not be angry with me. I could not risk you. Believe me when I tell you I would be immediately useless if anything happened to you.” He searched her face, gratified to see a bit of softness drift into her hard stare. “I judged it better for the warriors if I brought you here. I will return to the Wasteland and apply myself to the cause with singular concentration now that I know you are safe.”
“What will I do here?” she asked.
Pellus pointed to the bathroom door. You remember that chamber, do you not? From our visit during the earthly winter?” She nodded. “You can cleanse yourself and soak in hot water to soothe your chilled muscles.” He pointed to the kitchen cabinets. “You will find food in those containers and in that large metal box. Then you must sleep, for a good long time. Do you remember the chamber we used for sleeping when we were here?”
“I do, beloved. I will tend to myself, but you must go.” She squeezed his hand. “Please help them, Pellus.”
“I will, beloved.”
With that, he was up and out, back through the rift, back to the frigid Wasteland. He’d expected to find a barrier in place, at least partially. He’d hoped that Thanis would have regained consciousness by now, and that they could all work together. Ravellen and Thanis would throw up one barrier to protect the warriors while he occupied the enemy adepts, then he could knit another a little way beyond, while they ran interference. In this way, swordspan by swordspan, they would help the warriors make their escape. Instead, he emerged from the rift to find a scene of mayhem that made his heart sink.
The reinforcements had engaged Remiel’s exhausted warriors, still bottled up in the narrow passage through the foothills. Barakiel had left the rear for the front and hacked his way through the advance lines of the battalion from the city, slaying every vile servant of Abraxos he could as his fearless mate clung to the front of him, covering his blind spots, her blaster set to kill. The escaped warriors from the dungeon now covered the rear, a few hundred of them, but they were not in top fighting form, many still suffering from wounds sustained during the campaign against Lucifer. Many were also weaponless, scavenging among the dead for blades or throwing themselves at enemies to give their armed comrades a better chance. Pellus wanted to cry, to see their heroism.
Along with Barakiel and Zan, the new fighters prevented the decimation of Remiel’s remaining warriors and the noncombatant prisoners who’d been freed. These Covalent huddled together as far away as they could from the bloodletting around them. Pellus did not see how the freed warriors could keep them safe for long. The middle lines of the reinforcements rushed forward, looking to stymie the blinding nexus of speed and power that was Barakiel and his mate. To make matters worse, an adept pummeled them with wind and assailed them with electrical charges. Barakiel was impervious, but Pellus wondered if he could say the same for Zan, even with her suit.
A barrier was imperative. Pellus got to work, surprised when the other adepts did not try to stop him. A few moments later, it was up. The enemy fighters rushed to it, working to absorb it. They would succeed before long, but at least the barrier had bought Remiel’s forces time to regroup. Pellus expelled a long, relieved breath, but felt a pang of nausea when he thought of Ravellen.
Was I able to complete the barrier because they are attacking Ravellen? Balance help me. She must be in no condition to battle multiple adepts.
His heart pounding, Pellus searched for her energy signature. He found her at the edge of a headland above the battle, under attack from not less than four adepts, judging by the phenomena he witnessed. Pellus took off running, interfering with the attacks as well as he could from that distance, not wanting to use the rifts to get close to her for fear that the lost time would spell her demise. His efforts immediately brought relief, but two of the adepts—he could feel they were Borosen and the unknown adept he had already battled in the dungeons—turned their attention to him, and what was worse, his barrier. Pellus did not know how long he could fend them off, even with the infusion of energy he received thanks to Jeduthan’s rescue. Nevertheless, he continued racing toward Ravellen. The enemy adepts had nearly succeeded in eradicating her shield. He could see its golden hexagonal framework coming apart cell by cell, the sound like a transformer exploding.
I must help her. Hold on, Ravellen.
A pulse later, the enemy adepts and the warriors collapsed the barrier Pellus had constructed to protect Remiel’s warriors. He did not begin work on another, still fending off quantum assaults as he tried to shore up Ravellen’s defenses. He could see her now, the pain she suffered clear on her face.
They are through the shield!
Abraxos’ warriors surged toward the remainder of Remiel’s forces, trying to hem them in before they escaped along the right side of the narrow passage through the russet foothills. Barakiel and Zan sped to that side, causing mayhem along the advancing line and slaughtering an admirable number of enemy fighters, Zan’s blaster pounding and sizzling, sending limbs flying. Cheers went up, but they could not hold out indefinitely.
Pellus had to safeguard Ravellen. Together, they could protect the retreating warriors. With a burst of energy, he extended his shield, his arms flung outward as though he were shaking the enemy adepts physically off his back. He worked to deflect the quantum attacks aimed at Ravellen, but he was too late. He watched as the water molecules in her body were broken, vaporized, and carried away on the wind. Pellus wailed and disrupted the assault before the Council president’s body turned to dust, but he could not save her life. Her mummified corpse thudded to the dusty ground.
“Ravellen!” he screamed.
Though his vision blurred with tears, Pellus had no time to mourn. Abraxos’ fighters had succeeded in getting behind Barakiel and Zan. The two tried to clear them out, but there were too many. They needed a barrier now, but all four of the enemy adepts had turned their attention to Pellus. As the thrum of clashing electromagnetic waves rang above his head, he realized that Remiel’s warriors were about to be massacred a short march shy of where they would have cleared the right-hand foothill and sped to safety.
Then, through the din of battling adepts, clanging swords, and the cries of the dying, he heard a sound—a kind of huffing followed by a bellow, so filled with bass that it shook the rocks around him. The ground trembled and an astonishing sight came into view just past the headland. Chukka beasts, three of them, huge as three-story buildings, stampeding toward the main body of Abraxos’ battalion, their inky mouths opening and closing in anticipation of swallowing warriors whole. And what did Pellus see atop each ticked, shaggy beast? A flash of shiny black hair, a slight figure wrapped in the same hides as the beasts. He imagined their luminous silver eyes alight with purpose as they steered their chukka friends—moving faster than Pellus knew they could—right into the mêlée to save Remiel’s beleaguered troops. The Sylvan Three, taking their dedication to preserving the lives of worthy warriors to an unprecedented level. Healers appearing on a battlefield.
Their plan unfolded in beautiful chaos. The enemy fighters fled in terror, lacking the skills and the specialized weapons of hunter warriors, their swords no match for the chukka beasts, who sucked them up by the fives, their thick bodies rumbling with satisfaction. Remiel’s warriors erupted in wild cheers and cries of, “The Sylvan Three!” Even Barakiel and Zan stopped to admire the spectacle before they set about cleaning out the stragglers still left on their side of the colossal animals, who by now mostly shielded Remiel’s forces with their shaggy bodies. Pellus cheered, raised his arms, and released the tension from his body. No more attacks. The enemy adepts had gone so he turned to a somber task. He continued toward Ravellen, the retrieval of her body all that was left to him.