Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
Camp Devens, Massachusetts
IN THE AFTERNOON, ELLIOT was appointed to lead a group of soldiers in a race through the obstacle course in an all-out fight to the finish.
Usually they held themselves back, not actually allowed to injure one another.
They’d just been informed that wasn’t to be the case today.
Their group rankings were going to determine assignments in Europe.
The first to cross the line would be teamed with French Army soldiers in elite units who would operate away from the front lines.
The slowest would be leading enlisted soldiers at the front, concealing their magic to the best of their ability unless it was required to combat skilled German soldiers.
Elliot’s gut twisted. He didn’t want to do either of those things, but he didn’t have a choice.
He had a team to think of. Hoffman, Swift, and Bellona were counting on him as their leader in this race and he couldn’t let them down.
Each of them deserved to be on an elite team where they wouldn’t be involved in the heavy fighting at the front lines, where they stood a higher chance of survival.
And if they got through this race first, he could deliver that.
Considering the four of them, weighing each skill, Elliot focused on choosing a plan of attack. He had five minutes to form a proposal and communicate it to them. Scenarios tripped over one another as he played them out.
Finally, he motioned the others closer and pitched his voice low and quiet.
Bellona was by far their best shot at winning, she could transport up to two with her as far as she could see.
“Right. I suspect our greatest chance will be for Bellona to transport Swift and me far enough ahead that I’m able to get a wide start on the others and make my way to the finish.
They’ll return for you,” he said to Hoffman, who could prevent others noticing him so long as they didn’t know where to look.
“As I tackle the remainder. If necessary, I’ll hold anyone who approaches the finish back until you arrive, though I don’t anticipate any such occurrences. No one else can transport.”
Bellona nodded her agreement. Hoffman scowled, but that wasn’t unusual. Swift grinned broadly. “I assume I’ll be along for the ride, shielding?”
“Precisely.” Elliot glanced at Hoffman, his heavy dark brows drawn down low with irritation. “Does anyone have any suggestions?”
“I can’t wait at the start,” Hoffman grunted, crossing his arms. “The others will be anticipating it. They all know we’ve got her, and they’ll expect we’ll use her, so they’ll be on the lookout for me hiding.
Putting me out of commission to keep you from winning is their only shot and I’ll be easy pickings for most of them.
” He said that last part with distaste, as if the idea he wasn’t stronger than every other cadet in the program was a sore spot.
Hell. Hoffman was right. Everyone knew the team Bellona was on had the largest advantage.
Thus far, she’d won more than she’d lost. Only a few critical moments existed where their opponents wouldn’t know where Hoffman was, then they would be on him with the intent to incapacitate him and prevent their team from crossing the finish together.
Elliot’s mind bounded ahead, searching for a solution.
“I’ll stay behind,” Swift volunteered. “They can’t hurt me. Well, they could if they worked together long enough, but so long as Bellona’s quick, I should be fine.”
Elliot knew from experience just how resilient Swift was, but there would be a lot of people targeting him. It rankled to leave him behind and yet it was the only option. If Elliot remained alone he would be easily overcome, if he stayed with Swift, he would weaken him considerably.
Evaluating Swift’s face for any signs of discomfort, he was met only with big, trusting eyes.
Elliot sighed inwardly. Swift was so young it was hard not to be overprotective, hard to remember he was capable.
“Right. One jump should take her moments, then Hoffman and I will make a mad dash from there to the third obstacle where Bellona can fetch us after she’s returned and brought you to the finish. ”
All parties agreed just as the whistle sounded to get in position.
They lined up with the rest. The terrain before them was a baked field of dirt, heat rolling off the earth in shimmering waves beyond the first obstacle, a five-foot shallow ditch.
Past that was a two-minute run to the next challenge and a few rows of hurdles.
Those unlucky enough not to be teamed with Bellona would have to traverse the ditch and run to the hurdles.
By then, Elliot and Hoffman would be on their way to the bar fence, safely moving at a pace that would keep the others from catching them.
“All right!” Shouted a Captain off to the side of the starting line. “Don’t forget what you’re fighting for and do try not to kill anyone.”
The whistle blew sharply three times in rapid succession. They were off. As Bellona grasped his hand, glowing vines sprouted with alarming alacrity from the ground around Elliot’s feet, winding up around his legs, trapping him.
“Fuck,” Elliot swore, lowly. The magic in the twisting violet vines clamped down on him, holding him fast. He was stuck and even Bellona couldn’t whisk him out of them.
She cursed under her breath and dropped down beside his feet, pulling at the roots in an attempt to free him. “Forget me,” Elliot said to Bellona. “Get Hoffman out of here.”
Bellona nodded and they disappeared. A small hand slipped into Elliot’s. He raised an eyebrow and glanced down at Swift, who grinned at him. “I’ve been experimenting with this.”
Both of Elliot’s brows rose. “With holding hands?”
Swift snorted quietly, grin slyly shifting into a smirk. “If I hold on to someone, I can extend my shield more easily. It’s stronger that way, and it frees up some of my concentration.”
Now wasn’t the time for Elliot to remember someone else who’d told him something incredibly similar in extremely different circumstances. “Right.”
Elliot weighed up whether the tradeoff of losing the use of one of his own hands was worth it, but he didn’t have time to come to a decision.
Some of the cadets had surged forward, counting on their peers to neutralize Elliot’s team or with plans of settling for second place.
The remaining men, at least twenty of them, advanced.
Squaring his shoulders, Elliot prepared to fight one-handed as Swift knelt beside him to tug at the roots holding Elliot in place. At least Swift’s shielding had somehow stopped them growing further.
The onslaught began all at once, a boulder careened toward Elliot and slammed into the shield.
A shimmer of red light sparked around it, stopping its forward momentum.
It bounced off and thumped down, harmless.
Swift grunted, his hand squeezing Elliot’s as psionic energy crackled inches from their skin.
Sparks of red and blue showered to the dirt from the sustained contact.
The ground beneath their feet rumbled in warning. Swift’s eyes flew wide as the earth between them speared upward in a wave. Forced apart, the grip of their fingers broke as Swift tumbled backward. The unstable ground thrust Elliot toward the waiting mob. Christ.
He brought his hands up and huffed in a breath of liquified air, lungs struggling with the humidity. Sweat dripped into his eyes as his gaze darted around to determine who was the most immediate threat. There were far, far too many.
“Stone!” Swift shouted from behind him, voice panicky. A second later a small boulder smashed into Elliot’s shoulder. Or it should’ve. Instead it gently tapped him and fell beside his feet.
Swift. Elliot smirked at his would-be attackers. “You’ll have to get closer than that,” he told them, wriggling his fingers. He noticed a few men shifting uncomfortably, clearly remembering sparring matches with him. “Any takers?”
“Not if I’ve got anything to say about it,” Bellona said, suddenly beside him. Elliot glanced over at her, standing there with Swift. A grin split Elliot’s lips just before Swift’s eyes widened.
“No,” he shouted, grabbing Elliot’s hand, reinforcing the shielding around him as a jolt of telekinetic energy zapped along the shield’s edges. An unnatural gust of wind and icy pellets blasted against it, sputtering more sparks.
“Focus on Bellona,” Elliot demanded, inclining his head to where she was kneeling at his feet, struggling with the vines. “Without her, we’ll be trapped.”
Swift nodded and released his grip on Elliot, resting both palms on the bare skin on either side of Bellona’s neck since her hands were occupied. She stiffened a moment, chin ducking as though she might laugh, then relaxed.
Finally, a cadet who was brave enough stepped forward, a man Elliot recognized as Ferris.
His stern mouth twisted upward as he concluded he stood a chance.
Reaching out a hand, two of his fingers collided with the shield.
His eyes closed in intense focus. A glowing red line zigzagged down the front accompanied by the sound of crackling glass, Swift sagged slightly, his knees buckling before he pushed himself upright again, tenuously maintaining control.
“Hurry, Bellona,” Elliot encouraged in a strained, urgent voice.
He bent to tug at the vines as well, and they freed one foot.
A meaty fist collided with the shield, Markham’s superhuman force behind the blow.
In combination with Ferris’s psionic assault, the shield shattered in a burst of glittering crimson fragments.
Elliot straightened as that same fist aimed for his face. He narrowly dodged it, slapping his palm down on the swinging knuckles. He shoved enough horror through their connection to drop Markham into the fetal position at Elliot’s feet, trembling like a warning to the others.
“Almost got it,” Bellona muttered. Elliot wanted to tug at his foot, but it might tangle him further, so he trusted her to free him. Still his guts clenched unpleasantly as potential attackers circled closer.
“Swift, are you all right?”
“Dazed for a second, but don’t worry I’ve got it.” The shield was already back up, sparking all over, tiny scarlet fault lines snaking through the air around them. They didn’t have long. Ferris placed two fingers on the shield once more. The ground rumbled and shook.
And then the bloody vines around his ankle began growing again.
“Damn it all to hell,” Bellona muttered.
The shield shattered as a volley of rocks headed their way much too fast.
“Hell!” Swift shouted. He threw up the shield again, but it wouldn’t hold for long.
Elliot doubled over, blocking Bellona with his upper body and covering his own head with his arms. He heard the shield shatter once more and braced for impact.
When it came it wasn’t what he expected.
A body forcefully collided with his, nearly toppling him over.
Elliot opened his eyes to see Swift unconscious, a cut on his forehead oozing blood, amid a pile of rubble.
The little shit threw himself in front of those rocks without his shield up. Damn and double fuck.
“Come on, come on,” Bellona muttered under her breath. Suddenly he noticed, she had peeled the vines away from his leg. Though they were still fused from the ankle down.
“Christ. Get the laces, leave the boot.” She pulled a knife from her belt and wedged it beneath the laces, sawing away from his foot.
It sliced through slower than he’d have liked but fast enough that he yanked his foot free before the vines were able to crawl up and prevent his escape. “Now!” he shouted.
Bellona’s hands smacked down on Elliot’s arm and Swift’s shoulder.
The world became a series of quickflash images: the hurdles, the dusty run, the bar fence, another run, the climbing wall, run, the balance beam, and finally an uphill scramble.
They found Hoffman struggling up the side, sweat dripping down his face, fighting for breath as he climbed.
“Take him, leave me,” Elliot insisted. Seamlessly, she let go of Elliot’s arm, and latched onto Hoffman.
Elliot scrambled up the course, the sound of others shouting behind him much closer than he’d have liked.
They’d taken too long at the outset. His one missing boot was a detriment he had all but forgotten until he was running lopsidedly with one socked foot, debris in the dirt scratching at his soles.
He gritted his teeth and pushed through it, mostly to the top when Bellona appeared at his side again, mock saluting him as she latched onto his arm and flashed them to the finish.
His team crossed together, Hoffman and Elliot carrying Swift, who was drowsy but regaining consciousness.
A redheaded officer blew his whistle four times, signaling their arrival.
Elliot faintly heard Hoffman grumble something that sounded positive about his performance, but he was too focused on his injured teammate to celebrate victory.
A medical team quickly triaged Swift, and now that the adrenaline of the fight and the race was seeping out of Elliot, guilt clawed and writhed in his belly.
Swift had taken that injury for him. If he hadn’t, Elliot might be the one unconscious and without a doubt they would have lost with his foot tangled as it was.
He would rather have lost.
The idea of someone, a friend in particular, hurt due to him was abhorrent. Elliot had the sickening feeling he’d better get used to it.
This was only the beginning.