Chapter 34
Chapter
Thirty-Four
CLAYTON
It was like he was water flowing over river rocks. Simple and natural.
Clayton landed lightly on top of a fae warrior’s shoulders, crouched and ready. Before the man could react, Clayton plucked a sword from the man’s back sheath and sliced it across the throat of the warrior beside them.
Clayton got the urge to lean back, and the blade aiming for his face missed and sliced off the ear of the man he’d been standing on.
Clayton slid down the man’s back before he could retaliate, easily dodging several attacks from several enemies, all of them somehow taking out a fellow soldier rather than Clayton.
If Clayton had allowed himself to think about what he was doing, he’d never have been able to do it. Instead, he allowed himself to sink deep into a sense of knowing.
He knew he would be okay, so he was. He knew he would win, so he did. There was nothing more he needed to do than trust the knowing and act.
Some of the warriors were throwing spells instead of physical attacks, and Clayton dodged them with ease as well.
If he kicked a pebble, it went directly into an enemy’s eye.
If he lashed out to strike, he always hit a vital area and sent his target careening into other warriors in the most devastating way possible.
Clayton was a one-man wrecking machine, slowly carving his way through the ranks of an increasingly flustered army.
A quick glance back at the boat showed Holly’s shield growing brighter than ever, and he was able to catch a glimpse of Holly sitting in a circle with Tommy, Merry, and Eira. She had a soft smile on her face, and it transformed her from a scared, angry kid to something ethereal.
Now that Clayton knew his home and family were safe, he could do something truly brilliant. Or stupid, depending on who was watching. The line between the two was razor-thin.
However, Clayton trusted himself, his plan, and Holly’s shield, so he was doing it.
Clayton had accidentally used some kind of force magic on Marshall back at Astraea’s glade. He didn’t know how he did it; it had been an automatic reaction when he was protecting Mal. Somehow, he had to figure out how to replicate the situation.
Clayton started to calculate positioning and distance between him, the loved ones he needed to protect, and the people trying to hurt them.
Clayton had been right in front of Mal, and Marshal had been right in front of Clayton when his magic had activated, so maybe if Clayton was able to figure it all out just right…
Fuck it. Overthinking things always got him in trouble in an emergency. He had probability magic. All he had to do was believe it would work out and then act. The details would sort themselves out.
He jumped on the back of another fae—a mage, it turned out—and the woman’s response was to use a spell to repel him into the ceiling.
Clayton sailed upward and latched onto a sturdy stalactite.
There was a handy little notch for him to get a good foothold and another one at the perfect spot for him to grab with his hand.
Clayton imagined being unrepentantly awesome and raining hell down on his enemies with magic—whilst avoiding his loved ones—then he grabbed his essence and projected it outward.
There was a brief tension in the air. Then, with a sizzle and the smell of ozone, drops of something hot and glowing began to drip down onto the fae soldiers below, forming a perfect circle around Holly’s shield and avoiding the confrontation between Kendric and his parents.
The soldiers screamed in agony as the magic rained down on them. Faces melted, armor shattered into dust, and entire limbs disintegrated into nothing. Anyone who got even a drop on their bodies was out of the fight, and those with more began to turn to charred ash like it was corrosive.
The magic didn’t touch anything but the soldiers—not Holly’s shield, nothing near the battle on Kendric’s side of the cave, and not even the cave itself.
Wow. That was far better than what Clayton had done to Marshall. Actually, it was really good that he hadn’t done that to Marshall, or else Clayton would never be able to show his face in the Real again.
Not that he was certain he’d be able to go back now that Marshall knew about Mal.
Clayton would cross that bridge later.
He saw Naerith looking up at him and cheering with his fist in the air. Clayton couldn’t hear him, but he assumed he said something like, “That’s my boy!” or “My son is the best person ever, and everyone else’s kids are shit in comparison!”
Something fatherly like that.
Elena wasn’t paying attention because she was busy conjuring arrow after arrow to plant into Kendric’s body. The man was looking worse for the wear but still surprisingly fit for someone who was bristling with arrows.
How was he doing it? Even powerful dreamwalkers couldn’t take the kind of damage Kendric was without getting completely drained. Either the man was talented beyond all reason, or he had some help or some trick keeping him alive.
Clayton would have been content to allow his parents to finish Kendric off at their leisure, but Elena was bleeding heavily from a gash on her chest, and the fist Naerith used to cheer Clayton on was clearly broken.
Even though he wasn’t showing critical damage, Kendric no longer had a smug, triumphant expression and was throwing bursts of raw magic at Clayton’s parents. Both of them worked together to dodge each one to the best of their ability, like a well-oiled machine.
Their combat style was a thing of beauty, and Clayton could have gotten lost in it if it weren’t for the fact that, as battered as Kendric was, his parents were slowly losing.
More of Kendric’s attacks were landing as Elena and Naerith grew more exhausted, but Clayton was busy raining fire upon the fae besieging his boat.
Could he help his parents and protect his kids at the same time?
Why the fuck not?
Clayton let a small sliver of his attention separate from taking down every last fucker who dared to kidnap children and feed them to monsters and let it hover over Kendric.
Did Clayton know how he’d done it? No.
Was he going to try to figure it out? Extreme and hard no. He was Clayton, he had probability magic, he could do whatever he wanted, and he was going to keep believing that until everyone he loved was safe.
Amid the screaming wails of deserving assholes burning to death and the soul-shaking roars of countless demons being consumed by Mal, Clayton caught a faint hum of energy coming from Kendric.
It wasn’t so much a sound as a vibe. It was subtle, but something about it told Clayton that it didn’t belong to Kendric. It was on the man’s body, but it wasn’t part of his body.
Clayton honed his focus down to scan Kendric and pinpointed the location of the hum. It was coming from his right hand, the one releasing blast after blast of raw magic without rest.
The hand was gloved, unlike Kendric’s left hand. Something about the glove was giving Kendric an advantage in the fight, and Clayton was going to take it away from him.
“His hand!” Clayton shouted to his parents. “Get his glove!”
However, the noise from the battle raging around them kept Clayton’s voice from reaching them.
He let his split focus fade and checked in on how many warriors he had left to take out. His spellfire had taken down over half of the forces against them, and all the survivors were cowering under whatever shelter they could find.
Clayton decided to trust in Holly’s shield and the fear he’d inspired to keep the surviving soldiers at bay for the moment. He ended the spellfire and leaped away from the stalactite to fall to the cavern below.
The floor was littered with rocks and broken stalactites, and Clayton happened to land on the edge of a long, broken stalactite lying against a rock.
As he landed, his body weight was just enough to cause the stalactite to swing down like the high end of a seesaw, slowing Clayton’s descent and allowing him to land safely.
When he stepped off, the end of the stalactite flew upward once more, and the bottom slammed down on a fae warrior attempting to make a break for the portal.
There was a horrid thunk like a bat hitting a rotten pumpkin as the man’s head was smashed.
Clayton was now behind Kendric and within his parents’ line of sight. Elena’s eyes flew wide with fear, and Naerith made a subtle shake of his head to tell Clayton not to interfere.
Clayton rolled his eyes. Had he not just shown how awesome and useful he was? Naerith’s expression grew hard, and he shook his head again and mouthed leave.
If Kendric hadn’t been busy trying to blast them into oblivion, he would have noticed the interaction, but he wasn’t likely to miss that Clayton was behind him for much longer.
Clayton could try and attack the man who’d destroyed his life and stolen his childhood, but he was pretty sure his parents needed the kill more than he did, so he pointed at Kendric’s back, then pointed to his own right hand and mimed slicing it off.
Understanding flashed across both his parents’ faces, and finally, Kendric noticed something was off.
When he turned slightly, Elena and Naerith both went for Kendric’s right hand.
Elena’s arrow struck it seconds before Naerith’s fiery blade sliced it off, and Clayton gave Kendric’s stunned face a wave.
As Kendric’s hand hit the ground, it swelled, exploding out of the glove and morphing into something gray and grotesque.
A rotten smell flooded the area, and Clayton covered his nose, trying not to gag. The hand flopped around wildly as if trying to scuttle away, but Elena’s arrow kept it from gaining enough leverage to escape.
Two more arrows buried themselves in the hand, and Elena gave Clayton a fierce grin. “Thanks, baby. Mom and Dad will take it from here.”
“P-please, sister…” Kendric stuttered as he tried to back away.
“I’m not your sister,” Elena snarled.