Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Kent
They emerged from the woods like a plague, slow-moving, eerie, and yet entirely deadly. Rankor sprinted towards us, muscled legs pumping as he shouted warnings while leaping over boulders and fallen branches.
“You three stay back,” I commanded Elaijah and the twins. “Patrek, be ready to blast them. Antoni—”
“Already ahead of you,” he interrupted, flames dancing between his fingertips.
As the monsters grew closer, their speed steadily increasing, I sent my magic out towards them and frowned. There was nothing to be found. No emotions to slow or calm. No way to ease them into a slumber. My powers were useless against this foe.
This was to be a battle of strength.
There was the tiniest flicker of relief in my gut, a gratefulness for the fact that I wouldn’t be forced to use the powers that haunted my every waking moment.
I shut down all the pathways that kept my consciousness connected to the people around me.
There was no need to keep those channels open during this fight and that felt like a blessing in disguise.
I cursed myself for feeling it for even the briefest of moments.
The creatures gained on Rankor, somehow finding the motivation to surge forward now that prey was in their sight.
With a determined grunt, Rankor pushed himself onwards.
His eyes focused on the single oak tree that stood between us and them.
With a characteristic battle cry, he pushed downwards before jumping into the air towards that tree.
Two hands wrapped around the trunk as he swung his hips around, using his momentum and the strength of his Godly ancestor, to rip the roots clean out of the ground.
Swinging it like a battering ram, he slammed through the first line of the undead.
Still, they continued on.
Each was more abysmal to look at than the last, with decaying skin, oozing sores, and hollowed eyes.
Is that what my mother looks like now?
The thought struck through me like a thunderbolt and I shoved it away, focusing instead on the task at hand.
The smell of rot was all around, stinging my nose as I flexed and released my fingers around the hilt of my sword.
“Michone,” I called back to her, my voice deep with authority. “Guard those children with your life.
“I’m not a child,” Elaijah grumbled weakly.
I barely heard him though. I had already moved on, throwing myself into the fray and swinging my sword left and right with practiced precision.
I cut through torn bits of flesh and mangled bodies easily, groaning when they still continued on despite what would have been deadly injuries in any other creatures.
“Through the head!” Rankor reminded me, as he slammed a fist clean through the skull of the beast in front of me.
“Well aware!”
If these creatures had once had blood, it had long since dried out, and so what splattered across my skin as I drove my blade between two eyes was something entirely more acrid and stomach-twisting.
The sounds of the fight became a symphony. Steel meeting bone. Grunts. Hisses of pain. It all formed a melodic rhythm that echoed around us. It was a show, a dance even, one that I had long ago gotten familiar with.
For the first time in days, I actually felt a semblance of peace as I lost myself to it. Locked in battle, I could forget the pain and grief that was eating me alive. I could focus on the here and now without being consistently bombarded by the force of my sisters’ emotions.
There was only the rush of a kill and the anticipation of the next blow.
Everything around me seemed to fade from existence until there was only the swing of my sword and the next maneuver that had to be planned.
The sounds of the twins crying just… disappeared.
The ache in my chest lessened. I didn't even blink when flame ripped past my skin, so close to leave me flushed.
The battle was hypnotizing—a seductive trance I was all too willing to surrender to. There’s no grief in battle. No pain. Not even fear, not really. There’s no time to fear when you’re living second to second.
Dodge.
Slice.
Stab.
Feign.
My perception narrowed only to what was right in front of me, as if I was no longer an active agent in this realm. I was only a body, being moved in and out of place.
There was peace in that detachment.
“Get back!” Rankor yelled, grasping onto my forearm and ripping me aside as an explosion tore through the horde of monsters.
I stared at the scorched earth where I had been standing only moments ago.
“Pay attention!” Rankor's voice was deep, his face contorted in disappointment and frustration.
Patrek rushed to my left. “I warned you to move!”
I hadn’t heard him, hadn’t been aware that he was building his magic to detonate. That was unlike me. I never lost track of my battalion and what their next moves were.
But I also never completely cut off my powers from others like I just had.
“Rankor!” Elaijah’s call was like a beacon to the three of us.
Antoni was surrounded, his flames growing weak as his powers started to exhaust. He ripped for a sword, resorting to brutal force. Behind him, Michone faced down a line of the horde on her own, sword at the ready and eyes narrowed in determination.
But there was more than just she could handle alone.
“Go!” Rankor commanded us, already moving towards his brother.
We charged onwards, our feet a drumbeat on the worn ground, but there were far too many and they were all moving far too rapidly.
Kreyana screamed as one of the monsters locked its hand around her wrist, yanking desperately to pull her out of Kressida’s grasp.
“Kent!” Kressida’s scream was shrill, needy.
The sound of it sent power rushing into me once more, the channels between them and I opening so uncontrollably that I stumbled backwards.
It was as if the magic was angry that I had temporarily silenced it, and it came back with a vengeance.
I drowned in it. Michone’s exhaustion. Rankor’s concern.
Antoni’s anger. Patrek’s focus. Kreyana's and Kressida’s terror.
And Elaijah's sudden spark of determination.
My gaze shot towards the boy who dove under the circling arms of a monster, his feet quick and sure-footed as he darted towards Michone.
“Elaijah don’t!” Rankor warned.
But we were too far away to stop it.
Elaijah pulled the second sword still strapped to Michone’s back free. They both stumbled, her from the missing weight, and him from trying to adjust to it.
The monster behind him roared, opening its jaws wide.
And Elaijah spun, shoving the tip of the sword through its head without a moment of hesitation.
It wasn’t a perfect hit, and he had to tug a few times to get the sword free again, but before long Elaijah was twisting again, taking up a defensive position in front of the girls.
He met my gaze, then Rankor's.
“Stop staring and kill them!” Elaijah ordered us.
I shared a glance with my friend as another of Patrek's explosions blew hot air against the back of our necks.
There was relief flowing through Rankor, surprise too.
And pride.
He shrugged at me, a grin on the edges of his lips. “Shall we?”