Chapter Forty-Nine #2
As Penn ran through the streets, he searched the rows between the houses. While he didn’t think Alistair would simply be hiding in the dark somewhere, Valerian had been in poor condition. Whatever Alistair’s goals, he might not have the strength to go far.
The ground trembled beneath Penn. Already off-balance, he tripped and sprawled forward, catching himself on his already injured hand. Blinding white pain flashed in his eyes. He clutched the dirtied wound to his chest, breath hissing through his teeth as he waited for the pain to subside.
A quiet rumble echoed in the distance, like a faraway explosion. But an explosion would have passed quickly. This rumble only grew louder and stronger until the houses around him shuddered with the force.
Shouts of concern and fear poured from every house. From a nearby window, a child cried, “Mama, I’m scared!”
“Don’t worry, baby, it’s only an earthquake.”
It was like no earthquake Penn had ever experienced. The stone beneath him pulsed and squirmed, like it was being pulled toward something.
And he suspected he knew the source.
Penn started to push himself to his feet when a hand burst out of the ground in front of him. Wide-eyed, he scrambled backwards and watched as someone crawled out of the earth.
Not someone. Something. The creature was made of grass, dirt, and stones, the ground itself coming alive.
It only vaguely resembled a human—two arms sprouting from a thick torso, and vague indents in a round head, giving it a rudimentary face.
Months ago, a creature made from ice had tried to drown Silas in a river.
Penn hadn’t seen it himself, but from the stories the others told, he knew the two creations had the same master.
Penn had no weapons. Even if he tried to fight the stone creature with his bare hands, he would do more damage to himself than it.
He frantically searched the nearby area for anything to use and spotted a discarded broom near the door.
He scooped it up and held it in front of himself, ready to block an attack.
Except the creature didn’t attack. It didn’t even seem to care about Penn as it crawled toward the front of the house instead, drawn to the child’s screams.
Penn slammed the broom down across the creature’s back.
The handle snapped and sprayed wooden splinters everywhere, but the creature didn’t even flinch.
It pulled itself up from the ground, using the earth to form more of its body until it stood as tall as Penn.
Once it was standing, it slammed its whole body against the door, trying to break it down.
The child’s screams became shrill with fear, mingling with their mother’s frantic shouting.
Their fear fueled the creature. It rammed its shoulder into the wooden door, creating a large crack.
Not knowing what else to do, Penn grabbed onto the creature’s arm and tugged, trying to pull it away from its target. Slowly, the creature’s head turned toward him, and it glared at him with two shimmering black stone eyes.
Well, I've got its attention now. He ducked the rocky fist aimed for his head. One solid punch would knock me out. Or worse.
The creature was strong but slow, its heavy body dragging across the ground.
It swung again, and Penn easily shifted out of its way.
The creature had left its torso wide open, primed for a counterattack, but Penn had no way to take advantage of its lowered guard.
He could only evade the next swing. Dance backwards. Draw the creature away from the house.
On Penn’s next step, his foot slipped on a slick rock. His arms thrashed wildly through the air, trying and failing to grab on to something. He crashed hard against the ground, his breath knocked out of him in a pained gasp.
The creature hovered over him, stone features twisted into an approximation of triumph. It clasped its hands, and they melded together to create a solid hammer. With one powerful swing, it brought the hammer down toward Penn’s head.
The stone collided with a solid steel shield. The sound rang through the air like the toll of a bell.
The soldier holding the shield shifted their stance and pushed the rock creature away with enough force to send it sprawling to the ground.
The mud holding it together loosened at the impact and scattered into dozens of stones.
The stones rolled several feet across the ground before they came to a stop, trembled slightly, and then reversed course.
“Shit, it’s reforming,” Mahler said, eyes widening in shock. “What the fuck are these things?”
Only then did Penn realize he wasn’t fighting the stone creatures alone. In the distance, he could hear swords clashing against rock, shouted orders as the soldiers coordinated to take down their enemies.
“Magical constructs,” Penn said.
Mahler helped him to his feet, then shifted his stance, ready to fight the creature again. “And how do you win against a magical construct?”
Penn grimaced and held up the potion bottle. Thank the gods Adelaide has quality supplies. It had survived the chaos without even a chip in the glass. “Kill the mage controlling them.”
Mahler’s eyes flicked to the bottle, then back to the stone creature as it slowly got to its feet. “Do you know where the mage is?”
The gold collar weighed heavy against Penn’s neck. “I can figure it out.”
Mahler nodded. “Go, we’ll hold them off.”
Penn didn’t need to be told twice. He followed the pull of the collar, higher and higher up the mountain. Nausea filled his stomach as his gaze rose to the mountain peak, where he could barely make out a single figure.
Why do you need to be at the top of the mountain, Alistair?
Even from a distance, Archer knew Casselarn was under attack.
The dark night could obscure the fight, but it couldn’t hide the distressed shouts, the ring of steel.
He drew his sword and rode Scout straight into the middle of a scrimmage, breaking up the fight.
But Scout was not Hugo. He was a messenger’s horse, not a warrior’s.
The moment a sword flashed in his periphery, he reared and neighed shrilly.
As soon as Scout settled, Archer hopped off and smacked the horse’s rear. Scout took it as permission to abandon the battlefield and ran straight toward the castle, where he would find familiar faces ready to shelter him until they found his rider again.
Archer turned toward the assailant, sword already raised to block an attack. He recognized Noah Harland, could see traces of Lord Garan’s smug expression in his son’s face. This was the traitor who had led the charge to free Varro after Griselda removed him from the army.
“You’re like a fucking cockroach,” Noah snarled, withdrawing just enough to slash at Archer again. “But you always looked down on us, as if we were the insects. It’ll be a joy to crush the Warrior King under my boot.”