Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
Within minutes, all five of us are gathered in the middle of our camp, dressed and – at least one of us – terrified.
‘Do we have time to make a run for it?’ Allen asks.
Mace checks his ART. ‘They’re moving at high speed,’ he says. ‘I think they have flyboards.’
‘Then just let’s ask Stella for some,’ Julian says.
Stella materialises in front of us, making me flinch. ‘Access to flyboards denied,’ she says. ‘The access to other auxiliary means is denied. This is considered part of the mission.’
Mace’s face pinches with anger. ‘Are you serious? The Pikenians aren’t here for a Test Mission. They’ll kill us, or at least, they’ll try. We’re in mortal danger.’
‘I’m sorry, Team Gold,’ Stella says. ‘These are Central Command’s orders.’
I feel the blood draining out of my limbs. So, we’re about to face fully-fledged Warriors, who have any and all auxiliary means at their disposal?
‘Are they out of their minds?’ Xandra says.
‘Alright, team, we don’t have time for this,’ Mace barks. ‘There are at least twelve of them, according to the information on the map. We need to move. We can’t meet them in the open, or we’ll be easy targets.’
He looks at the map for another moment, then pockets his ART and conjures his sword. ‘That way,’ he says. ‘We’ll meet them in the woods, and make sure that our sides aren’t exposed. I saw a place where I want to meet them. Start moving.’
I follow them wordlessly, while Mace is still barking orders. ‘Ellie, stay behind us and hold your shield up. Got that?’
‘I could help,’ I say. If we’re going to be that crassly outnumbered, any fighter could count.
‘I know you could, Ellie,’ he says gently, ‘but remember when we talked about fighting in formation? You just don’t have the training for this. And you can help us best by watching our backs.’
I can do that, I tell myself as I follow the rest of my team with my shield up. It’s dark in the woods, the moonlight barely filtering through the dense foliage.
‘Up ahead,’ Mace says, and points at two broad trees.
They position themselves between them, with me taking place behind, as we agreed.
The Pikenians are upon us quicker than I expected, silhouettes rustling the leaves on the ground, their drawn weapons casting their faces in eerie glows.
They wear cream-and-teal uniforms. The one leading the charge has golden embroideries on his shoulders.
‘Marksman, fall back, they have a shield. Frontal attack.’
I can’t even process what’s happening before they explode into movement. Swords are colliding, energy sparks are flying, and my team is trying to hold the line.
Mace is barking orders over the screech of magic blades meeting, and I barely catch a word here and there.
I can distinguish the enemy Captain’s voice well enough, though, as he says, ‘Shit. That’s Mace fucking Hardfield. Who’s in for a bonus, team? Cut him down.’
They know about Mace? I shouldn’t be surprised, considering the number of sensors that the bordering kingdoms plant in the Disputed Lands.
And just as our Engineers find ways to obtain movies from other kingdoms, why wouldn’t they get insights about our goings-on, too?
They only have to get their hands on some of the videos that the PR Team likes to play over and over, with our most promising Apprentices.
The Warriors move with terrifying efficiency after that. By skilfully aiming their blows, they force Mace to defend himself in such a way that they cut him off from the rest of the group.
It happens so fast that I’m not even sure what I’m looking at.
It’s dark outside, and the moonlight is filtered by scattered clouds.
I can follow the glow of the magical swords well enough, but I can barely see what’s beyond the line.
I think some of the Warriors are hanging back, waiting to be deployed.
How long until they come around and try to sneak in from behind?
How long until I have to hold them back?
My heart is racing, and I try to keep my shield steady.
We’ve only been fighting for a few minutes, but the Pikenians have already created an opening between Mace and the rest of my team.
And they’re attacking Mace with a brutality that I can’t believe.
Strike after strike after strike. Mace’s purple longsword moves like a storm, and still they’re drawing him away, but he’s now so far off that…
That I can do something. The gap is now so large that I can get a clean shot with my pulses of power. I’m not far behind Mace, the three others still building a wall before me, but if I angle my hand to the side…
I don’t think twice. The magic within me is aching to be released. I don’t think my aim is good enough to try to hit the Warriors who are crowding Mace in, but there are two to the side I can try to push back.
I aim and release. There’s a whoosh, and the pulse of power hurries towards my targets. It misses one of the Warriors clearly, but brushes against the massive axe of the one who seems to be the Pikenian Captain.
There’s a loud pop, and he’s thrown back at least twenty feet. He finds his footing again fast, though, rolling to absorb most of the impact. He jumps to his feet and calls, ‘Marksman! They’re deploying their shield. Can you get a clear shot?’
‘Yes, sir,’ comes a call from the trees, but I don’t have time to look, because they’re pushing Mace further and further to the side.
I step to the left of my team, aiming again at the Warrior I’d just missed. He’s drawn closer to Mace, though, and the last thing I want to do is strike Mace by accident. I can’t throw pulses at the Warriors right in front of me, either, because I might hit Allen or Xandra or Julian.
I refuse to be useless, while my team fights for me. I refuse. My mind churns with the possibilities, and I’m still looking for a way to help, when the night lights up in front of me with a flare and Mace calls, ‘Ellie! Duck!’
I snap towards him at the sounds of his voice, and there’s a searing sensation along the side of my calf that makes me scream. I look to my side and notice that my mission trousers are torn on the side, revealing angry red skin.
An arrow, burning green with magic, is embedded in the earth.
I look behind the line of enemy Warriors, and I notice another one standing apart, in the shadows, the bow he’s holding aglow with the strung, magical arrow.
The next thing I know, the arrow is flying through the air.
I lift my dome around me with barely a second to spare, its white translucence allowing me to see how the tip of the arrow embeds in my shield, inches away from my face.
I cry out, terrified. If I’d been a single second too slow, I’d have been dead.
Dead.
Killed by these people, who don’t even know me, because of what? For a war that our citizens didn’t even want in the first place? Because keeping us locked in conflicts serves the interests of Central Command just right?
‘Ellie! Keep your shield up!’ Mace turns towards me, for the split of a second, probably to see if that arrow found its mark or not.
It’s enough.
The Warriors in front of Mace bring down their blades in a swishing motion. In a movement that defies the rules of logic, Mace parries both blows at the same time, but the Warrior to his left uses the momentum, and Mace’s distraction, to kick him hard in his belly.
One instant.
One instant of surprise, of hesitation, is all it takes, and Mace is on his knees before four enemy Warriors ready to attack and make the best use of this opening.
I’ve learned this much about sword fighting in these past few weeks: that’s not a good position to be in.
It’s only a matter of time before the Warriors pierce through his defences.
I don’t think.
I react.
With Mace on his knees, I have a clearer aim for my power pulses. I bring my shield down in a whoosh and flick a pulse towards the Warriors who have cornered Mace.
‘Stay down,’ I yell at Mace, even if I see now that I’ve sent my pulse a bit too wide. It won’t do any good to help Mace, and I failed, and I need to try again. I need to do something. I need to.
Mace looks over his shoulder.
And then, he brings his sword to the side and up. It brushes against my pulse of power, widening it, painting it that pastel lilac, before it catches a Warrior on the left side, and explodes in his arm.
There’s a bellow of pain, the Warrior staggering back. The sword in his hand extinguishes, and I can’t see much, except that the man is clutching at his elbow and crying out in pain.
My stomach promptly convulses, and it takes all I’ve got not to throw up. I did that; I hurt this man horribly. Me and Mace have done this to him.
An odd silence settles over the battlefield, shattered by the blow of a loud whistle. The enemy Captain shouts, ‘Fall back! Fall back! They can meld their shield.’
I stare in shock as the enemy troops begin retreating with astonishing speed. Two Warriors help carry the man who is wounded, while the others give them cover. They retreat in small, hesitant steps, still facing us, with their magical weapons drawn.
Mace has jumped back on his feet, but he’s not following them.
The Pikenians leap on the flyboards and they’re out of sight quicker than I can process. I don’t see the man I wounded anymore; the others have clustered around him, and it’s too dark to make out any details from a distance.
‘Do we give chase now, or what?’ Julian says.
Everyone has their swords up, ready to engage if necessary, and I’m trembling like a leaf. I can’t believe I did that.
I can’t believe I inflicted so much pain, and I can’t believe that these people would have killed us all if I hadn’t combined my power with Mace’s.
I can’t believe that frightened them so much. But how can someone even stop the type of power that Mace and I seem to generate when we use our magic together?
I can’t believe how quickly it happened, how fast they began to retreat after they saw what we could do.