Page 15 of Acolyte (Tempris #2)

The wall extinguished, and Skye gave a shout, launching himself forward.

He felt the lingering heat of the blockade, but the protective wards woven into the lining of his armor immediately activated.

A thin coating of frost slithered across his skin, the cold pushing back the heat in a hiss of steam as he barreled straight through the heavy cloud of smoke still curling through the air.

A heartbeat later, he emerged on the other side, unharmed, and the scent of rot slammed into him.

The black-haired boy at his side staggered at the smell, but Skye grabbed his shoulder, pushing him forward as they crashed into the horde. The shades rushed the shadow mages, quickly huddling into a dozen individual battles.

Skye swung his own weapon as a small group peeled away from the main skirmish and converged on him. Their emaciated bodies tangled together, and they stabbed the air with long spears, trying to skewer him.

They were fast. Strong.

But he was faster— stronger —and he neatly side-stepped their attacks, using aether to speed up each motion.

A click of a button activated the fire crystals in his staff, and the shades began to shriek and thrash as bright bursts of flame flared to life, licking at their feet and devouring flesh and bone.

Another step. Another swing. Another press of a button. Skye felt a chill ripple through his staff as lines of frost began to trail each sweep. The shades abruptly quieted as ice replaced fire, and their bodies shattered completely when he aimed a direct blow to the center of their chests.

Skye smelled the tang of iron before he felt the rush of wind, and he instinctively brought his stave up, barely managing to catch the dagger aimed at his head. Metal sliced his neck, but it was a glancing blow.

The shade yanked its blade from the wood, stumbling as Skye dropped and swept its feet, stomping the heel of his boot into its chest as he whirled to face another.

Blood sprayed, and gore splattered. But the shadow mages held the line, following Eula’s measured retreat as she continued to direct the casters and their ongoing volley of fire and ice.

She was aiming for those places where the shades had begun to regroup.

A few shadow mages were caught in the salvo, but the wards in their armor flickered, turning fire to smoke and ice to steam.

The black-haired boy that had made a point to stick close to Skye got a little singed, but nothing his aether wasn’t already working to heal.

Or trying to. All around, mages were bleeding, but not healing. Including himself, Skye realized abruptly. That scrape on his neck was still trickling blood.

Skye ducked and swung, and the steady stream of aether he’d been channeling flickered.

The realization hit him like a brick to the face.

“They’re using rysine poison!” he shouted to the other shadow mages.

Their wounds were never going to stop bleeding.

Not until they were completely drained of aether. “Fall back and get medical attention!”

Eula covered their retreat as they ducked behind the line of casters, and the wall of flame immediately went back up as two earth mages rushed forward, their hands already glowing green with healing magic.

Panting and sweating, bleeding far more heavily than he’d realized, Skye craned his head as one of the earth mages began prodding at his neck. “Kato, report,” he said into his comm.

There was a screech of static, and then, “The civilians are on the bridge, and we almost have the barricade in place.” A pause. There was nothing but panting on the other end. “I’m having trouble with the guns. Some of the wiring was dislodged during the trip, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

Skye replied, “Are you honestly telling me that after working on the Mechanica for nearly two decades, you can’t figure out how to fix a cannon that uses technology older than you are?”

“This isn’t a fucking suit of armor!” Kato snapped. There was a blip in the comm, followed by a garbled stream of cursing. “…the hell! Taly made this look easy.”

Skye peered through the smoke at the shades still flinging themselves into the flames.

There were too many of these things. Even though they had managed to break through the enemy’s ranks, they wouldn’t last. Shades never tired, never stopped to tend to their wounded.

And considering the circumstances, the terrain…

“Kato, you need to figure it the hell out. We can’t take much more of this. ”

Eula was still snarling orders. The shadow mages were still bleeding. And because the barricade still wasn’t completed, as soon as the earth mages signaled that the poison had been cleared, Skye gave the order to rejoin the fray.

Metal clanged. Bone crunched. Every muscle in Skye’s body barked with fatigue as he continued to swing and cleave and push against the endless tide .

We can’t keep this up, he thought. Not at this rate. They were burning aether too quickly. He could already feel the stinging in his lungs.

A terrified howl sounded above the din. The black-haired boy had tripped, and the shades converged on him before he’d even hit the ground.

“Shore up that line!” Skye shouted as he rushed to grab the boy, wrenching him back to his feet.

But more mages were still falling. A woman—tall and sturdy—yelped as she went down, and Skye was already moving in her direction, already reaching for the bloodied hand that clawed at the ground when someone grabbed at his collar and yanked him back.

“What the hell?!” Skye sputtered, thrashing as Kato dragged him behind the line of fire and water mages. The woman was being swarmed now, the shades piling on top of her as she continued to scream, and scream, and—

Her screams stopped.

Skye snarled, but his brother gave him another hard shove.

“Don’t go getting yourself killed just yet.

” Kato glanced back at the rapidly widening pool of blood, and Skye followed his gaze, fighting back the nausea that shuddered through him.

The shades were frantic as they jabbed and jostled each other, ripping the woman’s body apart.

Those that couldn’t get near enough for even a mouthful of flesh began to lap at the blood pooling on the pavement.

Thank you , was what he should’ve said, but all Skye could manage was a panted, “I didn’t know you cared.”

Kato huffed. “I don’t,” he said, wincing as he pressed a finger to his bloodied lip.

“But if you die, oh fearless leader, then chances are, we all die. Let me take over here. I’ve got the wagons circled, but the flash cannons still won’t come online.

As much as it pains me to say it, I can’t fix them. You, however, can.”

Fair enough. Skye gave his brother a curt nod, pressing a button on his staff that had it retracting in on itself. He stowed it inside his coat and then ran for the bridge.

A row of carts circled the entrance, the tarps pulled away to reveal a row of gleaming metal barrels. He had to jump to clear the elevated mounting platform, and his hands flew over the console as he began keying in the startup sequence.

The old gun hummed and shook, and something below his feet rattled ominously.

Skye breathed a sigh of relief when the lights on the control panel flickered to life.

Dropping to the ground, he grabbed a red-haired fire mage that stood nearby, barking instructions as he pushed her onto the platform.

He didn’t wait for her reply as he ran to the next gun.

The smell of smoke and charred aether permeated the air, and a red glow began to coalesce around the barrel of the first cannon. Moments later, a chorus of cheers rang out among the mages as a trail of condensed fire blazed a path through the horde.

Skye didn’t stop to celebrate, running for the next cart. There were five wagons on this side of the bridge, which meant five cannons. If he could get them all running, it might be just enough to give them an edge.

The second cannon, loaded with ice, shivered and died.

Forcing his hands to steady, he tapped one of the gauges before dropping to his knees and prying open the console.

It was an easy fix, and relief shot through him when he felt the gun kick underfoot as it began to sputter and groan.

Without looking to see just whose sleeve he’d grabbed, he shoved another mage behind the controls.

Skye continued down the line as metal and magic lurched to life. Flesh sizzled. Bone melted. The shades fell to the ground in waves, their bodies reduced to ash and cinders.

For the first time in what felt like hours, hope bloomed in his chest. Kato and Eula were reforming the shadow mages, covering the casters’ retreat behind the line of flash cannons, and Skye finally felt comfortable turning his attention to the north.

“Harin?” Skye turned a dial on his comm, trying to tease out the right frequency. “Harin? Report.”

The comm crackled—nothing but static.

Skye looked to the north. Refugees were huddled around the entrance to the bridge, and the ramp was stuffed from end to end, not a scant patch of pavement visible between the press of bodies. The suspension web blocked his view of the other side.

“Harin?” he tried again. “Come on, answer me, Kane.”

But there was no answer. Just static.

Skye’s heart lurched. Throwing one last glance to the crowded ramp, he took a running jump off the platform, reaching for the tangled net that encircled the bridge and hauling himself up.

He moved through the dense web, over the crowd and across the canyon.

The people below murmured and cried, and Gate Watchers lined both sides of the bridge, pushing back against the swell of people and trying to keep the jabbing and jostling to a minimum, lest some poor soul get shoved right off the side.

Several carts had been caught halfway across the ramp, and from this distance, they looked like islands of wood and steel set adrift at sea.