Page 106 of Swords of Soul and Shadow (Gate Chronicles #3)
“No guarantee now won’t be the last chance we get to talk about it.” He wasn’t trying to be pushy; it was just true.
She looked up at last. “I lost a week getting us here, and I can’t make that fireball. The very little healing I’ve done reverts in hours. I’m useless. Our only choice is combining the Essences.”
“You’re far from useless.”
“You’re just saying that.”
“Hallie.” He grabbed her hand and brushed his thumb over her knuckles. She peeked over at him through her lashes. “Your worth is not tied up in mastering the power that was thrust upon you weeks ago. Besides, aren’t Fely and Saldr training you?”
“The only way I can fix this is if I don’t have the power, and the only way to do that is to put it into that sword.”
Kase gripped the steering control harder, and the ship beeped at him.
He ignored the warning as he started them back toward the hangar.
His time in the sky was probably finished until his patrol, but he hadn’t noticed anything out of place.
Two quiet flights in a row made him a little anxious, but if he didn’t dwell too hard on it, he could accept the gift. “We can find another—”
BEEP! BEEP! SCREECH!
Kase only caught sight of the wall of flame just before it hit the ship.
The windshield held under the blinding fire, but Kase’s heart squeezed so tight, he thought it might actually burst. He could barely see anything at all. Too bright. Too hot.
Kase whipped them out of the onslaught. Hallie and the hover both screamed. Every indicator on the dash blinded him with flashing. A high-pitched squeal came from somewhere beneath or behind him. He couldn’t tell. The metal of the ship’s nose was tinged pink instead of blue.
The scent of hot metal burned his nose, and his eyes watered in the lingering pain from the flames.
“Hallie!” Kase shouted, looking over.
She pointed above them. “Dragon!”
His stomach dropped out. Fifty feet away was Skibs, riding atop his golden dragon. The beast opened its maw, a glowing ball of orange and gold sparking in the thing’s throat.
The air rumbled and crackled with power.
I refuse to die today.
Locking his jaw, Kase let his instincts take over. He didn’t know how he did it, exactly, but he pushed everything he had into the machine at his fingertips. His blood sang with each pounding, blistering heartbeat.
“Hold on and whatever you do, don’t open your eyes!” he shouted.
And then they were off, Kase and his hover acting as one.
They zoomed forward, rolling directly below the flames rocketing toward them.
He wasn’t sure if his hover could take another direct hit.
Something flashed red on the dash, but Kase couldn’t worry about that.
Whatever it was probably was better than being burned alive by a dragon.
The ship righted itself, rolling back. On instinct, Kase pulled up on the steering control, completing a loop. He said a silent apology to Hallie, who would hopefully pull through this without passing out or puking. He’d promised her he wouldn’t do exactly what he was doing, but he had no choice.
The dragon roared its fury as another flame jet missed its target.
Kase pressed down the trigger until his fingers ached, shooting at the beast. With immaculate precision, the dragon rolled in midair, the blazing Cerl bullet missing its massive wing by inches. Blast it.
The hover swerved as the dragon shot more flames at Kase.
You will not win , he thought to the monster. Unshakable, he locked in, his hands squeezing the steering control.
Kase pressed the pedal, and the hover surged forward. He just needed to get out of the city. He needed to make sure they didn’t fry anyone below. They’d already been through enough. They didn’t deserve to suffer again.
But he wasn’t sure if he could help it.
The dragon was hot on his heels. He swerved and banked.
He glanced over at Hallie, who at least looked conscious, if rather green.
Her pale, bloodless fingers gripped one armrest, his goggles strangled in her other hand.
Her sketchbook and pencil were nowhere in sight, and her eyes were closed tight.
He needed to get her out of the hover. Could she eject? Would Skibs let her go? Or would that only kill her faster?
Kase’s entire body went cold as he made his decision.
He wasn’t sure if it was him flipping the hover again to face the dragon head on or the hover siphoning off his Soul, but his entire body hummed with arctic calm. Like ice ran through his veins.
Finger on the trigger, he shot three blasts in quick succession. The dragon dodged the first two, but the final one hit his tail.
Kase sped toward it head-on. He shot at it again and spun away just as he nearly collided with the beast’s torso. Kase’s ears popped, but he didn’t suffer the g-force that would’ve normally accompanied such a move.
Whether it was because he was too focused or he was already dead, he didn’t know, but by the time he realized it, he was already doing another loop and shooting at the dragon once more.
One, two, three.
This time, he hit the thing in the throat—right as he was about to shoot another blast of flames. All three shots hit their mark.
The sound turned back on.
The dragon screamed, its throat torn and raw from the fiery blue bullets Kase had stuffed down its throat. It writhed in midair, its wings freezing. Blood spurted and exploded in the air as the beast ripped at its wound with its clawed fingers.
And then it plummeted.
The figure on its back slid from the thing’s shoulders. The dragon’s thrashing wing nailed the rider in the back.
“Skibs!”
Kase didn’t know what he was doing. He couldn’t do anything, not really. He was in a hover. He didn’t have any way of catching the man plunging thousands of feet to his death. That was, if he wasn’t dead already.
Kase didn’t think he’d hit him with a blast, but he’d been so focused on not being burnt alive he hadn’t paid attention to the rider.
Kase pressed forward, all his focus riveted on Skibs. If he could slow Skibs’ descent, the man might have a chance—but it might also crash Merlin directly into the ground. Skibs was falling too fast.
He shouldn’t be trying to save him. Skibs had decimated the capital. He was half the reason Zeke was dead. But in the Gate Chamber, he’d been at war with himself, fighting whatever waited inside him.
Like Hallie was now.
And like Hallie could be saved—like Kase had to believe Hallie could be saved—maybe Skibs could, too.
A soft glow filled the cabin, and for a moment, everything slowed down to a glacial pace.
Kase’s vision faded in and out as he pushed himself further, allowing the hover to take whatever it needed from him.
He couldn’t tell if the blanket was still wrapped around his shoulders or not.
He knew he was too cold, but he focused solely on the body clothed in that strange blue armor falling from the sky.
And then he was underneath Skibs. He held the craft steady, letting it descend, trying to match Skibs’ rate of descent. He didn’t know how far the ground was, only that he was playing a dangerous game.
Skibs cracked into the windshield above, but he didn’t slide off. He stayed perfectly still—too still. The dash squealed at Kase.
The glow hadn’t waned. Kase looked over to find Hallie bathed in light, her eyes still shut tight, her right hand squeezing his goggles.
He hadn’t realized she still had them. He blinked hard.
Her power radiated off her being like a brilliant star in the night sky.
It was blinding. She was a beacon—beautiful, alarming, and powerful.
The hover slowed, landing with a jolt. Without him having to think about it.
Skibs slid off the windshield. Hallie collapsed in her seat, and his old goggles fell to the floor with a soft clunk.
“Hallie?” he asked, breathless; she didn’t answer him. He went colder than the hover had ever made him. “ Hallie !”
She’d done it. She’d done something to the ship or Skibs or—or something . It hadn’t been his imagination, and now she was paying for it.
Kase fumbled with his safety buckles, which took entirely too long thanks to his stiff, frozen fingers. Blackness encroached on his vision. He’d given too much of himself to the ship.
He practically fell out of his seat. He didn’t know where the dragon was or if Skibs was even alive. He didn’t care.
Hallie’s limp, gray form, held in place only by the safety straps, was all he could see.