She punched up, palm first into the drake scaled arm. The exoscales of the firedrake were great at stopping indirect bullets or edged attacks, but it wasn’t designed for the counter-pressure of aether, so Ratko’s bone snapped just below the elbow. He yowled in pain, the steel falling from his useless grip. Cadrianna burned more aetheurgy, the scars upon her breast and spine were a pyre, she could feel the blood seeping from her runes. She jammed her elbow into the man’s face with a sickening crunch, head jerked backward. Blood flowed from the scourge’s nose. Boot aimed at Ratko’s knee. Kneecap shattered; the scourge dropped. Cradling the broken arm to his body, the scourge scooted away.
“I enjoyed that, lass,” Ratko coughed blood into his beard, his back resting against a stack of crates. “Finish what you’ve started if you’ve the stomach for it.”
“O, you think I lack the stomach, Ratko? I’ve only ever spilt blood for my daughter’s sake, but this one is for mine. Strix.”
“WITH PLEASURE.”
The blackened blades surged from the ground, forming into one as it struck the scourge in the forehead, puncturing clear through the man’s skull, his brains blasting out upon the crates, the outstretched wings of the owl shivering as if in flight.
A whine of the cable and gears told Cadrianna that the Dunleiths were coming back up, which meant the bikrome had set the charges. The elevator stopped and the pale elfirish siblings jumped out.
“Done,” Finnus said with gusto. “All set. It’ll go boom real nice. Just like Emre wanted.” He eyed the dead scourge. “Godsdamn, woman, he say something personal or is that how all you scourges work?”
She called the Strix back. The blade floated into her hand, dripping with the viscera formerly of Ratko’s brain. “This isn’t over, Dunleith. Save your quips for then.”
Finnus glanced at his sister. “I wonder what Em ever saw in such a sad sack?”
“Careful what you say, brother-friend, your blood isn’t off limits.”
Cadrianna neared the entrance to the mine but had to quickly jump back as bullets ripped into the sand in front of her. Thud-thud-thud. Trapped in the mouth of the mineshaft, Ignis gunfire suppressed their exit, yellow light of the aethecite posts shading the surrounding area in shadows. The Sea of Mist had become darker, almost pitch, making it difficult to see anything more than a few steps ahead.
“We don’t have time for this,” she growled.
“There!” Finnus pointed to where a line of Predator drones stood ready within the Sea, at least five of them.
The grind of rotating guns flashed and lit up the mist as thunderous piercing rounds battered the mineshaft entrance, raining sand and support struts down around them.
“What do we do?”
For the first time, Cadrianna could almost sense a feeling of unease within. She was all out of ideas. They didn’t have any firepower to counter Predators, even their aetheurgies wouldn’t be able to stand up to them, they’d be torn to pieces the moment they walked into the line of fire. There was no way to sneak out and they didn’t have the time to search the mines for another exit.
They were trapped.
“I’ve an idea.” Valeria withdrew a bottle from her coveralls. It was clear, the length of her forearm, and inside was a crystalline liquid.
“Is that?”
“Yes,” Valeria said as more gunfire exploded above them, causing the bikromi seer to reflexively duck. “Liquid aethecite. If we can blow the mines with it, should be useful to save my brother-friend’s useless backside.”
Finnus screeched as a torrent of gunfire tore into the shaft’s wall behind them. Large chunks of the sandstone disintegrated. It wouldn’t hold much longer. “What?” he said as both women looked at him. “That was too godsdamned close.”
“Like I said.”
An idea suddenly formed in Cadrianna’s mind. She hastily cut a strip from her torn undershirt that was peeking out from under her drake scale and uncorked the small bottle’s lid, jamming the linen inside. “Give me the lantern.” As Valeria forked it over, Cadrianna pulled open the lid housing the bulb. She wrapped the remaining strand of her undershirt around the heated Aere bulb. “Just get ready to run. Valeria, you’re on truck duty.”
Falling sand, like that of an earthen blizzard, funneled down from the entrance as round-after-round of aethecite bullets thudded into the stone and metal.
She was only going to have one chance.
When there was a brief interlude in the gunfire, Cadrianna pulled the mist around her like a black-red cloak full of wailing souls, disappearing as she did a forward roll out into the open, arm flinging the glowing lantern toward the line of drones. The lantern sailed through the mist, crashing upon one of the Predators. Glass and metal shattered upon the drone’s chassis, bottle breaking apart, liquid aether sluicing over the beast.
The fuel exploded in a giant ball of flames, a colossal whoosh.
Cadrianna dropped her wailing shroud of mist and darted away, the bikrome and her useless brother hot on her heels. The Predator became a metal flame husk, staggering into its companions, the liquid aethecite burning brightly, squealing of metal mixed in with the spray of bullets. The bikrome sprinted toward one of the mining trucks, throwing open the driver’s door and the engine roared to life. Cadrianna and Finnus dove into the back.
“NOT BAD, CAD. RATKO’S SOUL TASTED LIKE ROTTEN MEAT IF I’M BEING HONEST.”
And then the truck was fleeing the mine as the Predators fired on, metal chassis smoking and smoldering.
LII
Lojen
MUTED PRE-DAWNBREAK SKY faded as the Temple of Mother Marrow materialized like a mirage.
The Temple, located about twenty minutes from the mines, was within a sandstone canyon of mountainous dunes. It seemed out of place. As they drove down the winding trail about the cliffs of the canyon, Lojen observed the Temple with a mixture of awe and reverence.
Dusky in tone, columns rose a hundred feet tall, supporting a dome laden with runic carvings. It was dark between the columns, but he noticed sandy billows moving amongst the stone, indicating an open porch, perhaps even an open cella beyond. Truncated, thicker columns lined a dusty path toward the Temple’s stairs, each topped with a life-sized statue of the races birthed by the Forgemistress of Creation’s sacred anvil. Humir, elfir, draconem, lapin, goblin, ogre, and all the rest.
But what caught Lojen by surprise was how immaculate the entire place was.
There was sand blowing through the canyon, but the stone corners, the fluting, the statues appeared flawless, like the day they’d been carved. Magic was clearly involved in this place of holy wonder, otherwise the stone would’ve long since been worn down by the constant barrage of sandstorms. Void, even the Sea of Mist stayed clear of the canyon, wending around as if the entire place was too sacred even for the aetheric poison.
Wick turned off the ignition, the mining truck going still as the lapin pulled up toward a column bearing a statue of a hobgoblin. Emre and Lojen hopped out, though he was still favoring his wounded leg.
“See if you can find a spot to wait, Wick,” Emre said, his gaze never leaving the Temple.
