Page 78 of Gods' Battleground

“No,” Nero sighed. “It doesn’t make me feel any better either. But we’re part of that same life cycle. Angels, gods, demons—none of us can escape it. We need the magic in those rocks to survive. We need it to make new soldiers to protect the weak and helpless.”

I nodded, mentally preparing myself to do what was necessary. “Yeah, I know. We have a job to do. So I guess there’s no point in standing around here.”

We spread our wings—Nero’s black with blue and green, mine sunshine-yellow today—and we dove off the cliffside, flying down to the rocky valley below. The first thing I noticed after we landed was how smooth and slippery the rocks were under my boots. Oh, and solid. Very solid.

But, solid as it was, that rocky sheet was just a crust. I could sense the real magic that lay beneath that crust, like the juicy filling of a pie.

We tried blasting the crust open, but it was impenetrable. Of course it was. It had had millennia to grow and harden.

“There,” Nero said, pointing.

I focused on the spot he’d indicated. “An opening. A narrow slit in the crust.” We hurried over to it. “Do you think we can fit through it?”

He leaned in for a closer look at the opening in the rocky sheet. “Yes, we’ll fit, but only just barely. And we cannot use our wings.”

Yeah, our wings were too wide. They took up way too much space. And this ‘opening’ was just a narrow tunnel, a chute. It looked like an elevator shaft. Or…

“A garbage chute,” I commented.

We couldn’t teleport inside either. The rocks seemed to act like a dampening field for our magic. We still had moderate control over most of our magic, but our spells felt weak and flaky. Really, really flaky. If we tried to teleport in, we might end up getting stuck inside a rock for all eternity. And I, for one, had no intention of becoming a permanent fixture to this magic graveyard.

So we did it the old-fashioned way: scaling the rocks barehanded. With no equipment. The rocky sheet was smooth. And completely impervious to nails, so we couldn’t even hammer pins into the rock face and string a rope through them.

“This sure brings back memories,” I commented as we began our descent. “Climbing Mount Cornerstone to get to Storm Castle.”

“Yes, I remember when I had to do the same.” Nero’s voice bordered on nostalgic.

“Don’t tell me you actuallyenjoyedthat horrendous climb?”

“It’s a rite of passage at the Legion.”

“Well, it’s one rite of passage that I could have done without,” I declared.

“It wasn’tthatbad.”

“Sure it was,” I said. “And anyway, I much prefer flying to climbing.”

“Yes, I recall you did not particularly enjoy your climbing sessions in the gym,” he said. “But they did make you stronger. And, as we’re experiencing right now, flying isn’t always an option.”

Too bad. I really liked flying. The beginning had been a bit iffy, when I’d still been trying to figure out my wings, but ever since I had, I’d loved it.

I’d never liked climbing.

“Everything ok?” Nero called up to me.

I nearly slipped off the rock face. I caught myself before I fell—but not before swearing profusely.

“Pandora?” Nero called out again. He was way ahead of me.

I gripped the rock face. “I’m fine.” I cleared my throat, trying to iron out the ripples in my shaky voice. “Just peachy.”

“It’s not far now,” he told me. “I can already see the opening below.”

Of course, we didn’t know how far that opening was from the ground. For all we knew, there was another hundred or so foot drop after it.

“I’m coming,” I told him.

I descended slowly and carefully. And eventually I caught up with Nero just above the opening in the rocks.

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