Page 60 of Mountain of Mirrors and Starlight
The giant started to sag. There was no time for any relief, any pleasure in the kill. One of the others let out a roar, flinging a trunk in her direction. Caer let out a yell—
Roots leapt out of the ground, wrapping around the trunk and yanking it out of the way before scuttering back to the underground like startled mice.
Beau stood behind them, braced against the air, panting hard.
The second giant charged towards him.
Minerva leapt into the way, taking the brunt of the attack with her metal arm. A loudclangshot through the glade, followed by a hiss of pain. Bell let out another hailstorm of bolts; Fort fired her pistol.
The glade was alive with motion, a startling cacophony of noise and steel and blood. Aislinn didn’t know where to look, where to move. She pirouetted out of the way of each oncoming attack, dodging fallen debris and the stampede of giants’ feet.
She had to get to Beau, she had to.
At the same time, her mind was conscious of other members of their party, the ones that might also be struggling to defend themselves. She’d never seen Luna brandish anything but a rolling pin, and Magna—
Where was Magna?
An explosion went off in the trees, followed by the howl of the third giant, and a snatch of red hair as Magna bolted out from under the rising smoke.
The giant fell with a thud that shook the forest.
Half of the dwarves descended upon it, the remaining half launching themselves at the final one as Aislinn swept under its arms and grabbed Beau, steering him as far away as she dared.
“I’m fine,” he insisted, “Ais, really—”
Aislinn swept over his body, squeezing his shoulders, his arms, stopping at a thick red patch on his shoulder.
She ripped open his doublet.
“It’s just a scratch,” he insisted. “And I liked that doublet.”
Aislinn fretted and frowned, pressing her palm to his wound until it glowed white-hot and golden magic seeped from her fingers. She stuffed the blood back into his body, knitting his flesh back together, healing him just enough. Finished, she withdrew her hand and half slapped him on the cheek—a mad tapping motion, like the furious thump of a rabbit’s leg.
“Don’t lie to me!”
“Sorry,” he murmured, and slumped against her.
She steered him towards the ground. He was conscious, but exhausted. He’d been attacked before a full night’s rest. He wasn’t used to battle, and he’d been using his magic to battle agiant.
“Stay here,” she insisted, “unless something tries to squish you.”
“Noted…” he drawled.
Aislinn raced back into the fray.
The last giant was still upright, its body riddled with holes and bolts, barely pinpricks. Even the dagger wedged in its thigh barely seemed to bother it. Nothing bothered it until Minerva took her axe in her good arm and swung it into the base of its neck.
The giant stumbled.
“Timber!” someone cried.
The dwarves shot out of its path. Caer tried to follow them, his foot catching on one of Beau’s vines. Aislinn skidded towards him, tugging at the foliage, but it flexed with residual magic, getting tighter and tighter…
The giant swayed closer.
“Move!” Minerva hissed.
Aislinn glanced back at the giant. It was close, too close, its body sagging, jaw slack. They were right in its path. No shield she could conjure would stop it. They needed to get out, to vanish, to sink beneath the earth—
