Page 26 of Sons of Sorrow
Great throwing arm, too. The potion smashed a few feet in front of Luna, the contents expanding at an alarming rate. Within seconds, a wall of ice had grown out of the ground, at least a dozen feet in height and width. The fire bombs drummed against it, never slowing. I could imagine chunks of ice being gouged out by every incoming explosion.
I called out to Bruna down the line. “Thanks for that, but couldn’t you have created a wall of steel instead?”
“Oh, sure,” Bruna snapped back. “As soon as you find a good recipe for that, you be sure to let me know.”
Luna cried out in frustration, bashing her shield against the icy barrier.
“Nice try, Luna.” Bruna began the process of patting herself down again, looking for another potion to use. “You can go ahead and try to get yourself killed if you want. I won’t let that happen.”
“Bring this thing down,” Luna shouted, kicking uselessly at the ice. “I was beating them back. I could’ve destroyed more of them.”
“Highly unlikely, sis.” Evander pointed into the distance. “Looks like they’re rolling out another round of party favors.”
More of the whistling sounded from the city of brass, another salvo of fireballs cruising into the sky. Again it was impossible not to think of artillery fire, or a salvo of missiles. Who was shooting these things at us?
Sylvain clucked his tongue. “This is a most violent way to welcome guests.”
This time I could tell he was being sarcastic. “We need to snipe them,” I said. “Evander, Sylvain. We have to take out as many of them as possible.”
“Locke?” Satchel asked. “Should I — ?”
“No. Stay close by. It’s too dangerous out there. Lend me your essence if you want to help.”
He nodded firmly, pressing his hand against the side of my neck. “Consider it done.”
I reached for my medallion, sending another surge of power into the Breath of the Wind. I lurched forward as the magic rushed out of my soul, summoning a guardian.
The cry of a hawk split the air, fine feathers of brass and silk raining all about me. The conjuring worked. I raised my head to find Frederick the harpy beating his great wings.
“Frederick,” I shouted. “Thank you for coming. The fireballs. Use your feathers!”
With zero hesitation, Frederick spun in a circle and stretched out his wings, firing a hail of feathers toward the fire bombs. Light as leaves, but tougher than steel, every feather met its mark, initiating a ripple effect of detonations. It was working. Luna had the right idea, just not the right execution.
Sylvain followed suit, waving his arm in a great arc, directing a flow of leaves at the sky. Evander understood as well, separating some of his butterflies from the barrier, commanding them to meet the fireballs.
Fight fire with fire, almost literally in this case. The butterflies glowed with ominous orange light, one of Evander’s favorite tricks, empowering his pretties to explode on contact.
The dark sky of the Oriel of Fire lit up with fiery blooms as our magics met the burning bombs in flight. Leaves, butterflies, and feathers alike caused chain reactions, consuming the storm of bombs, detonating them far away from us, above the gleaming city.
It was working. We were beating back the attack. I thrust my fist in the air. Bruna let out a cheer. And then Satchel flew forward, pointing at the sky. From deep within the city came another series of piercing whistles. My heart sank.
“Oh, gods,” Satchel muttered. “Not another one. Locke, we can’t keep this up forever.”
“Locke!” Bruna flung her finger just in front of me. “Twelve o’clock!”
I barely gave it any thought, sweeping my hand forward. The Wilde grimoire’s pages rustled as it flew to follow the line of my gesture, its cover pulsing with arcane essence. My eyes went wide at the sight of a fire bomb that had flown far, far too close for comfort. But how did it make it past our defenses?
“You need to get out of here,” said the fire bomb.
I blinked hard at the glowing orange shape. It hovered a foot away, never actually colliding with the grimoire. It was a little man, almost the exact size of a pixie, except with flaming hair and wings.
“Who are you?” I asked, more confused than concerned.
“Someone who wants to help.” He pointed at the sky. “This isn’t going to stop until you’re dead or you turn back and leave. Though there is one other option. Start running.”
“Never!” Luna snarled. I flinched and jumped back, never even noticing that she’d retreated behind the barrier. “We can end this.”
The little burning man scoffed. “You’ll only end it by dying. I suggest you run, away from the Core, as fast and as hard as you can.”
