Page 31 of Sons of Sorrow
He scoffed. “What, like it’s hard?”
For once Luna looked at me with an expression that didn’t ooze with derision or disgust. Her eyes bored into me, steely with intent. She nodded once, firmly, a soldier who understood her orders.
“Okay,” I shouted. “Let’s do this before Bruna becomes hydraling brunch. And go!”
I thrust my hand forward, the words of the summoning spell slipping from my lips as quick as breath. Feathers and wings surrounded me in a cooing cloud. I clenched my fingers, forcing more of my essence into the doves, encasing each of them in a silvery-gold shield for their own protection. I sent them forth in a flurry.
“Bruna, out of the way!”
She happily obliged, literally holding on to her hat as she raced to the back of our clump for safety. The doves harassed the hydraling’s many heads, pecking at their eyes, batting with their wings. Some of the creature’s heads knocked into each other, stunning them and adding to the chaos. They hocked their acid spit, doing no damage to my shielded bird-y boys, injuring each other by accident instead.
This was working better than I expected. Then something gleamed among them, the flash of something slender and metallic. Satchel was working his unique magic, zipping in and out of his pocket dimensions. I couldn’t see where the needle was poking, but I could just make out the network of filaments he was building around the hydraling and its heads.
One last zip, and he appeared several feet away. The hydralings hissed at him, baring their fangs, preparing to spit more of their acid in the same direction. Satchel threw his hand out, then tugged.
Every hydraling head knocked into the next one as Satchel’s threads gathered their necks into a single tight bundle. Excellent. He’d snared them in his trap. They hissed and rasped in anger, the noises markedly choked as Satchel pulled tighter and tighter.
Given the right kind of thread, I imagined he could cut right through them from tugging the string alone. Or maybe not, because of all those tough scales. Best to be sure.
“Luna,” I shouted. “You’re up.”
She touched her fingers to her ears, her throat, her wrists. I mustn’t have noticed her necklace and bracelets, all of which were adorned with similar silver moons. She pointed at the hydraling. A barrage of crescents fired in rapid sequence, shredding the hydraling’s scales, severing every neck from the main trunk.
I didn’t even need to say Ember’s name. He sped forward with his arms extended and his hands linked, a jet of flame pouring from his fingertips.
Ember concentrated the stream of fire on the fleshy stump where the hydraling’s necks used to be, sealing the wound, preventing more heads from appearing. The ones on the ground croaked, then shriveled like empty reptilian husks.
“Awesome work, everybody,” I said, reaching into my belt pouches for some birdseed, scattering them along the ground to provide my doves with a snack. “Job well done.”
“I’d say,” Ember said, shaking his hands vigorously like he was trying to extinguish the flames. He flew right up to Satchel, gazing intently into his eyes. “Those are some incredible moves you have there. I’m not even sure what you did. You need to show me some time.”
Satchel gulped. He rubbed the front of his forearm, cheeks round and red like apples, uncharacteristically bashful. “Yeah. Sure. Some time.”
Cute. Very cute. Someone was definitely crushing on someone here.
I cracked my knuckles, heading toward the leafy barrier Sylvain had built. Personally, I wanted to see about crushing Evander Skink’s skull in my bare hands.
14
I encircledSylvain’s fingers with my wrist, tugging him away from the puffy-lipped leech trying to latch onto his neck.
Sorry, Evander. I meant Evander.
“But his skin is burning,” Sylvain said, unsure of whether he should prioritize dispensing first aid or detangling himself from Evander’s slimy clutches.
“He’s fine now, Sylvain,” I grumbled. “Just delirious. You’ve done your part making sure he didn’t get killed in the fight. Let him be.”
Charitably, I did not make any snipes about Evander being responsible for getting us attacked by a hydraling. Oh, and for getting himself bitten and envenomated in the first place. I could save those for later, for when Evander was lucid and ready to receive the full brunt of my insults.
“My hero,” Evander said, making smooching noises as he groped at the air.
Bruna swept in imperiously, unclasping another red potion from her belt and delivering another sound slap to Evander’s face. I almost snorted. Bruna to the rescue.
“Snap out of it,” Bruna said, uncorking the phial with her teeth. She knelt, shoving Evander down by the chest. “Here. Drink this. You need more healing potion.”
Evander protested, or tried to, at least. Luna had his arms pinned to the ground, her expression chilly and still. Bruna straddled his chest and pinched his nose so she could force the potion down his throat. Quite the sight to behold. The Hernandez sisters could probably accomplish all sorts of wonders, get up to adventures and shenanigans, if only they could cooperate like this more often.
Not that I blamed Bruna for any of it, naturally. Luna was clearly a tough nut to crack.
