Sindra, freckled and mysterious, with her gazelle-like grace and hesitancy.
Another building across from them collapsed as the rod tore itself free. Great Souls cried out from within.
“Dameon!” shouted Scorio, fury and desire making him reckless. It was now or never—he fell upon the man only to be rebuffed by his forcefield once more. Sensed Jova coming from behind, saw countless rocks and stones flying up into the air, under her command.
ATTACK ME! Scorio commanded, and Jova, already so inclined, complied.
Scorio waited a terrible second, clawing at the forcefield as Dameon retreated before him, then flung himself into a desperate dive.
A storm of stones flew past him to impact the forcefield.
They shattered, bounced, ricocheted off, only for Jova to catch herself and cut away the assault.
But then the Nightmare Lady appeared, falling upon the forcefield with her claws and tails, maw opened wide as she shrieked, segmented tails whip cracking at the forcefield from the side.
Which shattered.
The Nightmare Lady hit the ground just beside Dameon. Scorio leaped at him, claws outstretched.
“To Bastion!” Dameon screamed.
Sindra flared gold, brighter than the fleeting sun, brighter than the sun-wire at amber, and the pair of them disappeared.
Scorio collided with the Nightmare Lady, her tail wrapping around his shoulder and driving him face first into the stone floor.
Immediately they thrust themselves apart, but Dameon and the woman were gone.
“Coward!” seethed Naomi, then looked up in alarm. “Jova!”
“Worse, everyone else’s coming.” Scorio tore at the ground in his effort to get moving, and threw himself forward as fresh blocks of stone pounded behind him. The air began to flicker with colorful lights even as thousands of pellets rained from the sky, each a weaponized bullet. Scorio raised his Shroud above them both and ran. A hail of glowing arrows flew past them. The air began to grow so hot his lungs began to burn.
Time to go.
Naomi raced through the growing banks of dark fog, darting from one to the next, and together they leaped, ran up the inside of the wall and hurled themselves off its top into the void.
Scorio extruded his wings, curled around, and dove after Naomi, who was falling in her human form, her Heart having finally guttered out. He swept down and caught her, holding her to his chest as he dove under the island’s lip.
“She’s behind us!” shouted Naomi, and Scorio cast a desperate glance behind at where Jova dropped into view on her stone slab. She flung out her hand and rocks flew after them, but Scorio swung wide and then darted back with quick beats of his wings and the stones exploded against the island’s underside.
“Wait, she’s leaving—she’s gone!”
“Her Heart,” gasped Scorio. “She must have almost run out of mana and feared the drop.”
Where was the—there. Slowly bobbing along, the battered Sloop awaited them.
Weary, frustrated, Scorio flew over to it and landed on its deck. Its railing was smashed in several spaces but it had otherwise survived being anchored to the island.
They cut the rope and Scorio inhaled mana from the air so that The Sloop dropped free of the huge stalactites. He and Naomi frantically worked the rigging, turning The Sloop around, and then he released Iron so that they rose meteorically into the sky.
“Look!” Naomi sounded gleeful.
The great whale ship was being mauled by the rod which had finally torn its way free of the ruined castle complex. Several Great Souls were assaulting it, but nobody could muster enough power to knock it off course. Even as Scorio watched the anchored whale ship was dragged into its path. Aerite bones exploded, planks shattered, and then it caught the base of the rear mast.
With a great splintering roar it toppled over, tearing its rigging free.
“Yes!” Naomi practically jumped.
Great Souls immediately set to cutting the ropes and wrestling with the fallen mast. Everybody was clambering aboard, and most were glaring across the intervening space at them.
“Time to go,” he whispered. That one ruined mast wouldn’t delay their whale ship for long. “Time to go!”
Chapter 57
Scorio grasped the wheel and urged The Sloop on. Naomi scaled up and down the mast, hissing in fury as she managed the rigging as best she could, clearly resisting the urge to just slash through the mess of ropes with her tail. They flew through a miasma of abused mana; the island’s passage had caused every mana type to swirl into each other, resulting in streaks of Copper through blocks of torn Iron, pockets of Coal sinking slowly while all was speckled with flecks of Gold.
“We’ll outrace them, won’t we?” Naomi called down after a moment spent observing their pursuers.
“They’ve got plenty more hands to get things shipshape,” Scorio muttered, reaching out with his senses for the optimum path. He wanted height and speed, a confluence of Iron and Copper. The ship bucked and rattled like a cart rushing over cobblestones, jostled by the stirred mana and making poor time as its sails fitfully managed to catch the wind.
“It’s a day and a half to Bastion,” Naomi called down, frantically tugging at a pulley. “Do you think we can outfly them?”
“One way to find out.” Scorio locked the wheel and rushed forward to help. The Sloop’s size ensured a relatively simple set up with the one mast; but docking under the island had damaged the top of the mast. A single yard had shattered and in doing so allowed sails to flutter half spread. Scorio found a replacement in the hold, and with much cursing and inventive work they affixed it in place.
“There,” breathed Scorio as the topgallant filled out. He took the wheel and eased them around so that they were before the wind. Released a little Iron once more so that they rose, and risked a glance over his shoulder.
The big whale ship was still embroiled with its own fouled lines. Great Souls climbed about it like ants, but he doubted the majority knew what they were doing. Even as he watched a small group gathered at the port railing, facing them. A tiny figure reached out, touched each in turn, then unleashed a sun.
For a second the distant figure’s chest shone as bright as the heart of a mirror, and then a lance of white fire that wasn’t quite lightning nor quite a flame roared through the air to fly past them, missing their mast by a yard. The air immediately became superheated, the moisture in Scorio’s mouth and throat vanishing, his skin smarting from the sting.
“What was that?” hissed Naomi, leaping down to the deck.
“Motivation.”
They pulled away, rising ever higher so as to leave the stirred mana behind. Occasionally Scorio glanced back, either at the ship or the now distant island. He felt a pang of loss at leaving the rod behind, but he couldn’t even see it now. It must have run out of mana and fallen to the earth.
One day, he’d return and reclaim it.
The fleeting sun dipped below the horizon, but when it rose they both saw that the other ship had finally sorted itself out and was in pursuit.
“At least Jova’s got no rocks close by,” said Naomi, then shuddered and passed a hand over her face. “But damn that coward. How dare he run from us?”
“He can’t run forever.”
“With Sindra he can. What a coward. All of Manticore around him and he couldn’t stand and fight.”
“Guess we’ll have to stop looking up to him now. Pity.”
Naomi glowered at him. “You’re taking this well. All that effort for nothing.”
“Oh, he’s a dead man. He just doesn’t know it yet. Wherever he goes we’ll follow.” Scorio felt his roiling rage sinking deep but still there, unquenchable. “And to be honest, he must be scared now. He knows we’ll come for him. I find that I like that fact.”