Scorio flailed as he flew into the storefront of a lantern shop. Wooden framing and glass shattered around him as he smashed into display lanterns which exploded into a thousand fragments of colored glass. He crashed to the ground within the dark shop and rolled into a table.
For a moment Scorio just lay there, eyes wide and staring at the thick carpet, then he leaped to his feet with a growl. Marched to the front door, yanked it open, and emerged into the street.
The Nightmare Lady was battling Aisha, chains and tail whipping at each other while Gwyneth seized Leonis with her telekinesis and hurled him powerfully into a stone wall. Lianshi ran up to help the Nightmare Lady, her body glimmering with her momentary invincibility, while Jova, Juniper, and Zala fanned out to intercept Bronwen.
Where was Smoke?
“Hey,” whispered someone to the left. Scorio glanced sidelong and saw Normal. Slender, plain, unremarkable in every way, she wore her dirty blonde hair under a kerchief and her expression was almost sad. The moment they made eye contact, however, pain jolted through Scorio causing his every muscle to spasm. With a cry, he toppled over onto his side and lay there, jerking and grunting.
Footsteps.
Normal squatted over him. “Shh, don’t fight it. Just go to sleep.” She reached down to caress his brow. Her touch caused the pain to double. “It’ll stop hurting if you just let go.”
Scorio felt as if he’d been dipped into a mind-blanking white light. Every part of him trembled. His talons tore up the street. He strained as if held by the world’s mightiest chains.
“Shh.” She ran her fingers over his cheek, her touch cool. “Rest.”
Scorio reached for his Tomb Spark power, the mysterious aura that had allowed him to go deeper than Jova into the Gauntlet. He’d no idea what it really did, but he hit Normal with every ounce of his power, willing her to just go the hell away.
Normal’s gray eyes widened and she spilled onto her ass in shock. The pain vanished.
Not bothering to get up, Scorio lunged desperately over to where she lay and punched her in the side of the head with his huge, scaled knuckles.
Her head snapped to the side and she collapsed.
The memory of the pain left him dazed, but there was no time to rest. With a grunt, he heaved himself to his feet, only for Gwyneth to seize him again and hurl him back through the lantern shop’s door, shattering the wood as he tumbled backward into the darkness anew.
“Damn it!” he roared, leaping to his feet. She had to know his reserves were low, that his Heart was weak. If she could just keep him out of the fight long enough he’d be defeated by his own fissured Heart.
This time he exploded out of the shop at an all-out sprint. Juniper was clawing at the air, expression one of confusion, while Zala was directing her butterflies at Bronwen.
Bronwen had grown to seven feet in height, her frame statuesque; her red mane of hair had come unbound and flowed down her back like a waterfall of blood. She had Jova by the neck and was rapidly and repeatedly smashing her fist into the Tomb Spark’s face, again and again, trying to overwhelm her defensive powers.
Where was Smoke?
There, leaning against the wall, looking disinterested and puffing on his cheroot.
Up until he saw Scorio coming.
“Damn it!” He turned to run but then Scorio was on him. He rode the small man to the ground and cracked his head against the cobblestones.
Quick as a cat he leaped off Smoke and turned to see Juniper and Zala’s expressions clear.
His Heart was guttering.
Scorio took a deep breath, flexed his white-hot talons, and strode toward Bronwen.
She still held Jova aloft but was growling as she resisted the Tomb Spark’s fear aura. And she’d continued to grow: she was easily eight feet tall now, her robes torn, her athleticism having turned into panther-like musculature, her eyes burning bright. With a grunt, she hurled Jova away as if she were a ragdoll and rounded on him.
Scorio slowed. Hesitated. Bronwen had no weapons, but everything about her caused his instincts to warn him away. The giantess moved with liquid grace and perfectly controlled poise, and the maniacal gleam in her eyes was devoid of any thought, any desire but to destroy him. Muscles rippled under her skin, her lips curved into a savage smile, and her hair shimmered and flowed as if alive.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he managed to say but then she was upon him.
Scorio swung, but his blow felt clumsy compared to her quicksilver agility. He missed as she swayed to the side and then punched him so hard she buried her fist in his gut. The sheer force lifted him off the ground as his breath exploded from his lungs. His body folded over her arm as she continued her punch up into the air as if trying to hit the sun-wire, lifting him off the ground and sending him flying.
The world spun, blood sputtered up the back of his throat, and Scorio came down on the far side of the street with a crunch. He landed on his left shoulder, rolled, and collapsed onto his side.
He refused to stay down. Ornery stubbornness more than anything else helped him up to his hands and knees as he spat out a mouthful of blood.
“Bronwen!” someone shouted. “Stop!”
Scorio looked up. Bronwen marched toward him, luminous butterflies alighting on her shoulders but not enough to slow her. Her eyes smoldered with murderous intent, her hair writhed, and he saw the promise of death in her avid expression.
“What the hell,” he croaked. With that one punch, she’d nearly undone him. “You’re just an Emberling.”
She burst forward, covered the last few yards in a blur, and before he could react she scooped him up by the neck and slammed him into the wall so hard Scorio heard it crack.
He couldn’t summon his Shroud. He was running on Coal fumes. All that was saving him right now was his scaled form’s heightened strength and stamina.
She pinned him to the wall two feet above the ground, her grip crushing his throat. He swung his talons feebly at her wrist but she released him just in time only to spear her other arm forward and catch him again by the neck.
Grinning all the while, she pulled him away from the wall and slammed him back against it with bone-breaking force.
Scorio’s vision turned black.
“Bronwen!” someone was screaming.
Scorio flailed weakly with his talons but found no purchase. She was too fast, too nimble.
Then she released him and he fell to his knees.
Hands to his throat he looked up.
Juniper was going toe to toe with Bronwen, unleashing her power. Each punch caused the air to fill with startling radiance, a lightning burst of yellow fire that refused to disappear and instead moved with Bronwen, blinding her, overwhelming her.
In theory.
Bronwen let out a scream and plunged through the shifting kaleidoscope of crackling radiance to punch Juniper right in the face.
Juniper’s body lifted right off the ground as her head snapped back.
Scorio gave a raspy roar and tried to surge forward, but Bronwen snap side-kicked him in the chest, the blow flowing out from the hip.
It felt like falling from a very great height onto a fence post.
Scorio felt his sternum crack as he bounced off the wall once more and hit the ground hard.
Bronwen stood over them both. In her stark, ravenously beautiful face he saw no hint of compassion, no mercy, just a yearning, an endless hunger for violence.
She reached for him.
Scorio’s Heart guttered and died.
Just before her large hand closed about his neck once more she tensed and froze. For a second she struggled, her muscles and sinews standing out in sharp relief, then with a cry of fury she flew up into the air, arms windmilling, and disappeared over the lantern shop’s roof.