Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 117246 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117246 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
As predicted, my world instantly flipped upside down. The abrupt switch played havoc with my equilibrium, and I teetered. The bars prevented a fall. Then the lens did its job, and the floor became the floor again, rather than the ceiling. I wasn’t the biggest fan of feeling as if I peered into a virtual reality, or the promised ache in my temples, but it hardly mattered. We were berry hunting!
Cyrus stalked into a wide-open space brimming with all manner of armored vehicles. I could almost smell the scent of fuel. Six viscounts worked together, loading boxes into a truck bed rimmed by metal bars and pritis clusters. Nothing out of the ordinary here either.
Noticing Cyrus, one of the men stopped and saluted. “High Prince Dolion. It’s an honor to join you in the field again, sir.” The others performed the same actions the moment they spotted their superior.
“Thank you for the escort.” He withdrew his swords from their sheaths, climbed into the back of the truck, and sat with his spine pressed against the cab. Meanwhile, I performed the same motions, even that of sitting. Thankfully, a seat unfolded from the pole, holding me steady. “I have a trainee with me. I’ll be speaking to her throughout the expedition.”
“Yes, sir.”
The truck shook as four soldiers joined us and two more settled in up front. Was Cyrus nervous at all? As the vehicle jostled forward, an exit in the garage opened, revealing a road illuminated by pritis. No feeders approached until we cleared the compound.
Any outside light vanished—there one second, gone the next. The only illumination came from the vehicle and armor worn by the soldiers, providing shadowy glimpses of crazed eyes. Wild snarls competed with the sound of the revving engine.
I tilted as the truck executed a turn, abandoning the paved road to speed along dirt and gravel. We dodged any battlegrounds, swerving as necessary to avoid the knights and barons who engaged with feeder hordes. The two groups clashed with such violence in a field illuminated by pritis light, I longed to look away.
“No questions for me?” Cyrus asked.
A moment passed before I realized he spoke to me. “Tons.” But few involved the mission. “I’m trying to absorb everything without distracting you.”
“We’re five minutes out,” the driver called.
A body slammed into the windshield, shaking the entire vehicle. I gasped as I bounced with Cyrus. Feeders swarmed from every direction, as if the soldiers had driven into a trap.
The driver floored the gas, mowing down anything in his path.
“There are too many feeders. He won’t be able to stop,” Cyrus told me. “If he does, feeders will glom the vehicle, and we’ll get stuck. I’m going to jump and roll, which means you’re going to slam against your bars. My apologies.”
“Don’t worry about me.” How could he survive hurling himself into a horde of the infected? “Do what you’ve got to do.”
He did, following two of the four guards out the tail of the vehicle.
Cyrus rolled across a rocky tundra, and as predicted, I thrashed back and forth against the pole. Dizziness crested as he popped to his feet and swung, his glowing swords arcing through the air. I had no control of my body as he sliced and diced his way forward, with the soldiers doing the same at his sides.
Light flicked with their every movement, revealing details I would have missed otherwise. The skill Cyrus displayed awed me even as the sights inspired only horror. Heads flew without bodies, and blood sprayed in arcs. Severed limbs plopped to the ground. Hisses, grunts, and panting breaths packed my ears.
If the “true” purpose of the Annex was to keep these feeders from Ourland, I would be forever grateful to Cured.
“Go, go,” Cyrus commanded, and he sprinted off.
As he jumped and dodged the maddened, I jumped and dodged. As he climbed pieces of fallen carnival rides, I climbed, pushing my stamina to the brink. Muscles burned and shook. No wonder we were forced to run obstacle courses.
He utilized weapons I’d handled in class and, when necessary, wedged himself in a safe cubby to give himself time to observe and think. Visibility increased as rays of stark white light beamed from a castle in the distance, surrounded by a large body of water. A structure I didn’t recall seeing in videos or textbooks.
Cyrus veered right. “Glowers,” he shouted to the other soldiers as he decapitated a feeder. He switched his attention to the next challenger. And the next. “They’re protecting the berries.”
I scanned the darkness, finally spotting an attractive fortysomething man casually plucking weeds near a lush green plant. At his side was a woman—I gasped, astonished to my core. Ember. Ember was here, in Theirland. Had she followed me?
Both Soalians looked like they’d swallowed pritis stones. Gold light speckled with red emanated from the circles etched into their flesh. How unbothered they were, taking no account of the battle that raged around them. In fact, they displayed the very peace I’d craved during my entire existence.