Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 109329 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109329 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
“Stall?? Are you kidding? I’m just trying to stay in the fight.”
“You can take her.”
“There is evidence to the contrary.”
I dove toward the Elder. I needed to be closer for these spells to have greater effect, it seemed. Which she knew, obviously, hence that concussion of power. This time, though, I used the Ivy House defenses.
The sky darkened. The air currents changed speed and direction, messing with whatever natural thing she was trying to do. She was using the woods—I owned the ground the woods grew out of. I owned the air they breathed and filtered the water they drank. Her power came from my territory’s generosity.
Skeleton arms blasted out of the ground. One grabbed her foot.
She startled and looked down at it. She kicked it off, but another was already there. A skeleton crawled out of the ground near the trees, then another. They ambled toward her, their jaws clacking, their arms out like in a horror show.
The dead will rise from their unmarked graves, I thought. This wasn’t the first time. The type of people buried here didn’t deserve eternal rest.
I continued to hammer her with spells. Darkness blocked out the sun, pitching the woods into near blackness. I could still see through it. She could only feel, and I wasn’t touching anything that could help.
The spells had greater effect now, slicing into her. Punching holes. She didn’t show much of a reaction, but maybe that was because she was fighting half a dozen skeletons that pulled at her and climbed on her. One emerged from the ground with a butcher’s knife.
“How many people are buried on this land?” I asked Ivy House, my own horror seeping in.
“You’re probably not ready to learn that information.”
Ugh.
I switched to the less dangerous spells but kept the power. The Elder roared. She flung off the skeletons. The power in the wood concussed as she wrestled with the elements, trying to use what I had ripped away. I swirled the air again, sending in a poisonous fog that would put her to sleep.
It only enraged her further.
“Sebastian is now being dragged out of the house by the dolls,” Ivy House said.
“Leave that poor guy alone. He won’t know what the Elder is doing, anyway. This isn’t mage magic; it’s basajaunak magic that I’ve never heard anyone talk about.”
“Those who knew about it probably didn’t live long enough to share.”
Likely not.
I sent darts from the house, their magic avoiding anyone on my side and attacking only my enemies.
They flew into the clearing…and shot right past the Elder. She wasn’t actually an enemy. Damn it.
I increased the magic of the fog, swirled the air, and realized this would be a standoff if I didn’t get more physically involved. This creature was not having it. She refused to succumb to the pain, my “manhandling” of the elements, or the horrors now trying to piece themselves back together after she’d scattered their bones.
Little bodies ran in with knives and shears and garden spikes.
The gnomes had entered the battle.
I wasn’t sure whose side they were on. They didn’t tend to mess too much with the basajaunak.
In a moment, though, they started hacking at her ankles. One took a running leap onto her leg, climbed up her back, held on, and brought out a pair of scissors. He started cutting off her braids.
I had to end this. It was getting too weird.
Only one thing to do. Physical violence.
I was about to go sailing, and I knew it.
Wings flapping madly, hands out and spells flying, I dove, using all the power I had.
Her head jerked my way as I got close. She could sense presences too, clearly. She spun to grab me, but I was already there. I barreled into her, taking her to the ground. My claws ripped at her as I fired spells, too close to be thwarted by her natural magic.
She howled in pain, finally.
And beat at me brutally.
I howled right along with her, but it didn’t hurt as badly as that time at Kingsley’s when I dove through the dome and then got blasted by magical guns. I’d lived through that. I’d live through this. I would win this fight, damn it. I’d lasted this long. It was a matter of hammering her with powerful spells, and I’d had a lot of practice and built a lot of stamina.
Closing my eyes, ignoring her claws and fists, I latched on and kept going. She shoved, pummeled, and tried to pin me, but I kept sending spells at her, harder and harder and harder. I would win. I would.
Roars sounded all around us. Fur and hairy arms and hands moved between us.
“Stop, Jessie,” Nessa yelled through it all, her voice carried on the breeze. Or maybe that was me being poetic to stop from feeling all the pain. “You win, stop! They’re trying to break it up.”