Skyler’s eyes widened in shock, Branislava’s only warning. A massive hellhound hit her squarely in the chest driving her over backward, the gaping mouth with rows of terrible teeth driving straight for her throat. She tried to fend it off with outstretched hands, a pitiful attempt, but the hot breath blasted her in the face and what looked like a thousand teeth rushed at her. At the last moment she squirmed enough that the beast clamped his jaw down tight around her shoulder, not her throat.
She heard her own scream, a frightened, pain-filled cry, torn from her in spite of all resolution not to show Xaviero weakness. Of course he’d targeted the women. She’d been so wrapped up in her work, she hadn’t thought to keep one eye out for an attack.
The hellhound ripped a great chunk of flesh from her shoulder, and clamped down a second time on the bone. His teeth seemed to meet in the middle and he shook her like a rag doll. There was no way to shift, no way to reach into her belt and retrieve the knife there.
Skyler rolled on the ground beneath the hellhound, a knife in her fist, blade up. She cut the legs of the beast, slicing tendons and ligaments as she rolled to the other side. As she came up in a crouch, she slammed the blade into the eye of the hellhound and leapt away from the creature before it could release Branislava and attack her.
Razvan came out of nowhere, covered in blood, his face a mask of intent, eyes blazing fire as he leapt over one hellhound, slamming his arrow deep into its eye, knocked down a Sange rau and launched himself in the air at the last moment, to land squarely on the back of the hellhound attacking Branislava.
He wrapped one arm around the beast’s head, jerking it back hard as he plunged his knife into the animal’s remaining good eye. The hellhound shuddered. Took a step and collapsed over the top of Branislava. Razvan pulled her out from under the heavy creature, his fingers moving over her shoulder to determine how much damage had been done.
“Thanks. Both of you.” She included Skyler. “Thank you.”
Razvan nodded. “It’s not broken, but right now, drive out every bit of bacteria. You’ll need to cauterize it as fast as possible.”
It hurt, even when she did her best to push the pain away. Even pushing out the strands of bacteria was painful. Burning it clean hurt even more. She set her teeth and nodded to Razvan that she was good and could go back to work. A part of her was very grateful that he stood guard over the four of them. The thought of another hellhound getting ahold of her was terrifying. With a little shudder she turned back to begin peeling the layers back on the heavy strands of magic protecting the mage’s power grid.
The fire let out a roar, as if alive, and maybe it was with the aid of the mages. The flames turned blue in the middle of the conflagration, a storm of defiant color in the midst of the raging blaze. The flames leapt higher and higher, nearly climbing to the fog ceiling, the black smoke spreading like a cancer overhead. The tremendous heat drove everyone away from the site, not because the Carpathians couldn’t control their temperatures, but because the fire melted everything in its range.
The ground shifted, a jarring warning that stopped nearly everyone in their tracks. Even the few remaining hellhounds paused uneasily. Xaviero walked out of the protective circle, unbending, unafraid, a blue light glowing around him. His brother came from the other side, just as impressive, wrapped in that same mystique that set them apart from the rest of the world.
They kept to the shadows, making no sound at all, yet commanding the attention of every combatant. The hellhounds rushed to them, slinking low, like pets who had been beaten but were at the command of their masters. Both mages waved their hands and a candle on either side of the triangle they formed with the fire leapt to life, the flames flickering blue to match the center of the larger blaze.
The ground trembled a second time, a great crack zigzagging through the center of the triangle Xaviero, Xayvion and the fire formed, in the exact center of power between the trees the two had prepared in advance. Soil erupted into a geyser and then collapsed in on itself, forming a sinkhole several feet in diameter.
The candles on either side of the triangle leapt in glee, the flames turning blue to answer the blue crystals both mages scattered on the ground surrounding the sinkhole. A blast of heat rose from below, as if a great volcano lurked just beneath the surface. The fog above their heads reflected an orange-red hue cast from the melted rock deep in the sinkhole.
A hush fell over the battlefield. Both mages stepped out of the shadows, ringed by the hellhounds to guard them as they performed their ritual. Dressed in purple robes, they lifted their arms and opened them wide. In complete synchronization, the two chanted the foulest of dark magic, demanding the gates of hell be opened.