His legs flail about as he begins to slip. I harness my energy, closing my eyes for a split second to focus, and fling him out of the sinkhole with my mind. He flops once as he lands hard on his stomach, his arm bent awkwardly beneath him. I’m just about to escape the hole myself when I hear a voice behind me, much nearer than before. “You seem to be struggling, Illyria. Are you sure you are up to the challenge?” Vikesh taunts.
I dig my fingers deep into the ground and feel something solid, a tree root that wound its way under the wall and into the depths of the yard. I grab hold of it and pull myself hand over hand from the hole.
“Why didn’t you just fling yourself out?” Carleon asks as he comes to help me the final couple of feet. My stomach feels bruised and my hands raw from gripping the branch so tightly. My palms sting as I shake them out at my sides.
I’m breathing heavily by the time I’m fully on solid ground again, but I know I have no time to rest. “Because I’m going to need all the strength I have left. Now I want you to run. I don’t care which direction as long as you don’t head south. Get as far away from here as you can. When you are at the extraction point, wait for Eamon and his men to fall back. I don’t want any more men to die tonight.”
“No way.” He shakes his head and he helps me to a sitting position. I wince, realizing my right side is far more sensitive than I had originally thought. It hurts to breathe. “I’m not leaving you here with him.”
I grab the front of his uniform and pull him close. “If you don’t, I will lose because I will be trying to save both of us. You need to leave. That’s an order.”
Static hisses in the comm that dangles from my cheek. I snatch it up. “Find Drakon and get out. Carleon will meet you at the rendezvous point. I’ll take care of Vikesh myself.”
I yank the comm from my ear and crush it underfoot. The last thing I need is Vikesh using the static against me.
Don’t you dare take him on alone, a voice bursts loudly in my mind. I wince and Carleon turns to watch me. I offer him a weak smile but keep my eyes focused on Vikesh’s approach. He seems to be waiting for something… or someone.
You don’t have to yell, Kyan. I can hear you just fine.
Good. Then I forbid you to go through with this. Eamon is beside himself. You know he will come for you.
No! Knock him out and drag him back to the woods. He can’t help me. No one can.
“Go, Carleon,” I hiss as I shove at his arm. He hesitates but rises slowly.
We’re coming for you.
I grit my teeth, knowing I have to finish with Vikesh quickly. As much as I adore my friends, their stubborn streak really gets on my nerves at times.
Vikesh’s tall form appears to shimmer in the firelight as he allows himself to fully materialize. His uniform is scarlet from neck to overly polished black boots. I can see a mirrored image of the flames on the ground, contorting on their glossed surface as he passes. Huge silver spikes protrude from his ears, spanning nearly from cheek to scalp. A thick metal bar is shoved through his nose. The skin of his forehead and cheeks has been tattooed with black scrawling symbols. He stares down at me with scarlet eyes filled with barely concealed elation.
You won’t make it in time, I say back to Kyan and sever the connection.
I am on my own now.
Two
I stare down the giant before me, unnerved by the difference in our size. Vikesh towers over me like a mighty oak tree, as broad and round as one too. His skin glows bronze in the light of the fire. His bald head shiny and slicked with sweat.
At least I’m not the only one who is showing some weakness, I think idly as I plant my feet and release my hold on my wounded side. “I had hoped you’d be dead by now.”
Vikesh’s laughter rumbles deep in his chest. Dark hairs escape out from the collar of his uniform, curling over the lip of his rounded neckline. “I had the same hopes for you, my dear, but alas… here we are.”
He steps to the edge of the crevice that separates us and balls up his fists against his hips. “Although, I have to admit I am pleased to see you. I was so hoping we could tango one more time. You weren’t exactly fair competition when we last met.”
When his tongue snakes out between his lips, I see he has added a few more studs to his collection. Each one lining the center of his tongue is spiked and slick with moisture. How he manages to swallow around those things I will never know.
I don’t let my disgust show as my gaze drifts over him. The sleeves of his uniform have been torn off at the top of his shoulders, revealing a patchwork of burns, scars, and glowing blue tattoos. There is hardly any bronze flesh left barren.