Earth Awakened, page 21
“I’ll take the right. Use Baj’lur. Focus on the concrete base and try to throw it away from you and to the side. Leave a clear path for the others. Focus! Think of the sigils! Baj’lur!”
Caleb gave a quick jerk of a nod, nostrils flaring from adrenaline and rapid breathing. As the young man positioned himself in front of the beam, Javen mirrored his movements on the right-hand support.
Then he closed his eyes and focused down.
His magic connected with a click, and the world opened up.
Power swirled in his abdomen. With a thought, he unraveled it into his limbs, rolling his shoulders as he soaked into the mirrored Earth power. The gravel felt like pinpricks on his skin, the sand below like river silt. Before him, the concrete lit up in his senses like a gold nugget on St. Patrick’s Day, glowing a vibrant green.
Baj and Lur flickered onto his skin, then solidified, buzzing with power.
He raised his arm and punched his hand to the right.
Crack!
A chunk of concrete the size of a microwave ripped from the base and flew off to the side. The roaring of the alarm stifled the sound of the rock grinding into the pavement, but Javen felt it hit.
He could feel everything around him.
The two Elementals hacked away at their targets. Concrete buckled under their power, but the slabs were thick and extended into the soil farther than they’d expected. Large piles of dirt and stone started to build up on each side of the intended path.
Good. They could take some cover behind them, perhaps.
After a few minutes, a car horn stopped their work. Sweat turned Javen’s shirt into a clinging layer of skin.
He couldn’t see how well Caleb had managed, but the sight of the other man wiping his brow confirmed that Javen wasn’t just a tired, old man.
The horn blasted again. He jerked his gaze over to see that Gannon had the Humvee backed up until its rear had re-entered the alley.
He flashed the headlights twice.
Javen got out of the way.
The military truck wasn’t fast, but it was heavy. Having a top speed of only fifty-five miles-per-hour didn’t detract from its ability to take down obstacles. It heaved forward, shuddering slightly each time Gannon changed gears.
By the time the truck hit the fence, the engine was roaring.
Dirt shot from the back tires. The fence tilted toward the outpost, but it didn’t fall. Gannon shifted again, and the roar of the engine turned into a scream. The back end began to slide sideways as the tires continued to spin in place.
Javen ran back to his pillar and started pulling concrete away with clawed hands. Chunk by chunk, fingertips scraping the sides with a numbing pain.
Slowly, the fence began to tilt more.
But it wasn’t giving. And they were running out of time.
The outpost’s defense would show up any minute.
He gritted his teeth and dug in, arms moving more erratically as he tossed debris all around him. The truck began to slide toward him, back end spinning to keep up the pressure.
Then there was no more concrete left for him to pull.
Shock hit his system. For a solid second, he stared at the naked metal beam. The scream of the overworked engine pierced through his head, spinning wheels inches from his arm. Wisps of smoke lifted from the rubber, slipping around his face.
His hand gripped into a cold fist.
Metal or not, that fence needed to come down.
He focused on the steel beam, his fist once again forming claws as he imagined his fingers gripping the squared edged of its end deep underground.
Everything that made that beam came from Earth. It was refined Earth, but it was Earth.
He could move it. He had to.
Sigils blazed on his arms. Power coiled down, burying deep. The world tunneled around him, darkening at the edges as he focused. His mind swam with brief, piercing pain.
He stepped forward, grabbed hold of the beam, and shoved.
Baj’lur!
It snapped like a telephone pole and tipped forward, a deep, sharp crack cutting off where he’d pushed it.
He lurched forward and fell with it.
The Humvee surged forward, straightening itself. The chain link tumbled in waves, soon flattened under the grinding of its wheels.
The next thing he knew, hard pavement was scraping into his skin, and the taste of blood had risen in his mouth.
Engines roared, and the ground trembled. More wheels hit the links. He watched them flutter and crunch as they drove by.
Someone was calling his name. Then, Caleb was dragging him to his feet.
No time to recover. We have to move.
He stumbled the first few steps. For a second, the world tipped again. Caleb ducked his head under Javen’s arm and hauled him vertical again.
They hobbled together over the ruined fence, stumbling and almost falling.
Their vehicles didn’t make it far. Some stopped within feet of the fence while those beyond had been turned sideways. Flashes came in rapid bursts from two areas on the first building’s rooftop. A series of waist-high barriers separated them from the building and stretched across the clearing. The upper body of a soldier firing an automatic weapon appeared at varying intervals above the barriers.
Guns. Real guns. Live rounds.
There were already bodies on the ground. He couldn’t recognize them, not at this distance. The rest of the group clustered behind the vehicles. Naomi shouted, teeth baring with every word as if she were in pain. Blood stained her shirt.
We should have brought more. We should have been more prepared. We should have done this differently.
A lightness filled his gut, the familiar tendrils of nausea sliding through his skin.
We should never have come here.
They were going to die.
Something hit him from the side.
It was like the world had opened again, the same feeling he got when his magic latched onto Caleb’s Earth—and, for a second, he thought that’s what had happened—a flicker of energy, little threads of awareness, sliding into the ground like strands of silk on corn.
Then, it went nuclear.
The ground thrummed beneath him. Blinding green sigils flooded his skin, strange and electric—physically buzzing with energy—a whole dictionary of them poured out like paint splatter.
Behind him, the rest of the steel beams snapped like toothpicks.
His mind sharpened. All the dark edges from before cleared away, putting every inch of his vision into laser focus.
He let out a slow breath and straightened, turning his hands toward him to get a better look at his arms.
He recognized none of the new sigils that swam across his skin.
Beside him, Caleb’s skin remained silent and still, the glow reflected on his shocked expression.
I must be tapping into someone else.
The power strengthened again, soaking into his flesh and mind. The world opened up again, dipping deep into the ground. Lürian symbols flashed through his mind.
Then, the power hit that chasm of violent bitterness he thought only Fire could find.
He bared his teeth, shrugged Caleb off, and strode forward.
His appearance on the other side of the fence line didn’t attract the attention of the Swarzgardians. Bullets continued to spray the convoy, kicking hard into the metal and punching holes into the sides. People yelled and whimpered. As he walked up to the vehicles, a Swarzgardian hurled a ball-like object toward them.
He felt it bump along the ground, the energy inside him turning the sensation into steps on a ladder.
When it exploded, a surge of rage and energy roared through him.
The ground beneath him crunched.
He took a hand, focused on the waist-high barrier the Swarzgardians were hiding behind midway across the clearing, and punched.
Baj’lur.
Sigils burst over his skin—Baj’lur and about fifty others.
The barrier snapped from the ground, lifted a few inches, and flew back against the building, crunching the Swarzgardians along with it.
Suddenly, the bullets stopped.
A smile tugged his lips.
Now I have their attention.
On the roof, the late morning sun gleamed off several barrels of automatic heavy machine guns as they re-positioned to point at him.
He raised his hand, focused on them, and formed a fist.
The metal crunched inward like a dying flower.
A second set of guns shot at him from the side, artillery weapons on the other roof.
Whatever power now possessed him stopped the bullets mid-air.
Then he felt the imprint of footsteps.
He frowned, trailing the new sense as it blossomed within him. Just as the world had sharpened to his sight, his Element provided a magical Earth ‘sight.’ He’d tapped into it before when mirroring Caleb’s power.
That, however, was like drawing a map on a napkin with crayon.
What he felt now was so much more intrinsic—like he had plugged his brain straight into the very ground itself so hard and deep that it had begun to become a part of him.
Swarzgardian soldiers, coming toward him, carrying guns.
The bullets from the artillery guns still floated in the air, awaiting his command.
Slowly, he made them turn around. He slid his wrist around, directing them.
All he had to do was punch.
But, before he could, the ground heaved. He barely had time to twist before it jerked him sideways and sent him falling to the pavement. Countless pings mimicked rainfall around him as the bullets fell to the ground.
Behind him, the fence line began to rumble.
He stared in stunned shock as it began to flake and tear. Metal wrenched from the side, and the remaining supports snapped like toothpicks. Everything was vibrating, shaking.
But it didn’t feel like an earthquake. It felt like something else.
A mountainous cloud of dust rose in the near distance.
He stared at it, eyes wide.
Is this me? Am I doing this?
Slowly, he raised a hand to his face. His skin was blank, free from magic.
It wasn’t him.
Caleb sprinted across the fence line from where he’d been taking cover behind one of the smaller street vehicles. He made it halfway before another wave of Earth magic seized through the ground and knocked him down.
The energy coursed through Javen like a tide pushing through rock. As the ground turned to liquid around him, rippling in waves a solid shouldn’t be capable of, he tried to find something—anything—to cling to, but only smooth, hot pavement scraped at his hands.
Across the clearing, Gannon stood like a lone soldier, legs spread to brace against the tremors. He shouted something and pointed his gun at a Swarzgardian who kneeled on the ground.
He hadn’t even seen Gannon run out there.
One of them fired, but both of them fell.
Another earthquake sent a visible shudder across the downed fences. A crack like gunfire came from the base of the watchtower.
It began to tip.
Javen watched in horror as the shadow raced toward the outpost and washed over Gannon.
It hit the ground with a sickening, heavy finality.
“No!”
Javen lurched forward, too late. Fragments of stone shot toward his group like missiles, bloodying people and smashing through car windows. He knew that he screamed, but he couldn’t hear it. As the ground around them cracked and convulsed, dust bloomed and spread, coating them in white powder and drying their tongues.
Within him, something screamed and lashed out.
Power surged through him. His skin blazed green, sigils re-igniting like gasoline on a fire.
The hand he used to push himself off the pavement ruptured the asphalt underneath. He made a wide sweep of his arms, bringing the Earth that still floated in the air closer to the ground. With a shaking of his hands, he concentrated it into a dusty, brown-tinted fog.
In this world, only he could see.
And ahead, Swarzgardian soldiers scurried in front of their broken building like cockroaches.
He bared his teeth.
Metal ripped from the roof. He lifted the last heavy gun up and sent it sailing through the air. Whatever had broken the ground and made the watchtower fall had sent its destruction elsewhere, farther into the residential neighborhood, but he was happy to pick up where it had left off. The roof groaned and bowed under his control, windows exploding as their frames squeezed them. Tires squealed as he dragged vehicles across the blacktop and tossed them into the thick haze.
Then, out of his fog, a figure came running toward him. Young, injured. Hands raised high over his head.
His mind focused on the man’s black uniform.
Swarzgard.
A bitter, dark rage rose within him.
With a twitch of a wrist, he flipped a car on top of the young man and crushed him like a bug.
And, beyond, the rest of the Swarzgardians scurried over his ground, crawling like ants over his skin.
They were running from him.
A smile formed on his lips. He raised his hand.
Power flowed through the ground, up the outer walls of the building, and into its very foundation.
It was so easy. Like pulling a petal from a flower.
“Javen, no!”
Someone slammed into him hard, snapping his connection with the building.
He rounded on them, eyes glowing. One sigil-covered hand rose up, fingers stiffened into claws.
“Javen,” Naomi pleaded, something he hadn’t heard her do in a long time. “Stop. Please.”
No. Stopping means that they get away.
“Javen.”
They always get away.
“Javen, stop. They’ve surrendered. It’s over.”
Chapter 26
Finding a vehicle proved a lot more difficult than she’d expected. Although most of the streets were practically littered with them, their tanks were either expired or empty. Her old garage had turned into a bust, too, though she grabbed a jerry can and looted several fuel additives from the shelves of the back storeroom in hopes that one of them might nudge some shit fuel into working again.
Fucking hell. Maybe we should just port back to Mersetz and come back with a full can. And a new battery.
Actually, that might not be a bad idea. She wasn’t Buck, Aiden’s elite spec-ops guy who could hot-wire and stunt drive pretty much any vehicle he touched—fuck, she’d seen the man completely rewire a Mageguard SUV in order to get it started. All she had was a passing knowledge of vehicles, a more conversational ability toward motorcycle workings, and a few generations of quasi-redneck tricks and knowledge.
She shut the door on the latest vehicle, a Corvette Amino that she’d really wanted to get working, then flinched as the gunfire started up again.
Whatever was happening, she and Gobardon were getting closer to it, not farther. And it looked like they’d have to skim right past it in order to get to the mountains.
No problem. They were Earth Mages, right? She used to run through war-zones without the protection of a magic shield.
Still, every instinct in her brain was screaming at her to stay away. Either that, or find cover and go to ground.
It was a confusing time in her head. Hell, she didn’t know if all the gunfire she was hearing was actually real. Her PTSD definitely liked to fuck around with that.
But she didn’t have to worry now. Greneinta would protect her.
No need to hide. I have a magic fucking shield now.
History had shown that Greneinta would keep her alive. Or, well, untouched anyway.
She was pretty sure that near-suffocation incident from yesterday had been a simple mistake.
Gobardon, at least, was keeping an eye on them. The sigils on his skin were constant companions now.
Whatever fighting was happening across the mountain had died down for a bit. After the initial flare and explosion, there’d been a smattering of gunfire. Without people and traffic, the city was unsettlingly quiet. Every block they walked sent another layer of unease through her skin.
It felt like she was walking through a simulation. That, somehow, the broken and empty streets around her were just a bad dream. That she’d wake up and everything would go back to normal.
Seeing the streets like this, it felt as though someone had just taken a thread of reality and pulled.
She’d encountered that feeling during the war, too, usually in places she’d been before. At first, she’d thought it was the juxtaposition between the current reality and her pre-war memories of the place. If she’d come here eight years ago, she’d expect to find a functioning city. People in the streets. Car horns, advertisements, the sound of machinery from the shipyard by the shore. The sight of parents walking their kids home from the elementary school they’d just passed, or watching them run amok over the playground equipment in the adjoining park.
Instead, the park was overgrown and unkempt, grass sticking up from the wood chips chest-high. Some of the windows in the school were broken. All were dusty, abandoned. The door to the building had been wrenched open long ago, the chain they’d locked it with pooled at the side of the concrete stairs. Most of the cars on the streets had been parked there, but some had been moved—pushed aside to make a clear path through the road.
Seola’s fall had been violent and shocking.
Now, the city was so quiet that she heard every staccato crack of gunfire all the way across the arm of the city and up the nearest mountain to the west. Smoke smudged the air from where the flare had burnt out.
She sighed, rolling her shoulders, and looked up the rest of the block, patting the Corvette’s shiny red metal with no small amount of longing.
“Look, Gobardon, unless you’re hiding a car battery on your person, I’m not sure if this is going to work. We may be stuck walking it.”
He grunted. “I can deal with batteries.”
“Okay. Well, there’s also the gas problem. You know it has a shelf life, right? It’s not like beans where you can just open an expired can and hope. It oxidizes and shit. We’ll have to find a more-recent vehicle to steal or siphon from.”
