I whirled toward him, barely having time to look an Engrossian in his dark, soulless eyes before he tackled me.
We rolled across the dirt, elbows and knees and metal jarring. Gravel burying itself in my skin, slicing.
Angelborn fell from my hand. The warrior pinned me to the ground.
Dammit, how were they that quiet? I should have heard him before Tol shouted.
Hands empty of weapons, I threw an elbow into his face. The mask he wore buckled, snapping back into his nose. Blood seeped beneath its edges, sprinkling around me.
He pinned me. Knees framing my legs, an elbow in my sternum. I wrestled his bruising grip, but he was larger.
The Engrossian swore, grabbing me by the shoulders and slamming me into the ground. The air sped from my lungs, vision spinning as he pulled a fist back, landing a punch to my cheekbone. A crunch echoed in my head.
“Fucking Angels,” I hissed over the spinning pain.
I couldn’t reach Starfire, not with his weight on my hips and my arms pinned.
Wedging one of my legs between us, I kneed him in the groin. The warrior doubled over. Swifter than he could sense, I tore my dagger from my thigh and drew it across his throat.
Blood spilled over me, hot and sticky and reeking, and he fell.
His weight crushed me for a moment while I regained breath. Then, he was thrown aside.
Tol stared down at me, eyes burning. “Are you all right?” He lifted me to my feet, looking over every inch of my body, wiping drops of blood from my cheeks. I winced when his thumb grazed the blooming bruise—potentially cracked bone—and Tol’s eyes turned murderous.
“I’m fine,” I assured him.
Swiveling away from me, Tol brought his sword down on the neck of the Engrossian I had killed, severing his head from his body completely.
“That’s better.”
“How chivalrous of you.” I flashed him a brief smile, still panting, as Tol brushed the back of his fingers gently over my bruise.
Then, a roar crested the mountains, severing that moment of peace. At least another dozen Engrossians ran down the hill toward us.
They’d split their ranks at our initial attack, their position in the canyon intentional to stall our chance of escape.
Swiping Angelborn up and sheathing my dagger, I charged.
With the pain still radiating through my skull, I channeled all thestrength and every bit of training I’d honed in my life. Used it to predict their movements. To meet blades before the strikes landed true.
Ripping Starfire from my belt, I sliced the back of the knees of one Engrossian.
He roared, tumbling to the ground.
I echoed it, spinning to ram my short sword up through the jaw of another.
For the first time, I dug into the tattoo on the back of my neck. It reached out to the ascended Mystiques in our party as if the mountains were a tree, and us the tangled roots.
It was different than a soul bond in a Bind. This was matted and dizzying, but I found the three connections that were a little shorter than the others—newer—and spun toward them.
Jezebel battled a woman two times her size. Tolek and Cypherion took on three Engrossians between them.
And thirty yards away from them, no Bond connecting us, Malakai?—
Two of the moss-armored warriors circled him. Blood dripped down his chin, sword held weakly in his hand.
“You have some fight left,” one taunted. His broad chest nearly obscured Malakai from view as they backed him toward a wall.
