It still felt the same.
Kedar was an enemy to her now, and seven years had passed, but they fell into these old ways of being so easily. Effortlessly.
Vessa twirled out of the way of a thick-bladed sword rushing to meet her. Lightning struck far closer than it had been just moments ago. Too close. The electric-blue bolt cracked into the ground between two Orcru just spans from her. Its forcewas so strong that it sent them flying and shook the earth. Thunder boomed and rolled as more powerful flashes struck around them. Others stopped to peer at the clear, steely sky. The brutes snorted and grunted as they looked between each other nervously.
A familiar voice called out from the rear of the party, commanding them to fight. To bring her and Kedar in—dead or alive. Ogg Braqq.
Vessa could feel the electricity in the air. “Nineteen! And watch the damn lightning!” she called out to Kedar. Like they were still comrades.
Just as Vessa turned to take on the adversary rushing her from behind, another bolt of lightning struck. It hit the crown of the Orcru’s hairless head with a sickening crack.
Time stopped.
Then sped up all at once. The impact blew her back violently.
She flew through the air. Then crashed to the ground. Her breath left her in a hard grunt; pain exploded through her back. Her ears rang. Her head spun.
It took her longer than she cared to admit to sit upright. She’d landed in a basin where the wind had pushed snow into high banks on one side. Before her, that unsettling lightning danced through and around the mass of Orcru. It was chaos. They’d left the blizzard but entered an altogether different kind of storm. Bolts lit up the dark skies, and the continuous claps of thunder became their battle music.
And she wasn’t out of the fight yet. Ogg Braqq, with his chest armor that only emphasized the girth of his stomach, plowed his way toward her. With him was an eager war party commander with strands of saliva trailing from his tusks, as well as a slower Orcru who was taller and broader than them both.
Lovely.
She gained her footing, shook the ache from her limbs. The ground she was forced to defend was slicker. But her disadvantage was theirs, too.
They slowed their approach, eyeing the ground she held. The war commander was dressed in armor that fit him well and covered his most vulnerable spots. His tusks were chipped, and he had more scars on him than her and Kedar combined—evidence that he’d survived plenty of battles. He was the real problem. The ogg was just a figurehead, and the other would be easy to outmaneuver.
“Come on, then,” Vessa growled, looking between them. She pointed her raze sword at the ogg. “How about you first?”
The horde leader’s brow dipped low, practically concealing his eyes. His hands tightened on his axe’s hilt before he motioned for his war commander to move forward. “Want her squirming, Jogo,” he barked.
“Jogo smash, but not break,” he asserted.
Vessa swung her blade in an arc. There was a competition to win. She couldn’t hear Kedar anymore, but she could only imagine how much time she’d already lost.
Jogo stepped toward her with his axe in hand. His first strike was fast and aimed at her knees, but she dodged and managed to keep her feet beneath her. Her turn. She pressed the assault, but he blocked every single one of her strikes, handling his axe with ease and alacrity.
Finally, a challenge.
Lightning struck closer as Jogo attacked again. She blocked and dodged his fast arcs and, when she found an opening, brought the tip of her blade across his stomach.
The gash opened wide, but it wasn’t deep enough. Jogo roared and brought his axe slicing down. The sharp edge missed her and smashed into the ice instead.
And then she heard it.
At first the sound was near-silent, a deadly warning. Vessa looked down at her feet, then the Orcru’s. This wasn’t just packed snow. She’d invited her opponents to join her on ice with death beneath its surface.
Jogo didn’t seem to notice or care. Letting out a war cry, he swung again.
Cobalt flashed in her peripherals. Too close. “Stop,” she growled, sliding back slowly. “We have to get off the ice.”
But it was too late.
Lightning struck. It hit the surface behind Jogo with a rending crack. A geyser of water shot into the air—a violent release of pressure. Another bolt crashed down and another. She had tomove. Fissures spread out like a living thing, reaching, reaching. And thick ice shattered all around—nothing but delicate glass breaking into a thousand pieces.
A sound like a giant’s bones being snapped in half, and a chasm groaned open.
She and Jogo jumped off from the shifting mass below them and crashed down on another. They both lost their footing, but Jogo slipped at its edge. Axe forgotten, he clawed at the crumbling surface. Vessa tried to rise, but she smashed into the ice again as Jogo grabbed her ankles. In his panic to get out, he dragged her back. Her boots hit the freezing water, her calves. Even through her suit, she could feel the stinging, burning threat. That solemn promise of what was to come.
