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He held his breath when, at the last possible moment, Jessie dove out of the way. The magic flew past her, toward Rathmort.
Clever girl!
Unfortunately, Rathmort sifted away seconds before he was blasted, but his unguarded expression showed complete shock at Jessie’s sudden move. And she wasn’t done. Somehow she’d deduced where Rathmort would reappear and was there, wielding that blazing sword of hers.
Again Rathmort sifted, this time behind her, probably hoping to catch her off guard, but it was as though Jessie was reading his intent and, without even looking, twirled her sword under her arm and thrust it behind her, striking true. Blood spattered from the newly opened wound in his gut. A few inches upward and she might have gotten him in the heart.
Jessie yanked her sword free and faced him, displaying that imperious smile of hers, the one that Orik had learned to fear and admire.
Gripping his wound with one hand, Rathmort howled with rage and attacked. The two went at it with their magical swords. The air sizzled with a strange electrifying sound whenever the two blades met.
Orik’s distraction cost him, for Gideon’s fangs nearly fastened around his throat. Unable to focus on Jessie any longer, Orik jumped back, unlocked his jaw, and sprayed Gideon with a burst of fire. It would only stun him for a moment, but perhaps give him enough time to find an opening for an attack.
He was wrong.
As he leapt forward, Gideon’s thickly boned wing swiped out and clipped his flank, knocking him out of the air and off balance. He landed on his back, and Gideon’s enormous paws descended on his chest like twin celestial death hammers, crushing his ribcage and clamping him to the ground. Snarling, Gideon increased the pressure, leaning in with all his colossal weight. Bones in Orik’s ribcage snapped, and pain radiated through his chest. He couldn’t breathe. Was he about to be crushed to death? What would become of Jessie? Ripples of blackness swam in his vision.
Phoenix suddenly appeared then, once again zipping up Gideon’s spine and then flashing around his neck in a blur of untraceable speed, like a shooting star on a deadly mission.
Orik watched through dimming eyesight as little slices formed around Gideon’s neck. In the space of several heartbeats, those little cuts turned into big cuts, which then turned into gushing, gaping wounds. Phoenix was using her speed, fangs, and claws to saw through Gideon’s flesh inch by inch. Given enough time, the little beast could cleave his head right off. If Gideon hadn’t been magically enhanced, he’d already be dead.
Gideon screeched and flailed and blasted fire from his lungs, frantic to dislodge Phoenix, to no avail. Yet he continued to crush Orik under his mighty weight. His lungs burned from his doomed battle for oxygen. The pressure in his chest crept over his brain. He knew he’d pass out soon. He was strong, had won countless battles, but he’d never fought such a powerful foe.
Craving one last glimpse of Jessie, his gaze found her, and devastation burned in his soul.
She was surrounded.
All at once, Rathmort’s coven had begun striking out at her while Rathmort advanced with that flaming dark sword. Their blades clashed with sparks of blue and black flame. With each step he took, Jessie was forced back, moving closer to the foes at her back.
And there is nothing I can do. I’ve failed her. I’ve failed everyone.
* * *
Jessie’s energy was waning. It was a struggle just to hold up the weight of her sword. Each blow she blocked was like blocking Thor’s hammer, the terrible vibrations traveling up her blade and through her arms, making them ache. To make things worse, the remaining witches had closed in, assaulting her with blast after blast of blistering magic, forcing her to split her actions between dodging the surrounding assault and avoiding Rathmort’s sword.
Can’t keep this up.
Already she’d been clobbered by burning power more times than she could count. Patches of her skin felt scorched and blistered. She felt near to blacking out from the pain. And they showed no sign of fatigue…or mercy. Rathmort could tell she was struggling, his features taking on a superior expression.
The prick.
After using her sword to bat away a powerful attack from her right, she rose to her full height and faced him, serving him a surreptitious grin mixed with a dollop of hostility, hoping it would give him pause, make him wonder what she was up to, and throw him off his game.
It worked.
While he paused and narrowed his gaze on her, she gathered her breath and tried to devise her next move.
What else can I throw at these ass-hats?
She blinked, surprised by her own idea. It was so wild, it just might work.But am I powerful enough?
Mentally she delved inward, seeking the boundless pool of magic she had felt before. It was welcoming, instantly embracing her. Warmth radiated through her chest, flowing freely in her veins, her nerves, her molecules. She expanded her consciousness outward and sensed creatures in the dark. Watching, waiting, as though having anticipated her need of them.
Now her lips spread in a real smile, huge and vicious.
Rathmort’s eyes darted nervously. “Dammit, kill her! I tire of this.”
His cohorts marched closer, once again gathering heaping portions of power, letting it accumulate until she felt it surpass her own.
