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Now that he knows his place, I turn to Brax. “Can you transport us somewhere away from the battle?”
He thinks for a moment, spinning around before he looks toward the building at the back of the outpost. “This way, quickly. The entire place is compromised.” He rushes to the closest tree and creates a portal. I don’t glance back as I step through, finding myself in an office. The view from the window confirms we’re on the top floor of the building at the back, as far from the trouble as possible.
Let’s hope it stays that way.
Creed and Eldon are right behind me, followed swiftly by Finn and Brax, who closes off the portal.
“Wait, if you can get us here, why don’t you just transport us home?” Finn asks, wiping a hand down his face, smearing the soot already coating his skin.
“I can transport within the outpost but only the gateways work in and out,” Brax grunts in response, moving to the large desk at the back of the room. He pushes everything to the floor, the clattering barely heard over the explosions going off in the distance.
I lay Raven down on the table as gently as I can, running my thumb over her cheek before I take a step back.
“Do you think we need to summon our swords?” Creed asks, and my gut clenches.
“Yes,” Eldon answers immediately.
“You guys all get yours, I’ll get mine once I know Raven is okay.” I take a step back and wave Finn closer. “Do your thing.”
Thankfully, he doesn’t argue, but I still hate the way he strokes his fingers through her hair to find the injury. My spine is stiff, my hands are clenched, and my jaw is so tight that I’m sure it’s going to snap if he doesn’t move away from her soon.
“She’ll just need a second. The wound is healed, the concussion eased, she just needs to break through the fog of it all,” he informs us, stepping back.
Come on, Raven. Come on.
“Get your sword, Zane. It’s a fucking mess out there and you’re going to need it. I’ll watch her while you do.” Brax shoulders me out of the way and plants himself at her side.
Sighing, I give myself some space as I try to remember the words I learned earlier today.“Aut cum scuto aut in scuto.”
I hold my hands out, not really knowing what to expect, but the sudden weight of the blade is undeniable on my palms as it appears in front of me.
Holy fuck.
“I can’t summon mine yet. What the fuck am I supposed to do now?” Finn whines, and I shrug, trying the weight of the blade in my hands. We’ve had no training with the weapons gifted to us, but I’d still rather have it than be without.
“Not my problem,” I grunt, while Creed seems to go for the gentler approach.
“Save yourself.”
Panic takes over Finn’s features as he paces in front of the door but my gaze is locked on the carnage unfolding outside. “The trouble is getting closer. We either move or guard her.”
“We guard her, that’s all that matters,” Eldon declares, and the three of us nod in agreement. “I don’t know where Leila is though and we all know that’s going to be her first concern when she wakes up,” he adds, but Brax quickly steps in.
“She’s with Fitch, I saw them before I came through the portal.”
“Then it’s settled, we stay and defend her with our lives.” My heart races as my words echo around the room.
“Fuck that, I’m out of here,” Finn grunts, spinning toward the door, ready to run. But the door opens to reveal three faceless men dressed head to toe in forest-green cloth with curved swords at the ready.
Finn stumbles back a step, but it’s futile. The blade has already penetrated his stomach and retreated, leaving him to crumple to the floor in a lifeless heap.
They get that one kill, but no more.
“You’re sure as shit not a troll,” Brax bellows before charging at the closest attacker. The rest of us fall into step defending Raven from any and all danger.
A curved dagger comes toward me and I swing my sword to block the attack, using a little too much force and knocking me off balance, but I manage to catch myself before I fall. Clinks of metal on metal rumble around the room, mingling with the grunts and growls of anger charged between us all.
I block two more strikes toward me but the fourth manages to slice along my arm. Sweat clings to me, anger boiling beneath the surface as I lunge my sword toward my attacker, but it’s impossible without the precision needed to control the weapon.
