Flames Untamed Page 11

  “You’re welcome,” Kyle said, dropping into a fighter’s stance. “Now why the hell aren’t these scab-bags extra crispy?”

  The big bastard in front of Angeline nodded at a fistful of mean looking fuckers. The dozen or so assholes began to circle Kyle, swords raised. Out of the corner of his eye he saw another jet of flames. He blocked it out. He had to focus, if anyone could hold off that leviathan, it was her. Kyle whipped his blades from his armbands and said a quick prayer to whoever the hell might be listening.

  The first beast swung. Kyle dodged with a grunt and an idea flickered from the ether, he just needed a half a second. Another flash of silver to his left and he was back in the old tuck-n-roll. Well tuck and slosh. This was going to end pretty damn quick if his idea didn’t work, he couldn’t take that many Elves on his own.

  He popped upright and shook the water from his eyes.

  “Sure wish I had a Krystal ball,” he yelled, wincing as he took a boot to the thigh, “Wish I had some stats on these fuckheads!”

  Kyle leapt back as a sword whistled past his lower abs. Way too close to the dick. He flipped and knocked his elbow against the back of a slimy head. The Elf splashed, tripping another. “Krystal! Now would be a good—”

  “Speed:2!”

  Kyle jumped back as a thick bat-face lunged toward him. The monster missed, stumbling into the wall.

  Kyle laughed and whipped his head toward his savior.

  The plump-cheeked little-lady clutched a knife in each fist, mirroring his stance. She jabbed her finger behind him. “Intelligence:1!”

  Kyle pulled a feint. The dumb-shit bought right in. Kyle’s blade cemented his bluff, sinking into gray flesh.

  “Back, scoundrels of Satan!”

  Kyle spun around, Krystal had two big ones coming straight for her.

  Shit.

  Kyle ducked another blade and plunged toward the kid. A fist slammed against his jaw, a shot of white snapping behind his eyes. He reeled, swiping his blade toward the assailant. The knife found flesh. Kyle knocked the carcass aside and stumbled back towards Krystal.

  “I got this, bro!” A blur of baggy clothes and wiry braids whizzed past Kyle, water parted on either side, a cloud of blue magic slicing through the wake. The littlest gangster.

  The kid jumped up next to Krystal, a new, blue amulet clutched in his bony hand. “I got you, girl.”

  Kyle dodged another blow as he saw the scrawny Mage flick up an illusion around him and Krystal.

  “Strength:2!” Krystal shouted, briefly poking her face out of what looked like thin air.

  “Thanks!” Kyle grunted, smashing the next taker’s jaw in a wicked uppercut.

  One-by-one the remaining cluster fell, sinking in the water, now waist high.

  “Kallen,” Angeline called.

  Kyle whipped toward Angeline, her chin red with blood, fire dancing on her fists. She looked rough, but the Elf had taken a beating too.

  “Get Pallas,” she shouted.

  Lance the scrawny Mage manifested. “I got the Master, my Baby.” He ran toward the raised platform.

  Kyle saw him jump behind the podium and re-emerge supporting the sickly woman. Okay, he’d leave that one to the kiddo.

  “Orders?” Kyle yelled, torn between helping Angeline and taking out the rest of the bastards… or at least distracting them long enough for Angelface to make a move. There was no way he could take them alone.

  “Get rid of those Elves,” she screeched, voice cracking. She launched another ball of flame at her opponent. Just missed.

  What was she doing? Why was she tiring herself out? One good inferno blast is all it would take, if there was a wizard strong enough to conjure a flame that massive, it was her. Why was she waltzing around with this one Elf when she could level the place?

  A strained grunt sputtered out to Kyle’s right. “I got her.”

  He shifted his gaze back to the platform, the scrawny kid struggled to hold the Master on his own, rejecting Krystal’s help.

  Then it clicked. The kids. Angie was fighting like a Captain, looking out for her people. Going down with the ship and all that jazz. She wouldn’t unleash the hellfire and risk collateral damage. She wouldn’t put anyone else in danger.

  Well too fricken bad, they were in danger either way. She knew it too. He could tell, even from across the room, from that glint in those wild hazel eyes. There was a fire burning, just as much inside her as out. One she’d worked so long to contain. She needed to let go. She just needed help.

  Kyle kicked up his feet and plunged towards Angeline, and away from the flood-conjuring Elves.

  CHAPTER 21 – ANGELINE

  The Elf’s sword flashed above her, fast. Too fast. A white-hot sting shot through her arm. She didn’t even have to look, the hot trickle running down her forearm said enough. Blood.

  Angeline swaggered back. She was tired. So tired. But she had to keep fighting, she had to hold this Castle. She had to protect the kids.

  The water was rising faster now, rushing, roaring in her ears, the icy cold, clawing at her chest.

  Heavy breaths thumped against her empty lungs. Numb.

  So tired.

  “Angeline!”

  Kallen?

  Another blow whistled across her shoulder as she jerked away just in time.

  Kyle. Why had he had Merlena teleport his amulet? He was safe. Why didn’t he stay out there? It was all her fault. She’d pulled him in, she’d gotten close. Now he’d die for nothing. Just one more tally on this list of those she couldn’t save.

  She jolted again, the Elf’s claws swiping her cheek. Agony split across her face, writhing down her jaw.

  “ANGIE!”

  Angeline swiveled, the lacerations making her mind go loose, her brain struggling to damp down the pain, all the pain. She had to keep fighting.

  Her blurry eyes rolled toward Kyle, toward his golden halo, and his deep blue eyes, like a summer night sky. The sky, she’d like to see it one more time. In those arms. His arms.

  “MOVE!” That voice. “ANGELINE!”

  The Elf lunged for her, blade singing, the shadow of death dancing on that wicked grin.

  Something hard barreled into her from the side. No, it hadn’t hit her. It moved her. Kyle.

  His chest heaved against her shoulder, his hard arms, gripping her tight, holding her upright in the polar current.

  His lips brushed her ear, his breath hot on her wounds. “Angeline Quintana. You listen.”

  She blinked, forcing the daze from her skull, his commanding words had power over her. Magic all their own.

  Kyle squeezed her tighter, backing away as the Elf stalked toward them. “You’re ten times stronger than me, Ang. Stronger than anyone. You are the only one who can get these fuckers. So stop holding back.”

  She felt a strange rushing in her chest, something bubbling, something only he could stir within her.

  His voice dropped lower, his words bleeding into her. “Stop being a Captain. Start being a fucking warrior.”

  He slowly unwound his arms, growling his last command into her ear, “Let me see that hellfire.”

  He released her, the bitter cold of the water shivering through her. But she was fine. She didn’t need his heat anymore. He’d stoked the fire. She knew what she had to do.

  She had to lose control.

  She’d tried to fix all this, she’d tried to save The Realm, but it was already broken. The Elves didn’t play by rules. So she’d have to throw out her own. She’d have to burn it down, just like before, just like the warehouse. This time she wouldn’t miss.

  She drew in a deep breath.

  The Elf lunged, blade overhead.

  Angeline clapped her palms together. A spark. An ember. A light.

  She unleashed the fires of cataclysm. Annihilation.

  The Elf Captain’s sword glowed instantaneously red, his guttural wails reverberating as his flesh fused to the metal. She watched as his skin bubbled, as his skull dented and ben
t, warped by the devouring conflagration.

  The jet of hellfire ripped through the hall, cutting through the rivulets of water, converting them to scalding steam on contact. Elven visages melted, charred skin dripping as their heads turned to torches in the inferno’s path.

  Still she pushed. She pushed until her fire had consumed every pocket of space left in that room, until nothing had survived. Until all was ash.

  Only then did she release. She closed her fists and the fire immediately extinguished. Oxygen rushed back in through the windows, the cool breeze forcing its way into her singed lungs.

  She fell back against the wall. She slid sideways, exhaustion shredding the fiber of every muscle.

  A jet of water shot up next to her, a gasp for air. Large, warm arms wrapped around her, tight. Kyle pulled her against his chest and pressed his forehead to the crown of her hair.

  Then all around the hall, heads popped up, a sea of black and blue amulets, of astonished gazes, of tentative smiles of victory.

  Krystal waded over to her, arms held awkwardly above the water. Lance followed, propping up Master Pallas as they floated. She was awake now, smiling softly.

  Angeline smiled back. The water began to recede all around them, flowing away, no longer bound by magic.

  “I see you’ve gained XP!” Krystal shouted, punching Kyle’s arm.

  He laughed against Angeline’s hair. “Hey, easy, I’ve taken enough hits today.”

  “But the battle has improved your statistics,” she beamed. “Intelligence:4.”

  Kyle chuckled. “Are you sure you’re not biased? You sure you don’t just like me better now that we’ve kicked ass side-by-side?”

  “The statistics never lie,” she grinned, “it was your idea to teleport the Salamander power, yes? And to use my knowledge in the fight? Aaaand to have the Captain here light ‘em up!?”

  Angeline smirked and leaned back against Kyle. “Yes, that was all him.”

  She turned and angled her face up towards his, his heavenly blue eyes peering down at her with words unsaid. “He was the brains, I was the brawn.”

  “Hey,” he laughed, biting his lip, “if you’ll recall, I did quite a bit of fighting myself—”

  A deep rumble shattered the calm.

  Angeline shoved off Kyle, suddenly recognizing the sound. She’d heard it before. “EVERYONE OUT! THE CASTLE IS COLLAPSING.”

  She plunged over to Lance and slid Pallas from his arms.

  “Hey, I got her,” the skinny Mage protested, “you rest up, sweet thang, you just put in hella work.”

  They didn’t have time to argue, but they also didn’t have time to lag.

  “I need your help with something else,” Angeline said. She raised her voice again to the fleeing hall. “DIVINERS! Keep your Sight sharp! MAGES! Prepare to intercept stone and steel!”

  Lance nodded and snagged Krystal by the arm. They slogged ahead and gathered a group of struggling inhabitants. They took the lead and continued ushering everyone out of the hall.

  Kyle dipped and collected the Master from Angeline’s shaking arms. “So I guess you’re going to just have to explode falling objects with fire?”

  “We are going to run and hope I don't have to,” Angeline said, beginning to trudge ahead. The water had drained to her knees, but still felt like more than her tired body could stand.

  A scream rang out from somewhere a floor down.

  Shit. “More Elves,” Angeline said. She’d forgotten about those who’d captured the first half of the recruits, those that might still be roaming the Castle.

  Her heart rammed against her ribs as she forced her legs to move quicker. Kyle followed close behind.

  She cleared the room, the drainage battering against her ankles. Her boots slipped over slick rock as she flew down the stairs. She landed with a thud on the landing. Palms raised, embers burning, she pushed to her feet and rounded the corner.

  She nearly tripped over the fallen Elf.

  Lance stood, fists blazing with his own blue magic. He smirked at Angeline. “I told you I got this, honeydoll.”

  A chunk of brick plunged from the ceiling.

  It landed on the fallen Elf, the crunch of bones echoing through the hallway.

  “DANGER:5+!” Krystal shouted. She turned and bounded toward the next set of stairs. They all ripped after her.

  Lungs screaming, muscles raging, they tore down the remaining floors, rock and metal crumbling all around, streams of blue Mage magic firing, Diviners scouting, Sight sharp. Elves falling.

  They cleared the last door and burst into the blackness of night. Collapsing on the hard ground, Angeline inhaled a rattling breath.

  …But the battle was not yet over, there was still something left to lose.

  CHAPTER 22 – KYLE

  Kyle laid the frail Master on a pile of leaves, propping her head up with her hood. “You gonna be okay?”

  Pallas gave him a small smile and nodded.

  He breathed a sigh of relief and crawled over to Angeline. “Think you can help a guy out?” he said, extending his charred fists, “I’d wait, but this hurts a hell of a lot more than that candle wax.”

  She gently took his hands in hers, examining his burns. “Sorry,” she grimaced, switching on her healing power, calmly stroking his knuckles, syphoning the pain away. After a minute or so, the injuries had vanished completely.

  He collapsed next to her and slid an arm across her stomach, holding her close. They took one breath together, then Krystal’s squeaky voice broke their respite.

  “Pallas, Abigail. Strength:0. Stamina:0. Status: Deathbed.”

  “NO,” Angeline screamed, jerking from Kyle’s embrace. She scrambled over to Pallas, eyes darting, completely lost.

  Kyle’s face fell. The old bird hadn’t wanted him to worry. He could tell she was in rough shape when he carried her out of the building, but he had no idea she was that wrecked.

  “Why didn’t you say anything?” Angeline said, delicately patting Pallas up and down her cheek.

  “There was nothing that could be done,” Pallas whispered, lips barely moving. “It’s time, besides.”

  “No,” Angeline gasped. “It can’t be. It’s not fair.”

  “It’s plenty fair,” Pallas smiled. “I’ve earned my retirement. I’ve been at this war for 119 years.”

  Angeline shot Kyle a desperate look. He knew exactly what it meant. The gal’s mind was already gone.

  “Do not fear,” Pallas said, limply bringing her hand to Angeline’s. “It is true. Krystal?”

  “Pallas, Abigail, age: 162,” the young Diviner said, nodding sincerely.

  Angeline’s eyebrows tucked together. “No, that can’t be—"

  “Quintana, Angeline, age: 26. Kallen, Kyle, age: 28.”

  ”Whoa, there, okay, no more creepy little party trick,” Kyle said, raising his hand to Krystal. These were the Master’s last moments, surely she had more important things to do than hear how good she looked for her age.

  “Angeline,” Pallas said, pulling a ring from her bony finger. “119 years in this battle, and we’ve never moved closer to victory. Not until today. A hundred Elves and we suffered no casualties, thanks to you. I leave you my post as Master, should you take it.”

  Angeline stared down at the black ring, eyes wide. “But I’m not a Diviner.”

  “No,” Pallas said, “but now I understand that does not matter. For the first time today, I saw clearly. You united a team of young Blue and Black, and held off an Elven lord and his army with only a single amulet of Red. It’s mettle, not magic, that will win this war. We’ve had it so wrong.”

  “I think we need to teach the Diviners to fight. And the Castle Mages. We don’t have to put them on the front line, but we do need to put everyone in the field, if we intend to win this war. We can’t hole up in our Castles.”

  Pallas smiled and placed the ring in Angeline’s hand. “I agree.”

  Angeline closed her fist around the ring and lifted h
er gaze to Kyle’s, expression unreadable.

  “Angeline,” Pallas gestured weakly for her to come closer.

  Angeline leaned in and Pallas whispered in her ear, too quiet for anyone else to hear, save Kyle, and when the Arch-Master’s eyes turned to him, he knew she meant for him to listen too. “Keep that fire burning.”

  Pallas sank back on the pile of foliage and took one last breath. Then her fight was over.

  Kyle captured Angeline’s gaze, her eyes swollen with words too heavy to say out loud. How different those golden eyes had become in a matter of hours.

  “Merlena, Leigh. Age: 42.”

  A bovine scoff came from somewhere behind them. “What the hell are you on about? I hope you’re not talking about me. I’m only 29. And what are you all sitting around here for? What the shit did you do to my Castle?!”

  Kyle turned.

  Merlena, the buxom, blue Viking, waddled toward them, high heels sticking in the mud.

  Angeline’s face hardened, all traces of softness wiped clean. She jumped to her feet, amulet glowing red. A burst of narrowed, white flames, shot from her palms, straight at Merlena.

  Olga the Obnoxious yelped, but the flames cleared almost as quickly as they’d appeared. For a second, no one moved, unsure what Angeline had done. Then, the gold chain around Merlena’s thick neck snapped, her blue amulet falling to the dirt with a dull slap.

  “What the shit?” Merlena screeched, raising her hands reflexively as though she could still shoot magic back at Angeline. “How did you even manage that? Pallas, are you going to let her get away with that!? … Pallas?”

  Kyle watched Merlena’s deep set eyes bulge with realization.

  “Abigail!” She fell down on her knees and shook the shell of the fallen Arch-Master. She yelled, cried. All of that Queen of England shit gone. All that was left was regret.

  “It’s my fault,” Merlena rattled, clutching Pallas to her, “I should have made her come.”

  Kyle gritted his teeth. Her fault lay much deeper than that, but now didn’t seem like the right time. Part of him thought she already knew.

  Angeline clearly felt the same and let her tormentor continue to grieve.