The Heartstone Saga by Archibald Bradford (short novels in english .TXT) 📕

Adrian mid-harangue and blew a handful of powder in the man’s face, stopping his words in their tracks.

A moment later he began to sneeze, over and over again, until he was lying on the ground trying to contain the fit she had triggered, inevitably suffocating from his inability to draw in a proper breath.

Without pause Olena turned back to Adrian to continue berating him, beginning with another smack upside his head to ensure she still had his attention.

“Honestly. Has Alcaia wronged you somehow that you want her and her people to die? They will attack soon, and right now I can’t do anything to help them.”

“Why didn’t you take my blood before?!” He demanded as he did his best not to punch her in the mouth, instead working his pliers to take the top off of the box of power cells.

“Because it didn’t matter before! The most potent magic lives in the moment. And in this moment I need the blood of a protector to keep those silly Amazons alive.” She spoke haughtily as she lectured him; “Instead I have the blood of a weak-willed and simpering child, too hung up on a dead girl to be of any use to anyone.”

That did it.

Adrian tore the lid off the box with a snarl, dropped the cell in and then reeled on her, fully intending on doing something to her that he would likely regret later.

But he stopped cold when her needle jabbed deep into the front of his shoulder, the flash of pain causing him to cry out as she set her palm against the bleeding injury.

“Wrath.” She explained quickly; “Only one use for this.”

Then she turned towards a group of men running towards them with weapons raised and cast her hand out, the blood collected in her palm pouring forth and coalescing into a series of glowing green orbs that shot outwards to collide with the unfortunates that dared to threaten an Elder Witch.

There was no subtlety or nuance in this curse; the men simply burst apart in a bloody spray of viscera and bone.

Adrian was too shocked to be angry at her manipulation, at least at first, but a worrying crackling noise behind him reminded him that it was time for them to be somewhere else.

And as much as he might have wanted to knock Olena over and sit on her, he didn’t want her to die.

So he rushed the smug Witch, grabbed one of her arms with his, ducked down and shoved his other hand through her legs as he placed the back of his head against her side and heaved her whole body up onto his shoulders in a standard rescue carry, then ran like hell.

“Hey. Rude.” She remarked in a breathless voice as she bounced around on his shoulders.

He was far too annoyed with her to reply.

The crates detonated.

A wave of hot wind rolled over his back, but Adrian didn’t look back as he sprinted through the shocked prisoners, most of them too busy staring at the results of the explosion to notice him and the irksome package he carried, though a few shouted out uncertain challenges.

He ignored them all, running into the trees and only slowing when he began to trip over the undergrowth.

“That was more dramatic than I was expecting.” Olena observed as he set her on her feet.

As a man, Adrian had never hit a woman in his life, and as an Aegis operative, he certainly had never struck a monster girl.

But in that moment he was sorely tempted.

Meanwhile, in the woods on the opposite side of the clearing, Alcaia decided that it was high time for her and her war-sisters to get involved.

__________

Tristan’s day began with a scream and a bang.

Neither the kind he would’ve preferred.

He had just reached the edge of the pool of green acid that had been two of his best men when the crates went up from Adrian’s sabotage.

The result of his work wasn’t quite as instantaneous as the Aegis mechanist had predicted; instead of a singular event it was more of a continuous series of little explosions.

But they culminated in a massive detonation that even he wasn’t expecting, flattening the tents nearby and knocking a few people standing too close off of their feet as a column of reddish orange hellfire burst straight upwards before roiling in on itself to form a mushroom shaped cloud of smoke and heat.

The smuggler watched in genuine horror as months of planning and work went up in literal smoke.

“Beth is going to kill me.” He muttered to himself.

But his murderous ex-wife was the least of his worries, because through the haze and smoke he saw several dozen black-painted faces emerging from the trees, their intentions obviously the furthest thing from friendly.

“Ah shit, you’ve got to be kidding me!” Tristan growled, anger replacing his fear; “Form up lads! There’s bloody work that needs doing yet!”

He ran around the expensive burning mess, his eyes scanning the trees where the Amazons were coming from even as he moved to and fro amongst his crew and the prisoners alike, his boot lashing out to kick any man too shocked from the sudden detonation to move.

In the center of the line of Amazons, Alcaia lifted her fist.

“Vohan... brek!”

As her arm fell her people set the heavy shields at their feet, and with a shared cry of strength the Saenga warriors raised the massively heavy bulwarks and fitted them against each other.

In less than three seconds Tristan and his men were facing a crescent shaped wall of brownish-white ceramic five feet high.

That’s when the Amazons started throwing things.

Several dozen heavy spears landed amongst them, numerous cries of agony greeting the ones that found homes in unguarded flesh.

“Fire! Open fire!” Tristan ordered quickly even as he