“About time you show up!”
I turn to see Y’etl grappling with a wounded Jaguar. Swiftly, I tuck a punch into the Jag’s ribs and dispel a close range pulse strong enough to knock him out without stopping his heart.
“We’ve gotta get the doors open or we’ll be cooked in here.” Y’etl points toward two huge doors barred by a long beam.
“Where are the rest? Yetic? Neca?” I push Y’etl behind a low barrier as a pulse whips overhead.
“This is it. The rest didn’t make it in.”
Olin joins us behind the barrier while blocking another EM attack. “There can’t be more than a dozen of us left, with twice that many Jags.”
“The doors,” Y’etl repeats himself.
I shake my head. “I’m spent.”
Olin pops up and throws an offensive pulse before plopping beside us. “Luckily, I don’t think the operator can interfere with things inside here. Or least he doesn’t seem to be.”
“You think you can do it?” Y’etl asks.
“I’ll need a few seconds to focus, and you’ll have to take out anyone blocking me.”
A pulse slams into the barrier, shaking it. So far the battle has been a harried fray of unfocused energy—one side trying to stun the other. My brother is asking for the chance to lift the beam and open the doors with focused thought. The manipulating of inanimate objects is something I’ve only seen Olin and Centavo do.
“You’ll be exposed,” I object.
“It’s the only way without mass casualties on both sides,” Olin counters.
“It’s not like you’ll really be killing them.”
“Why practice something I’ll never do? You know I won’t.”
I nod. “Give me a second.” I stick my head out for a final assessment. “It looks like Cera and Tenoch made it in. There fighting back to back at two o’clock, twenty meters. First we reach them, then we do it together.” I look at Y’etl.
He nods.
“On three.” A pulse strikes the barrier again, this time threatening to shatter it. “Three!” We burst around the sides of the barrier and sprint toward Cera and Tenoch. After a few strides, we’re swallowed into the chaos.
A butterfly stumbles into my path, forcing me to leap over. Off balance and out of position, I’m struck with a flying knee kick that sends me tumbling. I roll onto hands and knees in time to catch a foot before it impacts my face. I recognize the attacker’s grunt as she wrenches her foot free. “Ami.”
“I don’t know how you got through the wall, but I’m putting an end to your pathetic little assault now.” She stabs at me with a side kick.
I jump to my feet, block it, and spin into her back with a backward roundhouse. It connects, but Ami anticipates the impact. She tumbles away safely. I use the opportunity to check on my brother. He and Y’etl have caught Cera’s attention.
Too quickly Ami is back on her feet.
I catch a flicker of light coming from her direction. Closing my eyes, I pool what little concentration I have left into blocking the incoming EM assault. I throw up my hands in the nick of time.
Ami follows immediately on the heels of the pulse with a savage physical attack. Her bullrush catches me with a shoulder to the chin and lifts my feet off the ground. Rather than worry about defending myself from the inevitable crash landing, I place both hands in Ami’s stomach.
When the moment comes, I push all the pain into a crackling ball of EM energy and gift it to Ami. I manage to cast her off, but feel my back and ribs crack in the process. Gasping for breath and struggling to see where Ami landed, I instead see Olin kneeling a few meters away. His eyes are closed.
I struggle to regain my feet. My head is spinning. I can’t breath. I scramble onto my hands and knees the moment Ami raises a blood-curdling battle cry. The sound reminds me of the queen’s men inside the Shadows.
She takes two quick shuffling strides and raises a foot to finish me off with a roundhouse to the head. It never connects. Instead, Yetl lands a nasty two-fisted blow. Dropping his hands like a hammer, he compacts Ami’s spine and drops her like a limp noodle. She could be dead, but I don’t care.
Staggering to me feet, I plunge into the fray nearest my brother. I join Cera and Tenoch and use everything I have left to clear a path for Olin. Suddenly a brilliance overtakes us—like emerging from a pitch-black tunnel into the full light of day. Blinded, exhausted, unable to defeat gravity for another step, I drop to my knees.
The ground quakes beneath me, as if my falling has been enough to shake the foundations of the earth. I realize the doors have been opened. Serpent 4, 5, and 8 are pouring in through the gap. Engaging the battle, they drop the weary Jags with close range pulses and hand to hand combat.
With Y’etl’s help, I drag myself out of the way. The two of us lean against each other and watch the remainder of our cadets finish the job. With Ami down and the doors open, it takes less than a minute for the interior of the citadel to fall quiet except for moans and heavy breathing.
Olin, Cera, and I are all that remain of Serpent 6. Cera helps Y’etl and me to our feet. A tense moment passes as Brutah, the commander of Serpent 8, eyes the remaining butterflies as if he hopes my ultimate plan is to turn on them in the end.
I shake me head. “The battle is over. The tournament is won. Congratulations, to all of you.” I grip Yetl’s arm.
He exhales and mouths two silent words, thank you. Then he raises a fist. “Butterflies! Today we eat our fill from the spoils of victory!”
I’m surprised to hear what must be nearly a dozen voices still able to respond with whoops and hollers.
After a few seconds I join in, followed by the rest of the Serpents. We only stop when the fallen begin to jerk and twitch, indicating the resurrection command has been given. There are three times as many casualties as survivors.
“Come on, help ‘em up. The quicker we get everyone out of here, the quicker the administration can dissolve this place.” I try to catch my breath. “If there are any fliers left, head up to the plateau and help everyone down.”
Twenty minutes later, everyone except my brother and I and Instructor Turon have exited the chamber. I turn around to watch the landscape disappear, leaving nothing but colored glitter falling softly. Quieter and more subtle than the formation, the dissolution inspires a reverent awe inside me.
After watching half the citadel dissolve into thin air, I turn toward Olin. “How long do you think it will take us to learn that trick?” I watch Turon through the corner of my eye.
Olin responds in a matter of fact tone, “I give it six months.”
Turon covers it quickly, but can’t disguise the genuine concern that flashes across his face.
I run a hand along the length of my braid and crack the vertebrae in my neck. “That long? I was thinking five.”
END of Episode Two
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