Shakily, Memphis came up to his side, his hand resting on his golden fur. “You are going to tell me how you knew...” He trailed off, not able to find the rest of his words, his bruised face swelling with every second. He knew what he wanted to say but couldn’t, and he growled in response.
“My thoughts exactly.” He climbed on his back, whispering in his mind. “To war?”
“To Emory,” he thought.
Memphis climbed on his back and said, “I don’t have any weapons.”
“You are a weapon.” He threw the thought out to him, and then they were running. Breaking through the tree line of the forest, he dodged viciously as a dabarne rolled in front of them, covered in thick vines, wrapping and growing, as he recognized the first-year student fiercely assaulting the monster, sweat collecting on her brow as she concentrated, the ground shuddering. Flinging his weight forward, he pushed off his haunches, cutting through the air, catching the knife sailing through the air directly at her back.
The blade broke in his jaws, and he was completely disoriented. The courtyard raged around them, students attacking the army of hundreds, the darkness pushing in on them from every side, every angle. Screams overlapped through the ice, through the ash, through the blood. All around him, bodies dropped beneath ebony claws, through razor sharp teeth and ear-splitting roars.
“On your left!”
He spun, but Memphis launched himself off his back, meeting the charging sleek body, its elongated nose pulled back over its teeth. Landing hard, he felt the wave of energy leave Memphis, and then the creature froze, hissing viciously. Brokk launched himself at the creature’s throat. In mere seconds, it thudded to the ground, cracking the ice with its weight. Fire blazed behind them as Memphis sprinted toward his back as a first year charged the line, fearless. He galloped and Memphis flung himself to him, and soon they were weaving through the battle. Fire and flesh, ability against darkness. The ground cracked and shuddered, as he threw his weight right, skidding out of the way of the ice spear flying toward his heart. Gripping his fur, Memphis raged against the creatures’ minds, each wave like a shooting arrow landing a killing blow. His muscles were on fire as he galloped, twisting and jumping through the remains of the courtyard, and he wanted to stop, he wanted to throw up, he wanted to scream. All around him was blood. Staining the courtyard, staining his soul.
“No!” Bresslin’s voice cut through the fight as he snarled, pushing faster, his nails clawing into the ice as they scrambled up the stairs, the force of the army charging behind them.
“Get inside now!” Memphis roared to the remaining students, and the cries as they tried to follow slashed through his heart, each voice being cut off, fading into the roars. He couldn’t look back as he charged through the open doors. Memphis slammed them shut behind them. His friend jumped off, falling to his knees, shaking his head, cursing, staring at the ground.
Shifting back, he threw up, the force and sting of the acid burning his throat.
“Brokk, we have to go now. Find Emory, no one else made it.” No one else. No one else.
His rage hardened around him. “Are you sure? Memph, we have to go back out there. We have to save them.”
Those ice blue eyes seared into him. “Do you really think we would be in here if there was a chance someone was left behind?”
He lunged, the tears spilling onto his cheeks as he choked out, “We have to save them.” The hallways of the Academy were eerily quiet, the lights flickering faintly. The pounding outside grew and grew and it was all he could do not to tear himself apart. He knew what he had to do. Looking up, he looked Memphis dead in the eye. “You have to find her. We will never out chase them. I can hold them off for as long as I can but find her.”
Memphis crossed the space between them. “And what, leave you to die? You’ve got to be kidding me. Now is not the time for some noble sacrifice!”
He could feel the force shiver up his spine, into his bones, as he whispered, “You have to.” Not looking back, he shifted and then exploded through the oak doors. The wind howled, snow stinging his eyes, as he bayed, the sound ominous and haunting. Run, Memphis. And he launched himself forward, landing heavily at the base of the stairs. Shifting back, he quickly picked up a discarded sword, gripping the hilt as he strained against the storm. Squinting, his tears froze, as he roared, “Bresslin!”
The sword slashed down toward his chest, missing him by a hair breadth, as he raised his blade to meet it, sparks hissing between them. Her voice was sickly sweet. “You are becoming more annoying by the minute, Mr. Foster.” Coming into view, Bresslin pushed against him, making him bow as ice ran up his forearms and up the blade. She smiled. “You are only mildly stopping the inventible. But I am curious to how you and Mr. Carter managed to escape your confinement.” Not answering, he ducked, slicing at her shins making her step back. She snarled. “You never were one for many words, were you? A pity, to end up like your classmates after all.” She charged, slamming the blade down, as his arms became numb from each block, the vibrations crawling up his skin.
She was relentless as the gleaming edge carved and dove toward him, missing him only by an inch. The storm picked up as he slipped on ice.
