Brokk knew what he wanted to say but couldn’t, and he growled in response.
“My thoughts exactly.” Memphis climbed on his back, whispering in his mind. “To war?”
“To Emory,” Brokk thought.
Memphis climbed on his back, thinking aloud, “I don’t have any weapons.”
“You are a weapon.”
And then they were running.
Breaking through the tree line of the forest, Brokk dodged viciously as a dabarne rolled in front of them, covered in thick vines, wrapping and growing, as Brokk recognized the first-year student who fiercely assaulted 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, and caught the knife sailing through the air directly at her back. The blade broke in his jaws.
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, ash, and blood. All around him, bodies dropped beneath ebony claws, through razor sharp teeth and ear-splitting roars.
“On your left!”
Spinning, Brokk watched Memphis launch 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 it froze, hissing viciously.
Brokk threw himself at the creature’s throat, ripping out its jugular as it thudded to the ground, cracking the ice with its weight.
Fire blazed behind them as Memphis sprinted toward Brokk’s back, and a first year charged the line, fearless.
Brokk galloped, and Memphis flung himself on him, and soon, they were weaving through the battle. Gripping his fur, Memphis raged against the creatures’ minds, each wave like a shooting arrow landing a killing blow.
Everything was spattered with gore; bodies of his fellow classmates were lying on the snow encrusted ground. Wave after wave, the dabarnes’ attacks were relentless. Bleak shock coursed through Brokk, trying to register the war around him, that they were losing.
Suddenly, a dabarne appeared to his left, its inky talons moving too fast for him to jump out of the way, as it connected with his side. Talon ripped through flesh and fur, all the way down, exposing his rib.
Brokk’s vision dipped as he almost passed out from the pain. Relief came as he healed, but he tripped when the dabarne took its opportunity to attack. Rolling, Memphis was thrown off, and the beast snapped at Brokk’s throat with ferocity. Kicking his back legs to connect with the dabarne’s gut, Brokk threw the beast over his body, forcing it to roll.
Gaining his footing, Brokk lunged toward the enemy, but Memphis was already there, blood trickling down his nose as he snapped the dabarne’s neck with his mind. Running back to Brokk, Memphis clambered on his back once again.
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.
“NO!” Bresslin’s voice cut through the fight. Pushing faster, Brokk’s nails clawed 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 broke Brokk’s heart. He couldn’t look back as he charged through the open doors. Memphis slamming them shut behind them.
Brokk shifted back and 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.”
The hallways of the Academy were eerily quiet, the lights flickering faintly. The pounding outside grew, and all Brokk could do was stare at the floor.
Looking up, he met Memphis’s gaze, 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!”
Brokk could feel the force shiver up his spine, into his bones. “You have to.” Not looking back, he shifted and then exploded through the oak doors. The wind shrieked, snow stinging his eyes, and he howled, the sound ominous and haunting.
“Run, Memphis.”
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.
A sword slashed down toward his chest, missing him by a hair’s breadth, as he raised his blade to meet it, sparks flaring between them.
“You are becoming more annoying by the minute, Mr. Foster.” Bresslin pushed against him, making him bow as ice ran up his forearms and up the blade. She smiled. “You are only hindering the inventible. But I am curious to how you and Mr. Carter escaped your restraints.”
He didn’t answer, as he ducked, slicing at her shins and making her step back.
She mused, “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, and 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, and then rolled as Bresslin’s sword cracked through the ice with ease. Right where he had been.
Charging, he connected with her waist, and they rolled, Brokk trying to pin her. Her boots connected with his chest, and he was sent flying. Shifting as he landed, his claws dug into the ice, screeching with the impact. All around them, in a tight circle, the dabarnes watched him, drool dripping from their maws, their yellow eyes eagerly waiting for the command to end him.
“Enough. Do you really think you could win against us? This is so much bigger than you could ever dream, little shifter.”
His growls cut low and deep as
