Snarling, the halfling batted the skaxen’s sharp claws away from her face as he scrambled to get a good hold on her. He somehow managed to get a grip on the collar of her jacket and lifted her off the ground before slamming her head back down.
“All you have to do is swear fealty, mór úcare,” the orange guy hissed, spit flying from between his razor-sharp teeth. “That’s all she wants. This’ll all be over if you just give yourself to the Crown and let her handle the rest.”
“No fucking way!” Cheyenne brought her elbow down on the side of the skaxen’s head. It knocked him off her just enough for her to roll out from under him. His claws raked through her jacket and into the flesh beneath as she grabbed him by his thin black shirt and threw him off her.
The rat-like magical screamed as he soared over the balcony. Leaping to her feet, the halfling launched two more crackling black orbs at his chest, both of which hit him before he slammed into the floor beside the bloody stumps of the fallen ogre’s legs.
I don’t know who these assholes think I am, but I’m not swearing shit to anyone.
With a deep breath, she turned back toward the seven FRoE agents trying to bring down a snarling, raving ogre on their own.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Cheyenne darted around the agents, who were firing round after round of fell shots into the ogre’s gray flesh. It was enough of a distraction for the halfling to get to those guarded double doors unseen. Just a few seconds to make sure.
She pressed her palm against the door and closed her eyes, bringing up her drow sight. A hot blast of green fire erupted by her hand, and she leaped aside before glancing over the balcony. Two orcs pulled up more fire to launch at her, and she scattered them with handfuls of hissing black energy.
“I need cover!”
Yurik ducked under the ogre’s sweeping arm and turned on one knee to level his pistol at the orcs. They dodged his first few shots, and Cheyenne turned back to the door.
Make it quick. She closed her eyes and pulled up her drow sight again, pouring all her focus into that one ability because that was the only way. Another crackling dart of magic whizzed past her head, and she hissed out a frustrated breath. Come on!
A faint blue outline appeared in her mind’s eye, huddled on the ground just beyond the door. Then another blast of magic struck the wooden floor beside her feet, and the halfling jerked back. That’s good enough for me.
“They’re in here!” she shouted and reached for the door handle. But there wasn’t one. Of course not.
Cheyenne stepped back and blasted the door with a black sphere. An orange and red light flared around the door, and that was it. “Shit. Wards too?”
The FRoE agents repeated the shout of getting upstairs to break down those doors. The operatives fighting the ogre were busy enough as it was, and the others downstairs were sweeping through the mansion, trying to gather at the stairs and getting cut off by the kidnappers.
Bhandi let out a battle cry and tossed two fell grenades at the ogre. The other agents hit the deck before the black disks detonated. The blast sent Cheyenne reeling away from the door as more spells flew up from the foyer and hit the wall beside her head. The ogre roared and slapped a meaty gray hand to his eye, blood spewing everywhere.
Then Yurik was at Cheyenne’s side, studying the double doors from top to bottom. “Didn’t think a drow needed to use doorknobs.”
“Wards.” She pointed at the door and threw up a shield in front of three more agents running up the stairs. The purple shards of some goblin’s attack ricocheted off the black light of the shield, and the agents kept running. They skirted past the ogre, who still roared and stumbled around, blinded by shrapnel.
“You know anything about wards?” Yurik asked.
“That door would be open if I did.”
“Right.” He stepped back and fired fell shots into the door, which only brought up the orange and red glow of protective wards without doing any damage. Turning back toward the fighting, the goblin roared, “Anyone got a blaster?”
A massive explosion made the floor tremble beneath their feet. Cheyenne staggered as a blast of smoke and debris hurtled into the foyer from another room downstairs. FRoE agents ran away from the blast, ducking debris and throwing spells and firing their fell rifles where they could.
A raging scream below made Cheyenne peer over the balcony. Three skaxen stood in a half-circle, their arms outstretched in front of a black circle opening in mid-air. “What the hell is that?” Yurik shouted.
“A portal,” the halfling snarled and stormed toward the balcony. “Get that door open.” Or we’re screwed.
She launched black energy spheres over the balcony, hitting two of the skaxens’ legs. They screamed and jumped around. The growing portal downstairs shivered but held steady. Cheyenne reached out with her flailing black tendrils, but she was too far away. The drow whips smacked one skaxen’s sweaty orange face, but that was it. Then a troll spewed a column of dripping blue magic up at her. The halfling retracted her tendrils to throw up a shield around herself, the blue spell splashing against it like thick magical mud.
Someone fired more shots at the doors behind her, and the orange and red wards flashed even brighter.
Cheyenne glanced quickly from the skaxens’ growing portal to the agents locked in battle at the foot of the stairs. More of them climbed the stairs, occasionally turning back to fire their weapons and keep the pursuing magicals at bay. The ogre kept fighting, swinging blindly
