“Yep. So, this is the new normal out here, huh? The Oronti Valley reduced to this farm and the other four we saw?”
“Didn’t get close enough to see what was left.”
Persh’al returned his hands to the control panel and scowled. “Yeah. I think we’ve seen enough of this one too.”
The skiff’s low hum stopped, let out a metallic screech, and sputtered out.
“What?” The troll ran his hand over the panel, bringing that green light to his fingers again, but the controls didn’t respond. The skiff slowed to a stop and came in for a smooth landing on the long grass three yards from the last outbuilding and fell silent. “Dammit. That orc took my veréle and gave us half of what we paid for.”
“What’s wrong?”
“That’s what I gotta check?” With a growl of frustration, Persh’al leaped over the side of the skiff and stepped around the hull toward the back. He pressed a button on the side panel, which clicked in protest and didn’t budge until he kicked it open and got to work.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Cheyenne stood and got out of the skiff, gazing around the empty valley. “The thing picked a great place to break down.”
“Nah, we’re all right.” The troll squatted, grunted, and rummaged around inside the open panel. “I mean, yeah, I wanna get out of here ASAP, but we’re on our own. Don’t worry, kid. I just need to tighten this—”
A piece of metal snapped, wires sputtered, and pieces clanged around in the mechanical opening.
“Tighten it, huh?”
Persh’al chucked the broken piece onto the grass. “Too tight for these useless pieces. That’s what I get for buying from a bunch of scrappers. I’m honestly amazed it got us this far, and it’s crap without that part. So…” He stood, dusted off his pants, and spread his arms. “You can hike, right?”
“Across an open valley? Sure.”
“Great.” The troll bent over the back of the dead skiff and pulled on his bulging pack. The strap caught on something underneath, and he fought to free it.
A crunch of broken wood and the rustle of dry grass reached Cheyenne’s ears, and she turned slowly toward the outbuildings. That’s not just the wind.
“Hey, kid. Wanna take a look in here and see what I’m missing? I can’t get this—”
“Shh.” She hushed him so softly, she thought he might not have heard. Another soft rustle of grass pressing against the earth reached her, and she scanned the space between the buildings, searching for movement.
Persh’al glanced at her and slowly straightened. “Not all alone, are we?” he whispered.
Cheyenne slowly shook her head and leaned sideways, waiting for the next slow footstep.
The wall of the building in front of her shattered when a sizzling yellow ball of magic crashed through the rotting slats. She ducked and caught a glimpse of two narrowed yellow eyes through the hole in the wall before a bolt of bright orange whizzed over Persh’al’s head. He leaped aside and whirled, flicking his wrist to summon the sparking green whip.
Someone let out a raw, warbling battle roar, and four magicals barreled toward Cheyenne and Persh’al from between the buildings—two orcs, a troll who barely looked old enough to call himself full-grown, and a skinny yellow-green magical barely four feet tall with pointed ears and yellow fangs.
The yellow guy screamed and slashed his hand through the air as he darted toward Cheyenne. She lashed out with her black tendrils, curling them around his arm to toss him away from her. A bright yellow dart shot down at her from the sky and barely missed her hand. “What the—”
A rusty, dirt-coated orb bobbed in the air six feet above her, its multiple layers spinning in opposite directions. The gangly yellow magical slid across the dirt where she’d tossed him and motioned again with a flick of his wrist. The floating orb darted behind Cheyenne and blasted her with another dart as the magical shot yellow sparks at her head.
The halfling raised a shield in front of her and turned to launch her purple sparks at the floating orb. They crackled against the metal ball, which let out a shrieking whine and dropped to the ground, covered in purple light.
The yellow magical screamed again and leaped to his feet. “Get your own, mór edhil!”
“What?”
One of the orcs crashed into the side of the building in front of Persh’al with a grunt, then pushed away and kicked at nothing but air. The ground erupted in front of Persh’al, and a steel plate rose and jerked toward him. The troll leaped aside and cracked his whip at the flying saucer-thing, sending it right back at its owner like a frisbee.
The troll kid whipped around the buildings, tossing disks of light and riding another sheet of metal that clicked and squeaked.
Cheyenne spun and watched him sail past her. Kid’s got a hoverboard. What is this?
The disks of blue light sailed over her head when she ducked and buried themselves in the wood of the shed. The kid veered back around to head toward her and pulled more disks out of a pouch to get in more target practice. His first projectiles pulled themselves out of the wood to join the others, and eight flashing disks sailed toward Cheyenne, spinning and whirring.
She raised a shield at the last second, and the slicing metal pinged against the black surface. Then she leaped aside and sent two churning black orbs into the disks, catching six of them at once. They split in half, while the other two changed course to head for Persh’al, and Cheyenne heard the hum of the kid’s hoverboard behind her seconds before he leaped from the thing and knocked her to the ground.
With a shout, she pushed the kid off and wrapped him in her black tendrils. He struggled violently, kicking and bucking on the ground as she held him in place. “Cut it out, kid! What are you doing?”
“Go feed off the Mother’s tit, yeh,”
