Up in the air, I send several air-blades at the giant hand – I might not have the kiinas with me anymore, but I studied their attacks long enough that I learned to mimic them with my own Air-Shaping.

  The air-blades strike at the giant hand, but have limited effect. The most effective are those that strike the tips of the fingers – the chunks of water they separate splash down to the ground. The least effective are those that strike the palm – they’re absorbed without trace.

  I narrow my eyes, briefly considering my options. Use magic or not?

  The hand doesn’t give me time to think, snatching at me as I twist away. My Air-Shaping isn’t strong enough to handle this. Maybe I need to use something with more, uh, punch to it.

  I dart a quick look around, checking where my companions are. I don’t want them caught up in friendly fire. Then I spot Layton – his opponents are pretty much down for the count. He’ll move onto others soon, but in the meantime….

  “Layton! Temperature control!” I shout even as I prepare a ball of fire between my hands. The water hand grabs at me again and again, its movements becoming more frantic, but I just dodge while keeping the mana flow constant.

  Then it forms itself into a fist and punches at me. It can move faster like that and its increased speed takes me off-guard. Instead of successfully dodging cleanly, I clench my teeth as it clips my leg. It feels more like concrete than water.

  I fly back uncontrollably for a moment before my wings catch me.

  But my ball of fire is ready now. It hasn’t grown much in size, but the colour has lightened to a pale yellow. When the fist lines up for another strike, it meets my ball flying towards it instead. The fist engulfs the ball which glows brightly from within.

  Even after release, I keep control – and feel the water straining to smother it. The mage below laughs, high and manic.

  “You fool! Don’t you know water extinguishes fire?”

  I grit my teeth, resisting the water’s efforts. Engaging my will, I reinforce the fire’s stubborn need to continue burning in defiance of all that attempts to control or defeat it. Around my fireball, the water begins to boil.

  The mage’s laughter dies away, and when I sneak a look down at him, I notice that his expression has become strained. Even as I watch, he swallows and closes his eyes – my guess is that keeping control of his water fist is taking all his concentration.

  A knife flies close enough to me to cut off several locks of hair. I send a sharp look at my attacker – one of the fighters near the leader, Dexil. He is attacked a moment later by Pride, the scalla taking advantage of his distraction, but the message is clear: I’m too exposed up here.

  I drift downwards, directing my wings to take me there. My own split concentration doesn’t do me any favours – the boiling water around my fireball has stilled and is beginning to cool the fire itself.

  As my boots hit stone, I wrench my focus back to the boiling chaos overhead.

  Without distraction, the battle turns decidedly in my favour – I clearly have far more points in Willpower than the mage does, even if the mage seems to have more magic to throw at me.

  The mage screams as the water starts to boil and steam. In a last ditch attempt, he sends the fist flying towards me, obviously intending on pounding me into the ground with the water I’ve boiled.

  I’m quicker.

  Leaping forwards, I stab my spear straight through the mage’s lung. Just in case that isn’t enough to keep him down, I’ve recoated my blade with River’s anti-magic poison. It didn’t seem to do anything to the assassin, but I’m sure the mage will be another matter. Though he’ll probably survive the lung-strike, he’ll be useless for the rest of the fight.

  The power behind the fist falters as soon as my spear pierces its wielder’s chest, and then vanishes completely as the mage gasps wetly and blood bubbles to his lips. The fist goes up in steam in the next instant.

  Narrowing my eyes, I wonder if I can use it – my fire magic is suffusing the little droplets of water. Reaching out to it, I struggle, but manage to gather the majority of the steam into a ball.

  Move! I warn my Bonded, sending them a sense of what I intend to do.

  Those fighting the enemies near the stairs scatter a moment before I bring the super-heated ball of steam right down in the middle of the enemy ranks.

  Only Layton didn’t get the message but he’s obviously been paying attention as he also moves out of the way. As I feel the heat in the steam increase, I send him an appreciative look. Nice to know our Skills can enhance each other like that.

  Screams ring out among our enemies. When I release the magic and allow the steam to dissipate, I can see that most of them aren’t going to be any good in the fight afterwards.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  I grimace a little as I see the way their skin has been badly burned – my own flesh twinging in sympathy. Then I remind myself that they were holding my Bonded hostage, and might even have been responsible for the torture Loran went through.

  Try to keep the big one alive, I ask my Bonded as they pile back in on the enemies, sensing victory.

  Meanwhile, the mage is whimpering and moaning on the ground a metre away from me and the two fighters who had been battling Lathani, River, Orion, and Artemis are now fighting more to escape. I’m pretty low in mana right now, but that isn’t an issue. Pulling out my bow and arrows, I shoot them from behind. Not exactly honourable, but a more merciful death than broiling them alive.

  I take a moment to press the mana I do have into Artemis – her injuries are still pretty bad. River is far less injured, but she’s a lot thinner than before; her tail is noticeably slimmer.

  You came, she tells me with relief, almost leaping forward to rub her cheek against mine.

  Of course I did, I tell her warmly. Now come on – let’s finish this.

  Together, we head into the final part of the battle. The mountainous man is still fighting, a shimmering shield in one hand and a bastard sword in the other as he strikes with superhuman speed and strength. His skin is badly reddened, but he’s far better off than any of his men – of the six who had been with him previously, only three continue to fight, and their movements are slow and pained.

  Even as I watch, Pride, Blaze, and Spot work together to take one of the fighters down – his screaming turns into gargling as they rip out his throat.

  The leader bellows in anger as he realises he’s beaten. He tries to turn and escape up the stairs but Lathani flicks through the shadows and snarls in his face even as she swipes at him with a paw.

  “Surrender!” I call above the battle. “You’ll face the courts, but you’ll still be alive.”

  After what they’ve done, I’m not keen on the idea of letting them live, but if they could implicate the people to blame for this, I’ll count it as enough.

  The two fighters glance at each other and then drop their weapons and raise their hands.

  “We surrender!” one of them calls. Dexil roars angrily and grabs one of them. The man screams loudly – a cry which is cut off as his head is forcibly separated from his body. The other man scrambles backwards before the man’s meaty paws can reach for him next. He trips over something on the floor and continues to wiggle backwards on his elbows and heels. My Bonded step between him and the enraged leader, even as Catches-leaves moves over to begin binding our new prisoner’s hands.

  The enraged leader glares at me as he drops the two parts of the body that used to be his man. His bloodied teeth are bared as if he’d ripped the man apart with them instead of his hands.

  “I ain’t facin’ yer courts,” he spits at me. “An’ if I ain’t gettin’ out o’ this, neither are any o’ ye.” With that, he hunches over, closes his eyes, and starts glowing.

  “Markus! We need to get out of here! He’s going to explode!” Layton exclaims, his voice abruptly frantic.

  “Go!” I yell at all of my Bonded. Once is enough – a moment later, they’re flooding toward the stairs.

  “How long do we have?” I shout at Layton even as I start building a shell of earth around Dexil.

  “Not long – half a flame at the most,” he shouts back.

  “Would killing him first help?”

  “No – it would just set it off earlier.”

  Damn.

  Another thought suddenly occurs. I run towards Dexil while pulling down part of the shell I’m erecting. Reaching forwards, I half expect the glow to burn my fingers when I touch his skin but it doesn’t. I force one of his eyelids open.

  Dominate.

  Dexil’s Willpower isn’t too shoddy, but it’s nothing compared to mine. I run through the space, sparing no time to talk – time doesn’t stand still in the real world when I’m in a Battle of Wills. I practically jab my hand on his forehead, forcing the Bond on him despite his outraged objections.

  Stop this! I order him with the Bond even before the world has fully settled around me again.

  I can’t, he answers with more than a little bit of satisfaction in his voice. I’ve already poured all my mana, experience, and most of my health into the explosion. It’s happening whatever you do.

  I clench my teeth. Damn. I start running for the exit myself, picking up the fighter who surrendered en route – I did promise that he’d live long enough to visit the courts, at least. Remembering the mage, I hesitate for a brief moment, then run for him too – he might come in useful later.

  I move to cut the Bond between me and Dexil, not wanting to feel the moment he dies, but then hesitate.

  Who did you receive your orders from? I demand, holding the Bond tightly with my desire to know everything.

  The Lady, first of all. She sent The Shadow to…supervise, Dexil replies with distaste. He fights my control but as weak as he is now, he doesn’t have any chance of succeeding. He can’t even delay his answer by more than a second. Then the big nob from Rainpoint.

  Who is the Lady?

  No idea. Been paid not to ask those kinds of questions.

  Best guess.

  Some other nob. Wealthy, and with lots of influence among the merchants – she organised the transportation of your minions. I ignore the insult – he’s a dead man already.

  As closely linked as I am to the big man, I can feel that the Skill is only seconds away from detonating. I’m not at the stairs yet – I don’t have time to get there either. I dump both men I’m holding onto the ground, ignoring their panicked looks and the begging of the fighter.

  This time when I summon my wings, they’re not made out of air. Instead, I’ve called for stone ones, the densest, most resistant stone I can make. Setting them up as a barrier over my head and my two prisoners, I turn my back to the stairs and brace.

  Why did you hurt Loran? I demand as my final question.

  Because the nob wanted me to send a message. His tone curdles with triumph. And did I enjoy it? A ragged, unrepentant, blood-wet grin comes through the Bond. Every. Second.

  The world explodes.

  here!

  here!

  here!

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