The Protection of Ren Crown (47 page)

“Seriously? You didn't think to mention that a
giant
monster was tracking us
?”

The hydra roared as he broke one of its—her?—necks.

“You're
supposed
to be paying attention.” He smiled, then sliced a head clear off with a blade that suddenly curved out from the end of the staff. Two heads sprouted to take the cleaved one's place.

My resignation retreated like it had never existed at all. “You're a freak.” I carefully put the paper on the dirt, keeping my eyes on the six—no, now five again—no, now seven—heads.

“Likewise,” he said, spinning, his cloak flaring around him. He made it all look manly somehow.

Then between one moment and the next, he pushed the hydra back toward the paper and the serpentine monster...fell right in.

Schwoop
.

A black-and-white, seven-headed monster fell through parchment space then splatted against the cords of the web, heads and necks stilling at odd angles as they affixed to the sticky threads. Dare walked over and we stared down at the stilled picture. Other than the subject matter, the animated blinking of the hydra's seven sets of eyes was the only thing that made the drawing look dangerous.

“How long will she stay in there?” Dare asked, crouching down to get a better view.

“Permanently, I think; if I say so?” I rubbed the back of my neck when he looked up at me. “Don't credit me. There is something extremely special about that paper.”

Dare's stare was intense. He rose slowly. “Can you release her?”

I nodded apprehensively.

“Good. We'll let her out near one of the swamps that contain wet caves. She'll hunker down, if given habitable territory.”

Release and run? I could do that.

“Okay.” I carefully lifted the sheet and held it toward Dare. “Here.”

One brow rose. “There is not a chance that I'm touching that.”

“You'll fight a
hydra
, but not touch a piece of parchment?”

“Not that parchment.”

I removed the highly magical blank pages from the folder and carefully put the trap paper inside instead. “I can erase the web, later, after we de-hydra it.” I had no idea
how
to erase it, but I'd figure something out. I thrust the unused papers into the air between us. “These are still blank.”

He made no move to take them, he just watched me with a dissecting and analytical gaze. “They are yours.”

I examined him for a moment, then shook my head. “I know the parchment is special. I can't get this type of result usually without using p... I can't get this type of result usually.” Stupid,
stupid.

“
Mmmm.
”

He still didn't move, even as I stepped forward into his space and held the papers toward him. He looked at my fingers as I shook the parchment at him.

“Like I said, they are yours,” he said.

“I can't take them.” They were far too valuable and there was something about the magic in them that sung to me. That was usually a dangerous thing. I grabbed his hand in order to uncurl his fingers and put the pages in his palm.

The second I touched him, something twanged, his cloak rolled up and disappeared from existence, a shield popped, and magic exploded outward, blinding the clearing with white light.

When a troll clubbed Dare in the head the very next moment, I was completely unprepared. Stranger still, so was
Dare
.

He dropped like a stone, and for a moment, all I could do was stare in shock at his body lying completely motionless on the ground.

Nothing ever got the best of Alexander Dare. He always knew what was coming, assimilating tile shifts and their threats quickly and with seemingly little effort.

I ducked the troll's backswing instinctively, but there were twenty trolls surrounding us now. All motion slowed, and almost unconsciously, I crumpled the papers around the pencil in my fist, crushing them together with magic and forcing images,
worlds
, onto the pages, before I threw them outward. Paper flew end over end, spreading around me like large leaves blown in high wind. Six trolls absorbed into the papers as they were touched, pulled into the parchments with a horrible squelching sound. A few of the pages continued to turn end over end. Two trolls stepped into papers as they fell to the ground in front of them.

One troll, though, ducked the traps, raised its club, and ran toward me, my death in its gaze. The papers were all too far away for me to dive inside. I called up my magic, but I wasn't going to be quick enough.

Dare, face dripping with blood, slid low across the dirt in front of me, then under the troll, the end of his staff connecting upward and flipping the beast into the air and down into one of the papers.
Squelch
. But there were still a dozen remaining. I had
never
seen twenty trolls—a pack? A trollage?—together before. Together, the remaining trolls heaped onto Dare before his maneuver was complete.

I dove for the parchment nearest to me, ready to slap it on the pile in order to suck up whatever I could reach.

Before I could do so, a blast in the middle of the pile blew troll bits everywhere and Dare was pushing himself up off the ground. Relief fired along my veins. Then one flailing, mostly-intact troll who had been blown straight upward, brought a meaty paw down on Dare's back as it plummeted back to earth. Sickly purple burst from the contact.

Dare's shields. Something had happened to one of his shields when I'd touched him while holding the parchment.

Magic leaped to my fingers and I inelegantly blasted the offending troll toward one of the papers on the ground, not watching as the troll was sucked from view. I stumbled toward Dare, who lay unmoving. I dropped to my knees and flipped him over with adrenaline-fueled strength.

His chest didn't rise. Painful silence stretched under the whistle of the wind. Troll parts surrounded us—splayed everywhere in a horrifying tableaux.

Nothing moved. Nothing produced sound. No breaths released from Dare. Dead.

Dead.

My vision tunneled, and my heart rate rapidly approached hysterical as I put my hands on his chest. The litany of resurrection books I had read last term scrolled through my head like a list of movie credits too fast to comprehend. But there was enough knowledge and confidence in my subconscious to form a shaky pyramid anyway, and charcoal made with my own magic covered my fingers. I shoved the magic into his chest.

His body jerked and white light shot out from him like a starburst. The magic washed over me cleanly, but two ground impacts indicated unknown beasts lingering in the bushes had been felled in an automatic defense mechanism from Dare's last shields.

Dare's blue eyes opened above a furious expression. “Where the hell is my twelfth rib?” he wheezed.

Hysterical sounds emerged from my mouth. Alive. Not dead. “I took it. Used it. To revive you.” Alive. Not dead.

“What the hell sort of third-century texts have you been reading?” He rolled over and grabbed a twig, then held it to his chest. The twig disappeared and Dare inhaled a deeper breath. His color was rapidly returning and I could see his shields quickly layering back up, one on top of the next. “That was the worst revival I've had since I was six.”

Any other time, I would have been avidly observing the rebuilding of his shields and cataloging the magic he was pulling from the environment around us to heal his massive injuries. Instead, I put my hands over my eyes, pressing them against the lids, trying to keep my hysteria in check.

“Hey.” His voice was gruffer. He tugged my hands away, but everything was hazy. “It's not a big deal. Got the job done.”

“Okay. Sure. No problem. I'm going to go now.” I rose unsteadily. “Home.” My vision had tunneled completely and I blindly walked toward the pinpoint of light. I could hear swearing behind me.

People died here all the time. Twenty Justice Squad members had died in the first
hour
of this unholy squad union. I had seen ten people die and get revived in the first
event
of the qualifier. And judging by his words, Dare had died before—probably many, many times.

But I had never resurrected anyone. Not successfully. I had tried so, so hard with Christian. Desperately. But my brother had been long dead already, and instead of feeling panic, I had been full of steady resolve.

But now... My hands were shaking. A cacophony of sound blended together in my mind—the sounds of Dare fighting and heavy bodies falling around me processed through some strange auto-tuned filter.

How could I think myself capable of protecting anyone?

Dare was swearing, his voice part of the odd filter, and I could hear his feet hitting the dirt as he caught up. “Stop walking, dammit. You aren't even
looking
around you. They weren't alone. Three dozen of them together, what the hell? Scouts just returned planning to
eat
you, and there are three more watching in the shadows. Stop moving, so I can safely—”

Safety.

Suddenly my vision jerked painfully clear. Okai's tile screeched into view and Guard Rock waved his stick in agitation for me to come inside.

Dare was instantly half a step in front of me and I automatically glanced at his profile. He was staring at Okai with an unreadable expression on his features.

Danger,
danger.
Protect Guard Rock and Guard Friend.

My hands stilled and the feel of spilling paint ran along my veins. I motioned with my fingers, the echo of paint on their tips. Guard Rock stamped his stick down in protest, but the tile whisked away.

My magic was giving me what it thought I wanted without the usual filter. I had just called Okai to me then sent it away again in the span of five seconds. I could see other images flashing around me. Things I wasn't even consciously aware of desiring.

But our safety was still uncertain. Dare had said three trolls were still in the shadows. The image of the layer spread out around me like paint poured over a canvas, rolling over three hulking life forms. I focused a beam of magic on each, picked at the layer covering us—at a small, vulnerable section—and shoved. Lightning split the Midlands' gray sky and the earth
shifted
. The hulking beasts were pushed through the earth like buttons forced through holes too small.

The holes started to open further. Too far. The cuff on my wrist vibrated.

Fingers circled my cuff, pressing it against my skin. Just like Marsgrove had done... Did that mean I should attack? No, these fingers didn't hurt. They were firm. Warm. Protective?

“
Look at me.
”

There were fingers on my chin.

“Look at me.”

I focused on ultramarine. Protection.

“Focus.”

Long moments of sludge and confusion and alarm mixed together, but in my vision, blue eyes never wavered.

I focused on the color and got my breathing under control. The shaking beneath my feet ceased.

It was another long moment before he let go of my chin. It was a longer moment until he released my wrist.

“Thanks,” I said quietly, pulling back my scattered control—testing pyramids like a computer rebooting, checking safeguards—and I pretended that I couldn't read the calculation I saw on his face.

He was going to ask me all kinds of questions I couldn't answer. Like, ‘So, trapping things in sketches is pretty alarming, but let's talk about how you just ejected those trolls from Second Layer
existence
?’ Or even more likely, ‘So, speaking of threats presenting themselves...’

“You've never resurrected anyone before,” he said, breaking through my spiraling thoughts. It wasn't a question, and it was completely unexpected. He continued speaking. “Why didn't you go for help? Or wait for help to arrive?”

“Wait? Leave? I would have
lost
you. The tile would have moved.”

The tiles
had
moved. I looked around me, we were nowhere near the troll devastation. Dare would probably be
dead
dead by now.

“There are only ten minutes allowed for resurrection,” I said. “What if it took me fifteen just to get out of here?”

“It wouldn't.”

I stared at him, numb.

“It wouldn't,” he repeated. “Come.” He turned and headed back into the heart of the Midlands.

Magic stretched around me, whispering information to me in streams too quick to decipher. He was right. At this moment, I could get out in less than ten minutes. Connecting to the Layer had made me hyper aware, and there was an exit back to the Thirteenth Circle just around the bend. The path wouldn't last, I could feel it already slipping away in a slide, but the ability to feel the changes in the Earth and in the magic of it was there, if I could learn to harness it.

If I could learn to be an Origin Mage.

“I'd like to go back to the dorms,” I said numbly.

“We go back and get the papers first.” His tone brooked no argument.

“Okay.” Gnawing hunger and exhaustion were overtaking me quickly, but I had become adept last term at putting a temporary hold on physical pain and suffering.

Dare led us back to the spot easily enough and stood guard while I collected the papers. An aftershock rolled through the ground.

“We need to release the creatures and leave,” he said, sounding tense.

We walked out of the Midlands ten minutes later—one hydra and twenty trolls lighter. I checked the nearest mountain sign. We had emerged on the east side of the Thirteenth Circle. When I stopped abruptly, Dare put a steadying hand against my back. People were shouting and arguing on the green in front of a multi-colored building.

“Campus shaken—”

“Earth mages swear they didn't—”

“Peacekeepers' Troop coming, thank Magic!”

“Department presence—”

“Everything will be better—”

My use of magic in the Midlands had not gone unnoticed on campus then. And I had no idea what Dare had already put together based on his actual observation of the event and the wild speculation that was occurring around us.

“You need to eat. Come on.” Dare nudged me into a stride and we passed the terrified gossipers and headed toward an arch that would take us to the west side of the Eighth Circle where there was a henge with an arch to the north side of the Fifth.