Breaking Step (Dungeon Runner 3)

Breaking Step, Chapter 49

"I don't know if I can!"

He opened the ground under the creature, but it stopped its fall by catching the edges. That's be enough. He closed the ground on it. The others seemed to be held back by the ice.

"You're the only one with fire as his element, Mez. Divert it if you can't stop it. Over or around us. It doesn't matter, but I don't think we can survive whatever they're etching."

Tibs saw Mez look in his direction out of the corner of his eye; the fear. Jackal and Khumdar had regrouped with them, keeping the Dragoling from approaching. Tibs nodded, and the fear lessened.

Diverting he could do, and Don would think Mez was doing it. All he needed to do was time this properly and—

The etching bloomed.

With a curse echoed loudly by Mez, Tibs channeled fire and shoved his will against the rolling essence moving through the Dragoling and toward him, and behind him, his team. He shoved harder without effect. Mez formed a barrier, but his fire essence was crude, relying on how strong the archer was to hold the attack back. Unfortunately, the etching was designed to go through pure power; he could sense that much. And there had to be something making it resistant to being wrenched away.

Or maybe the Dragoling sorcerers were simply that more willful than he was.

Tibs ground his teeth. "No." He wasn't letting his team be beaten by a bunch of upright lizards just because they were able to etch together. If he couldn't push it back, then he'd do something else.

He formed his etching among theirs. Lines and waves; he couldn't think of how to add a spiral to lines that didn't connect into a point, but it didn't matter. He had ample essence for this, and he might have time to add it afterward. He added a filigree of Kha and Fey; he needed this sticky but solid. Were those the right Arcanus?

He cursed. He didn't have time for indecision. He needed to act! He fed his etching essence and pulled as hard as he could. It moved with more ease than he'd expected.

Their etching hadn't been made to prevent him from using his will against it, only to keep it from being pushed back. It had no defenses against being pulled.

His smile went away as he noticed his etching changing, being deformed by what happened to the Dragoling's as he pulled. His lines were bending inwards, parts snapping off under the strain. Others touching and forming a point.

One pointed at him.

Before he could think of an option, it was rushing at him.

The fire engulfed him. It's roar and his pain burying Sto, Ganny, and his friends' screams.

Fire fucking hurt!

He pushed against it, and the pain eased enough he felt the essence flow around him and toward his friends.

Fuck that!

He pulled again; harder. Fuck the pain. Better he suffer than they die.

He screamed as he pulled harder still. He has space for it.

He thought he had space.

His immense reserve filled with a fraction of the essence he was pulling in. He suffused himself in fire and took in slightly more. He couldn't let any pass. Mez wouldn't be able to deal with this. He pulled and forced more into his reserve. When cracks formed, he willed them intact. He didn't know if he'd survive his reserve breaking this time, but he still had to force more in.

Denser. He pushed and packed it ever denser. Some escaped his reserve. Not through cracks but through his channels, rolling out the way fire could roll across a floor. It couldn't be good, but he couldn't stop.