Zoe looked like she was only standing though sheer force of will.
“Professor Baxter,” Jordan said, “we–”
“I’m sorry. No time.”
Professor Baxter twitched the dagger in her hand. Her voice boomed out over the battlefield.
“ARACHNE!”
— — —
“The nuns,” Zoe said. “Eva did not part on good terms with them. Though I’m not sure who or what the peasants are. They could be just as hostile.”
“Everyone then.”
Genoa had a look in her eye. One that Zoe had never seen before. It was a dangerous look, something she’d expect to see on Arachne. The only difference was that Arachne got the look for no reason, while Genoa had reason enough.
The rage of a mother was a scary sight to behold.
Noticing the look Zoe gave her, Genoa pressed her sunglasses up on her face, obscuring her eyes.
“We’re wasting time.”
Zoe gripped her dagger. With a deep breath, she glanced at her friend. “Right.”
In the blink of an eye, Genoa vanished.
A dust storm erupted over the combatants. Only Zoe’s enhanced sight allowed her to see the vague outlines of the nearest group.
She moved out while the dust had everyone occupied.
There wasn’t much cover in the prison aside from the walls of buildings. It was designed that way on purpose. Letting prisoners hide from guards would have led to ambushes and escapes.
Zoe walked out in the open. Room to dodge was more important than hiding behind the handful of sagebrush that had grown since the prison last saw proper maintenance.
Repeated slashes of her dagger sent razor-thin blades of wind through the air.
The black-cloaked mage didn’t even acknowledge the wind. A shield flickered up around her, tanking the hits. She didn’t even turn towards Zoe, choosing instead to incinerate one of the peasants with white fire.
For all Zoe knew, the mage didn’t notice. The wind was invisible and Wayne had said that their shields were ridiculously strong.
Zoe sent a light gust of air. Nothing big, nothing sharp. Air had to be getting through their shields or they would asphyxiate.
She was pleased to note the billowing of the mage’s cloak. Some things could get through.
Evacuating all the air was a possibility, but Zoe didn’t want to kill if she could help it.
Zoe set the wind around the mage’s feet to compress. More and more air pulled in beneath the mage.
There had to be a threshold between wind and attack. She’d love to run a few tests, but now was not the time. Finding a way around their shield was more important.
The mage noticed something. It must have been the wind moving strangely, though she did not look down. Had she noticed the sphere of compressed air at her feet, she would have moved.
After incinerating one more peasant, she turned to face Zoe. One hand raised up.
Probably.
The instant Zoe’s enhanced eyes noticed a slight change in the mage’s arm, she threw herself to the ground.
Lightning careened through the spot where she had stood.
Not giving the mage a second chance, Zoe released her control over the compressed air.
The shock wave was like a little bubble expanding outwards. Zoe could see it coming. She pinched her eyes shut just as it rocked over her prone form.
A thundering boom came an instant later.
She tried to pop her ears, but nothing made the high-pitched ringing go away.
Looking up, Zoe found the mage knocked a good twenty feet away, slumped against the wall. Not moving.
Zoe shook her head.
No time to check on her.
The cloud of dust had partially cleared away thanks to the blast, revealing another three mages. All turned to look at Zoe.
“Shit.”
Zoe rolled away as spot she occupied quickly turned into a black scorch mark.
With a flick of her hand, a shield sprung up in front of Zoe.
It fractured and shattered as the mages released two lightning bolts.
The first mage had gotten to her feet.
She reached out, aiming her hand.
With wide eyes, Zoe saw white fire forming at her fingertips.
Buildings, mages, even the sky itself fell as the cool white of between replaced everything.
The opposite end of the prison compound rebuilt itself around Zoe. Far from any nuns.
Adrenaline gave her the strength to stand. That same adrenaline had her hands violently shaking. Zoe tried to wipe the thick layer of sweat coating her hands onto her pants and wound up with a thick layer of damp dirt.
Zoe knew that Genoa was still out there. Fighting. Winning, in all likelihood.
She slumped against whatever building she had teleported against. Devon’s, probably.
