All That Lives Must Die - Eric Nylund [140]
She continued to grow, and Eliot stepped back, trying to see . . . losing her in the fog, making out only a winged silhouette towering thirty feet over him.
This was really Jezebel, Protector of the Burning Orchards and Duchess of the Many-Colored Jungle of the Infernal Poppy Kingdoms—terrible and magnificent.
Eliot felt hate flood and burn through his blood.
Was this what she truly was? Some fallen angel so far removed from the girl he thought he’d known?
He sighed, realizing his hate wasn’t for her. It would physically hurt Eliot to hate her. What she looked like didn’t matter.
She was willing to sacrifice herself for them. Maybe it was a rage-filled Infernal motivation, but she was going to throw herself at their enemies—vanquish them or, in turn, be vanquished.
Eliot wanted to join her. That’s why he felt the anger burn within. He wanted to be like his father, like her: Infernal, horrific, glorious—and destroy everything he touched.
Then reason returned and his blood chilled . . . and he was ordinary Eliot Post once more.
Team Dragon and Wolf were closing in.
Fiona and the others would need him.
He ran for the jungle gym.
39. At the Battle of Waterloo, the field was muddy, and recoil caused cannon to bury themselves after repeated firing. One British squad known as the “Roaring Devils” remained to prevent French infantry from advancing, firing, according to legend, until three cannoneer teams perished, drowning in the mud. They were never found, but occasionally over the years, cannoneers in muddy uniforms are seen wandering under full moonlight—firing artillery at unseen foes. Gods of the First and Twenty-first Century, Volume 6, Modern Myths. Zypheron Press Ltd., Eighth Edition.
40
GRUDGE MATCH
Eliot caught up to his teammates one story up on the jungle gym. They were on a landing and faced the balance beam bridge.
The beam was a single handsbreadth wide. There was no railing. Spiked steel balls swung over it, so to cross without getting your skull bashed in and then knocked off, you’d have to time it just right.
“Where’s Jezebel?” Fiona asked. She looked concerned, confused, and relieved that Eliot was alone.
Eliot shook his head, unable to explain, still trying to cool his blood.
He didn’t have to say anything, though. On the field, there was a thunderous roar and screams. Streaks of fire lit the fog, and a giant silhouetted shape moved.
“The Infernal combat form,” Jeremy whispered in awe.
“She’s buying us time,” Robert said.
Fiona gazed into the murk and bit her lower lip. “Okay—we have to go now. No more debate.”
Eliot looked away from his sister. Jezebel was strong, but she faced two teams. With her injuries, he wasn’t sure she could stop them all . . . or even survive. He wished he had stayed with her.
“Let me go first.” Sarah set a foot on the balance beam. “I’ll clear the way.”
Fiona frowned, but nodded and motioned her ahead.
Sarah pulled back her hair and tied into a knot. She walked onto the beam as graceful as a ballerina.
She approached the first deadly pendulum . . . took a deep breath, and then stepped into its path.
Eliot and Robert both involuntarily started toward her.
“No,” Jeremy warned. “Donna break her concentration.”
Sarah faced the spiked ball rushing toward her, one slender hand held to ward it off.
There was no way she’d stop it. The steel ball was as big as her head.
Her face was a mask of pure focus.
Inches before the ball struck Sarah—it burst into a cloud of confetti and fluttered to the ground in a thousand flashing colors.
“Bravo!” Jeremy cheered.
Of course. The Covingtons were conjurers, able to sometimes transmute one thing into another.
Sarah continued along the beam, confident now, pausing only to alter the deadly steel weights into more confetti, a splash of water, and a shower of tiny glittering garnets.
Robert, Fiona, and Mitch then crossed, using the now dangling lengths of chain for balance.
Amanda hesitated before the beam. Eliot thought she was going to chicken out, but she glanced back at