Chapter 3

T his time, I'm on the cliff on the uninhabited island in the fjords, hidden behind a rock.

Shadows unfurl next to me as Nariel appears, cloaking us.

He probably was here first, just hiding until he knew where I'd come in.

"I'll show you old," he growls in my ear.

I grin. "Got you moving, didn't I?"

"What's going on?"

"Mages, presumably. Knew the amount of magic I was going to use to portal to Dark Earth might draw them. Seamus set up a video to monitor."

I dig my phone out of my pack and call him even as Nariel says, "Those are not just any mages."

"Demon's right," Seamus says without preamble. "We haven't seen any like this."

"Hi. I'm back from having transported myself between dimensions and doing fine, thanks for asking."

"Yeah, bravo and everything, and hey to you, Nathaniel."

"A pleasure," Nariel says dryly .

"Great. Now look, I'm screen-sharing."

I look.

I suck in a breath.

These are not, in fact, normal mages.

"What are we looking at, Sierra?" Seamus asks. "These aren't the same uniforms as the strike teams."

"When has Seamus seen a strike team?" Nariel growls at me again.

"You've been busy, I've been busy."

"Gaspar said you had things in Low Earth handled."

"Gaspar grossly exaggerated. Seamus, if a strike team is like the equivalent of SWAT, these are the Navy SEALs. They're called Lances—their word, interestingly enough, also shares the same connotation as English for both piercing and, like, draining a wound—"

"Sierra, I do not give a rat's arse about High Earth etymology, now or ever."

" Why are there Lances here?" Nariel asks.

"Fabulous question. Shall I go ask, do you think?"

" Sierra. "

Wow. That was from both of them.

"It brings me joy to see you both getting along so well."

Lances work in small teams, so there are only five of them.

But five is a lot with Lances. One on one I'm confident I could take them, but they're not only really fucking good, they're trained to work as a group, which makes this a whole different ballgame .

Fortunately, while I didn't expect Lances, I did expect somebody , so I'm not totally unprepared.

And now I have Nariel.

Sort of, anyway.

Seamus is still screen-sharing. Two Lances are spreading out to scout, which is an urgent problem because they'll find Nariel's cloak shortly and may be good enough to recognize it. They've already passed a couple of defenses I had waiting, which means they've deactivated them and are on their guard.

But the more urgent problem is that one Lance is standing guard over the remaining two Lances as they inspect my spell on the ground—or more accurately, the glamor I have covering it. If they crack it, they'll be able to see how I got to spirit world, and that's a deal breaker.

"Time to move," I announce. "Nariel, can you follow me to cloak where I go before they sense me?"

He narrows his eyes. "Likely not. Alert Lances will react fast."

Well, it was a nice thought.

"I can cloak the whole area, though," Nariel adds. "They'll know something is going on, but not what. But you'll be as blind as they are."

Hmm. Yeah, I can work with that. But—

"Are you sure? High Earth will know you're out—"

" Sierra . "

"Don't Sierra me, I didn't break you out to obligate you to me again—"

Nariel's shadows erupt out of him, cutting me off. The last thing I see is his furious glare.

I hope he sees me returning a glare of my own.

We are clearly going to have to talk, but that's a future Sierra problem.

If Nariel's going to be a fucking martyr again, the least I can do is not waste it.

"Seamus, I'll get the ball rolling and distract. You good to come in at anchor seven?"

"When?"

"Once four is active."

"Got it. Go."

I don't wait. I teleport to the fourth anchor—my first three traps are already down, so I don't waste time on them—and trigger it with a touch of my wand.

Nariel was right, the Lances are already zeroing in on me as soon as I appear.

But in the same instant the air around us clouds with shadows.

I jump as my fourth defense triggers a shockwave in the ground that will knock anyone standing off-balance.

In the next instant, I swing my wand like a scythe to send a wave of pressure at the Lances by my spell, hoping to catch them with a one-two punch and make sure they're on the ground .

No time to see if it works.

I reach for anchor five and yank myself across.

This one is in the middle of the cliff, and I only have a second to trigger the mini-avalanche spell before I have to pull myself to anchor six to not fall with the rocks.

I can't hear over the crashing of the rubble, but that should cover the spirit world portal spell for now.

But at anchor six, through the shadows I can just make out the figure of a Lance waiting for me.

Shit, they must have found this one already and left it as a trap for me .

I'm still in the air mid-transport. I send a gust of wind blasting from my wand to propel me through the air out of range of her powerful barrage of rocks.

And I mean powerful. If any one of those hit me, my bones would break in an instant.

I have a shield, of course, always, but it won't take many hits from those to break it.

And the Lance's targeting is getting better.

I'm building a shield spell mid-air in preparation, and not a moment too soon: When I land and roll to my feet, the rocks are already pelting so hard this shield isn't going to last longer than a minute.

But I don't have to stay here.

I yank myself back to anchor five in the middle of the cliff, knowing it's the one place they won't be waiting for me .

But as I'm falling through the air arms wrap around me from behind, immobilizing me.

I clutch my wand instinctively and emanate a burst of electricity, turning my body into a live wire.

Nariel swears but doesn't let go, holding me tighter as I hear the beating of his wings.

"It's me," Nariel growls.

"Got that now, thanks. Sorry."

He huffs. "Good reaction."

"Not good enough, if you're still holding me."

"I'm powerful and motivated. Where next?"

I start to say I don't know, but as I look down, I can in fact see everyone below.

"How?" I blurt.

"This close, I can use my power to make you see what I see," Nariel murmurs into my ear.

I shrug off my shiver. That's interesting. "Not farther away?"

"Regrettably not. This already takes quite a bit of power. There is another way, though."

My eyes narrow. "Is it fast?"

A beat. "It could be, I suppose."

He doesn't sound precisely happy about that, and I don't have time for a conversation about feelings right now because Seamus has just gotten here. "Later, then. Can you keep them off Seamus?"

"While you do what? "

I point to the beach. There's a pile-up of rocks five feet high against an invisible sphere with two Lances inside.

They already had a shield set up, so my avalanche didn't bury them or the portal spell.

And as I watch, I see them unravel my glamor covering it.

"Keep them from following me to your bedroom," I tell Nariel.

In the air, our angle changes. My feet are no longer pointing toward the ground. Nariel has lifted me up to be almost parallel with the water, but pointing at my targets.

"Let me help you first," Nariel says.

"I don't need—"

"My pleasure," he cuts me off.

That's not at all what I meant, but before I have a chance to tell him that Seamus is the one who's going to need backup, not me, Nariel is already dive-bombing for the duo at the portal spell.

Irritation flares again as we speed through the air, along with exhilaration that also annoys me.

But I won't waste this opportunity either.

I adjust my wand so my hand is in the middle of the stick with both ends pointing out. As Nariel flies me over the duo I let loose a bolt of lightning from both ends, my wand like a rod, zapping at them.

Their shield fritzes, and the Lances stumble, casting spells rapidly to reinforce it .

"Again," I tell Nariel. "I need to get in there now so you can get to Seamus."

Nariel changes our trajectory, looping back. "Then I will get you in there."

He pauses in the air with us right above them.

They can't see me, but I can see them.

"Ready?" he asks.

"Always," I tell him.

And then he drops me.

But he also sends out a crack of his own power, and whatever shield was holding the rocks back collapses.

As the pile of rocks tumbles, I whip them into a cyclone all around me, faster and faster, making myself the eye of the storm.

The Lances will be focusing on their own personal shields, and this will keep them focused. Because one wrong move, and they're dead.

But then I realize the cyclone of rocks is pressing closer to me.

They're using their shields to block me in. They'll crush me under the pressure of my own spell.

Not today, Satan.

I let the cyclone go in an instant, exploding rocks every which way. Both my shield and the Lances' take a beating, but they hold.

And I use that moment while they're on the defense to summon a wave from the beach behind us .

This takes a lot of magic, because the fjords are so calm, and I have to do this fast.

But there's water and magic aplenty, and I was ready.

The spell I laid activates, blasting into all of us like a tidal wave.

The Lances try to hold their ground, but not me; I let the wave crash into my shield and send me careening toward the cliffs, and only when I'm about to crash do I yank an anchor and teleport to the top of the cliff.

The Lances held their ground, which is, frankly, chilling. That would have taken a tremendous amount of power and focus, all without warning.

And as I watch, they push the wave back into the ocean .

These are combatants at my level, which is bad news.

The good news is they look at the ground and swear.

Which means my wave accomplished what it was meant to: erasing all traces of my portal spell from the beach.

I let out a breath. Something went right, finally.

"It's me," Nariel says, a breath before wrapping his arms around me again, and I just manage not to electrocute him.

Look at that, we're learning.

With his magic enclosing me, I can see all the Lances again. "Where's Seamus?"

"Back in Ireland. He triggered the rest of your traps and then got out."

Sensible of him. Now I'd have to make sure no one followed him .

I sigh as I take in the damage I've inflicted on this poor island. "I really thought twelve defenses was overkill."

"How long," Nariel asks dangerously, "has this been going on?"

"The Lances are new, but if you mean High Earth attacking fucking everywhere, that started just a few days after you left."

Lances that are looking worse for wear, but not close to giving up. They're in formation now at the center of the beach.

So, one spot to hit, but five of them that can hit me.

"Ah," Nariel says, "so I'm your plan to deal with them?"

"What?" I scowl absently. "Absolutely not. I freed you as fast as I figured out how. If you want to help me figure out how to steal angelic weapons from High Earth, I'll consider inviting you, but it's not a condition of your freedom."

Nariel's arms tighten around me. "You do have a plan."

"Of course I have a plan." My plan for the Lances, on the other hand—

"And you're not trying to guilt me into it either," he says, almost wonderingly. Before I can deliver a scathing response to what I think of that implication, he continues, "But you need—no. You could use my help?"

This is too many things to think about at once, and one is more pressing. "Can we talk about this after I deal with the Lances? "

" We ."

I roll my eyes. "Maybe I won't invite you on a magic heist after all."

"Sierra—"

I flex my arms, trying to get him to let go. He tightens his arms instead—probably reflexively, trying not to drop me, but it pisses me off so I shock him again and wrench myself free.

In free-fall, I shoot a gust of wind behind me to propel me the direction I want to go, fast—that being, toward the Lances.

In the next instant, I use the rubble to cast a concave shield in front of me to reflect back the worst of what they cast.

And then I shove it ahead of me like a bludgeoning wall.

The Lances dive to avoid it, breaking formation but still firing spells at me—

That don't have a chance to land, because Nariel swoops in and picks me up as I cast a portal to High Earth behind them.

Now that I can see them again, I use my convex shield—expanding it with more rocks as I go—to sweep the Lances toward it.

This doesn't work as well as I envisioned, to be honest. They're off-balance, but still highly trained and slippery.

"If I may be of assistance?" Nariel asks politely.

Goddammit.

How do I need help even with magic battles?

"Sure, go nuts," I tell him, defeated .

My tone gives him pause for a moment, but only that; then he drops me, taking me at my word.

I cast a spell to slow my fall, get a shield up, and then yell to get the Lances' attention.

"Hey fuckers, can't even catch one wizard?"

Power from three directions lashes at my shield in the next instant, taking it down in one go. Holy shit . I have another shield up immediately, but what they can accomplish with a trained team is unbelievable.

I don't have one of those.

And I don't have time to make one.

That's the whole point of High Earth's constant attacks. I'm the only one who can stop them, which means all my time goes toward that, rather than organizing to work against them.

They only have to beat me, or even just exhaust me, and then no matter what Koshiel promised, we'll be back to the same situation as before.

So I stand there, casting shield after shield after shield against the onslaught, until the power only comes from two directions.

And then it stops.

A few more seconds, and the shadows disperse, just in time for me to see Nariel tossing the last unconscious Lance into the portal.

I close it down fast and collapse to my butt with a thump.

Nariel saved me .

Again.

God damm it.