“The fireplace!” Jace yelled. It was gas-fed, and that meant there was something explosive (or at least, very flammable) feeding into it. It would be a perfect distraction. “How does it work?”
“Lykaegen gas pipeline!” Lessa yelled. Both Jace and Kinfild looked at her—she was crawling away from Ryn and back towards them. “What? We needed it to get our stove started at the forge! There’ll probably be a gas nozzle, under the fake wood, that feeds it in. And a valve to protect the pipeline from an explosion!”
Jace pushed himself away from the wall and dragged himself across the floor on his chest. Dust choked him. Shards of glass and metal pelted his back. Plasma roared past overhead, and a wooden beam fell from the roof. He rolled aside before it crushed him.
When he reached the fireplace, he heaved a breath of dusty air past his lungs, but there was no time for anything else. If he didn’t move fast, the house would fall apart. He kicked the grate off the wall and tore away the fake logs. The gas-fed pilot flame wasn’t burning anymore.
Beneath the logs, as Lessa had said, there was a gas nozzle. He bludgeoned it with his boot until it crumpled away. Sure enough, there was a valve below it. He needed to wedge it open.
An ornamental fire iron hung above the mantle. As Jace reached for the sharpened rod, droplets of molten metal spewed from a wound in the wall, scalding his fingers. He snatched the fire iron as quickly as he could, and, hissing in pain, wedged it into the valve. As soon as he heard gas hissing out and tasted its sulfuric additives, he stopped pulling. Now to ignite it…
If the hyperjump could set a plant on fire, it could detonate explosive gas—and it could get him out of the way as quickly as possible. Backing up against the fireplace, he set his eyes on the opposite wall of the cottage, where Kinfild and Lessa sheltered.
He activated the technique card and flashed back across the room, leaving sparks in his wake. As soon as he emerged from hyperspace, he dropped to his stomach and sheltered from the plasmafire.
But no more shots came.
The ground trembled and buckled. The air warmed up. A roar pulsed through the room, and the gas ignited. The chimney exploded, flinging rock shrapnel out into the canyon.
“Run!” Kinfild yelled. “The valve won’t hold the flame back for long!”
Jace’s eyes widened. He remembered the pipes that ran beneath the bridge—beneath their only path out. If those pipes exploded, the bridge wouldn’t be far behind.
The four of them sprinted out the Hanging House’s door, and out onto the bridge. They raced across to the canyon wall and pressed their backs against the bare stone. Jace stared out at the Hanging House. Red-hot holes dotted the cottage’s walls, like some kind of futuristic pointillism. The pipes beneath the bridge glowed and bulged, then burst with flame.
The fire travelled along the pipe quickly. It passed under the bridge, cleaving through the wooden boards and rope suspension. Jace pulled Kinfild to the side. The explosion passed into the canyon wall and into the pipes buried beneath the stone. Lessa and Ryn jumped the other way.
Shards of rock shot out from the path, and a flurry of gravel, dust, and flame erupted where they had just been standing. It blasted up the canyon wall, then into the forest beyond. Dirt flew up from the ledge, then a humanoid blur tumbled past. Jace didn’t catch a good look, but it wore silver armour and carried a rifle; it had been one of the shooters.
“Oh, Stenol is going to have me hanged for this…” Ryn lamented.
“Only if we make it out of here alive,” said Kinfild.
Jace glanced back at the repeller-bikes. They could ride out and make it back to the Luna Wrath—there was no sense staying here and getting themselves killed.
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But if they rode out the way they came in, they’d be making themselves the easiest targets the shooters ever had. It wasn’t an option. They had to deal with the shooters now.
On the brink of the canyon, amidst the undergrowth and trees, silver shapes shifted. It had to be them—whatever was shooting at them. Soon, they’d take aim again—if they hadn’t already.
Another single shot raced across the canyon and chewed into the stone beside Jace’s head. He ducked down. A second plasma blast raced towards them. Jace dove out of the way, and his foot slipped. He nearly tumbled off the side of the ledge.
As the sun declined in the sky, the shadows grew longer, and the dark shapes at the bottom of the canyon shifted and slithered higher up. A darkling howled, and a maw of sharp teeth snapped together.
Jace jumped to his feet. One problem at a time—right now, he had to not get shot.
The Hanging House might have given them some protection, but it wouldn’t shield them like the forest at the top of the canyon would. “Climb! I’ll be right behind you!” Jace pointed up to the top of the canyon.
Kinfild scaled the ladder first, holding his staff ahead of him. Ryn and Lessa were next, but the moment Jace placed his hand on one of the rusty rungs, a blast of plasma sheared through the rung. The rest of it ripped free under his weight, and his grip slipped. He fell back to the stone ledge, then slipped off deeper into the canyon. He plummeted.
If the fall didn’t kill him, whatever lurked at the bottom would. As he fell, he ripped the Whistling Blade out of its sheath and stabbed it into the rock beside him. The glowing, screeching tip sliced through the stone and slowed his descent to a halt—a few meters above the canyon floor.
A dark shadow growled. Jace pulled his legs up and scrambled at the stone wall. A skeletal bear covered in lesions and fungal growths prowled towards him. He let go of the Whistling Blade with one hand and ripped his bayonet out of its sheath. When the bear reared up on its hind legs, its jaw snapping, Jace slashed at it. The tip of his bayonet sliced through its rotting nose.
[Level 9 Darkling].
It kept climbing and pouncing. Its black eyes were hungry, and it screeched like a boiling kettle. The next time it pounced, Jace leaned towards it. He stabbed the blade into the beast’s unprotected eye. It fell down to the canyon floor and disintegrated. Golden dust poured into Jace’s chest.
He needed to get back up to the top—the canyon’s top ridge, where Kinfild, Lessa, and Ryn had climbed to. Hopefully, his hyperjump could get him far enough. According to the technique card, that depended on his Aes output.
He shut his eyes and concentrated on his channels. There was more Aes in his channels than ever before. He chose his target—the edge of the upper ridge. He inhaled deeply, and the channels flared. Then, he blasted the Aes into his core cloud.
The card appeared, and he snatched it out of the air. As soon as he grabbed the card, he ripped the Whistling Blade out of the wall.
In an instant, he was at the top of the ravine. He gripped the muddy ledge. Lessa leaned over and offered a hand, and he took it as he climbed up over the edge of the canyon.
The shooters emerged from the forest, their rifles raised. All of them were humanoid. Their armour glinted silver, and the triangular visors of their helmets shone with bronze light. Long skirts of chainmail hung around their waists, but the diamond-shaped links were held together by nothing but thin air. They…they just hovered.
Kinfild hissed, “Imperial soldiers!”
A tag appeared over the closest soldier’s head. [Level 11 Koedor-Terginian Soldier].
Higher rating than most people, but Jace supposed a soldier who’d trained their whole life would be stronger than the average person, and have a higher rating.
“On your knees!” one of the soldiers yelled.
“Drop your weapons! Hands on the backs of your heads!” another shouted. He ran closer, pointing his rifle straight at Jace. Like the plasma rifle he had stolen from the scavengers earlier, it was bolt-action. When Jace turned his attention directly on it, another tag appeared: [Karlicher M3147 (Ammunition: .303 Plasma-aspect Aes shells)]
Both Ryn and Lessa did as the soldiers demanded. Jace was tempted to raise his hands, but it wouldn’t help. The soldiers had shot at the Hanging House indiscriminately. Surely, they wouldn’t show mercy now. This was a point-blank execution.
There was only one choice. He tightened his grip on the Whistling Blade, and glanced at Kinfild.
“Get ready,” Kinfild whispered. “My Path of the Empty Flame does not leave much room for error.” He brushed his hand over the tip of his staff, and a technique card appeared in front of it. He stabbed the card with the tip of his staff, and it exploded with bright white and orange light. A crescent of flame pulsed towards the soldiers. Their armour absorbed most of it, but they stumbled back, momentarily blinded by the light.
Jace charged.