Stenol approached. His robe fluttered, and he adjusted the grip on his staff. He took a fighting stance. His knuckles were weathered and his palms were calloused. Clearly, he had practiced.

“Be warned, children,” Stenol spat. “You face my Path of the Draconic Firestaff.”

The air around the staff rippled. The cracks and crevices in the wood glimmered with red light, and sparks trailed it whenever it moved. It left a faint ripple of light in the air, which took on a serpentine, dragon-like form.

Jace sheathed the Whistling Blade. He doubted he’d be much good against Stenol with it—not up close. Instead, he ripped a rifle out of a fallen soldier’s hands. He pulled the bolt back, ejected the casing, then rammed it forwards. A simple tag appeared above it: [Karlicher M3147 (Ammunition: .303 Plasma-aspect Aes shells)]. It was a standard Koedor-Terginian rifle.

Lessa pulled a strip of bullets out of the nearest soldier’s pouch, then loaded them into the top of her stolen pistol. They both took aim at Stenol. “Stay where you are!” Jace snapped.

Lessa added, “Don’t move, or we’ll shoot!”

For a moment, Jace glanced back at Kinfild. Kinfild didn’t move, and didn’t say a word, though his mouth still hung open. So much for being able to handle himself, Jace thought, if the first thing he does is freeze up.

Stenol took another step, and Jace fired another shot. Stenol held up his staff. He placed it into the path of the plasma blast perfectly, dissipating and destroying the streak of magenta light. Jace fired again. The blast surged towards Stenol, but the elder moved his staff into its path.

Jace tossed the rifle down. No good. “We need to go.”

“That’s what I was saying!” Lessa exclaimed.

Before Jace could retreat, Stenol lunged. He reached out with his staff, swinging for Jace. Jace leapt to the side, but Stenol swept the weapon horizontally, and its tip struck him in the side. He felt a sharp blast—first to his ribs, but it travelled into his entire flank. The tightweave tunic absorbed bits of the blast, but not enough. Jace’s feet lifted off the ground, and he flew across the room. He tumbled through the garden, then skidded along the ground and came to a rest beside the marble wall and a window.

“Jace!” Lessa exclaimed. She fired another harmless shot at Stenol, then grabbed Kinfild’s hand and dragged him in Jace’s direction.

“You could have been useful, worldjumper!” Stenol shouted. “I could have stopped your corruption! I still could, if only you and your friends—”

“I’ve known you for…a half-hour, barely…” Jace pushed himself up, groaning. How was he supposed to know what Stenol wanted, and worse, what the Wielder wanted him to do? It didn’t endear Jace to his sanity.

But they had nowhere to run. Even if they did make it back to the elevator and up to the top, there would be more soldiers.

Jace pushed through the ferns and other leafy plants of the garden, running back toward Lessa and Kinfild. He met them halfway to the wall. Stenol marched towards them still, slow but unrelenting. Why would he speed up, when his foes had nowhere to run?

Jace glanced over his shoulder. A solution bubbled up in his mind, but before he could announce it, Stenol swung his staff again. Jace ducked under it, but this time, Stenol’s second attack swished at Lessa—he struck her in the shoulder. The air cracked, and she flew into a nearby tree.

Stenol loosed another attack, but before it could hit Jace, a wooden clatter rang out through the room. Kinfild held up his walking stick, and with it, he blocked Stenol’s staff.

But Stenol kept pushing and pushing. Kinfild kept inching away, arms bending and staff yielding. Kinfild snapped his hand out, activating a technique card, and his palm lit up with orange flame.

Jace needed to do something. He ripped the Whistling Blade out of its sheath and swung at Stenol’s staff, hoping to slice it in half (and maybe slice through the insane elder as well).

When the Whistling Blade collided with Stenol’s staff, the sword’s cutting edge pulsed. White light accumulated at the contact point and sparks popped out into the air, but he couldn’t cut through. The best he could do was to keep pushing, and with Kinfild’s help, knock Stenol’s staff back.

Stenol took a step back. For a moment, Jace felt a swell of relief—until the tips of Stenol’s fingers glowed red and swirled with sparks. A technique card appeared in the air, and Stenol swatted it with his staff. A red wireframe outline of a dragon blasted out of his hand and exploded between Jace and Kinfild, sending them both staggering back. Jace’s eyes and skin stung, but it hadn’t been a direct hit.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“I did not want to do this, Kinfild,” Stenol uttered, his voice more melodic than it had been seconds ago—and more disturbing. “You are a fool for coming here, thinking you could alter my will.”

Another whine of plasmafire scratched Jace’s ears. He glassed shattered behind him, and a frigid followed from outside, threatening to pull him off his feet. Polluted fumes rushed in, scorching his nostrils.

Jace rubbed his eyes, then swung the Whistling Blade. It collided with Stenol’s staff, and vibrations raced up his arms. But Stenol shifted his staff and bashed Jace in the gut. Jace slid back through the dirt and came to a rest at the edge of the window.

He glanced over at Lessa. She still pointed her pistol at the window, panting and rubbing her eyes. She had shot through the glass.

The hole in the window was just large enough to jump out of.

“Kinfild?” Jace whispered. He glanced at Stenol, who relentlessly approached. Jace lowered his voice as low as it could go. “Kinfild, do you have a technique to fly with? Or stop yourself from falling?”

“I have a card I could use,” Kinfild replied. They backed towards the window slowly, retreating from Stenol. Even together, they couldn’t defeat him.

“Perfect.” Jace turned his grip on the Whistling Blade over so he held the sword like a knife, then he looked at Lessa. He gripped it so tight his knuckles turned white. “Lessa,” he whispered, “I need you to hold on to me.”

Stenol twirled his staff casually. He walked between the plants and debris, his robe brushing between ferns. He wouldn’t expect them to jump—they were still nearly halfway up the skytower. It was perfect.

“What are you planning?” Lessa asked, so quiet that Jace could barely hear her over the rushing wind.

Jace swallowed. “If I told you, you wouldn’t do it.”

The window was wide enough that the three of them could stand on the sill, but they could barely stand up straight. The backs of Jace’s feet hung over empty air, and particles of glass tumbled towards the city lights below. A row of starships and air vehicles streamed between the towers. They were the target.

Lessa begrudgingly wrapped her arms around Jace’s shoulders. She had to tiptoe to clasp her hands together around his neck. “That’s not very reassuring.”

“Adventure?” he tried.

“More like suicide…”

Stenol was nearly close enough to strike at them. First, Jace pushed Kinfild out the window; the old man yelped.

Stenol’s eyes widened with realization. He lunged, but he was too late. Jace took a deep breath, then stepped back off the ledge.

Contrary to what Lessa might have thought, Jace did have a plan. But it wasn’t much of one.

First, they needed to slow down. That was the Whistling Blade’s job. The glowing white filament on its edge screamed as they fell. Every second he wasted reduced their chances of survival. He reached out and stabbed the sword into the skyscraper’s marble wall. His shoulder was wrenched upwards so fast that he feared it would rip off, but he and Lessa slowed down.

A cloud of red-hot marble and glass dust trailed behind them. Once they reached a comfortable, non-lethal speed, he felt Lessa relax her grip around his shoulders.

But the blade pivoted under their combined weight. Jace tried to adjust it, but he couldn’t stop it from tilting. Like an icecube slipping along warm pavement, the sword slid out of the wall with a splatter of molten stone.

They fell again. There was no time to hesitate. Jace picked his target, a single, open-top airborne vehicle, then kicked off the wall.

It wouldn’t be enough. They would fall short.

A hyperspace jump. But would it carry Lessa?

If he could take his clothes and equipment with him when he used a hyperspace jump, there was no reason Lessa couldn’t come—so long as she was holding on tight. Just to be certain, he grabbed her hands as he set his gaze on his target. He used the card.

He flashed out through the air and made it halfway, but he was dipping. They wouldn’t make it. Lessa screamed.

He flicked his reset card out of his cuff and socketed it. It activated instantly, cleansing him and resetting the hyperspace jump card’s cooldown. Another second passed, and they had dipped too far. He swapped his cards one last time, resocketing the hyper jump card.

Again, it activated immediately. They flashed through the air—forward and downward. When they emerged, they were just above the open-topped starship.

They dropped. Jace slid across the padded seats of the vehicle’s rear bench until he collided into the hull on the opposite side. Lessa had much better luck; Jace’s body broke her fall, and she rolled onto the deck of the vehicle moments later. It was a sleek, open-topped craft with glossy blue paint. At its stern was a pair of thrusters much like the Luna Wrath’s.

“You were right,” Lessa pushed herself up. “I didn't like your plan.”

“That's why I didn’t tell—"

“What in the Split’s name are you doing in my repeller-car?” The pilot of the speeder craned his neck over the back of his seat to stare at them. He was a humanoid creature with dry, flaky skin and hair made out of twigs and leaves (beard and eyebrows included). He wore a dark robe and wore a blazer overtop it.

“Oh!” Lessa exclaimed. “Hey there! You’re…uh, a nice fancy dryad businessman! Well, we’re nobody important!”

Jace had no interest in the driver. He looked upward, scanning the sky for a glimpse of Kinfild. The Wielder had to be somewhere behind him! He said he could survive a fall? Where was he?

The dryad exclaimed, “You can’t just—”

“We just need you to drive the repeller-car!” Lessa hissed. “And keep your eyes on the traffic!”

“You can’t just—"

Before the dryad could finish, a blast of plasma-Aes sliced through the back of his chair and his body. He slumped forwards, dead instantly.

Jace traced the trail of smoke back towards one of the towers of the university. Silver-armoured soldiers gathered on the roof, and they all pointed their plasma rifles.

They weren’t making it out that easily…