Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 114925 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 575(@200wpm)___ 460(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114925 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 575(@200wpm)___ 460(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
My personal guards moved to shield me from the front and the rear, one providing me with a dagger, the other giving Miller a netter. Just in time. A man in a hospital gown blazed into the room and climbed the walls, moving so quickly he was fuzzy. Eyes wild with glee, he cried, “Love Soal! My Soal!”
The barons rushed for him, everyone else remaining in formation, ready. Good thing. Other maddened in hospital gowns rushed in next, a chaotic procession as they too screamed about Soal, climbed the walls, and attacked trainees. There were at least twenty, many faces familiar because I’d just seen them in the treatment ward.
Battles broke out all around. Horror returned, choking me. Worse, heat sparked in my cells, as if I were seconds away from glowing, announcing my status to one and all. I fought to subdue it. Fought so hard.
But when two maddened launched my way, I couldn’t tamp it down . . .
Chapter Five
That which you see shall pass like shadows at dusk; set your eyes upon the unseen, for therein dwells those things that endure beyond time.
—The Book of Soal 2.8.4.18
I glowed, radiant and unstoppable, my skin emitting golden rays as intense as the sun. There, amid combat, surrounded by teammates, with hidden cameras capturing each second, I silently declared my true allegiance, and I could do nothing about it.
Fear and panic collided, icy shards slicing through every other emotion, leaving me momentarily frozen in place. But.
None of the barons or trainees noticed. Not even when a handful of maddened rotated in my direction, abandoning their opponents to concentrate on me. But I thought Cyrus once told me the infected avoided the light?
Either way, my limbs suddenly came back online. With a previously untapped grace and speed, I took down my attackers, then shielded a guard from a biting maddened. To my shock, I absolutely, utterly dominated. For a little while, at least.
“On your left, on your left,” Miller shouted, netting the maddened until he ran out of ammo.
I angled in that direction, swinging at a new challenger. Success! Miller didn’t screw with my rhythm, and I didn’t screw with his. We flowed in harmony. Maybe it was my new aptitude or the adrenaline rushing through my veins. Perhaps the fact that we were more concerned with staying alive than annoying each other. One after the other, we took down our targets without incident.
If only our synchronicity and my newfound expertise lasted.
More maddened flooded into the room, each stronger and faster than the last. The newest cluster came at us, growling and drooling, snapping their teeth and swiping their fingers. Unlike the feeders in Theirland, with advanced cases of Madness, these “newly” infected lacked claws, thank goodness. I tried not to cause fatal damage as I defended myself, a mercy that allowed many to land their strikes.
The chain around my waist jerked when Miller sprang at an opponent. He yanked me from my defensive stance and into the kick of a maddened. An elbow to the chin followed, knocking air from my lungs. I lost my hold on the dagger. My glow snuffed out until the only light I detected came from the pinpricks winking through my vision. I wobbled on my feet, weaker than before and ready to topple.
The guard behind me noticed and attempted to help, but three maddened glommed on to him, taking him down.
My partner surprised me, pivoting to serve as my buffer, taking the next blow himself and giving me a moment to regain my bearings. The moment I straightened, Miller returned to my side.
I worked on freeing my guard, punting a maddened in the face and throwing a hard one-two punch at another. Unfortunately, a new group swarmed us. Too many! Though overwhelmed, I punched, blocked, and ducked, exactly as trained. If we could just neutralize this throng, we could exit the gym and search for Mykal. I didn’t expect to encounter Victors; he’d been too injured to leave his bed.
Chaos mounted as students fell. Grunts, groans, and curses created an erratic chorus accompanied by constant shouts of “Love Soal!” and “Find Soal!”
The instructors and my guards did their best to protect the fallen as the battle raged on. Miller and I made more mistakes and got in each other’s way again and again. Every time, we paid a high price. Aches and pains assured me I would feel every injury later.
“I’m not sure how much more I can take,” someone panted, his voice ragged.
“Keep fighting,” a baron bellowed.
An army of knights and other barons rushed into the room, firing netter guns, catching maddened inside thin metal nets. Just like that, the threat downgraded, and my adrenaline crashed.
Both Miller and I hunched over, struggling for breath. He dropped to his knees and dragged me with him. I took in the carnage around us, dismay swelling to new heights with each trainee I spied strewn across the floor, writhing in pain and bleeding.