I concentrated on our immediate vicinity, unraveling earth and dousing fire, refusing to let any of the storm touch the ground near us. Across the ledge from us, Marcus did the same, holding a storm-free bubble around himself and Celeste. He wielded massive bands of the elements, slicing through fire more often than any other element. Taking my cue from him, when I had a chance to pick my next attack, I struck at earth; it was my strongest element and, after fire, the most deadly.
Snow and sand blinded me, winds knocked me flat and lifted me from the ground, and fire scorched me more than once. I fought through it all, hunting for the disharmonious quartz-tuned knot of earth holding the whole storm together. The wild magic blurred into a huge, shape-changing monster, and my control of my magic slipped and fumbled with weariness. Occasionally an explosive blaze or a sheet of ice forced me to shield Oliver and myself, but I dropped my barriers as soon as it was safe. Defending would do nothing but tire me out—attacking was the only option.
I whittled away the storm’s power with increasingly clumsy strokes, and when I found the snarl of quartz-tuned earth, it was pure happenstance. I pounced, clinging to it with strength born of desperation. As fast as I could finagle my fatigued magic, I tore it apart. The wild elements collapsed and dispersed in a harmless gust of warm air.
A hush fell over the ridge, broken only by the harsh sounds of my panting followed by the chatter of my teeth when a chilly breeze plastered my soaked clothes to my body.
It took a moment for me to focus on Marcus. Dark circles cupped his eyes and exhaustion weighted his shoulders. He swiped mud from his leather pants as he stood, hail falling from his shoulders when he bent forward. The spell in his shirt had kept his torso dry and clean, a fact I envied as my body convulsed in another shiver. I’d managed to get to my knees at some point, and dirty snow melted around my calves. With reddened fingers, I sluiced slush from my thighs.
Plucking at my shirt to peel the wet fabric from my skin, I sought out Celeste. She’d flown to the sled where it sat on the ground, the spells previously holding it aloft destroyed by the wild magic. The taller gargoyles had toppled, including Rourke, and she used her talons to right him. Her lack of alarm told me most of what I needed to know—he was okay.
For now.
“Are you hurt?” Marcus asked. He loomed over me. I tilted my head back to look at him, but the muscles in my neck didn’t cooperate and my head lolled toward my shoulder. Damn, I was tired.
“Sleep would be nice.” If there were time. We didn’t know how long this reprieve would last. Reaching deep into myself, I found the strength to stand. Oliver squirmed to his feet, stretching his wings, and I realized he’d been propping me up. I reached for him, and he brushed his head against my fingertips before coasting down the short incline to the dormant gargoyles.
“We need to go into the baetyl now, before the energy has a chance to build again,” I said. I wouldn’t survive a second mega-storm.
Marcus’s jaw muscles bunched. Grit pulled his dark hair into wayward spikes, and I thought the tousled look suited him far more than his scowl.
“You think that’s wise?” he asked.
My head pounded. “No. But I don’t think we have a choice. Let me check on the gargoyles, then we’ll go.”
“You can’t even walk.”
He issued the statement like a challenge. Giving him a scowl as fierce as the one he leveled on me, I straightened and took a step. My boot caught in the mud and the suction threw off my fragile balance. Marcus caught me when I stumbled into him. I glared at his Adam’s apple, daring him to say something. He didn’t. Shifting his grip to my bicep, he marched me down the slope to the gargoyles. I forced some rigidness into my backbone and dredged up the rest of my reserves so I could stand unaided when he released me. Unimpressed, Marcus crossed his arms, as if waiting to watch me face-plant.
I tottered between the gargoyles, checking for injuries. Internally, they all were remarkably strong, and their renewed health breathed a modicum of energy into me. I couldn’t run a mile, or really even run at all, but I could do this; I could repair the baetyl. For them. To save seven lives.
I had to.
The gargoyles’ physical injuries were minor—nicks and scrapes where their paralyzed bodies had slammed and rattled into each other during the storm. Normally I would have pulled out seed crystals and healed them, but saving my strength was more important. I could feel the sluggishness of my magic; expending it now, even to ease the small pains in their bodies, would be foolish. I didn’t right those who had toppled for the same reason.
I checked Oliver, then Celeste, relieved to find them basically unharmed. Celeste had the equivalent of bruises along her hip and back and Oliver felt weary, but they would both survive without any assistance on my part.
Taking a deep breath, I turned to face the baetyl opening. The ledge had been completely reshaped by rockslides and new stone and plant growth, but the baetyl’s opening was unchanged. I took it as a good sign. At least some of the baetyl’s powers remained to protect it.
“Okay, I’m ready,” I said.
“Really.”
It wasn’t a question, and when I met Marcus’s gaze, I found anger rather than skepticism.
“Can you even get back up to the ledge?” he asked.
Frowning, I wrapped my arms around myself for warmth. What had put a burr in his britches? “Are you going to test me every step of the way?”
“I’m not here to carry you.” His hands flexed into fists, then relaxed. “Why didn’t you contact me before yesterday?”
My eyebrows shot up at the non sequitur. Maybe I’d misheard him. “What?”
“After Focal Park. I can tell when someone is interested in me, so don’t try to lie. You were interested. I made it clear all you had to do was come find me, but you never made a move.”
“You want to talk about . . . about if I like you? Now?” My face heated under his glower.
“Yes.”
“But—” I glanced toward the baetyl, willing to attempt a jog up the hill if it would extricate me from what was fast becoming an embarrassing conversation.