I’m already charging them, throwing everything I can at their smoky, shape shifting bodies.
Ling adds, her voice weak as she struggles to get to her feet, “Get ready!” Blood splatters the wall she crashed against. I want to go help her, but it’s too late. Another pair of Elders shoots into the Hall.
That makes five.
Winds whip around us as I scramble toward the downed Elders; Kofi is desperately trying to form a shield for me. I don’t know if Jonah is able to tear his focus away from the ones he has subdued long enough to work on the newest additions to the party. But maybe that’s Enlilkian’s plan, maybe he knows that I’ve only got one Emotional with me, and even though he’s the strongest one we’ve got, even he has his limitations.
I grab onto two Elders and force them into oblivion; the third drives a spiked limb into my thigh. I squeal in agony at the same time it shrieks in pure anguish; Jonah’s bought me another second, even as he sprints toward me. I’m able to take it out, but I’m bleeding pretty heavily now.
“Two more, just seconds away!” Ling cries out. Her winds are weak compared to the Cyclone’s, but she sends them out toward the newest party crashers anyway. Is she hurt worse than I thought? This woman used to be one of the strongest of all the Elementals. Now, she’s an active member of the Council, more content to dictate policy than go on missions. Please, oh please to all that is good in the worlds, do not let her bravery and willingness to stand with us be the death of her.
But damn if she isn’t here, fighting with everything in her.
Jonah helps me up, concern in his eyes, but I wave him off. He’s got to get the two Mac and Kofi are trying to keep off us down for me; we can worry about my pain and leg later.
These two don’t make it easy for him, though. They immediately break away from the another, so one can charge Mac with curved saber-like hands, the other swinging for the Ling with clubbed arms. She tries to fight back, the winds rallying around her sending her long silver hair flying around her head like some kind of kickass superhero, but she doesn’t count on the Elder playing dirty. One of its arms elongates and knocks her clean off her feet; within a split second, it flips her body up and sends it flying through the air.
This time, when she hits the wall, she doesn’t get up.
Fury shakes me so fiercely it’s a miracle Karnach doesn’t detonate around us.
Jonah’s good, because he manages to get them both writhing on the ground within five seconds—which is just enough time for the last incorporeal Elder to make its grand entrance. It angles itself toward Kofi and his winds just as I make contact with the saber-handed Elder.
I escape with a messy pair of slashes to my right arm.
The world around me spins, the pain is so acute. My right hand has trouble working—which makes sense. I have a hole in my shoulder and some new cuts down to my bone on the arm. Did it ... did it cut my tendons?
“Chloe!” Jonah yells at me, just in time for one of the Elders to nearly strike him.
My heart nearly stops. I blink and force myself up and toward him, but he shouts at me to go get the other downed Elder on the other side of the room. No cuts this time before it winks out of existence, just a pair of harsh strikes: one to the head, one to an already bleeding thigh.
I’m on the ground before I know it. It’s—I can’t—
“Jonah, I’ve got her!” Mac yells. Or, I think he’s yelling. There’s a weird ringing, all loud and sharp and stinging filling up my ears. “Get that bastard down!”
My math is fuzzy. Three plus two plus ... wait. Seven. How many make seven?
Everything’s blurry when Mac yanks me up by my good arm.
Oh gods—
“Over here,” I think Mac is saying. “Jonah’s got it ready for you.”
But then Mac isn’t here anymore, and I’m on the ground and oh, sweet gods up above us, something shoves itself right into my hand.
I think I’m crying.
My name my name my name is all around me. I find something soft and unnatural and try to piece together the words I’ve been saying today, the ones that are our salvation. No more, I think (I think?)—no more.
I’m so ... I just want ... to sleeeeeeep.
And then I’m not. I’m in Jonah’s arms, and he’s saying, as the whole room turns crisp and clear, “I’ve got you, love. Just hold on.”
Wait. Jonah’s bleeding, too—there’s blood matting the hair around his forehead and crisscrossing wounds up and down his arms. Rage and fear nearly constrict the air out of my lungs.
He’s hurt because he’s helping me. I’ve put him in harm’s way.
“I’m fine,” he assures me, helping me up. “Don’t even worry about me.”
Before I can answer, to let him know a single scratch is not okay, Kofi yells out my husband’s name. He’s limping, and one of his arms hangs off of him at a funny angle, clutching the freshly cracked monitor Ling had been holding. “We’ve got to get moving before anymore come downstairs!”