Birthright (The Technomage Archive, Book 1) - Complete Novel

Chapter Twenty-Two

Swinton Marelotov hadn't thought carrying another person's supply pack would be that tough. It really hadn't been at first, but the rocky, always-uphill terrain was having its way with him, and Swinton was getting tired.

He blamed it all on Harlo's bag.

He couldn't just leave it behind, either. She was the only medic they had, and if those angels hadn't killed her yet, she would need her supplies to patch up any of them who got injured. From the way the past twenty-four hours or so had been going, there was likely to be quite a bit of patching going on before they were done.

A screech echoed all around him.

Swinton dropped to one knee as soon as he heard the sound. He ducked under an outcropping and tossed both bags on the ground at his feet. He peered around, doing his best to remain hidden, but saw nothing.

A second screech.

Another wonderful downside to being in the mountains was that everything echoed. If a single rock fell from a cliff, it sounded like an avalanche. Because of the echo and amplification, Swinton assumed there was just one angel screeching, but he couldn't be sure. He also couldn't tell where it was. He just knew that it was nearby. The rocky terrain echoed too much for him to locate its source.

It hadn't even been an hour since Harlo had been taken, and he was already about to run into another freaking angel. He cowered under the minimal shelter he had found, and re-secured the packs he had to carry. If he waited just a little more, there was a good chance the screecher would go somewhere else and leave him alone.

Dust trickled down in front of his face from the edge of the overhang. He heard flapping, then a dull thud above him. Something landed on the rock he was using for shelter.

He heard another shriek.

Swinton closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He was shaking, and he felt like he needed to vomit. He thought back to his training with Bryt. What was it that Bryt always told him?

"You have to calm down at some point, Swinton."

Calm down, sure. Like he could be calm when he had watched the other four members of his team get kidnapped. Like he could be calm when he was the only one left.

But he had to be.

Bryt's voice filled his mind. "If you're spastic in a fight, you're no good to anyone except your enemy. Take a second, calm yourself down, and look at your options. Most of the time, there are more than appear at first glance."

Okay, he had stopped shaking. That was good. Not shaking meant calm. Next, options. What options did he have? He had his gun, his nanite sleeve, and his packs of supplies.

More dust fell in front of him. He heard scraping above him. He figured it was one of the big, purple men shuffling around up there looking for him.

As another screech sounded, he started shaking again, and had to take a few more breaths to calm himself before it became a problem. It was only going to be a matter of time before the screecher found him. The thing probably already knew he was there, anyway. Why else would it have landed directly on top of him? Swinton understood how low the odds were that it was a coincidence.

So he had to do something, or he would be taken like the others. But what could he do? Shoot the thing? Burn it with some kind of Conjured fire? Throw medical supplies at it and hope to heal it to death? Nothing stood out as a good idea, but sitting there until it snatched him up was an even worse one.

More screeching.

More dust swirled in front of his hidey-hole, and he heard wings flapping. The thing was taking off. Did he really get that lucky?