War Bird

34. Baby, Take Me Down.

I leg it through the trees and out the other side, this time not caring about the amount of noise I make. Branches whip my face and rip at my hair, but I don't stop. I follow the treeline around the field to the track, where I can see loads of smoky, flashing light but not much else. There's another scream, long and dark, reaching down my throat and pushing my stomach all the way to my shoes. Oh no, please no no! Come on, I have to be able to run faster than this! I put my head down and pump my arms harder. The old fashioned bra grips my chest like a steel band, making my ribs ache. My lungs burn, gulps of air turning my throat raw.

I'm approaching the truck now and I can't see anyone, thanks to a huge cloud of bright white-blue light. Smoke clogs my nostrils, and I cough as I run. Man, I am so unfit! I clap my hands together and generate another shield about myself, which is easier said than done when moving. Stars dance across my eyes as the spell drains my energy, but I force myself to keep going.

I stop at the edge of the haze and stand helplessly, staring into the shrieking, blinding mess. Where is he? There's some sort of movement in there but I can't tell who it is or what’s going on in there. How am I supposed to- Wait. I am so stupid I could slap myself. The Occulta spell I used to reveal the compound entrance, maybe that could work here? I’m wiped from the run and the magic I’ve used so far, but I have to just get it done. I stretch out my hands. 

"No occulta," I whisper. My throat’s dry from my sprint and the words are barely a croak. The smoke still swirls, stinging my eyes. I cough, wet my lips. "NO OCCULTA!"

Yes! The smoke starts to thin and I can see shadows moving, but before it totally clears, Finlay suddenly hurls himself at me, one eye puffed up, blood streaking his shirt.

"Get out of here!" He gargles. 

"What?" I grab his arm as he sags against me, looking over his shoulder. I follow his gaze to see a dark form emerge from the smoke and become solid. 

It’s a girl. She's small, about the same height as me. White fire burns in the centre of her palms, bathing her in a beautiful glow. She's dressed in a long, old-fashioned green dress that shows off a tiny waist and spindly-thin arms. Her coppery-brown hair is tied away from her pale, pointed face in braids, the rest tumbling down, over her shoulders. She’s beautiful, yet the darkness in those eyes and the sharpness of those teeth show another side. Every cell, every instinct is screaming at me to get as far away as I can manage. She’s evil all the way through, a bad ‘un.

"Marla True." Her voice is sharp, like ice splinters piercing my skin.

"What do you want?" I'm buckling under Finlay’s weight.

"Don't listen... run..." he croaks.

"I was just trying to tell this handsome brute all about it, but sadly for him, he got rather aggressive defending you." The Traitor quirks her head to one side and smiles. "You're awfully short for a cavalry."

"Yeah, yeah I’m a short-arse, big whup." I swallow and look around, nudging Finlay upright. He's in bad shape. "We need to get you back," I whisper to him.

Finlay's one good eye bolts wide and he shakes his head. "We'd be leading her to our very doorstep!" My heart sinks. He's right. If we run back to the entrance, she might be able to blast her way in there and do what she did to William. I shake my head. Asher, Ed. Birdie. All those wounded Hawks lying in the Bay. Not an option.

"Hello...?" She snaps. "Am I talking to myself?"

"Look, just, let us go and there won't be any trouble." My voice wobbles and I grit my teeth. "I'm a Sorcerer too, you know. I can fight."  And for some lame reason, I make a fist. Her eyes widen and then she laughs so hard she has to grab her sides.