Fallen One (Book three of Alfireán age)

- The Chase -

Drakovian clutched Alf's sword to his side as the sphere he sat on shot through the sky. His eyes trailed over the destroyed battleground as they left it far behind. What once had been a quiet patch of forest could now only be described as a scene of chaos. Uprooted trees laid shattered and crushed, their limbs and branches ripped clean of leaves. An acrid stench filled the air, and particles of brown and green dust floated lazily to the ground while a small fire slowly spread through the downed trees. The place looked like a tornado had dropped down into the midst of the forest, wreaked massive destruction and then left, leaving the rest of the jungle peaceful and untouched.

Drake had missed most of the tail end of the fight while he'd devoted his full attention to breaking through the shield around Alf's sword. But gazing back at the battleground now, the prince couldn't help but think it was amazing all of them had escaped unharmed.

Well mostly unharmed, he thought as his eyes trailed to the inky black shield encasing Rex's boot. And we're not exactly out of this yet, he told himself while he glanced farther back over his shoulder.

Approximately sixteen blood oaths flew over the top of the trees, headed straight for them. If they caught up to the group, none of his friends would survive, or far worse, they'd be captured.

"Hold on tight!" Zaphaniea yelled to him as she threw out her hand.

Turning back around, he braced himself. Wrapping his legs around the sphere and clinging to its softened surface, he held on for dear life as it shot off in the opposite direction of their pursuers. Air whistled in his ears, and wind pelted his face, making it hard for him to breathe. Leaning forward, Drake used the top of his head as a windbreaker and watched the dappled carpet of numerous trees speed past his dangling feet.

"Ah guys... they're chasing after us, and I think they're speeding up," Pony called out over the roaring wind.

"Ya think," Scarlet squeaked as she clung fearfully to Silver and gazed at the whirling haze of green below.

Drake carefully maneuvered his extremities, turning himself around so he could see behind them.

His heart caught in his throat.

Sure enough, Vackzilian's minions had altered their course and were headed straight towards them at ever-increasing speeds. Their black armor glistened in the light. Their arms moved in perfect rhythm, and a dark thrum reverberated through the air with their with every moment.

"How in the world are those creeps flying, to begin with?" Zaphaniea spat, her breath already starting to sound ragged as she pushed Drake forward.

"From what I can tell," Olivia said, her eyes aglow with Ra'avah while she glanced at the champion, "they are pushing each other."

Drake flipped up his eye patch and gazed at their pursuers. The healer was right. With his dragon sight, he could make out a series of brown walls forming in the air and pushing into the blood oath's backs, shoving them forward. It was unlike anything he'd ever seen before. Divided into two groups—a left and right side—the marching formation shot through the air. Instead of using their legs to move, however, they used their arms. Those on the left swung their hands, and using solid walls they'd formed, they pressed them up against the backs of those on the right and launched them forward. Then those on the right swung their arms and used the same method to toss the other side forward. It was a simple but effective mode of transportation only limited by the group's strength and endurance.

Looking back over her shoulder, the grand champion grinded her teeth in distaste. "I might be able to keep them at a distance, but I can't keep this up forever," Zaphaniea said while she tossed out her left hand and then her right, driving the sphere underneath Drake forward ever faster.