Spellhacke- M. K. England Page 0,72

unrestrained.

“It’s not far, no,” Van says, leaning against the desk with his arms crossed.

Then he winces.

“Um. Good luck?”

I wave a dismissive hand. “Please. We got this.”

After all, we’re the best siphoning crew in Kyrkarta. We’ve got skills. I’m pretty sure we can handle a two-mile walk.

Eighteen

ONLY TWO MILES, WE SAID.

Should be easy, we said.

I flinch as the boom of another cannon shot rends the air, but I’m not fast enough—I take another sunnaz blast straight to the face, my vision whiting out in a wash of stars.

“These godsdamned cannons!” I shriek, as near to hysterical as I’ve ever been in my life.

It’s the third direct hit in ten minutes. I’m starting to worry about permanent vision damage.

A two-mile walk shouldn’t have taken more than thirty minutes. Twenty-five minutes in, we’re barely halfway there, and I’m about to collapse.

“I’m running low on everything,” Ania calls over the sound of another cannon blast. “I’m already out of firaz!”

“How the hell are you already empty?” Remi shouts back, dancing around a mine and jabbing a fist into a charging gorilla so realistic I can barely make out the weave that holds it together. Remi’s fingers find the seams just as the beast’s jaws slam shut an inch from their nose, and with a rough yank, they pull the whole thing apart like a threadbare sweater.

“I’m a techwitch,” Ania snaps, her partially suppressed accent back in full force under duress. She’s in her total concentration mode, where she forgets to be poised and ladylike. “I can’t just cannibalize one of these—fuck—one of these demon rabbits for its maz.”

Two swears from Ania in less than a week. This is just a day full of unicorns.

And then I trip over a maz mine, which summons a literal charging unicorn, and I deeply and instantly regret every thought I’ve ever had in my life.

“Look out!” Jaesin calls, then puts his shoulder down and rams into the unicorn’s side, knocking it just far enough off course that I don’t get kebabed. I hit the ground and roll in a puff of sandy coastal soil, coming up on my toes to spring away from those stomping unicorn hooves. An ominous CRUNCH comes from my backpack as I roll over it—I don’t even want to know. Jaesin throws himself at the unicorn again, his arms flexing around its neck, slowing it down until someone can get a good shot in.

Ania comes through with a blast from her fast-diminishing stores of nullaz. The maz, so black it seems to radiate darkness, hits the unicorn and breaks apart, individual threads wrapping around the woven motaz and vitaz that give it the appearance of life. The creature stumbles like it’s stepped into quicksand, struggling as it goes down in a tangle on top of Jaesin. His nullaz suit flares as it makes contact with the maz, and Ania hisses a warning.

“Watch yourself! We don’t have enough to patch your barrier if you wear it out.”

“I know that,” he grinds out between clenched teeth, heaving himself up onto one side. I offer him a hand and pull, hauling him to his feet, then turn back to the field before us and compare our position against the map. It’s all I can do. I’m fast and agile, but not beefy like Jaesin. I’m not good at wrestling things. I can’t use maz.

I can navigate, though. I can run, find us a way around obstacles, blaze a trail to the point on the map that hopefully marks the professor’s secret wasteland fortress. Just like running the streets and rooftops of Kyrkarta, right?

“This way!” I call, leading us around a patch of dense beach scrub and scrabbling over a waist-high boulder without even slowing down. It’s a bit longer to go around the scrub instead of through it, but at least this way we can see where we’re putting our feet. There’ve been trip wires, mines, ankle-twisting holes, and even the occasional aggressive crab. I’ve never been more aware of my feet in my life, and I jump off buildings on the regular.

“Try to step where I step,” I say, adjusting the opacity of the map overlay so I can clearly see the ground while staying on track.

“You know, I’m not sure I want to meet Professor Silva anymore,” Ania says, panting with exertion. Remi barks a short laugh.

“You have to admit, his work is genius,” Remi says. “Twisted, but genius. I think I admire him even more now.”

“Who’s shocked,” Jaesin deadpans.

The next quarter mile is deceptively