Page 146 of Sunsplitter

The light burned out in time to see both aedari flee—in opposite directions.

“Dust-wovencowards!” Ixli jumped to her feet, a snap of red mending seared flesh down one arm. “I’ll track the magician. You two go after the—”

Antal pushed himself off a cursing Fionamara—alive, just angry, not in immediate peril—and grabbed Ixli’s arm before she could teleport away.

“They’re trying to split us apart!” he said.

Ixli yanked at his grip. “We can’t let them get away a second time!”

“Shut up, both of you!” Fionamara said.

She tossed a flash of carnelian. Ixli caught it in her claws—a transport stone.

“The other half’s in his pocket,” Fionamara said. “Activate this one, you’ll zap straight to him. I’ll be pudding if I teleport like that again. You go, slow him down. We’ll catch up.”

Antal and Ixli shared a stunned blink. She palmed the stone. “How…”

“I’m the best damn Void smuggler in the Season-Locked Planes!” Fionamara said. “Thank you. Appreciated. Nowgo!”

Ixli squeezed energy into the stone, then vanished.

Fionamara held her hand out to Antal. Her pleading eyes were fit to ruin lesser men.

“This time?” she said. “Together?”

The words had scarce left her lips before Antal scooped her into his arms, carrying her with him into the teleport.

This time, together. Ixli needed Fionamara’s help more than his.

Fionamara said nothing more, just held him tight and pressed her cheek to his shoulder.

The scent was as hard to chase as ever, the aedari fleeing fast. Antal only had to track the general direction, a tease of blistering sun on Autumn air. Then Ixli’s whistle rang out like a beacon. He pushed faster through the canopy, teleporting from limb to limb and down a rocky ridgeline, honing to the summons.

The aedari’s wings shined gold through the trees. Ixli had it on the ground, her binding cord finally lashed around its arm, glowing red as she clenched the other end in her fist. Both combatants fought one-handed, lashing out with spear and sword.

Antal pressed a kiss to Fionamara’s temple.

“Go,” he said. “Make me proud.” As if she could ever fail to do so.

He tossed her as they hit the ground, onto her feet and straight into a sprint. Fionamara joined the fray with a snarl. Antal skirted the edge.

“Ixli!” He held out his hand.

And grabbed the binding cord from her.

The length was woven of conductive metal, a bite against his knuckles. But it was energy that would keep the aedari grounded. Antal gripped tight and Shaped a current into the cord, willing the energy to condense, harden, a physical anchor to stop the immortal from dematerializing. The aedari yanked back, its strength absurd, but Antal dug his feet into loam and held his ground.

Ixli, freed of the cord, drove her spear at the aedari.

She was tireless, agile, striking with the grace of an asp. At the aedari’s other side, Fionamara held her own like an uncaged tiger, snarling and pressing every advantage. With Antal holding the binding cord, it was two on one, the aedari fighting single-handed.

Antal saw it start to buckle.

This legendary beast, the bane of the Shattered Planes, flagged beneath the onslaught. Its parries slowed. Its golden wings flared erratic movements, the throes of a cornered animal. The binding cord burned as Antal held it, the aedari straining against the tether with a surge of its own golden magic, a smell of ozone as Antal’s knuckles singed.

Even with their advantage, his false heart stuttered when Fionamara charged the aedari head-on. The immortal raised its sword.

Then, she vanished.