Of Steel and Scale (The Drakkon Kin Trilogy #1)

Chapter 7

I sucked in a sharp breath and resisted the urge to deepen the connection and force them away from both the living and the dead. Aside from the fact there was very little reasoning with any animal in such a manic state, it was also very dangerous. Even the strongest mind could be swept away by a tide of bloody lust.

I’d never seen it happen, but there were stories, and they never ended well.

I clenched my fingers around the receiving stone. Three beats remained, even if one was rapidly fading. There was hope yet.

“There’re at least eight olm in the junction up ahead,” I said grimly. “This tunnel remains single file until we near that junction, and there’s no way we can get around them from here.”

“What about the junction itself?” Damon asked. “Is there anything that might provide cover for those people or us?”

I hesitated. “We’ve had a few tremors recently, so it could have changed since I was last here, but overall, it’s tear-shaped, with an exit at the point to our left and another directly opposite. A partial shelf that’s five or so feet off the ground runs along the wall between our tunnel and the one opposite, but otherwise, it’s relatively flat.”

“A five-foot-high shelf won’t give those soldiers much protection.”

No, it certainly wouldn’t. An olm could leap twice that height without any effort at all.

“If they are in a feeding frenzy,” Kele said grimly, “at least they won’t notice us until we start burning their asses.”

I glanced at her. “Which we can only do if they’re not close to our people.”

“If those men are close enough to be burned, they’re probably already olm food and way beyond caring.”

A truth I didn’t want to think about. I once again glanced down at the stone still in my hand. “We’ve three still alive, but we’ll need to move fast.”

Damon unsheathed his sword, the blade a deep blue stone. The Blue Steel Mountains were the only place in Arleeon producing stone of that color, and while it was prized for its strength and imperviousness to weather, it was also extremely difficult to mine. Few went to the bother, though I knew Zephrine often used it for spears. This was the first time I’d seen a sword made of the stuff, though.

But then, he was Zephrine’s heir, so it made sense that he had the best weaponry available.

“If we split up,” he said, motioning with his blade to the junction ahead, “it’ll give us the best chance.”

I nodded. “I’ll go right, and Kele can go left, which should give us better flame coverage.”

“Meaning I’m straight down the middle.” He glanced at me then added, the seriousness in his expression blunted by the wicked glimmer in his bright eyes, “Please do resist the temptation to ‘accidently’ cinder the unwanted husband in crossfire.”

“You have absolutely nothing to fear from my flames.” Amusement danced through me, but I managed to keep my tone serious. “Unless, of course, you do not live up to a certain... shall we say energetic?... reputation.”

“What the whispers actually say,” Kele corrected blandly, “is that he has great stamina and ardor in the bedroom—and that is definitely a good thing. It’s all well and good being energetic but a certain amount of intensity and passion is required for a truly great experience.”

“The gossips in Esan definitely have sharper ears than those of Zephrine,” Damon said, tone dry. “But I’m relieved they apparently approve of my bedroom endeavors.”

“I shall also point out that if it is just bedroom endeavors, our girl will be disappointed.”

I rolled my eyes at Kele, then glanced at Damon. “Ready to go?”

“Always.”

He obviously wasn’t referring to the task at hand, given that wicked glint, but I let it slide. Save our people first, drakkons second. If we survived all that, then maybe we could get down to that much needed discussion about what we both wanted—or expected—from this marriage.

Or, better yet, just do what Kele had originally suggested and ride each other senseless.

My hormones were currently leaning toward the latter option. No surprise there, given how little sex there’d been in the lead-up to the marriage.

I tucked the receiver away, then drew my sword and padded forward. The noise up ahead sharpened with every step, changing from a confused babble to something more definable—soft growls, teeth snapping, flesh and cloth tearing, the clang of metal hitting stone. And, ever so faintly, the occasional whimper.

The last had my stomach churning. I had no doubt it belonged to that fast-fading third pulse in the stone. If we didn’t get in there soon, he or she would die.

But if we hurried, we could die. The dagger-sharp rocks between the two blue veins were ready and waiting for the slightest slip, and the ground underfoot remained slick.

The tunnel widened as we neared the cross point. I paused, slipped my packs from my shoulders, then held up a hand and slowly counted down on my fingers.

When the last one dropped, we moved in as one.

I called to my flames and ran right. Saw, in swift succession, a man and a woman on the platform, braced against its rear wall, and two olm pacing underneath them; three more olm were in the middle of the junction, tearing into the two bodies lying there, while another paced back and forth just beyond the sword reach of the man sitting next to the other exit. His back was pressed against the wall, and his legs were a shredded, mangled mess.

Six olm. Where were the other two...?

A faint stirring of air across the back of my neck gave me a heartbeat’s warning.

I spun, saw two in the air, their razor-sharp teeth bared and blind eyes pinpointing me with surprising accuracy. I flung a noose of fire, caught the first one around its neck and threw it hard back into the tunnel, then jumped sideways and raised my sword, bringing it down onto the second creature’s snout, severing a good portion of its mouth and a chunk of tongue in the process. It hit the ground on all fours and shook its head, spraying thick drops of blood and flesh through the air, its roars of pain and fury filling the air. Then it leapt at me again, its speed frightening. I swung the sword, but it somehow twisted away from the blade and lashed out with its claws. They skittered across my right arm, slicing through leather but not into flesh. It had barely hit the ground when it lunged at me again. I quickly backed away, fashioned my flames into a rope, and flicked the lasso toward it. It settled around the creature’s neck, and I snapped it tight—not to kill, because the scales on these things were as thick as a drakkon’s, and it took more than an instant to burn, but to control. I swung it around, gathering momentum, then released the rope and threw it against the nearby wall with as much force as I could muster. Bones crunched, and fire now crawled over the length of its body, but it didn’t seem to care. It simply struggled to its feet and leapt again.

I stood my ground until the very last moment, then jumped out of its way and swept my sword along its body, severing limbs and slicing open the entire length of its barrel. It hit the ground and stumbled forward, its insides spilling onto the stone underneath.

And still the bastard wouldn’t die.

I sucked in a breath, created another leash, and once again whipped it against the nearest rock face. This time, it didn’t get up.

One down, several more to go....

The thought had barely crossed my mind when something hit me from behind and sent me sprawling forward. Teeth tore into my shoulder, while needle-sharp nails scraped frantically at my leathers, as if desperate to reach the flesh that lay underneath.

I bit down hard on the scream that rolled up my throat and went full flame, directing every scrap of heat and fury that remained within me into the heavy creature hanging off my shoulder. It was cindered from my flesh in an instant, but I nevertheless kept the flames alive, chasing its ash down to the ground, just to be sure. Then I drew the flames back into my body, cauterizing the wound in the process.

Cauterizing wasn’t healing, however, and Vahree only knew how badly it hurt.

I sucked in another, somewhat quivery breath, caught the sound of sharp nails on stone, and spun. The two olm who’d been pacing the base of the shelf were now coming straight at me. I threw up a hand and unleashed a wall of flame. Pain flicked through my brain, but I knew it was a result of tiredness more than lack of strength. I was a long way from running out of “juice”.

The threat of fire stopped one. The other simply ran around it. I raised my sword, but before I could cleave the creature in two, it was caught in a rope of flame and smashed upward against the roof with such force that its head shattered and brain matter exploded.

Kele, her timing as impeccable as ever.

Another olm had leapt up onto the ledge and was now charging at the two people standing there. As the woman raised her sword, I threw mine; it pierced the olm’s chest with enough force to throw it sideways and pin it to the wall. The woman then plunged her blade down through the base of the creature’s neck, killing it in an instant. I called more flames to my hand and turned, just in time to see Damon kill the last of the three olm who’d been devouring the dead. Another two lay between him and the junction’s second exit, one burned, the other missing limbs and a head. Kele now knelt beside the wounded soldier, a medikit—not hers—on the ground beside her. She, thankfully, appeared unhurt.

My gaze returned to Damon. There was a cut on his forearm and a graze on his chin, but neither appeared bad. We’d been lucky. If the olm hadn’t been in a feeding frenzy incited by the blood of their victims, it might have turned out very different. They generally hunted in packs and were very canny fighters.

The woman standing on the ledge pulled my sword free from the creature’s body and handed it to me hilt first. Then she straightened and saluted. The large cut running down the side of her face bled profusely, her short blonde hair was matted and stringy with sweat, and her blue eyes narrowed with pain even though little of it reached her expression.

I knew her, I realized. She’d been in my team for a few years as a base soldier before being promoted to scout with another team. I returned her salute. “Good to see you, Suzi.”

“Good to still be here, Captain.”

It was wryly said, and I smiled. “What happened?”

“We hit a barrier of some kind in the tunnel running up to the Beak—literally, in Randel’s case.” She pointed toward the man Kele was looking after. “It flung him back onto the damn spikes and shredded his legs.”

“You couldn’t get around it?”

She shook her head. “It wasn’t a physical barrier, more a magical one, though I’m no expert in such things. We were coming back here to take the longer route when the damn olm attacked.”

“They obviously caught the scent of blood,” the soldier standing beside her said. “We’d bound Randel’s wounds and stopped the bleeding, of course, but it doesn’t take much to attract them bastards.”

No, it didn’t. “How badly are you both wounded?”

Suzi now had a hand pressed against the dark stain on her side, and her partner had a palm-sized chunk of flesh flapping at his left thigh. While both were at least upright, I doubted either would be walking very far. Or at least, not far enough to get out of these tunnels before more olm appeared.

“We’re mobile, Captain, but I doubt Randel will be.”

“Definitely not” came Kele’s response. “The spikes might have shredded flesh and muscle, but the olm have broken bones.”

I met her gaze. Though she didn’t say anything, her expression told me everything I needed to know. Even if we could carry Randel, he wouldn’t survive the trip out of the tubes, let alone down the mountain. Not without proper medical help. One look at his gray, sweating features was enough to confirm that.

I returned my attention to Suzi. “How far up that tunnel did you hit the barrier?”

She hesitated and glanced at the other soldier. He wrinkled his nose and said, “Maybe a quarter of a mile?”

A quarter of a mile should give us some scribe coverage... I frowned. “Why didn’t you scribe for help when the accident first happened? Was there no coverage there?”

“We would have, but Randel was carrying the scribe and quill in his pack, and it was shattered when he hit the rocks.”

“Which is probably the only reason he’s still alive,” the other soldier added. “The force of the impact should have broken his spine, but his pack took the brunt of it.”

“It would seem Vahree wasn’t yet ready for his soul,” Suzi added.

I wasn’t so sure of that, given Randel’s current state, but I simply nodded. “I’ll head there and make the call?—”

“Not alone, Captain,” Damon said. “It’s too dangerous, given we have no idea who or what made that barrier.”

I glanced at him, nodding imperceptibly at his use of my military title. It was appreciated, even if not necessary in his case. “What we can’t do is leave these soldiers without protection. Between you and Kele?—”

“You forget what I am,” he cut in again. “I can raise a protective barrier using the blood of the olms to enhance its strength. With Kele stationed here, you and I can head into that tunnel, make the call, and then investigate the barrier.”

I hesitated, if only briefly. It was a practical move under the circumstances. “How long will the protective barrier last? It’s going to take at least four hours for assistance to get here.”

And whether even that would be fast enough to save Randel was debatable.

“The blood of two olms should create a six-hour protection period. If we restrict the area needing coverage—using the wall behind Randel as the base—to a semi-circle around our survivors, it should give us an hour or so longer.”

“Do it.” I offered Suzi a hand. “Let’s get you two off that ledge and over to Kele. She’ll be able to treat those wounds you’re not mentioning.”

“She’s a trained medic?” the soldier asked.

“No, first aider.” Every company had at least two soldiers trained in field treatment; recon teams generally had one.

Suzi grimaced. “Harri was ours. Poor bastard was the first one hit.”

She took my hand and carefully eased herself off the edge. Though she didn’t say anything, fresh blood seeped past the fingers pressing against her right side. I suspected the tightness of her leathers was the only thing currently preventing her from bleeding to death.

The other soldier waved my offer of assistance away, eased down, and then limped over to the dead. “We can’t leave them here, Captain. Not like this. Aside from the fact they’ll only attract more olm, I can’t?—”

He stopped and shrugged, but there was fury and deep agony in his eyes and expression. One of the dead had meant something to him, that much was obvious.

But moving them would be next to impossible. Very little remained of their leathers or their flesh, and what did simply wouldn’t be enough to hold their bodies together.

“I’m sorry, soldier.” My voice was flat, though my heart ached for him. “But they’re already at Vahree’s gates, and care not for what happens to their flesh now. Our main priority now has to be the living.”

“Can you at least burn them? That would surely be a more fitting end for them than being torn apart any further.”

Suzi lightly touched his arm. “Their bodies are the only reason we’re alive now, Jace, and we both know it. If the captain ashes them, it will simply mean the olm will return their attention to us.” She glanced down at the bodies and then added softly, “Mills would understand our choices, believe me.”

Jace didn’t say anything for a long moment, then nodded and continued on toward Kele. As Suzi followed, I returned to the entry tunnel and collected our packs. After dropping them in the middle of the junction, I walked over to Damon. He was collecting the blood of the olm Kele had smashed against the ceiling in one of the empty vessels he’d brought along.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

He glanced up, his eyes dancing with a power that gave his irises a bloody hue. He might not have called to the magic that ran through his veins as yet, but it was nevertheless there to be seen in his gaze.

“You can cut a semicircle into the stone around our group. We need to give them a physical indication of the barrier’s location, and your sword will do it easier than mine.”

I nodded, drew my sword, and walked back. Kele met me halfway and picked up her pack. “That soldier has lost a lot of blood and muscle,” she murmured. “Even if he does make it, he may never walk again.”

I touched her arm. “Do what you can to keep him going until the healers get here.”

She frowned. “I’m not staying?—”

“You have to. You’re the only trained first aider here.”

“But—”

“Suzi and Jace are also injured. I need you here to keep an eye on things until we get back.”

She drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. “I do not agree with this decision.”

A grin broke free. “You never do when it means you being left out of the action for even the most practical of reasons.”

“Truth.” She sniffed. “As long as I get to see the drakkling, I won’t complain.”

“Oh, you will, and we both know it,” I said dryly. “I will just ignore as per usual.”

“Another truth.”

With a smile, she turned and walked back to her patients. I moved over to the exit near the tear’s sharp point and stopped, mentally “feeling” for any more olm. None were close, but that didn’t mean much, given how fast they could move. The scent of blood and death might take a while to filter into the deeper tunnels, but they would eventually scent it. And to them, meat was meat; it wouldn’t matter if the bulk of that scent belonged to their own kind.

I stepped closer to the edge of the exit and placed the tip of my sword against the hard stone of the floor. The Ithican blade had as little trouble biting through stone as it did flesh, and in very little time, I’d carved out a fine, semicircular line around Kele and the recon team.

Damon finished siphoning a second olm, then walked over and stopped beside me. “That line marks the no-crossing zone. If any of you step beyond it, the protective curtain will fall.”

“Will the olm be able to break through?” Suzi asked, doubt evident. “They’re tenacious enough to keep battering at it, and no magic lasts forever.”

“No, it doesn’t, but this spell should give you a good seven or so hours, as long as no one breaks the seal.”

“What about the rescue party?” Jace said.

“They won’t get in unless you step out. Creating a complete barrier is faster and easier than creating one with exceptions.”

“And if the barrier starts fading before rescue gets here?” Kele asked.

“We should be back by then,” I replied. “But if we’re not, well, flame for as long as you can and don’t get dead.”

She smiled and lightly saluted. “Sound advice, Captain.”

I stepped back and motioned Damon to proceed. He drew in a deeper breath, then slowly released it. The bloody glow in his eyes sharpened, and the air around him briefly shimmered and pulsed.

He walked over to where I’d started my line, pushed up his left shirt sleeve, then began to spell, his voice taking on a deeper, softer note that vibrated through my entire being. I didn’t understand a word he was saying—the language sounded Angolan, which made sense, given that’s where his mom and her kin were from—but his phrasing was older and far more formal. It was also hauntingly, almost heartbreakingly, beautiful.

He raised the water flask and slowly walked forward, continuing to spell as he dribbled blood with surprising precision onto my line. With every step, every drop, the power in the air grew, making the tiny hairs at the nape of my neck rise even if the only visible indication of the curtain he was building was the faintest shimmer that briefly appeared after each drop hit the stone.

When he reached the other side, he dropped the flask onto the ground behind him, then unsheathed his knife, raised his left wrist, and sliced it open.

I barely contained my gasp. I knew he was a blood mage. I just hadn’t expected him to use his own when he was already using olm.

He turned his wrist around and let the blood fall onto that of the olms. The melodious spell briefly rose in tempo, then stopped with an abruptness that had my breath catching in my throat. For a heartbeat, nothing happened, then a faint stream of scarlet rose from the point where his blood had smothered the olms’. The smoke thickened as it raced back along the line and fused the droplets together. When the smoke hit the far side, there was a short, soft explosion. The blood along the entire length of my trench turned black, and that faint shimmer disappeared.

Damon pulled down his sleeve and glanced at me. His eyes were once again blue, though their whites remained stained pink. “The barrier is raised. We’re good to go.”

“If it exists, why can’t we see it?” Jace asked, expression a weird mix of doubt and fear.

Understandable given there hadn’t been a blood witch in Esan for decades—at least, not as far as anyone knew—and this was a new experience for us all.

Damon shrugged. “It is the nature of the spell and the reason I asked for the stone to be marked. Captain, we should get moving.”

I nodded and glanced past him, my gaze briefly meeting Kele’s. There was fear in her eyes, though I doubted it had anything to do with the man or his magic.

“Be careful,” she silently mouthed.

I acknowledged her plea with a slight nod, then spun, collected my packs, and walked into the other tunnel.

Once we were far enough away from the others, I stopped and turned. “Show me your wrist.”

He raised an eyebrow, but nevertheless held out his arm and pushed up his bloody sleeve. His skin from wrist to elbow bore a multitude of faint scars, but there was no sign of a fresh wound.

I ran my finger across the many cuts decorating his dark skin. Felt the slight jump in his pulse and its echo in my own. I swallowed and looked up. Caught the flick of desire through his still-bloody gaze before coolness replaced it.

“How is that even possible?”

He shrugged. “It is part of the magic—and not, I’m guessing, dissimilar to your own ability to cauterize a wound.”

“Cauterization seals and disinfects. It doesn’t heal and, let me assure you, it still hurts.”

“Then why didn’t you ask Kele for a pain dampener?”

“Because those three soldiers needed them far more than me.”

He smiled, caught my fingers, and raised them to his lips. His kiss felt like a brand. Felt like home. Which was utterly ridiculous given how little I really knew about the man.

“Even a commander is entitled to pain relief, Bryn. Especially when a clear head is needed.”

“A clear head is the other reason I didn’t take a potion. They can affect the speed of your reactions in dangerous situations.” I drew my hand from his, but couldn’t help instinctively curling my fingers to retain the heat of his touch. “In case you haven’t noticed, we are in the middle of one such situation.”

He raised that eyebrow again. It was a very expressive eyebrow, I decided, conveying all manner of emotions in one elegant movement. This time, it was amused disbelief. “Would you expect such stoicism from the people under your command?”

“No, but they do expect it of me.” Because I was a princess and it had taken me far longer than most new recruits to win respect. I wasn’t about to risk its loss by taking a potion that could affect my judgment and endanger the lives of others.

I turned and continued on. He followed, a big warm presence I was far too attuned to.

Every five minutes I tried to scribe, but the connection remained nonexistent.

“If this barrier is magic,” I said, after the fifth such attempt, “will you be able to sense it before we hit it?”

“It will depend on its type and construction. I’m not, for instance, able to sense Mareritt magic.”

“Well, that’s damnably inconvenient.” I glanced over my shoulder. “Why not?”

“Their mages pull on their own life energy—the electricity of the body, if you will—and that of their land, rather than their blood. It’s hard to differentiate between the magic that comes from the energy of the land and that which they call from within.”

“Fascinating.”

“You’d be one of the few who think so,” he said, tone dry. “Most find the subject... tedious, at best.”

“I’m not most people.”

“That has become increasingly evident over the last few days.”

I glanced over my shoulder again. “Is this a good thing or bad?”

“Oh, definitely good. I suspect life will never be boring while you’re in it.”

“While I’m in it?” Amusement twitched my lips. “You planning to get rid of me at some point in the future?”

“Were you not the one who claimed only a few hours ago to be uncertain as to what to do with me?”

“Oh, I know what to do with you,” I said lightly. “I’m just not sure it’s wise. I mean, there’s the previously mentioned reputation to consider, and I, well, I’m a lowly soldier who will probably never live up to certain expectations for very long.”

His laugh was soft and warm and rolled across my skin as sweetly as any summer breeze. “With what already lies between us, I believe said expectations will be well and truly blown out of the water. Whether it will retain enough heat to last is another matter entirely, and something only time and proximity can answer.”

“Proximity being code for madly passionate sex?”

“More day-to-day living, but I can certainly live with a relationship being based on nothing more than madly passionate sex.”

“At least for a few years,” I agreed.

His warm laugh teased my senses again and had my hormones dancing. “Sounds like I’m going to need to keep my strength up. Want to try scribing again?”

I did, and this time, the pen lit up to indicate there was a viable connection present. I quickly detailed what had happened, then emphasized the urgent need for medical assistance. At the end, I told them Damon and I were continuing on to the Beak.

Stay wary came the response a few minutes later. Keep in contact.

Once I’d signed off and had tucked everything back into the pack, we walked on. This section of the tube hadn’t suffered as badly in the tremors, so we were able to move at a fairly good clip.

We were almost at the quarter mile point when Kaia said, Stop , her warning so loud my brain just about rattled.

I immediately did so and said, What is it? even as Damon asked, “Something wrong?”

His gaze scanned the tube ahead, and his hand was on his sword, but there was nothing to see—nothing beyond the blue veins and the wickedly pointed rocks jutting out between the two strips of pale light.

Magic , she said. Ahead.

Surprise flitted through me. You can feel it?

See through you.

How?

She did the mental equivalent of a shrug. Why matter?

I guess it didn’t. I glanced at Damon. “Kaia says the barrier the recon team mentioned lies just ahead.”

He tugged the light tube from his pack, then raised the light and shone it directly ahead. “There’s absolutely nothing to indicate that.”

“Should there be?”

He grimaced. “Depends on the practitioner, but generally, when it comes to barriers it’s best to pin the magic onto something solid. It prevents a strong wind from causing the spell to wander about randomly.”

My eyebrows shot upward. “And has that ever happened?”

“All the time.” His serious expression was undone by the twinkle in his eyes, and I nudged him lightly. He laughed. “Unpinned magic is harder to raise. It can be done, but it’s easier if there’s a foundation.”

“I wouldn’t call blood a solid foundation.”

“Then you’d be wrong. How far ahead is she talking?”

I relayed the question.

She hesitated. Half one wing .

I did the mental gymnastics—math was never my strong point. “A little over thirty-five feet.”

“Let’s move closer, then, and see what happens.”

“If I hit that barrier and get flung into razor rocks, I’m not going to be a happy soldier.”

“I suspect my bigger worry will be your unhappy drakkon.”

“She’s not mine?—”

You kin came Kaia’s reply. Belong .

It would appear that having connected our minds on a deeper level than we had previously, there was now no stopping it—something that had never happened before with any other animal. But having her in my head, watching everything I did and hearing everything I said, was going to take some getting used to.

Warn me if we get too close.

Should stop. Safer.

Safer doesn’t get us through that barrier. Safer won’t find us the gilded ones.

She mentally sniffed. It was a very unimpressed sound.

I grinned and returned my attention to Damon. “She’ll warn us when we’re close.”

“Good.”

He shone his light on the ground, no doubt looking for the pins he’d mentioned. I followed, studying the tunnel ahead but still not seeing anything untoward. Then the edge of Damon’s light caught a slight flutter. I touched his arm, and he immediately stopped, his muscles tensing briefly under my fingers.

“Point the light left—there’s something there.”

That something turned out to be a thin strip of leather coated with a black substance. Dried blood. This must be where Randel had hit the rocks after being thrown by the barrier. It had to be just up ahead, and yet there remained no sign.

I edged on cautiously, but had barely gone a dozen more steps when Kaia snapped, Stop .

Damon bent, picked up a loose, fist-sized stone, and tossed it. Four feet in front of us, something flashed, and the stone rebounded with such force it could have caused serious injuries if it had hit our heads or limbs.

“It’s odd that I can’t see or sense this shield. I should if they are indeed using blood magic.”

“Maybe it’s a different type to what you use.”

He glanced at me, his expressive eyebrows raised and suggesting amusement. “Blood is blood, no matter what creature it comes from.”

“Well, obviously not.” I motioned to the barrier neither of us could see. “Do you think my Ithican blade can counter the barrier’s magic?”

“The actual barrier rather than the pins? No. Ithicans do use magic in the creation of their weapons, but as far as I’m aware, they cannot counter it.”

Can.

I blinked. The sword can counter magic?

No . The reply was annoyed. Me.

Hate to point this out, Kaia, but you’re not here at the moment, and you’re too big to fit in these tunnels.

No need.

Why?