Page 211 of Cerulean Truth
"Where the hell is everyone else? Where is James? " I yelled at Jackson, the desperation in my voice mirroring the sinking feeling in my gut.
"I don’t know, Emma! I thought he was with you!" he yelled back, right before portaling out again.
I fought as ruthlessly as I could, but the Radicals had the numbers, attacking indiscriminately—men, women, children—showing no mercy. Just when hope seemed all but lost, a small yet powerful figure with black hair strode into the Epicenter, swiftly dispatching about a dozen Radicals at once.
"Nino!" I shouted, my relief evident. She took one look at me and my crumbling wall and nodded.
"Do you have this under control?" she yelled, effortlessly holding the Radicals at bay with one hand while ruthlessly stabbing them with the other.
"No, I need help!" I shouted back, anxiously trying to muster the strength for another protective shield.
She moved with rapid grace through the Radicals until she stood next to me on the wall. Side by side, we fought off the relentless assailants with every ounce of translation we had.
"They are attacking on all fronts, Emma. I have to go back to Academy. There are classrooms full of Healers who cannot get away."
Damnit.So, that was where everyone else was: the Radicals had spread throughout the entire building. Of course we weren’t the only wing under attack.
"Do you know where James is?" I asked with quiet desperation.
"He's on his way here; they attacked the Council, and James just single-handedly defended the entire Basilica."
Of course he did.
With a single powerful motion, Nino then fortified the entire wall, the blast of energy from her translation sending at least twenty Radicals flying backward. Damn, she really was a total badass.
"Emma, I need to go, can you handle this? Matthew and Justine are on the way as well; they reinforced the Layers, no new Radicals can come through. So if you can just keep this level under control…"
I nodded affirmatively, "Go, I’ve got this!"
But I didn’t have it.
FIFTY-NINE
EMMA
Although feeling a little relieved to find out there were no new Radicals coming in, I was worried about how many were still fighting us within the Scola.
Glancing over my shoulder, I counted at least another ten kids, all huddled down and crying in fear. I jumped back off the wall, trying to “choke” my way through as many Radicals as I could. Then, I suddenly remembered little Jack back in that closet.I have to get him out of there.
But the constant projection of my energy had taken a heavy toll on me. As the exhaustion began to set in, my haze started faltering. The collective pain unfolding around me barely registered when three half-cloaked Radicals lunged at me simultaneously. Time seemed to slow as my haze shrunk down, leaving me vulnerable.
Shit.
The first Radical lunged at me with a vicious swing of some kind of sword and my training kicked in. I sidestepped the attack, feeling the rush of adrenaline as the blade sliced through the air, inches from my face. I countered swiftly. He was quick, but I was quicker, grabbing another one of my concealed knives out of my boot.
With a flick of my wrist, I lashed out. It struck the Radical’s shoulder, causing him to howl in pain. Before he could react, I retracted the knife and delivered a powerful side kick to his chest, sending him sprawling backward.
Meanwhile, the second and third Radical closed in, both unleashing a storm of energy projectiles at me. I ducked, weaved, and dodged whatever they threw at me as fast as I could.
They advanced with a series of calculated strikes, their movements precise and deadly. These were clearly different kind of Radicals, Offensives maybe? They were more coordinated and I started to lose hope. I tried to parry each blow, and although I knew I couldn’t afford to make any mistakes, the exhaustion began to slow me down.
One of them lunged for my throat while the other grabbed the knife from my hand and stabbed my arm with it. I screamed in pain, and tears sprung to my eyes. He pulled it out, ready to plunge it into my chest, and while the other one was holding me back, my arms blocked by his, my own knife now threatened to end my life.
"James!" I heard someone yelling his name, and then again, louder. "James!" It took me a few agonizing seconds to realize the screaming voice was my own.
I tried to shoot out my haze again, which kind of worked but was seriously diminished in power. It didn’t choke the knife-holding assailant, but it did slow him down. The guy holding me, started coughing but didn’t lose his grip.
Breathing heavily, I kept pleading and yelling out James’s name. My voice echoed through the chaos, a cry for help and protection. I nearly crumbled under my own fatigue when a sinking realization crept in: there was no way I was going to make it.
