Curse of the Gargoyles (Gargoyle Guardian Chronicles Book 2) (9 page)

I straightened and braced myself. Velasquez planted one foot on the granite next to me, then eased himself free of the earthen trap. A sharp spiral of granite shot upward from the base of the hole, counteracting the downdraft of air Velasquez displaced. I yanked him toward me before the sharp tip could puncture his back.

Velasquez stumbled against me, catching me in his arms before I could move my feet.

“Maybe we should move to the water section,” I said, my nose pressed against his broad chest. He smelled of sweat and dirt, and it wasn’t a bad combination.

“I don’t think it would help.”

We eased apart without moving our feet and I leaned to look around him at the water section. The ground had risen to create a crenelated wall along the water–earth boundary, damming overflowing streams that had previously lazed throughout the earth section. Deeper in the water section, a pond burbled, then fountained, fed from an underground geyser. It overflowed its banks and flooded the breadth of the water section. Seconds later, the magic influx cycled around the purifier’s constructive bubble and hit earth.

Velasquez and I staggered as the density of our air thickened with unnatural gravity. At the edge of the central pentagon, a sycamore tree toppled, and the ground rose up to break its fall. Cascading ridges of earth halted the rush of air up the tiers, curling back over the fallen tree and toppling a few cottonwoods, restarting the process. I pressed one ear to Velasquez’s chest, clapping a hand over the other to muffle the cacophony. Beneath us, the ground quaked and I rode it out on trembling knees.

Thick black smoke billowed into the sky where the top of the sycamore had fallen into the fire section. In rapid succession, three more smoke columns joined the first and heat tightened the air even as more power flooded into the earth section and the leading edge of the polarization jumped several yards.

I lifted my head from Velasquez’s chest to watch Winnigan and Seradon wade into the growing pond, then dive beneath the surface. Both women emerged a few feet away, arms paddling as they swam. A current pulled them away from us toward the wood section, where the pond cascaded down a waterfall that hadn’t existed ten minutes ago.

“What’s happening to the ground in the wood section?” I asked. The earth eroded under the falling water as if it were sand, not hardy granite, hornfels, and schist.

“The same thing that’s happening here. Wood destroys earth.”

With growing horror, I examined the wood section. The ground around the central pentagram was pockmarked with holes like empty graves. Farther away, the ground disappeared as if sheared off at the front edge of overgrown creosote bushes, and the gnarled roots of the botanical garden’s red maples twisted in the open air. The trees’ trunks were twice as thick as they’d started the day, and I realized the movement of the visible roots wasn’t caused by the wind; I was seeing the trees grow.

Through the trunks, I caught a glimpse of two figures. Marciano and Grant slogged through the boggy ground. Marciano carried a branch he used to prod the ground before advancing, like a man moving across snow, looking for hidden crevasses.

Oliver wasn’t with the captain.

I whipped my head the other direction, blindly grabbing Velasquez’s forearms to steady myself as I squinted to see the air section through the bordering fire section. Heat waves bent the light and made the horizon dance. I couldn’t make out any of the park’s tall sculptures or windmills, and my knuckles tightened on Velasquez’s sleeves.

My breath whooshed out when I finally spotted Oliver. He flew above what looked like a smear of khaki. Sand. The heat of fire wasn’t distorting the view; the growing winds had kicked up a sandstorm.

Oliver flapped his wings, then retracted them, plummeting into the sand before flapping slowly aloft again. His long body jerked against the wind before he dropped out of sight again.

“What’s he doing?”

“Conserving energy,” Velasquez said.

Oliver emerged from the sand again, long wings beating almost too slow. As he rose, the air barrier near him flared and blew magic into fire.

“He’s trying not to stir up air,” I said.
Damn it, I should have brought him with me.

Oliver couldn’t land, because he’d be blind. He hadn’t been able to go with the captain because he would have been swallowed by the eroding soil. If the wood section was anything like the earth, he wouldn’t have been able to fly through it. Gargoyles were made of stone; they required air magic to stay aloft, and the wood section with its polarized magic wouldn’t have had any air for Oliver to use.

“We need to get moving. Slowly,” Velasquez said.

A thunderous crack of rock lifting against a breeze coming from outside the polarization field echoed the urgency in his tone. Velasquez turned and took a cautious step. Small peaks of granite lifted on either side of his foot from the push of air, but the bulk of the boulder beneath us remained still.

“Follow close,” he said.

Every rumble and clatter of moving earth grated against my nerves. In between the unnatural earthen shifts, the only sound audible was our footsteps. The lap of water against the growing dam on the right, the waterfall cascading into the wood section, the windstorm Oliver battled—all the destruction reshaping the park should have raised a racket.

“I think the air is getting denser,” I said. It was harder to draw a breath, and it wasn’t because we were walking up an increasingly steep incline.

“All the more reason to hurry,” Velasquez agreed as he took another careful, agonizingly slow step. I tried to laugh, but it came out as a breathy whimper.

We hiked up the middle of the earth section more than thirty feet from the fire section, but heat radiated against my left side and sweat rolled down my spine. I focused on Velasquez’s feet, doing my best to step exactly where he did. Every ripple he caused doubled with my passing, building a ragged sluice into the boulders. After a handful of steps, narrow blades popped up between my feet when one foot passed the other. High-pitched but soft squeaks accompanied each sharp formation.

A few steps later, the earth crumpled and sharpened beneath my boots in response to the puffs of air stirred by Velasquez’s feet. Moving gingerly, I tiptoed after him, every step becoming increasingly sharp and uneven. I’d stopped checking our progress against the leading edge of the earth section. It was too depressing. Everything that slowed us down only increased the strength of the purifier, and the bubble pushed outward at a steady, ground-eating pace. Despite the distance we’d covered, we were still a dozen yards from escaping.

Lightning split the sky beside us in the fire section, sounding like it exploded against my eardrums. I jumped. The granite beneath me reacted, spearing straight into my foot.

I screamed on an inhale, the sound sucking into my throat.

6

“What? Are you okay?”

Unable to speak, I pointed to my left foot. Velasquez twisted without shifting his feet, then cussed.

“Did it go through your foot?”

The sharp pain radiating from my sole scrambled my thoughts, and I fought the urge to yank my foot free. Any sudden movements could cause the granite to reshape around or
inside
my foot.

“I don’t think so,” I gasped. “Into but not through.” Pain climbed up my leg until it felt like everything from my knee down had been pierced. I pictured the bottom of my foot and the rock penetrating it, and white noise rang in my ears, clouding my vision. A sharp snap next to my nose brought me back to myself.

“Hey. Stay with me. You need to lift your foot. Slowly. Then you’re going to climb on my back and I’m going to carry you, okay?”

“No.”

“No? What’s your plan?”

“Your back. I can’t—”

“My back is fine. Two steps will cause fewer rock ripples than four.”

I shook my head. Arguing helped distract me from the compulsion to rip my foot free. “You’re bleeding.”

“So are you. If you’re not afraid of getting a little of my blood on you, I’m not afraid of getting a little of your blood on me.”

I shifted, biting my lip when pain shot up my leg.

“Okay,” I said.

Velasquez offered me his arm and I clung to him while I inched my foot from the rock spike. Sweat coated my body when I was finally free. I crossed my foot over my knee and peeked at the bottom. The thin leather sole of my boot had been sheared through, and blood seeped from the arch of my foot. For a closer inspection, I’d have to remove my shoe, and I wasn’t eager to see the wound or to jostle my foot that much.

“You’re not walking anywhere on that,” Velasquez said.

I nodded, not trusting my voice. The pain had morphed into a pulsing throb, and the thought of putting weight on my foot made me want to whimper.

“Grab my neck,” Velasquez said, turning his back to me.

I stared at the dirt- and rock-crusted scrapes in his back. I wouldn’t be able to hold on without hurting him.

“Maybe you should go on without me. If I don’t move, I should be okay until you guys shut this down.”

“You’re being dramatic. Hop on and let’s get going.”

I grasped his shoulders and lifted my left leg toward his hip but hesitated, unsure how to proceed.

“We’ll be here all day if you try to do this without touching me.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

With a growl, he crouched, grabbed my left thigh, and lifted me, stepping forward at the same time. I squeaked and slung my arms around his neck, pulling my right leg up to squeeze his hips. A solid curl of granite unfurled behind me, slapping my butt and jostling me against Velasquez. He grunted, then took a second cautious step.

“You okay?” he asked after three more steps. The granite shifted and bubbled behind us, folding on itself like a crumpled rug as it halted every current of air Velasquez’s footsteps lifted.

“I think so.”

Dirt sifted from Velasquez’s thick hair when my head brushed it, and the loamy odor was comforting. Clinging to the fire elemental was akin to hugging a warm boulder, and I welcomed the illusion of safety that being pressed up against his strong body gave me.

“Good. Because I know we’re trying not to move the air, but I need to breathe.”

I felt him swallow against my forearm and hastily relaxed my stranglehold. Belatedly remembering his back, I did my best to shift my weight to the vise grip of my thighs around his hips while concaving my stomach away from his wounds.

“What are you doing?” Velasquez asked.

“Trying not to hurt you.”

“Cut it out. You’re making it worse.” His footsteps hadn’t slowed or altered during my adjustments.

“Sorry, Velasquez.”

“Call me Marcus. And relax. I’m about as fragile as the gargoyles you heal.”

“Modest, too, Marcus,” I muttered, knowing he’d hear me.

He flexed, and his shoulder muscles hardened like stones beneath my arms in a silent testament to his boast. I reminded myself that he had to be made of tough stuff to be in an FPD squad. A lot tougher than me. More tears than I was proud of had escaped while I’d been extricating my foot. I hoped he was too preoccupied to notice when they dripped from my chin to soak into his shirt.

“Hold tight. I’ll have to take these stairs faster,” Marcus said. His voice rumbled against my chest, and I realized I’d sagged against him. He’d made good time across the boulder field and had already reached the first unnatural block of granite. The front line of the polarization field expanded half as fast as a normal walking pace, with alarmingly frequent jumps as various parts of the massive constructive weave encountered fresh elemental magic to feed on. The crack and snap of growing rock had become a constant, and what had started as a handful of jutting teethlike pillars along the front edge of the field had expanded to a series of uneven steps building toward the sky. The leading edge was already taller than Marcus. Only the rise of the hill naturally dampening the wind currents had prevented the pillars from shooting up higher.

I tightened my grip on Marcus as he powered up the first steep steps. Granite scraped and grated behind us, sounding as if the rocks were chasing us, a great attacking stone monster perpetually one step away from hamstringing Marcus and taking us both down for the kill.

Marcus let go of my right leg to use his hand for balance. I did my best to remain still on his back, both because it was the only way I could be helpful and because every time my foot was jarred, pain spiked all the way to my knee.

For several steps, Marcus moved parallel with the outer edge of the bubble and I could see the air section. I looked for Oliver, but I couldn’t find him through the haze of the fire section. Lightning skittered through the polarized fire with increased frequency, held at bay by the flimsy-looking wall of the purifier’s helixes. The bright flashes left afterimages on my vision; the thunder deafened me.

“Almost there,” Marcus said through ragged breaths.

The leading edge of the polarization bubble stretched a few feet in front of us. Outside it, the interlocking helixes narrowed to a mass no thicker than my waist, and from our new height, I spotted the end of the fire–earth braid.