Shattered Line

Chapter 47: Diversion

"Last five minutes," Calimitrin grunted.

A warm heat radiating from Calimitrin's body soothed her back. She could concentrate knowing he covered her flank. Still, his words confused her. Five minutes? What would happen in five minutes?

She refocused, parrying a lethal slash by sweeping upward.

Her shallow injury moaned, a sharp twinge ripping through her side. The pain weakened her stance and distracted her strength. Each hitched breath laced her lungs like the aftereffects of brandy, the burn instant and everlasting.

Isla lowered her sword, defending against a low blow. She switched directions, swinging upwards for a high strike.

Her attention remained latched onto their enemies, but her peripheral spotted the large magic water construct forming above. An array of elements obscured the space from earth to metal crusted spikes, each condensing into a ball.

With the doom looming overhead, her footing faltered, rooting her in place.

Another strike pulled her back, the attack deflecting her sword down, her arms failing their hold. Sweat streaked her face like tears, wetting her neck and dampening her hand. With fatigue shackling her body, her movements halted and a searing metallic blade pierced her immovable thigh.

Isla bite her lip, muffling her cries. Blood draped her tongue and coated the God's sword. A look of bliss surrendered his stone visage, his mouth spreading wide.

How foolish he appeared. Still, this God's minor feat held distress.

"They are here," Calimitrin shouted over the scuffle and clanging metal of battle.

She failed to process his words, the battle noises overshadowing his gruff voice. The adrenaline rushing through her veins evaporated and her body crashed, her insides stuttering. Her ears rang wild, a shrill buzz filling them, the sound humming louder and louder.

The droning ceased as a large explosion reverberated the room. From her central position, marble shards pelted her skin, leaving bruising scars.

Those before her stopped, craning their heads. No longer did their eyes shine with emotionless turmoil, instead, fear marked them

"Charge!" Sinister shouted.

From his order, her head whipped around. She spared a glance at Sinister's tall, lean frame decorated with heavy ebony armor to match his King's. Behind him, the once spotless white wall had crumbled open. Cracks radiated from the center, sections still falling accompanied by dust.

Redirecting her gaze, she watched the enemy retreat a step. They lowered their weapons, hesitation marking their movements.

"What are you waiting for my people? Kill their King and this fight is ours," Osiris commanded.

The pause ended, his words wiping the uncertainty clean. They closed the self-created gap and the roar of battle continued. Yet, the magic disaster reigning overhead persisted, growing bigger with each second.

Isla centered her attention on the immediate attack. Two Gods stepped forward, both unleashing a strike, targeting opposite sides. She stepped back, throwing her weapon up, bracing for impact. The two reinforced swords collided with her own, their reddened blades slicing straight through.

Quickly, she ducked while applying a sliver of aura upon her severed sword. She stabbed the left God's thigh, breaking his thin protective layer of aura. He groaned and reached for the broken blade.

Isla reacted to his attempt, but his comrade secured his escape, launching a barrage of strikes.

Sidestepping away and around the wounded man, she attacked before he could respond. She stretched her aura reserves, the strain shaking her vision and riling her stomach. Still, she ignored the omen and directed magic to her palms. Placing both hands on the wounded man's sword arm, she released a scorching flame that enveloped his skin. The stank of burnt flesh rose to her nostrils as the fire burned through.