She’d been trained for years at Luxi-Domus and had lived at the Conclave.
There was no escape protocol.
Angelique turned, away from the traitorous Council members, and studied the street around them.
It was pandemonium.
Most of the mages wore perplexed looks as they peered up at the weapons hovering in the air, then to Sybilla and Lovelana—who were still holding up a magic shield.
But a fair number of magic users ran. Some of them sported iridescent green shields, which made their sweaty complexions look sickly in the dim, purple light of almost-night.
It wasn’t until they started opening portal gates—all of them using a very familiar magic—that it really dawned on Angelique.
Everyone who was running…those who were panicking…they were Chosen.
No.
With a roar, Angelique turned back to Lazare, Primrose, Galendra, and Crest. She gestured, and with pinpoint accuracy smashed a collection of polearms into their irritating shields. She didn’t know if it was her anger at the realization of just how deeply the Chosen had wormed into the Conclave, or if her near-constant barrage had weakened Nefari’s spelled charms, but the green shields disintegrated.
“We’ve got to flee,” Crest shouted.
“But we can’t abandon our stations,” Primrose shouted.
“She’s going to kill us,” Lazare drawled, infuriatingly collected and sharp-minded, considering he usually acted senile. “Seems like a good reason to consider our covers blown. It’s over, Primrose.”
“It’s not like we didn’t plan in case something like this happened,” Crest added.
Angelique listened to their conversation as she shifted her powers, readying her next move. I can’t let them get away.
Rather than stab them through—which wouldn’t work because she saw the flickers of that wretched green shield recharging; this explained the large project Nefari had alluded to, unfortunately—Angelique arranged the seemingly endless number of weapons into walls of metal and wood.
As she wove them together, her forehead puckered. There aren’t a great deal of war mages. This seems like an excessive number of weapons for only a medium sized classification of mages.
Angelique saw Crest reach into a small pouch on his belt, and she slammed her creations into place.
The walls of interlocking blades snapped shut around the Council Members.
Galendra screamed and didn’t stop as she uselessly tried to push on the metallic wall, then tried to blow it down with a gust of wind.
The weapons stayed anchored in place, a glittering cage of sharp edges and inflexible weapons.
“Galendra, shut your piehole, and use your escape charm!” Lazare shouted, his voice loud and exasperated in comparison to Galendra’s terrified screams.
Escape charm? Concerned, Angelique rotated the blades making up the walls so their edges pointed inward.
Peering through the gaps in the walls, she could see the four Council Members hurriedly pulling something out of their clothing.
They threw it at the ground, and fire blazed up from the spot, hardening into a gateway.
This close, Angelique could confirm what she already knew. They—and those who had already fled—were using charms forged with Evariste’s transportation magic.
“No!” Angelique screamed as they slipped through the gates and were transported into what looked like a darkened, rocky place.
Angelique broke daggers out of the walls of the cages she had built and flicked them through the gateways. She didn’t think the daggers would be able to pass through the gates, so it shocked her when she felt the familiar sensation of Evariste’s magic bloom in her mind.
Her daggers passed through the gate, and she heard Crest and Primrose each utter muffled cries that were warped by the magic of the gate—she’d hit them!
Angelique hastily collapsed her cages and maneuvered them to send her arsenal through the gates, but they snapped shut and collapsed in on themselves, disappearing without a trace.
“Again! They escaped again!” Angelique gritted her teeth, her eyesight unfocused with the bitter sense of failure.
Every time she thought she had Chosen mages cornered, they escaped!
“Angelique.” Sybilla’s voice had never before been so serious and urgent.
Angelique turned to face her but staggered when someone—another mage, a Chosen mage?—corrupted a protection spell placed on a nearby brick building, tweaking it, and the right side of the building exploded, flinging mortar, bricks, and splintered wood into the street.
Flames erupted in the Luxi-Domus buildings, crawling across the roof and consuming walls that should have been spelled against such destruction.
Water in a nearby fountain hissed and turned into steam as a black mage boiled it and then flung it over a courtyard. Mages screamed as the scalding water dropped over them like rain.
A jagged ice wall erupted out of the ground, splitting a wooden cart in half, flinging chunks of debris like an explosion. Several large pieces of cart were flung against buildings, shattering windows and breaking doors.
People screamed, the air smelled simultaneously burnt and thick with the metallic reek of blood.
She couldn’t tell who was on what side anymore; there were too many Chosen. It was pure chaos.
“Angelique.” Sybilla grabbed her by her wrists. “You need to drive them out!”
“The Chosen? How?” Angelique helplessly watched the chaos unfold—feeling lost.
We thought there were maybe a few Chosen here, but I see dozens…just how many are there?
“I don’t know,” Sybilla said. “Primrose and the others left after you frightened them. Perhaps the same tactic will work on the others?”
“By myself? Why would they fear one mage?” Angelique asked.
Another blast rocked the city. Angelique had to brace herself to stay on her feet as the flames by the school grew taller.
“Please, Angelique!” Tears traced paths down Lovelana’s face as she stumbled into Angelique, a sob catching in her throat. “Mages are dying!”
Angelique winced.
Nearby, a mage with a bloodied face screamed as she leaned against a small tree, using her magic to bend its branches to fight a mage that was wielding bursts of light and was protected by one of Nefari’s green shields.
The statue in the now-boiling water fountain exploded, flinging sharp fragments of rock into the air.
Angelique’s magic curiously stirred, poking at the sharpest of the fragments.
Lovelana tried to widen her shield to protect more people, and Sybilla built a few ice walls to reinforce buildings that were sagging as support beams and walls were taken out.
A Chosen mage blew one of the ice walls to bits, creating a shower of pointed pieces—once again stirring her magic.
That’s it! That’s how I’ll stop them!
A blast went off, and a pointed spire that topped one of the smaller towers of the main Conclave building exploded.
Angelique released her magic and used it to grab any pieces of the air-born debris that had even the smallest bit of edge.
The blasted pieces were hot, rough, and carrying enough momentum to make Angelique’s head spin, but when her magic encased the bits, they hung in the air like weapons, creating a dangerous overhang.
The fire raging through Luxi-Domus broke some windows. Angelique couldn’t see it, but she could feel it in her magic when the jagged shards were airborne.