Schism: The Battle for Darracia (Book 1) by Michael Phillip Cash Page B

returned, Bobbien had withdrawn the Fireblade from V’sair’s shoulder. “He lives,” she told her granddaughter, “but just barely. We must get him to safety.” She slid the two Fireblades into the back of her loincloth.
    “ I will take him home,” Tulani said.
    “ Did not you hear Pacuto? The prince no longer has a home. We must hide him. Come. We will talk later,” she told her urgently.
    They lifted V’sair’s nearly lifeless body and placed his arms over their shoulders to carry him together. He groaned then fell silent, but Tulani was reassured by his ragged breathing. His head hung listlessly forward, his eyes crinkled with pain.
    “ Where, Greanam? Where will we go?”
    Bobbien grabbed her staff and point ed it to the rumbling giant, Aqin. “Into the belly of the beast.”
     
    ***
     
    It felt as though they had traveled through the Desa for days. Living in the clouds had made Tulani vulnerable. Her arms ached from helping to carry V’sair, and she was clumsy with the tree vines. Her grandmother finally lost patience with her and hefted the unconscious prince over her thick shoulders so they could make better time swinging from tree to tree. Tulani admired the old woman’s stamina. Wiping sweat from her brow, she followed breathlessly, the calls of the night birds jogging memories of her youth.
    It was a clear night , and the four moons lit their path. Twin explosions lit the sky at the two entrances of the castle. Sirens wailed, and she watched the Petrion guards head quickly to the fortress, their flying beasts cut down by a giant cruiser that had moved to the front of the castle. Tulani watched the brave warriors being picked off like harmless gresh, the spraying torpedoes creating a rainstorm of blood and guts that pounded the Desa floor. She turned to Bobbien, fear written across her face.
    “ Hurry we must, child!”
    Every so often Tulani caught Bobbien’s worried expression, but she was too busy trying to keep up to speak to her. As she reached for an elusive vine, her fingers slick with sweat, the first wysbie attacked. She heard the hum, and her stomach clenched with fear. “Wysbies!” she cried out. It started with a sting on her shoulder. Cursing, she slapped the spot, and the electric zap bit into her hand; a shout of shock escaped her lips. Bobbien turned around and yelled, “Faster, Tulani. They are right behind you!”
    The wysbies, with their innocent, fey-looking wings and streaming tentacles that stung with the ferocity of a thousand needles, attacked in force. Tulani gasped from the pain, slapping at the demons with her free hand but refusing to let go of the vine with her other. The harsh hemp sliced into her fingers, drawing blood. Bobbien turned around, her powerful arm wrapped around a vine, V’sair balanced on her shoulder, and a sack gripped in her other hand. The two Fireblades hung from her sides, and if Tulani weren’t so scared, she would have laughed. Her grandmother looked like a many-armed spider. “Tulani!” she called out. “Catch!” She threw the sack, and Tulani reached out to grab it. Suddenly her hand was covered by a screaming wysbie, its long streamers wrapping around her forearm like a thick bandage. Tulani wailed, her fingers slippery with blood, watching as the sack fell through her powerless fingers toward the Desa floor.
    “ No!” Bobbien yelled. She draped the unconscious prince between two branches, used a vine to secure him, then nimbly leaped down into the gloom. “The dust,” she called out breathlessly. “Gums the wings, it will.”
    Tulani tore at the wysbie, its pink eyes bulbous sacks of fluid. Her arm lost color as the creature squeezed it tighter. Her vision narrowed, and a strange buzzing that had nothing to do with the gigantic insects filled her ears. Her death grip on the vine slackened a bit, and for a minute, she lost awareness of everything around her.
    She realized sluggishly that Bobbien was thrashing her way up the