"Dexter?" Solomon asked sharply as Tesseract stumbled. Tanith had gotten too close for Solomon to trust he couldn't catch her in the crossfire, and the last thing he needed was to disorient an ally. His shattered wrist was sending agony all up his arm; it made it hard to concentrate, difficult to parse exactly where one soul ended and the other began.
"I'm fine," Dexter said breathlessly, strain in his voice. Solomon could tell he was hurt, but not how badly. "Breathing--is kind of a hard thing--but I'm peachy."
Fine. Then Solomon didn't have to worry about him, for now. He stepped around quickly, trying to find an angle to avoid Tanith so he could help her with Tesseract. What happened was too quick for him to see more than a flash of intent, enough for him to try and turn out of the way--but not enough. Tanith was larger and heavier than the chair. She collided with him hard and threw him back against the wall; he screamed at the crunch of broken bones in his wrist.
She hit her head. Her body went limp and boneless quite suddenly, before she could scream in pain herself, and she tumbled to the floor. Dizzy with the agony in his hand, Solomon slid partway down the wall and then caught himself, breathing hard but fighting for control of his body.
The light of Dexter's energy-beam helped catch his focus, but Solomon didn't hear a sizzle against flesh and saw Tesseract's soul shift as he dodged. Then that mercurial blade turned on him, razor-edged and inescapable. Solomon knew then that he was going to die--he'd lost his cane-sword, he could barely think, Dexter was in too much pain to summon another beam in time. Rescue wasn't going to arrive quickly enough. He didn't have enough control over any aspect of his new magic enough to respond.
Except one.
It wasn't a thought. It wasn't fear, exactly. It was just an intense desire to live. Solomon reached out with himself, for the lifestream. It was like turning on a light. He breathed magic, he saw the fine lines of Tesseract's soul. His magic wasn't Necromancy--it couldn't exert a gravity on souls anymore, couldn't just pull them out of their bodies like he had once a long time ago. It didn't have to. He could see the lock, see where Tesseract's soul was bound to his body, the lines connecting it. His hand came up and he touched them, twisted them and pushed. It was easy--so terribly easy.
Tesseract's soul sharpened abruptly and he saw the assassin's true face. He looked startled. Then the backlash slammed against Solomon's wards and for a moment he saw snatches of a lifetime not his, and flinched with it. The lifestream took Tesseract, sweeping his soul away. His body fell heavily against Tanith's limp form at Solomon's feet.
It was only then that Solomon came aware that Skulduggery had burst through the door, and he couldn't tell when.
no subject
"I'm fine," Dexter said breathlessly, strain in his voice. Solomon could tell he was hurt, but not how badly. "Breathing--is kind of a hard thing--but I'm peachy."
Fine. Then Solomon didn't have to worry about him, for now. He stepped around quickly, trying to find an angle to avoid Tanith so he could help her with Tesseract. What happened was too quick for him to see more than a flash of intent, enough for him to try and turn out of the way--but not enough. Tanith was larger and heavier than the chair. She collided with him hard and threw him back against the wall; he screamed at the crunch of broken bones in his wrist.
She hit her head. Her body went limp and boneless quite suddenly, before she could scream in pain herself, and she tumbled to the floor. Dizzy with the agony in his hand, Solomon slid partway down the wall and then caught himself, breathing hard but fighting for control of his body.
The light of Dexter's energy-beam helped catch his focus, but Solomon didn't hear a sizzle against flesh and saw Tesseract's soul shift as he dodged. Then that mercurial blade turned on him, razor-edged and inescapable. Solomon knew then that he was going to die--he'd lost his cane-sword, he could barely think, Dexter was in too much pain to summon another beam in time. Rescue wasn't going to arrive quickly enough. He didn't have enough control over any aspect of his new magic enough to respond.
Except one.
It wasn't a thought. It wasn't fear, exactly. It was just an intense desire to live. Solomon reached out with himself, for the lifestream. It was like turning on a light. He breathed magic, he saw the fine lines of Tesseract's soul. His magic wasn't Necromancy--it couldn't exert a gravity on souls anymore, couldn't just pull them out of their bodies like he had once a long time ago. It didn't have to. He could see the lock, see where Tesseract's soul was bound to his body, the lines connecting it. His hand came up and he touched them, twisted them and pushed. It was easy--so terribly easy.
Tesseract's soul sharpened abruptly and he saw the assassin's true face. He looked startled. Then the backlash slammed against Solomon's wards and for a moment he saw snatches of a lifetime not his, and flinched with it. The lifestream took Tesseract, sweeping his soul away. His body fell heavily against Tanith's limp form at Solomon's feet.
It was only then that Solomon came aware that Skulduggery had burst through the door, and he couldn't tell when.