Chapter 44

  Team Fight

  A soft whistle, from above.

  Dan raised a fist.

  Everyone froze.

  Jimmy’s whisper drifted down from the branches. “Sentry on the bank. Alone.”

  Twang.

  The goblin dropped without a sound.

  Chris stepped into the open, rolling a softball of fire across his knuckles, lobbing it high.

  It landed in the cookfire with a hollow WHUMP—coals and burning broth exploded outward. Twenty-two goblins shrieked and scattered like ants under a magnifying glass.

  Dan slammed into the clearing, shield and club feeling made of stone.

  Two goblins hit the shield and folded with wet crunches.

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  Wood split, he didn’t care.

  He kept walking, driving the mob backward toward the river.

  Kim stabbed her spear into the turf.

  Water answered, the ground turned to slick mud.

  Five goblins trying to flee went down hard, flailing.

  Dan’s club rose and fell.

  Jimmy’s arrows hissed in from above.

  Four bodies stopped moving.

  Chris threw one of his hot balls at two more; their leather smoked, they screamed, rolled.

  Small green bodies scurried in every direction.

  A crinkled goblin covered in white ash, stepped out from a crude tent,

  green rot roiling between his palms.

  With a subtle gesture, an acrid jet screamed through the air.

  Dan planted his feet.

  Weight met corrosion, battling for control of his channels.

  He snarled through the pain.

  Twang.

  The shaman started to look down at the fletching sprouting from its heart.

  Face forever confused, he toppled backward into the river with a splash that sounded almost polite.

  That broke them.

  Seven goblins charged in blind rage.

  Dan’s ruined shield finally shattered; he tossed the splinters aside and swung two-handed.

  One skull caved.

  Kim turned the ground to slop. Chris lit a wall of dry leaves—flames leapt chest-high.

  Three goblins skidded, turned, ran straight into the reserve line.

  Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. The stick brigade struck.

  One slippery little bastard ducked everything and sprinted past—straight into Luna.

  The pup exploded from Jamie's feet, all teeth and fury.

  The goblin stumbled, eyes wide.

  George’s spear took it through the ribs before it could scream.

  Three survivors bolted for deep trees.

  Dan let them go. Wasn’t worth the water in their bodies.

  Silence, except for the crackle of burning goblin and the wet suck of everyone trying to breathe.

  Jimmy dropped from his branch. “Nineteen down. Three ran.”

  Qi rose off the corpses in a thick, shimmering heatwave—richer than anything they’d tasted in weeks.

  Dan spat blood, flexing his Seed.

  “Drink up.”