Free Baleful Betrayal by John Corwin Page A

ceiling.
    A croak of pain burst from my raw throat as I threaded the Murk and Brilliance into a massive sphere of Stasis. With a cry of relief, I poured a thick gray beam of energy toward the center of the crystoid. The agony in my body abated as it no longer had to contain the power. The moment the Stasis hit the crystoid, an invisible force jerked my body toward it.
    Elyssa and the others grunted. We slid inches closer, but my anchors dug in their heels and our forward momentum stopped.
    "It's working!" someone shouted.
    The surface of the crystoid cracked, its violet and white hues turning a sullen gray at the outer edges. But the power flooding into me weakened, abating slowly but perceptibly.
    "The aether packs," I shouted. "They're running out of power."
    The gray spread slowly from the outside in, two yards, ten, fifteen. It was halfway there. My teeth ached and my throat felt as if it were on fire.
    "Incoming fliers!" someone shouted. "The mutants who left earlier have returned."
    The orbs of primal force unraveled and vanished. Where once there had been a rushing river of power, only a dry, cracked riverbed remained. I slumped in Elyssa's arms. "We're out of juice."
    "Was it enough?" she asked.
    The core of the crystoid pulsed ultraviolet and white. Ten yards across, it still looked as healthy and malevolent as ever though the outer two thirds were ashen gray. "I don't think so," I croaked from a raw throat. "It's still alive."
    I looked up and saw squads of mutants on approach, fists glowing with Murk. Our aether packs drained, we'd be powerless to stop their attacks once they closed within range.
    "Justin, can you run?" Elyssa asked.
    My legs felt weak, but firm enough to get the flock out of there. "Yeah. We've done all we can."
    "Down into the crater," Elyssa said. "Go, go, go!"
    We picked our way down the piles of destroyed buildings and took cover in the shell of a smaller structure as the mutants flashed overhead. Shards of Murk rained down, bits of shrapnel pelting us.
    "We're trapped," Flava said. "Without aether, how are we to fight back?"
    True, we were out of aether, but with the crystoid still functional, there was plenty to be had. I unsheathed the rocket stick and flicked open the seat and fins. "I'm going to fly into the aether beam. That'll give me enough power to at least divert their attention."
    Elyssa gripped my arm. "Justin, there must be forty fliers! It's suicide!"
    "No, it's a rational transaction. One life for all of yours." I was tired and aching from my previous effort, but I still had my demonic strength to fall back upon.
    "We will not let you go," Flava said as Murk crystals smashed against the rubble outside our shelter and pelted us. "There must be another way."
    "Then tell me what it is." I gripped the rocket stick. "Once I have aether, I can channel a shield. I'll be fine." I hoped I could live up to that boast since my insides felt like boiled spaghetti.
    Shouts rose from outside and two fliers plummeted to the ground. The attacks on our position ceased. I peered outside and saw the rest of our small army equipped with the confiscated aether packs. While some of them shielded against the airborne attackers, others fired volleys of Murk at the fliers.
    "Get up the hill to that shield!" I shouted as I boarded the rocket stick.
    "Where are you going?" Elyssa said.
    I showed her my teeth. "To finish off that blight."
    Her lips flattened into a line. "We'll cover you."
    "Love you." I gave her a kiss and took off.
    "Up the hill!" Elyssa shouted, and led the charge to safety while the remnants of the Tarissan Legion fought to protect them.
    I had one more shot at this thing. If I failed, we were done for.

Chapter 8
     
    I flew up and into the aether beam still emitting from the core of the crystoid. Like flying from a cold dark cave and into a beam of warm sunlight, energy flooded my body, but was I too weakened to handle it? The fliers were currently too occupied with fighting the ground