He caught himself badly. His right boot came down upon a heap of shattered glass and onto something beneath it that did not move. A length of blackened metal stood angled within the rubble, narrow as a rod and sharpened by fracture. His full weight drove it straight through the sole of his boot, through his foot, and out through the upper leather. The pain arrived white and absolute. His leg buckled before he could pull away. He pitched forwards with the foot still skewered, which drove the exposed length through his lower leg. Yves screamed. It was a distorted sound, pain and anger torn through a throat already scored by glass. Amidst the bombardment of lightning, it broke apart as soon as it left him—
His concentration did not. Could not. Another shield flared above Midnight before the scream had failed him. Then another to their right. Several more farther downslope. Yves cast feverishly, almost blindly, keeping the diversions alive while every instinct in his body fought to tear free from the metal that pinned him to the ruin. He pulled once, full force, and got the lower leg free, but the rod remained driven through his foot, caught inside the boot. He wrenched backwards, twisted the trapped foot, and hauled again. The metal dragged through flesh, ground against bone—
another volley of ruptures flashed towards him—
Shields — Impact — White.
Yves dragged in one ragged breath, braced his good foot against the rubble and tore himself free on the third attempt. His right leg folded the instant it was released. He caught himself before he went down, locked the knee and ankle inside a rigid brace of conjured shards and forced the limb straight. Pain surged through the construction with every pulse of his blood. There was no time to determine the damage. Midnight was already ahead. Yves drove himself after her.
He caught himself badly. His right boot came down upon a heap of shattered glass and onto something beneath it that did not move. A length of blackened metal stood angled within the rubble, narrow as a rod and sharpened by fracture. His full weight drove it straight through the sole of his boot, through his foot, and out through the upper leather. The pain arrived white and absolute. His leg buckled before he could pull away. He pitched forwards with the foot still skewered, which drove the exposed length through his lower leg. Yves screamed. It was a distorted sound, pain and anger torn through a throat already scored by glass. Amidst the bombardment of lightning, it broke apart as soon as it left him—
His concentration did not. Could not. Another shield flared above Midnight before the scream had failed him. Then another to their right. Several more farther downslope. Yves cast feverishly, almost blindly, keeping the diversions alive while every instinct in his body fought to tear free from the metal that pinned him to the ruin. He pulled once, full force, and got the lower leg free, but the rod remained driven through his foot, caught inside the boot. He wrenched backwards, twisted the trapped foot, and hauled again. The metal dragged through flesh, ground against bone—
another volley of ruptures flashed towards him—
Shields — Impact — White.
Yves dragged in one ragged breath, braced his good foot against the rubble and tore himself free on the third attempt. His right leg folded the instant it was released. He caught himself before he went down, locked the knee and ankle inside a rigid brace of conjured shards and forced the limb straight. Pain surged through the construction with every pulse of his blood. There was no time to determine the damage. Midnight was already ahead. Yves drove himself after her.
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