91 – The Price of Power

Alexandra lay on the ground. The cold floor of the cavern seeped through the cloth of her robes onto her back.

The troll’s foot stood above her, ready to crush her.

She wanted to move, but pain flared through her ribs. Broken.

Still, she found the strength to roll to the side. The ground shook where the foot had landed.

The troll raised its club.

It came down. She rolled again. The impact traveled through the stone, into her back, her arms, her legs.

Up. She had to get up.

She got one knee under her. The troll stepped forward. She threw herself sideways. The weapon grazed her shoulder. Spun her. She came down hard on her hands. Her half of the spear skittered away across the floor. She watched it go. Didn’t chase it.

Up.

Her left arm buckled when she tried to push off it. She used the right. Got her feet under her. The cavern tilted. She planted her feet wider and waited for it to stop.

The troll was watching her.

She reached for her mana and cast Inflict Weakness. Her concentration kept slipping. She cast it again. Something to do. Something that wasn’t just standing here and waiting for the beast to finish her off.

Through the curse of cold blood, her mind was still working. Not perfect, but better than it should have been in her state.

The club swung at her legs this time. She stepped back. Her ankle slipped and her knee hit the stone. She stayed there for a second, breathing. The cold came up through her kneecap. Her ribs moved when she inhaled. Pain.

The troll raised the club again. She was already moving, already going through the same motion. Dodge. Reset. Hold on.

She didn’t know what she was holding on for.

She ducked under the next swing and felt the air move across the back of her neck and staggered forward, past it, toward the center of the cavern. More room. She needed more room.

Her ankle was wrong. She could feel it with every step.

The troll turned to face her.

She could run, but the troll might follow her. The doors would be shut, and they would stay this way until she defeated the chieftain. Maybe this troll was her target.

Maybe not. If not, injured like she was, she wouldn’t make it through the dungeon.

This wouldn’t work.

There was only one way out.

Something she hadn’t ever succeeded at doing.

Drain Life.

Her skill slid off the troll’s lifeforce like it wasn’t even there.

She tried again. The skill hit the edge of that torrent and skipped off, and the recoil traveled up through her concentration.

The troll closed the distance between them.

She backpedaled, cast Inflict Weakness twice in quick succession, burning through her mana like there was no tomorrow. Then, she reached for Drain Life again the moment the second curse landed. The torrent didn’t care. It roared past her skill without slowing.

She circled. Bought herself a few seconds. Pushed through pain and exhaustion.

It wasn’t the strength of the lifeforce, she thought. She’d been reaching for it the same way each time, the same angle, and it was the wrong angle. Like trying to cup water from a river with your fingers spread.

The club swept wide. She stepped under it. The motion pulled at her ribs and her vision went white at the edges. She put her back to the far wall and braced.

Different, then. Not the whole torrent. She didn’t need the whole torrent. Not yet.

The troll raised the club overhead.

She cast Inflict Weakness. Watched it land. Then, instead of reaching for the lifeforce directly, she followed the curse in. Rode the thread of her own magic back toward its anchor, and from there, reached sideways, carefully, for just the edge of the flow.

The club came down.

She stepped left on her bad ankle and nearly went down. The weapon struck the wall where her head had been.

But she felt it.

For one instant, before the troll’s movement broke her focus entirely, she felt the current against her grip. Enormous. Hot. Real.

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Then it was gone.

She stood there breathing, her cheek wet from a fragment of stone that had cut it, her ankle screaming, her ribs shattered.

It was there. The way in was there.

She leaned on her good foot to avoid another strike and followed with another Inflict Weakness. There was no hesitation in her movements. Curse, follow, then chip away at the edge of the torrent.

The first sliver of lifeforce came her way. Through the rank and species barrier, it did nothing to improve her state. But it was there.

The second sliver came easier than the first.

Not easy. Nothing about it was easy. She had to hold the thread of her curse like a needle, thread it through the troll’s mana, find the same angle she’d found before, and pull. Pull carefully. Pull without taking too much at once, because when she’d tried that, the current had ripped free of her grip and the backlash sent her mind reeling.

The troll swung. She moved.

Her ankle sent a spike of white heat up through her shin every time she put weight on it. She’d stopped counting how many times she’d nearly gone down. The cavern floor was. Her eyes kept losing the troll’s outline when she moved too fast, the edges of her vision graying out like candleflame in a draft.

She circled. Cast. Followed the curse in. Pulled.

Another sliver.

It crossed into her and dissolved. Her body couldn’t use it.

Her ribs moved. Pain.