Guns of the Temple (The Polaris Chronicles Book 1) by Bryan Choi, E H Carson Page B

dripped into his mouth. He put a hand to his face, only to feel a deep cut on his cheek. He pulled the hand away and gazed at the blood with a mix of surprise and horror.
    Lucatiel yawned. “Brother, kill him please. I don’t want his stink on my blades.”
    Taki cast aside the useless weapon remnants and pointed an open palm at her. Even if the woman was a supreme fencer, no blade would protect her from a proper frying. His channeling ability had always been his strength, and the reason for his success in the academy. Now, the Imperial would pay, and painfully. He’d just opened the last gates when something hard crashed into the back of his neck. As if a torch had been snuffed, he lost feeling to his body and collapsed in a heap.
    “No need. This one’s just a novice. I want to know where his commander is.”
    Taki stared up at the ceiling, spread-eagled on his back and unable to do more than twitch. A new arrival stood over him wearing the same sigil Lucatiel had: a maroon cherry blossom motif over a white griffin. The mark of Sevastopol. Spetsnaz, Taki realized. I have to stop them . He strained and tried with all his might to get to his feet, or at least roll onto his side, but all for naught. Below his neck, everything felt blanketed by stifling fog. He’d heard of this happening before—a fall from great height or a careless blow to the back making a man a cripple—but only as a parable against recklessness during training. Realization hit him along with a wave of cold sweat.
    “Imperial,” Taki groaned. “Have you made me an invalid?”
    The man looked down at him and sighed. “Most likely.”
    Taki swallowed back tears. “Then I beg you to kill me.”
    “And I beg you forgive my sister’s rudeness. She sometimes lacks in the social graces. Pray tell me your name.”
    “Taki Natalis, a corporal.”
    “I am Aslatiel von Halcon, and I will honor your request. May you achieve enlightenment in your next life.”
    Aslatiel drew a curved sword and held it firmly for a downward thrust into Taki’s chest. Taki trembled and tried to peer at his executioner, but the effort was too exhausting. Taki closed his eyes. He always knew he’d die in battle, but what irked him was that it had been so soon after graduating, and under such unheroic circumstances.
    The brick wall of the gatehouse exploded as Lotte crashed through it and knocked Aslatiel aside like a ragdoll. She let out a triumphant roar and promptly turned to face Lucatiel with her weapons drawn. Draco barreled in after her and threw Taki over his shoulders. Hadassah squirted by and promptly tried to bayonet Aslatiel while he rolled away.
    Two more figures, also wearing spetsnaz insignia, melted out of the darkened corners of the gatehouse to attack with thrown darts and flashing knives. Lucatiel became an inhumanly fast maelstrom of blades focused on Lotte. Sparks flew as the greatshield’s engraved sun was obliterated by deep gouges and the zweihander’s keen edge turned to fractured teeth. A spear-tip snuck under Draco’s armor and he dropped Taki to the ground.
    Taki groaned, vomited, and to his own surprise, shakily pulled himself to his knees. His lower half no longer felt leaden and insensate. His legs burned and now he could tell that he’d pissed himself. The sensation was mortifying, but more importantly he could feel again, and most importantly, move again. Slowly, painfully, he pulled himself to his feet. His sword was broken, his Bastard missing, and he was in no shape to channel sutras. To his great shame, there was nothing he could do to help.
    “Who dares wake me from my slumber? I’ll devour you all!” Hecaton cackled as she emerged through the hole in the wall. She sent an arc of blinding, violet current upward and instantly blew the gatehouse roof to smithereens. The Imperials quickly hopped back and pulled out their guns while the Tirefires did the same. For what seemed like an eternity, silence reigned save for the pattering