I don’t know how Halkkor did it, but he must have known Gavsot was there. Maybe he heard the general make some kind of noise. Maybe Lucifer’s Firstborn had some kind of extra sense that I didn’t know about. Regardless, the way Halkkor quashed Gavsot’s sneak attack was both impressive and terrifying.
The general had prepared to stab him through the heart with his weapon, but just as the blade was about to break the skin, Halkkor whirled, gripped Gavsot’s arm, audibly snapped his wrist, flipped him over like some kind of ridiculous professional wrestling move, and slammed him to the ground on his back. The Firstborn-killing blade skidded away, hopelessly out of Gavsot’s reach.
General Gavsot was quick enough to see Halkkor’s next move coming, and as he lay stunned on the ground with a mangled wrist, he brought his good arm up to block Halkkor’s blade from piercing his heart. He narrowly succeeded, emitting a low yelp of pain and frustration as the point of Halkkor’s anatomical weapon sunk at least half an inch into his chest.
I watched for too long, immobilized by the shocking speed of it all. I glanced over at Jaelin and was surprised to see her fighting her attacker off with one hand while the other one was clamped around the side of her neck and stained with blood. To complete my sense of impending failure, Sowillo’s head rolled past her foot. So much for that little guy.
Halkkor needed to get dead. I needed all of this to stop. And that was when, embarrassingly, I finally realized that I should and could do something to help my friends. Reacting with a swiftness I was proud of and a tardiness I was not, I came to their rescue. I pushed out into the air with all of my strength, forcing my enemies away from their targets. Halkkor managed to hang enough to clumsily stumble away but the Firstborn who’d wounded Jaelin went flying off into the midst of the clashing armies and out of sight.
“Gavsot,” I shouted. “Are you alright?”
“Yes,” he wheezed, wincing immediately. It looked like it was painful for him to breathe. Had Halkkor punctured a lung? Did demons even have lungs to puncture? They were pretty difficult to kill so maybe they didn’t need to breathe. Contemplations for another time, I reminded myself.
“Jaelin?” I called out.
She still had her hand around her neck, dark blood seeping through the fingers and clashing starkly with her bright pink skin. She nodded, chest heaving. “I’ll live,” she assured me.
“Good,” I said, letting my sword slip from my fingers and holding it steady in the air next to my hand. “Now let’s make some Halkkor-kebabs.”
Abandoning the unreliable aim of my arm in favor of the more precise control of my mind, I sent the blade hurtling toward Halkkor’s chest.