Quentin''s pupils constricted to pinpricks; horror flooded the cracks of his
That Mystic Tortoise Spirit Shield had cost him a fortune, yet Jared had erased it with onezy tap.
Before he could rally the armor or any other trick, Jared''s chaotic-force-lit finger mmed into his Umbral Ice Armor.
A brittle snap echoed under the trees.
A sharp, ss-like crack rang out.
The Umbral Ice Armor-strong enough to shrug off sacred des-met the chaotic force and shattered, turning to glittering frost in a heartbeat.
The annihting surge riding Jared''s fingertip punched through the ruin of armor and flooded straight into Quentin''s chest.
"Urgh!" Quentin''s breath burst out in a ragged grunt.
His lips nched, shoulders shaking, as a killing chill seemed to hollow him from within.
Under Jared''s spiritual sense, the man''s meridians shed frost-white, his aura tearing apart in jagged bursts, and even his soul spasmed with needle-like agony, dragging him toward a cold abyss.
Centuries of honed umbral power boiled away like snow flung into a furnace.
"Hold him back!" Quentin rasped, stumbling in retreat.
He forced thest threads of energy to propel himself rearward.
A Crimson Jade Talisman-his lifeline to summon Julian''s aid-slipped from his sleeve, pinched between trembling fingers, ready to shatter.
The two guards, however, had troubles of their own.
From the shadow of the boulder, Luther struck.
Two hair-thin strands of Nether Soul Threads whipped out, so faint they barely bent the light.
They were no physical des; they flew straight for the mind.
Focused on Jared''s pressure and the sluggish air, the guards never saw the trap.
The threads vanished into the base of their skulls without a ripple.
Both men jerked, eyes clouding with pain and confusion, movements locking mid- swing.
Their rank and will kept their souls from tearing free, yet any warning cry died in their throats.
Jared never let Quentin reach that talisman.
His left hand shed out and mped around Quentin''s wrist.
Crack!
The bones inside splintered under that grip.
Quentin''s wrist copsed, angles warping grotesquely.
"Argh!" A short, broken scream slipped out of him.
The Crimson Jade Talisman spun free, tumbling through the thick air.
Jared ignored it; his right hand ttened into a palm and drove into Quentin''s lower abdomen.
Every ounce of strength was measured to a hair.
Chaotic force roared in, then wove itself into countless gray chains, wrapping his
energy center, meridians, even the man''s sea of consciousness.
A second strand shot higher, pressing his very spirit under an iron lid.
Quentin''s eyes rolled; color drained from his face.
Just before darkness imed him, he stared at Jared''s gaze-cold, deep, star-lit.
Thud.
The big body sagged onto the mossy path, breathing shallow, shackled tight by chaotic force.
From the first glint of danger to this copse, barely a couple of breaths had passed.
Fast.
Too fast.
And every link in the n had clicked exactly where it should.
The two guards blinked through the lingering soul-pain and saw theirmander sprawled in the dirt.
A young man stood over the fallen figure, expression calm, eyes unreadable.
Terror drenched the guards; with Quentin captured, they doubted they would leave this path alive.
They trade a quick look. At the same instant they bark out a harsh shout, blood ring dark around them, andunch themselves straight at Jared with reckless force.
The short halberds in their hands erupt in a blinding ck re. The message is clear even to Jared''s eyes if they can''t win, they''ll at least
S and rattle the whole manor.
"Stubborn fools."
Jared lets out a low snort. He does nothing more than sweep his sleeve through the
air.
A weight without shape or sound ms down, as heavy as a mountain and just as
final, crushing the path between him and the two men.
From where Jared stands he sees their charge jerk to a halt, as if an unseen peak hadnded on their backs.
Bones creak loud enough to carry.
Their chests cave, mouths open for
breath that will note, and the
crimson fire licking their skin
putters and dies under the
pressure.
They strain, yet not even a fingertip twitches. Attack, shout, move—none of it is
possible for them now.
Jared keeps the sleeve raised,
feeling the pattern of the
Suppression Glyph Technique.
woven out of raw chaotic force. It is
roughpared with a specialist''s work, but the shape is close enough.
With his depth of power, that makes subduing two wounded fourth-grade immortals
a trivial task.
He steps in, taps each man between the brows, and pushes a thread of chaotic force inside. Their eyes roll back and they sink into a silent, bottomless sleep.
Jared sweeps a quick nce over the path.
Three bodies lie motionless; nothing else stirs.
The array''s barrier still muffles air and sound, swallowing the earlier sh before it
can leak any farther.
In the distance the pines continue to rustle, untouched.
He flicks his wrist, reiming the Crimson Jade Talisman, then kneels to search Quentin and the two guards with swift, practiced hands.
Storage pouches, personal tokens, anything that might track or identify—each itemes off, especially the badges andmunicators hanging on Quentin''s belt. "Luther, carry the guards. We leave the way we came. Move."
Still gripping the unconscious Grand Chambein by the cor, Jared issues the order as Luther''s shadowed form steps into view.
"Yes."
Luther doesn''t argue. He hooks each limp guard by the waist and lifts them like sacks of grain.
Jared sweeps the ground once more, erasing every lingering rune from the quick array with a wash of chaotic force.
Then the two men melt into the same pockets of shadow they used before and head
for the hidden tunnel in the abandoned garden.
The return trek rides on tighter nerves.
Three unconscious prisoners slow every step, and any stray patrol could still ruin
the night.