Dust and ash climbed into the sky. The crew stood, staring onward at the horrifying loss. It was the first of many buildings to suffer. There seemed to be no safe place to take shelter. A structure that appeared stable dissolved seconds later.
“Stay together!” Kazuaki shouted over the roar of destruction and the stampede of terrified citizens. It seemed the best place to be was also the most vulnerable: open ground.
The handful of footmen who patrolled the area tried in vain to contain the residents’ panic. “To the church!” they shouted, motioning the scattering people to the gothic cathedral. Of all the buildings in Avadon’s heart, they knew it would be the safest. Darjal reinforced it a hundred times over to be sure it remained standing.
The people who possessed the wherewithal dashed to the safety of the church doors. Nicholai’s face twisted into one of horror. Wall after wall of the factories they forested fell, exposing the secret greenhouses within. Despite the dust and chaos, two footmen noticed the stark contrast of the greenery against the grays of their metal world.
“What the feck is that?” one asked his comrade, gesturing to the building Kazuaki and his crew exited.
“Forget it,” the second foot soldier said as he ran toward the crew. “Hey, you! You can seek shelter in the church!” he shouted, stopping when he got close. A well-timed gust of wind blew the debris from his clouded vision, unveiling the faces that stood before him. There was only one he recognized. The one issued to every foot soldier in every division since Southeastern fell victim to its current state. “Shit,” he breathed, stumbling as he took a step back. “It’s Nicholai Addihein!"
“Bloody shit,” Kazuaki pulled a dagger out with one hand and a pistol out with the other. “Jig is up, ladies and gentlemen.” He lunged forward to stab the footman in the neck, but a bullet pierced his wrist and he dropped his weapon.
The first foot soldier clung to his smoking gun, a look of unadulterated alarm on his face. He watched the captain curse as he grabbed his bleeding wound. “Go!” he shouted at his friend, motioning him to run. “Alert Darjal!”
With a fleeting glimpse of appreciation to his companion who saved his life, he ran. The foot soldier disappeared into the mists of the disintegrating city. Bermuda scowled and started after him, firing several rounds. It was difficult to see. She was on unfamiliar ground. The woman gave chase until a house collapsed twenty feet in front of her, causing her to lose visual. She halted in her tracks. “Damn it all,” she cursed, clenching her weapon in her hand.
Kazuaki looked up at the foot soldier who shot him. His eye pierced through the thick clouds of smog. He said nothing, but his expression spoke volumes. The footman stared, trapped in the captain’s glare. He turned on his heels, rushing off to alert the others while he still had the benefit of a head start.
“Are you all right, Kazuaki?” Umbriel shouted over the noise.
“Peachy,” he growled, hand soaked with his blood.
Emont ushered them forward. “Let’s get out of here!”
“We can’t go back to the slums,” Nicholai said. “They’ll follow. You’ll be exposed.”
Emont scowled as cinders swirled around him. He was tired of running. He was tired of hiding. He was tired of his family and friends existing in the squalor Avadon's elites condemned them to. They did not have much time to grow in strength, but they couldn’t wait anymore. “Let them come.”
Revi shook his head. “No.” He gripped Emont by the shoulders. “You lead them to your camp, you lead them to your children. Go back and get the others. Rennington, Iani, Elowyn, Granite, Bartholomew, and whoever else will follow. We’ll bring the fight to them.”
Emont paused but nodded with newfound determination. “I’ll be back.” He rushed off into the black and gray powder that littered the air.
Umbriel looked to Kazuaki and Nicholai. The burden of the moment was heavy in her eyes. “What do we do now?”
Revi withdrew his weapons as did Brack. Bermuda emerged from the ashes and joined their sides again, her gun still clutched in her hand. The look of disappointment on her told everyone the soldier escaped. Kazuaki frowned as he released his bullet wound and retrieved the weapons he dropped. “We fight,” he said, waiting for the footmen to appear.
The quakes continued with no end in sight. The incredible vibrations below them ripped through the city, leaving behind nothing but destruction and death. With the chaos of the disaster in full force, Kazuaki knew it would be difficult terrain to fight off their attackers. It didn’t matter. The footmen would descend upon them soon. The soldiers were an organized bunch. Though small in numbers, they were still formidable opponents.
Kazuaki did not move. He waited. They hold their fire long enough, giving the plant life a head start. It was time for their voices to rise and for blood to spill. Umbriel and Nicholai thrived in their element. Now it was his turn.
Silhouettes appeared in the dust. Five, ten, fifteen men came into view, ready with their standard-issue falchions. Though most of their guns were melted down to make metal for the ironclad, a few held fast to their long-range weaponry.
The captain smirked. He pushed through the pain to grip his gun in one hand, his dagger in the other. The perfect combination of close and long-distance combat. Bermuda, Brack, and Revi followed suit, surrounding the Earth Mother and Time Father. They all knew the duo’s crippling ethics prevented them from taking a life, so they made it their priority to keep them safe.
“Brack,” the captain ordered, “get these two somewhere safe.”
“Right-o, Cappy,” Brack motioned Nicholai and Umbriel to follow. With hesitation, they fell back into the dust and followed the man.
As the soldiers marched forward, each eager to be the one who claimed the title of being Nicholai’s killer, the crew readied themselves. A slew of unsettled ash distorted any accuracy for the few who remained capable of issuing gunfire, but as soon as a semi-accurate aim showed, the sound of bullets unleashed. Bermuda, Kazuaki, and Revi lunged forward, each taking their own course as they hurled themselves into the crowd.
He was a marksman. Kazuaki squeezed a bullet into the head of an oncoming soldier. He targeted those with long-range weapons, preferring to rid himself of the dangers that stemmed from unexpected attacks. Bermuda and Revi were familiar with the captain’s battle tactics. They, too, made it a priority to drain the lives of any gun-wielding footmen.
Bermuda snarled as she fired her gun. Dodging the swing of an oncoming falchion disrupted her aim. But even well-trained men were no match for the agile huntress. She gutted her attacker. The contents of his stomach spilled into his fingertips. He suffered the unfortunate delay of death from a wound that wasn’t immediately fatal.
Revi’s attacks held less finesse. The frenzied man, who hated himself far too much to fear death, was a madman in battle. Without mercy, every thrust of his blade found flesh. A whirlwind of bloodshed followed. He suffered blows of his own, but adrenaline fueled him with infinite energy. He would feel it later. But at the moment, Revi Houton felt no pain.
“This way, guys!” Brack looked back to be sure the Earth Mother and Time Father kept pace. As he climbed over the clutter of fallen rubble, he glanced forward, finding himself face to face with three other footmen.
Nicholai put his hand out in front of Umbriel. The footmen withdrew their weapons. Brack spat and reached back to grab his cutlass and pistol. “Go on then,” he muttered, digging his heels into the earth.
Two advanced on Brack while the third went for Nicholai and Umbriel. Weaponless, the Time Father edged back, keeping Umbriel behind him. Brack tried in vain to free himself from the fighters who flanked him, but all his effort channeled into staying alive against two men. “Run!” he shouted to Umbriel and Nicholai. “Or fight, dammit, but at least run!”
Nicholai grabbed Umbriel’s hand, and he pulled her away from the fight. He believed Brack could defend himself. If Nicholai drew the third footman far enough away, he could spare his comrade fro
m dealing with more attackers than he could handle. Umbriel ran ahead though she still held his hand. The woman was far more accustomed to reacting within her natural surroundings than Nicholai, and her pace illustrated as much. With an unmatched swiftness, she leaped fallen rubble with grace, dragging the Time Father along with her.
“Umbriel!” Nicholai shouted, having lost their pursuer to the Earth Mother’s quick feet. “We should take refuge in the church. We can blend in amongst the civilians. I know Darjal’s soldiers are hungry for our capture, but he stresses the sanctity of the church—with any luck, they won’t dare spill blood on holy ground.”
Umbriel nodded, though she didn’t appear convinced. “It’s worth a try.” She pulled Nicholai with her back toward the cathedral.
Cutting through the narrow alleys, the two returned to where they started. Nicholai glimpsed Kazuaki as he decapitated a man with a single swing. The captain dripped in blood, his enemies’ and his own. He was almost unrecognizable under the sea of scarlet liquid. Nicholai forced himself to look away, following Umbriel up the unguarded church steps and into the cathedral’s open doors.
Bodies crammed inside. Umbriel squeezed through with ease, her nimble body seeking any opening with a quickness. Nicholai’s palms sweated from the adrenaline that coursed through him, but he kept his grip on her hand as she weaved through the crowd. They came to a stand-still near a tall, marble statue. It featured Darjal, crafted to look like a god among men.
“I hope they’ll be all right.” Umbriel stared off in the direction they left their companions.
Nicholai tried to catch his breath and slow his beating heart. “They’re very capable,” he reassured her, though he, too, hoped they fared well in the slaughter.
Children cried within the walls of the cathedral. Their scared protests echoed in the tall ceilings. Mothers tried in desperation to provide comfort, but the panic was suffocating. Umbriel clutched Nicholai’s arm and gasped. She pointed to the mouth of the church. “Nicholai—”
He followed her alarmed gaze to the entryway. Several footmen entered. His face fell. They were followed. “There are too many people here,” he whispered. “They’ll never find us.”
“Come forth, Time Father!” One soldier shouted into the crowd. “We know you’re here!”
The panicked people inside looked to the footmen, confused. Half exchanged hushed conversations while the other half feared for their lives. “Citizens of Avadon,” the footman continued, “in the belly of our own church is a traitor to Panagea! Southeastern’s very own Time Father, Nicholai Addihein! We must find him, and we can bring these disasters to an end!”
Those who hadn’t paid attention before listened now. The crowd looked around, eying one another with skepticism. It didn’t take long for the public to separate Nicholai and Umbriel as strangers to their city. A small opening formed as people backed away from the pair, whether by fear or confusion, it was hard to tell.
Nicholai looked out to find the footman’s gaze. Despite the wild beating of his own heart, he stood tall. “You would not shed blood in the church of Avadon,” he announced with vindication, hoping he was more correct about that than he had been about being undetectable within the cathedral’s walls.
The footman scowled. They advanced through the crowd, but the volume of people made it difficult. They freed their falchions from their scabbards. “That’s where you’re wrong,” one muttered, forcing his way through the people. “Darjal put a high enough price on your head; I’ll simply buy his forgiveness for sullying his church.”
The impending fight caused a riot. Finding the church to no longer be the haven they thought, the people spilled back into the streets, screaming. In full fight mode, Revi lunged at the closest body he saw, stopping his dagger inches from the face of a terrified mother. He drew back just in time and narrowed his eyes. He looked back at the church from which they fled and wondered what caused them all to abandon the safety of their sanctuary.
Nicholai edged back as the footmen advanced. It was much easier now that a majority of the people cleared the area. A few lingered inside and watched with horrified curiosity. “You don’t have to do this,” the Time Father held out his hands to ease the tension.
“Get ‘em!” the soldier ordered, but before they moved forward, another deep boom roared from beneath the earth. It was louder than any they experienced before. The floor shook with an intensity that rattled the stained glass windows until they shattered into countless pieces. Shards of red, green, and blue collapsed to the ground. Decorative stone figures carved into the ceiling’s molding weakened. Within moments the heavy statues plummeted. The footmen stepped back as the compromised flooring gave under the weight of the collapsing figures, punching large holes in the floor as they fell into the church basement.
Nicholai edged away, creating as much distance as he could between himself and the decaying floor. But to no avail. His stomach leaped as the floor buckled and sent him flying toward a hole. Umbriel fell victim too, but with quick acting on both their parts, they seized one another’s hands. Nicholai gripped the edge of the flooring as he struggled to keep Umbriel from falling into the basement. One footman fell through the floor. Others backed up to avoid the same fate. Though the unfolding scenario terrified them, catching sight of the Earth Mother and Time Father in a vulnerable position eased their displeasure.
“Umbriel,” Nicholai grunted, straining to hold both with one hand, “do you remember what you said back at the greenhouse? That tree you wished to plant—do you think I have fifty years in me?”
The Earth Mother gasped as she picked up on his hints. She summoned a redwood seed from inside her, opening her palm to unveil the delicate thing. “We’ll do it together,” she said, eying the soldiers as they advanced.
“Right, brace yourself for impact then.” He let the edge of the flooring go. With a thud, the two landed into the darkness below the church. Nicholai hurriedly searched for any breaks in the foundation, hoping to find exposed earth to place the seed. It took longer than he hoped with the limited light. The skin on his hands split open on the jagged rubble as he ripped loose pieces up from the floor.
The two footmen above ran down the church steps to the basement, holding the fragile railings as they approached their comrade who fell earlier. They helped him to his feet, and the three stared at Umbriel at Nicholai.
“Umbriel,” Nicholai’s bleeding fingers pried the last piece of rubble from the floor to reveal the natural ground hiding below. The Earth Mother’s eyes adjusted to the darkness and located the spot in the earth. Nicholai stood and stepped forward, using himself as a barrier while she knelt and dropped the seed into its new home.
The foot soldiers progressed, weapons drawn. Nicholai held his ground. “It’s ready,” Umbriel said from behind. He had little time to react before a blade descended toward him. Umbriel tripped Nicholai, causing him to avoid the attack by inches as he fell to the floor.
The Earth Mother stood, her eyes shining. She stared at the footmen. “Don’t worry. I will not take your lives.”
The men laughed at her confidence, but she cut their amusement short when she lunged forward with incredible agility and accuracy. Her fingers thrust into one larynx. His falchion clattered to the floor as he threw his hands up around his throat, gasping for air as he fell to his knees.
The other men scowled. They turned their agitation into attacks. Her mercurial athleticism made it difficult for them to land a hit. Nicholai struggled to concentrate, finding this the first time he needed to perform with distractions. His hands shook as he closed his eyes. “Come on, come on,” he goaded himself on until he heard Umbriel fall back beside him, gripping an injury on her arm. The men landed a lucky hit.
“It’s over, Nicholai,” one footman said, Umbriel’s blood still clinging to his blade.
“Not yet,” the man breathed, covered in sweat and ash. “I still have time on my side.” With Umbriel gripping his shoulder, he steadied himself and gave i
t one final effort.
The soldiers stepped back, alarmed. In seconds, the delicate twisting of the seed took on bark, growing outward in width and upward. Branches turned into limbs as the tree spiraled, crashing through the flooring above and raining shards of rubble upon them. Nicholai clenched his jaw as it continued to grow, finding every cell and atom inside him depleting as the redwood scrambled to the church's ceiling. It compressed under its weight for only a moment until the sheer power of nature broke through the top. Branches spewed out of the holes in the cathedral where beautiful stained glass once stood. In seconds, the church became nothing more than a small box surrounding the magnificent symbol of power.
“Dark magic,” the footman whispered in awe. He stepped back from the impressive base of the tree that aged fifty years before his eyes.
“It ... it doesn’t matter.” The other tried to collect his disbelief and replace it with duty. “Your parlor tricks will not save you, Nicholai Addihein.” His voice quivered with a mixture of shock and terror, but his training pushed him onward.
The Time Father couldn't lift his neck. His head lolled on his spine as he struggled to keep his eyes on the soldiers. It was a massive undertaking. Even with Umbriel throwing all of her energy back into him, he felt drained. He couldn’t even part his lips to speak. Umbriel remained standing, but Nicholai felt her using him for support. She, too, felt depleted beyond measure.
“Get the Chronometer,” the soldier ordered. He swung his falchion back, ready to decapitate the Southeastern Time Father. His arm was unsuccessful. Something pulled him down to the floor, hard.
Granite’s dog snarled as it ripped its head from side to side, teeth deep in the arm of Nicholai and Umbriel’s would-be attacker. His scream echoed off the broken walls as the animal mangled his flesh.
The Panagea Tales Box Set Page 32