“What is this?” Aggi scowled, glaring at the warriors who masked themselves as his people.
Elowyn’s eyes turned into slits. She assessed the weapons that each man held. A collection of guns and crossbows looked back at her, but they were few and far between. Dominating the arsenal of weaponry, a single object appeared again and again in the hands of the majority.
To Elowyn Saveign, it was a familiar one.
“Those are the battle axes of the Northern division,” she hissed, planting her feet. “This is an ambush.”
Chapter Nineteen
“Footmen of Northeastern!” Aggi’s voice rose above the startled gasps of his people. “Front and center!”
A rumble sounded through the ground. The aftermath of falling feet from soldiers who stood nearby. Several bodies rushed down the estate steps. More flew out of the building’s door. Any combatant under the Northeastern militia who stood within earshot of Aggi Normandy’s cry ran as efficiently as their legs could carry them. They halted at the sight of the aggressors who surrounded their leader.
Ever the soldier, Rennington reached out, pushing Aggi back with his arm. “Get behind me, Mr. Normandy, if you please.” With the Time Father at his back, Rennington pulled two mismatched weapons from their sheaths: his cutlass and his machete. “I have a bit of practice securing the lives of Time Fathers.”
Nicholai locked eyes with the man who fired the gun. He didn’t recognize him. With a narrowed gaze, he tried counting the others who seemed aligned with their aggressor. Before he finished adding them up, he already knew. Even with the assistance of Aggi’s nearby footmen, they were outnumbered.
Seeing the collection of newly drawn weapons, some citizens shrieked and ran. Many remained, their feet planted. Their legs braced. They stared at the confrontation set to befall the cobblestones outside of their division leader’s homestead.
“Northern Division, aye?” Aggi spat, cursing the soldiers with his saliva. “Nordjan wants another war, does he? What coward organizes a surprise attack?”
A Northern footman stepped forward; the one who had fired the gun. Authority emanated from him. Though he wore no defining materials, he boasted the aura of a man in charge. A commander of the Northern militia. Lifting the weapon, he aimed at the crew. “A strategic one.”
Nicholai inclined his chin. His focus flicked to the Chronometer resting near his foot. He bent at the knees, lowering himself toward it.
The commander’s words came out bold and decisive. “Keep your hands off that Chronometer, Mr. Addihein.”
Looking up, Nicholai’s hand continued to hover over the device. His expression hardened. “The reign of the Time Fathers is over. We can’t guarantee that the power of the Chronometers will go uncorrupted.” He steeled his jaw, pulling his shoulders back. “It needs to be destroyed.”
A smug snort followed the statement. “People need clear leadership, Mr. Addihein. You are doing the people a disservice.”
“They don’t need anyone to do their thinking for them.” Nicholai kept his hand positioned over the Chronometer, his gaze locked on the Northern soldier. “They never did.” Without another word, he took the device into his palm and tightened his fingers around it.
Unsure of how they had been destroying the timepieces, the commander stiffened. He couldn’t lose it. Couldn’t return to Northern to tell Nordjan that the second to last device had been demolished. “Give it to me, or blood will be shed,” he announced, fully content to kill him regardless.
Nicholai’s eyes glossed over with a fine layer of recognition. “You could fill the ocean with the blood that was lost over these little pocket watches.” Straightening his legs, he held his mechanical arm out. He braced himself as thin metal strips slid out, interlocking to form his shield. “But if you’re still hungry for more … you’re welcome to try and spill mine.”
A snarl and a gunshot. Nicholai lifted his arm. He felt the bullet bite into the metal and stepped back from the force.
More citizens scattered. They turned wide eyes to the crew—to Bermuda—waiting to see if she’d react.
She did.
The quartermaster charged, pulling a dagger from the strap at her thigh. Silver steel met a fleshy neck in seconds. Before her victim had time to hit his knees and bleed out, she already moved on to the next.
“Bermuda!” Kazuaki reached out a hand, clenching his jaw. She was dooming herself. Pushing her body beyond what little it had left. His desire to pull her back came too late. She already vanished into the sea of swinging axes, swords, and gunfire.
“I got her back, Captain!” Elowyn bolted, separating from the group. Expert fingers filled the chambers of her gun, and the bullets found a place between the eyes of a Northern footman. He dropped to the ground, joining the comrade Bermuda had slain seconds earlier.
A soldier stepped forward, slapping the pole of his battle axe into his open palm. He glowered at Revi Houton.
Fresh off his revilement, Revi bent his neck into each shoulder until his vertebrae popped. “Oh, buddy.” Fingers flexed, and he withdrew his gun and machete. “You picked the wrong feckin’ day.”
Blade collided with battle axe as Revi charged. Matching the Northern footman’s power with one arm, Revi took advantage of the vulnerable, open torso. The bullet fled from his gun, finding a place between two ribs. As his opponent staggered back, Revi released a pent up war cry and vanished into the crowd. A tornado of raw fury, not even the rogue crossbow bolt that found a way into his shoulder slowed his rage.
Grunting through the pain that remained in his ribs, Granite approached the nearest enemy. Dwarfed by Granite’s height, the soldier swung his axe, aiming for the hips. The weapon stopped mid-swing, seized by the behemoth’s massive palm. Granite ripped it from the footman’s grasp, and in one low swing, removed his opponent’s legs at the kneecaps.
“Woohoo!” Brack fired several rounds into his targets, looking ethereal in the gray smoke that swam around his body. “Finally!” He drew his head back and howled into the sky. “Opponents I can actually kill! Northeast beasts are back in town, and this time, we ain’t fighting gods!”
Kazuaki watched Brack vanish into the fray. He growled like a tiger in a cage. What could he do? His opponents were human. He watched in vain as Aggi’s men and his clashed with Nordjan’s in a flurry of armaments and flailing limbs.
He couldn’t hurt them. Explosives were out of the question. His crew and Aggi’s civilians were in too close of proximity. He stepped up beside the Northeastern Time Father and Rennington, lifting an arm. A blade bounced off his wrist, deflecting a blow meant for Aggi.
It was all he could do. Use his body like a pathetic human shield.
“Why are they gunning for Normandy?” Kazuaki sneered, directing his words toward Nicholai as he winced through blocking another blow. “If he dies, Northeastern risks freezing!”
Sparing himself the onslaught of swinging axes with the help of his shield, Nicholai staggered back. “I’m sure that’s what he’s hoping for!”
Kazuaki scowled. Of course. With the other Time Fathers relinquishing their titles, Nordjan and Aggi remained the only two who could walk through frozen divisions. The treason of stopping Northeastern’s time was likely a small price to pay for the reward of two Chronometers.
Peeling his lips back, he spared Aggi another swing. Kazuaki’s focus flitted to Nicholai. The Time Father struggled, caught beneath the wrath of two men. Kazuaki needed to reach him. To destroy the Chronometer and put an end to what Nordjan sought. “Rennington—”
“Don’t worry, Cap!” Rennington fired another shot, positioning himself before Aggi. “I’ll guard him!”
Kazuaki nodded, assessing the bodies that littered the ground. So many. Aggi’s men. Nordjan’s. Blood snaked through the unpredictable curves of the cobblestones, as the eyes of Northeastern’s citizens stared him down. Kazuaki tensed. Unable to down a single soul, he did not feel much like a god at the moment.
Shoving throu
gh others to get as close to Nicholai as he could, Kazuaki pushed one of the former Time Father’s assailants aside. “Nico!” He held out his hand. “The Chronometer!”
Nicholai wrapped his fingers around the device. He squinted to see Kazuaki through the constantly shifting bodies. Spotting him several yards away, Nicholai pulled his arm back, ready to throw it. “Back to the gods, given with—”
“Duck!”
Nicholai’s eyes widened when he saw Kazuaki release a dagger. The flash of silver turned blade over handle as it cut through the air. Instinct prompted him to stop. The same instinct made the footman behind him flinch too—long enough to end the downward swing of his axe toward Nicholai’s head.
The blade struck the man’s arm and bounced off without injury.
Shock consumed the Northern soldier as he lowered his arm. Disbelief claimed him for a moment until relief replaced it. He was uninjured. Perfectly fine. No blood, no gaping hole where the knife stuck in. A cocky smile spread across his face until he felt Kazuaki’s fists close around his attire and lift him from the ground.
Nicholai gawked while Kazuaki hurled the man away. “Nice to see you learned something from Olnos’ handling of me in Northwestern.”
“It won’t keep him down long.” Kazuaki watched as the man pushed himself up from where he landed, unharmed. “Give me the Chronometer.”
Wasting no time thrusting his arm forward, Nicholai opened his palm. Before Kazuaki could grab it, a battle axe slashed down, hammering into the former Time Father’s metal wrist.
“Nico!” Kazuaki scowled when the Northern footmen’s commander plucked the Chronometer from Nicholai’s grasp and ran into the mass of bodies. “Are you all right?”
Straightening from his bent position, Nicholai tried to flex his mechanical fingers. Only two of the five still worked. The metal, where the blade had struck, bore a grotesque indentation. He wondered if he’d be able to retract the shield back into place. Another visit to Rhirvin Kellum lived in his future … if he lived, himself. “I’m fine.” He shook the shattered wrist, relieved that the artificial limb held no pain receptors. “But they have the Chronometer—”
Scouting the area for the one who stole the device, Kazuaki narrowed his eye. It was hard to see through the chaos of fallen bodies. Aggi’s men. Nordjan’s. Civilians. Even his crew suffered from the gashes of unforgiving steel. One of Revi’s arms bled freely, dangling at his side. Broken. Granite was still recovering from his injuries in Northwestern. Bermuda was in a vulnerable state from the get-go.
“Kazuaki—” Nicholai searched the god’s face, mirroring his concern. “We’re losing ground.”
Planting his feet away from the swinging arms of others, the commander wrapped the Chronometer’s chain around his hand. He stared at it, almost bristling with the power that touching such a device granted him. The power he would earn would be three times what he felt and more when he gifted it to Nordjan and fell under his favor. “We did it,” he whispered, lifting his gaze from his hand. “End them, and return to—”
Bermuda tackled the man to the ground, fueled by enough aggression that her diminutive frame brought him crashing down. She straddled him, bruises and blood coating her body, as she drove her blade downward.
It met the commander’s arm when he lifted to block. A strained cry of anguish left him, but his grip on the Chronometer failed to ease. Peering at the woman through squinting eyes, he assessed her. Every glaring sign of weakness. Her heavy breathing. Her trembling arms.
She was wild but frail.
Bucking her forward with his legs, the commander drove his head into her nose. Scarlet streaks oozed out of each nostril immediately. She was dizzy. Lightheaded. Frazzled just enough that he was able to shove her off him, position himself over her, and pin her to the ground.
Even in her vulnerable position, Bermuda grasped the chain of the Chronometer that wrapped around the commander’s hand.
Grappling with her over ownership of the timepiece, the commander received no opportunity to grab a weapon. He needed his only free hand to pin her down. Dammit. His fist would have to serve as his weapon. In the milliseconds that she stopped flailing long enough, he laid his fist into her face.
Punch for punch, she refused to let go.
The emotional shift in the crowd was tangible. Whispers of worry flew from the horrified citizens’ lips.
The Steel Serpent was in trouble.
They couldn’t let her die. Not when she had spent all of last year saving them from vengeful gods. Sparing the lives of their children, their grandchildren, their brothers, and sisters, husbands, and wives. The Steel Serpent vanquished their nightmares and saved their families in a flurry of blood and carnage.
They owed her just as much.
Common men and women stooped down, seizing the weapons that remained in the limp hands of dead soldiers. “For the Steel Serpent!” they cried, rushing toward her.
One by one, more and more inspired citizens flew forward. Soon, several had become a group. A group evolved to a horde. Untrained civilians engulfed the remaining Northern footmen, overwhelming their numbers by five to one.
The screams of the dying filled the air. Soldiers and civilians alike bled into Northeastern’s cracks.
Kazuaki’s concentration flew to his lover. Seeing her on the ground, beaten within an inch of her life by the man that towered over her …
It enraged him.
Abandoning Nicholai, he charged. Any bodies that stood in his way, friend or foe alike, were hurled aside. The ground littered with corpses, daring to trip him along the way. It wasn’t until he shoved his way through another blockade of battling people that he cursed himself for not instantly recalling the only benefit to being a god. What a fool he was. He could transport himself right to her—
Northeastern’s citizens already accosted the man by the time Kazuaki materialized in front of her.
The surprising violence of untutored peasants was enough to pull the commander from Bermuda’s body and onto the ground. He shouted when the slickness of blood and sweat made the Chronometer’s chain slip from around his clenched fist. He felt as empty as his palm when he saw the broken quartermaster close her fingers around the device.
The man’s screams tugged Kazuaki’s attention toward him long enough to see a civilian drive a broken battle axe handle straight into his shoulder.
With a pounding in his chest, Kazuaki knelt beside Bermuda, gently easing her into a sitting position. It was hard to tell where her wounds were; blood covered nearly every inch of her. One side of her face swelled, blocking vision in one of her eyes. The other cornea, once an off-white, filled with nothing but ruby red.
“Bermuda—” Kazuaki parted his lips, but before he could assess her, the civilians rushed them.
“Steel Serpent!”
“Are you all right?”
“Help her up!”
Easing her back to her feet, the civilians assisted in leaning her into Kazuaki. Her knees shook when she stood. Wrapping the chain around her swollen hand, she turned toward their voices. The woman was unable to see them clearly through her hindered vision. “Yes.” The single word came out moist, garbled by the blood that choked it. “Thank you.”
Kicking himself out from beneath the pile of citizens, the commander rolled to the side. With a grunt befitting the Northern militia, he ripped the stick from his shoulder and hurled it away.
Pain radiated through him. It was not as bad as the agony that came from watching the civilian uprising turn the tables in Aggi’s favor. The commander stared at his empty hand, damning himself for losing his grip on the object of their mission. Clenching his teeth, he turned to the soldiers under his command who remained in earshot. “Kill Aggi. If fortune shines on us, his division will freeze before the Chronometer can be destroyed. It’s our only chance.”
Powering through their orders, a mass of Northern footmen rushed toward Aggi. Rennington panted, bracing for the oncoming swarm. The muscles in h
is arms pulsed, begging for respite. They were not rewarded. As he locked weapons with one soldier and kicked him off with his boot, another drove his axe across.
Rennington felt the bite of it in his ribs.
Hitting his knee, the Southern soldier continued to ward off as many swings as he could. The position did little to help.
Behind him, Aggi panicked, fearing for the young man’s life.
Caked in the aftermath of her superior skills, Elowyn wiped her enemies’ fluids from the side of her cheek. Her gaze flew out across the distance and landed on her comrade. When she saw him on the ground, trying in vain to keep the remaining footmen at bay, her pupils shrank. “Rennington!”
Those who stood in her path met their demise swiftly. Elowyn’s dagger hit its usual haunts: main arteries, organs, anything that would guarantee her immediate sailing over their falling corpses.
She latched onto the back of one of Rennington’s antagonists and slid her steel across his throat.
Bursting forth from the crowd, Brack grabbed another. Having abandoned his empty guns long ago, the man drove twin knives under the shoulder blades of Rennington’s attacker and pulled him to the ground to finish the job.
Across the distance, Kazuaki saw the gash in Rennington’s side. Saw the remaining Northern footmen closing in.
Shit. He should not have abandoned Aggi.
He squeezed Bermuda’s arm. Trusting her to the adoring arms of Northeastern’s civilians, he materialized in front of Aggi and Rennington in time to ward off an attack.
Even with the assistance of Elowyn and Brack, it was difficult to protect both men.
Rennington tried to push himself up but howled when he felt a bullet find its way into his chest. He turned in time to see a Northern soldier standing in Kazuaki’s blind spot.
The Panagea Tales Box Set Page 154